What does one think of when a deluge of chatter engulfs them, how do you extricate yourself from the web of conversation to preserve your sanity. This, my friends, is the main thrust of Arthur De Eriomem's curious side trip of thought. It is a revelatory discovery to see one part of any group venture out on their own, and Ingenting Kollektiva's librarian/archivist is no exception. Now that I've spent some time wandering the disorienting landscape of these drowned voices, I have a much better idea of what he does when the other three are working with him. Quite unusual, this piece because as it shifts pitch and placement in the stereo field you start to sink into your subconscious.As though the weight of those around you via their incessant banter has become too much to tolerate, the spectrum of sound closes in upon my ears and then I find myself wondering: is it calmer in this void, are the ends truly justified by the means? Or should I just view this rather slow immersion as a respite for my tired synapses and let go of the worries and wants which plague day to day life. If I still lived in the city what De Eriomem has constructed would be like a lifeline up out of the morass of the metropolitan meat grinder; I suspect that he himself may live in rather cramped or condensed conditions wherever he resides in Berlin.The claustrophobic bent that this has conjures up visions of teeming, seething masses out on the sidewalks and pavements threatening to overrun their bounds like starved roaches who've just been let loose at a picnic.There is always a uniquely melancholy feel which urban dwellers impart to their work, having been one I can say that sitting out on your terrace (if you can afford one) or mulling over life's ambiguities in your kitchen (again, if you have the means to have one) you can almost taste the recriminating bitterness reflecting off of the streets outside or just below you. For years, the whir and bustle of humanity strode by my windows imparting my surroundings with an odious flavor of contentment and complex rationalization gone to the dogs. The material I'm hearing here takes me right back to such a space but thankfully, this is only memory.When those buildings fall, as the tangle of concrete overpasses and skeletal steel rivers of commerce go to seed we'll giddily celebrate our escape from their binding monotony. Once the hypnotic cadences of Arthur's EP start to drain away, you really do feel as though the tide has gone out and your consciousness is your own. Unfortunately, that flood of nonsensical blather always returns to inundate like rancid black tar pushed aside during roadwork but all is not lost. I read on the Invisible Birds site that he has an album in the works, so this sensation of free floating ambiance can be prolonged. A new equilibrium with our world surely will be achieved.