Eaux have a difficult-to-define quality that acts like The Field or Fuck Buttons possess in spades.

It’s something to do with the pace, and the measured intensity of the transmissions they create. It’s something to do with an ability to change gear mid-song, and move from pulsing ambience to a punishing plateau. And, crucially, it’s about the almost addictive essence of the simple, sweeping melodies that gradually burrow into your audio memory bank until you’re fidgeting to hear them again. Plastics is characterised by the spooky, sensual, but disaffected vocals of Sian Ahern (not unlike the duelling voices in School of Seven Bells), set against a sombre electronic aesthetic.

The gothic arpeggios of Movers and Shakers evoke Zomby or Illumsphere’s darker material, while layered eruptions of sound and texture are a regular feature. Pressure Points nails the industrial disco chug of Factory Floor, The Light Falls Through Itself is hypnotic and genuinely haunting, and the powerful, ethereal and majestic Peace Makes Plenty is perhaps the crowning moment: gently psychedelic in a muted, dark kind of way. The juxtaposition of the hymnal – almost operatic – vocals with the industrial rhythms and melodies could have been overkill: a Trent Reznor/Enya side-project no-one wanted to hear. But in fact the dynamic is perfect. Turn it up loud, throw on a hooded cloak and let the darkness in.

Adam Corner