David Wiese is a New York based sound artist who has done a fair bit of experimental work in the past few years. He’s best known for his work with The New York Times music team. Here, though, he’s doing something a little more in the vein of early New York City underground musicians.

I’ll probably never understand a word he’s saying in the thick of his music here, but I’m sure I’ll sympathize with the frustrations he feels. This release is a claustrophobic detour into raw noise, there’s a sense of nothing happening in any one place for long stretches of time, and the song structures are a mash-up of old and new. Thick noise from a keyboard that’s squeaking like crazy, a voice that’s as if it was recorded on a walkie-talkie, a thick, melodious string sound that sounds like a machine gun (or maybe some kind of transportable object), long textures that sound like they’re being digested by a whole army of bugs, and the most bizarre vocal noise ever suffered by a human being. It’s a heavy mix.