Enphin, formerly PH and before that Mr. Peter Hayden, keep shedding their blistering, snake-like skin and wound their unusual path into a new garden of unearthly delights. Like an Ostrobothnian Föllakzoid, experimental electronic soundscapes pulverize with panache and a pop-like sensibility. Vangelis-inducing, distorted Blade Runner landscapes give way to the march of slick Terminatormachines crushing human bones under foot. Psychonaut futurism from a band fusing genres ahead of their own time, and in a strange but logical evolution of their journey.
There is a jazz-like affection for the alchemy of sound-craft at play. As Hesse said, “Who would be born must first destroy a world,” and worlds of sound are destroyed and recreated again and again. From the emerging resonance of pulsing drones to euphoric dying synths, we’re taken through a cascading, continual resurrection of the principle of sound and rhythm, emphasizing their mission statement. Punishing industrial Nine Inch Nails beats and abyssic static-laced Gary Numan-esque chants beat a white-noise pulse into your subconscious. There’s an almost anthemic ecstasy to the way the evolving song structures coil and unwind themselves.
There’s no surprise why festivals like Roadburn, Roskilde, Flow, and Tuska have championed this group to represent one of the finest examples of the modern Finnish experimental rock scene. Referring to them, Julian Cope urged people to “get this stunning quintet out of the cold weather and into the charts.”
Their 20 years of psychedelic space-travel lend them a gargantuan understanding of the roots of music, towards the core meaning and power of transcendental sound. Fine-art museum-level workmanship for apocalyptic illegal factory raves and lysergic come-downs. Look no further for a sound beyond the limits of modern psychedelia. These Finns are way out there.