But even Frost’s cold, iron and calculated world tracks like “The Teeth Behind the Kisses” seep into unfamiliar and uncomfortable quarantine zones. Lost in the crescendo arms race is the album’s final couplet, which find Frost looking further afield than before. A U R O R A is Ben Frost’s highly anticipated fifth solo release, his first since the widely acclaimed 2009 album BY THE THROAT. By the Throat never allowed the listener to be entirely sure when the hit was going to land; on A U R O R A we know when and where the punches are coming, and instead are dared to resist the onslaught itself.

Said track is a full percussive assault, Harris’ trademark chimes ringing and echoing around Frost’s towering orchestral flourishes, while Fox and Ismaily add a little blunt force trauma to the mix. Frost enlists the services of drummers Greg Fox (formerly of Liturgy) and the legend that is Thor Harris of the Swans, plus multi-instrumentalist Shahzad Ismaily. Visit our Creative Zone for our latest video tutorials and sign up to our free newsletter to receive a gorgeous free digital download stamp, our crafty news updates and more!Pitchfork may earn a portion of sales from products that are purchased through our site as part of our Affiliate Partnerships with retailers.

Frost’s brand of menace has always been intricate and complex, but where on By The Throat and Theory Of Machines he would counter harsh noise with softening ambient and post-rock touches, A U R O R A feels more purely cathartic, though never one-dimensional or static. Five minutes into only the second song of A U R O R A, and this is everything different than I'd anticipated. Some tiny lack of a consistent theme and generally repetitious sonic structures of rise and rise and fall in each piece just made it seem slightly stale, and it felt more like a collection of a few very excellent singles rather than a complete record, but when this does come together and really strike out it’s absolutely incredible, future nostalgia done without being gauzy and soppy. It brings to mind Frost's talk of fighting to contain his compositions on A U R O R A, and that struggle shows.From the muted chimes and bells set against the percussive clatter and dissonance of the remarkable Venter to the sustained, cicada-like hiss on No Sorrowing and the high-frequency static on Sola Fide, Frost continues to create sounds that feel unquestionably his, as experimental as they may be. That usually happens to me about two-thirds of the way through this album (on the relatively-dull "Sola Fide"). Many, such as ‘Nolan’, with its colossal rave synths and blistering distortion, have an epic, widescreen feel, which Frost offsets with intricate detail and quiet, ominous passages.

In any case, it certainly still sounds like it could fuck you (up) like an animal, all buzzing thrusts and sinister roars. The (altogether incidental) act of inducing “discomfort” from what some may consider recorded punishment is inseparable from the process, in other words; Frost, Fox and co. I don't know, I like some of the sounds this makes, but it's very serious, very intense and there, which is sometimes good and sometimes like the record is shouting close to your face about coconut water in the corner of a bar, all muscles and beard oil. Here, with the recruitment of Greg Fox (ex-Liturgy, now Guardian Alien) and the titanic Thor Harris (Swans) to assist longtime live collaborator Shahzad Ismaily in fleshing out his compositions, Frost puts percussion at the forefront from the very start.

A Single Point of Blinding Light is filled with mesmerizing, dread-filled, industrial clatter and chaos.