Dry and husked, flakes of sound detaching and crumbling into nothing over sighing solar winds of drone; April Larson’s new album for Soft Bodies records is as excellent as her previous releases and may be her best work yet. ‘The Second Throne’ is electronica tactile and roughly textured, ghostly and haunted like Leyland Kirby’s spectral ballrooms but divested of their aquatic time-choked melodies; April smears her music into long-exposure phantoms of harmony that slip into your consciousness and steal an hour. Calm but poignant, as far from ‘chill out’ ambient territory as possible, this has a stillness enforced by a contemplation of enormity, of magnitude or aeons, of deep-space or deep-time, of grief or ecstasy. The instruments here are cracks and pops, fungus and dust, decay and decrepitude; an album entropic in nature, sand seeping through a cracked and warped hour-glass. ‘The Second Throne’ is beautiful, noise kipple bricolage written large in humming sphere-symphonies.