The follow-up to 2008’s Khora, Fragments Of The Marble Plan adds a slightly more electronic carapace to Aufgehoben’s cataclysmic noise-rock foundation. The prevailing sound here evokes the Mego label before it added “Editions” to its name and became enamored of American guitar mavericks, back when it purveyed cyclotronic, abstract electronic music that had the centrifugal force of an irrefutable PhD thesis.

Such is the overwhelming power of Aufgehoben on this, the British group’s sixth album, that even exposure to the MP3s of its songs makes one relieved to have health insurance. Music this apocalyptic has few peers, but some approximate touchstones might be the most radically “out” and knotty moments of Norwegian post-jazz ensemble Supersilent, This Heat after realizing that Brise-Glace didn’t pay them a penny in royalties, or Farmers Manual after extensive immersion in Mainliner’s back catalog. Fragments Of The Marble Plan is a terrifying force of nature, a Rube Goldberg machine run amok, the sound of civilization atomizing into controlled chaos. It’s so cold, it’s hellish. Although Aufgehoben feel your need for catharsis, they convince you that being ready to jump out of your skin is the new normal. 

If Aufgehoben dealt in clichés (which they don’t), we would say that they take no prisoners on Fragments Of The Marble Plan. This music is war—with all of the fascinating horrors and grisly casualties inherent in that endeavor. Get a helmet.