Camae Ayewa – better known as Philadelphia musician, poet, artist and Afrofuturist Moor Mother – once coined her music “slaveship punk”. Following the cosmic footsteps of Sun Ra, her work, almost as visceral and affecting on record as it is in a live setting, is grounded in the history of the African diaspora.

Moor Mother’s newest album, Analog Fluids of Sonic Black Holes, is a continuation of her craft, combining her roots in Philadelphia’s DIY noise scene with her foundations in black poetry and ritual. Melodic vocal lines are swamped by distorted synths and piercing strings, a haunting reminder of imperialism’s propensity for silencing black voices. “According to you/ We were never here” she asserts in Shadowgrams, and in Engineered Uncertainty, Louis Armstrong’s Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen is drowned out by harsh broken percussion.

Otherworldly textures, crashing drums and dark, rumbling bass accompany Ayewa’s cacophonous spoken word. With extra-terrestrial bleeps and such affronting lyrics as “Bodybag/ For you and me”, LA92 is a reference to the 2017 documentary of the same name, charting the Los Angeles riots that were triggered after the brutal beating of Rodney King by LAPD police officers.

Ultimately, Analog Fluids of Sonic Black Holes demands, with increasing fervour, that the listener confronts their own complicity. And it feels vital.

Katie Thomas