“Each iteration of the show is slightly different,” he continues. “We started off with quite a monolithic, single screen, but what’s in front of it is almost like a search bar, like you’d find on any web browser.” The addition of the search bar blocks the visibility of other information. “The bar started to feel as if it was redacting information as well as displaying it. It became a negative space. We were using the idea of redacting information all the way back on Heligoland with the graphics on the sleeve, blocking out images and words and asking what would happen if you started to delete statements, say the opposite of statements, remove parts of statements. What would you then be left with that you understood?”

The Heligoland artwork is an apt comparison. Comprised of paintings by Del Naja himself, the series of works associated with the 2010 album were heavily influenced by his origins as a graffiti artist in early 1980s Bristol. He believes there’s a clear lineage between then and now. “There is the evolution between painting statements on walls to displaying statements with light. Both are transient. Back in the day when we were painting you were lucky if a piece stayed on a wall for more than a few days before it was painted over. Paintings would appear on the sides of trains that were travelling through cities and images would flash before people’s eyes and then disappear again, until they were captured by photographers. With the light show, it travels around, it appears for two hours in someone’s hemisphere and then it disappears again. We’ve never displayed it, we’ve never captured it on video, we’ve never released it. It just comes and goes. So it has that very transient nature and it’s only when other people see it, and they share it and capture it, that it becomes something else. The most basic description of it is that we’re a circus with fireworks passing through a town. There’s this eruption of sound, information and light and then ninety minutes later, it’s all gone.”