Aporia is cited as being inspired by the likes of Blade Runner and Hereditary, but the resulting album puts a unique twist on these soundtracks. Evidence of this is immediately available from opener ‘Ousia’, which is a standout introduction to the project with ambient ocean-like sounds being mixed in with blaring synthesiser chords towards the end of the song. There are 21 songs on this project, most of which follow very similar suite of electronic ambience mixed in with progressive percussion, orchestra doused in synthesised processing, and minimal piano. Easily adaptable into a movie score, it’s an electronic album that follows suite to the thriller soundtrack genre.

What stands out on Aporia is the pacing and structure of each song- mini narratives in their own right. Majority of the songs within the album begin slow and pace themselves quicker or louder as the track continues, creating miniature soundscapes repeated over and over. ‘Afterworld Alliance’, ‘The Unlimited’ and ‘Agathon’ are examples of this, each exploding halfway into an intensive experience. Had it not been for the shorter and more experimental songs laced throughout the album, this may have been more tedious and detrimental to the overall cohesiveness of the album.

‘Palinodes’ and ‘For Raymond Scott’ are the shortest songs on the project, and also the most experimental. ‘Palinodes’ is only 33 seconds long, and yet it splits itself into three parts of electronic splattering that feel perfect for an over the top thriller movie escalating some tension, or perhaps a David Lynch supporting soundtrack when a character is experiencing what the viewer can only assume as a hallucination. ‘For Raymond Scott’ is equally as strange, although the vivid association with film isn’t as present as random notes with zero melody play. It’s unsettling, but also completely unnecessary.

Where the duo play up the more sensible styles of music they are used to is on ‘The Runaround’, which is the only track to include a vocal performance. “Give me a name, more than a flame, more than a metaphor” is sung barely audible against a clicking Kid A-like instrumental passage that drowns out the vocals in a sensible and justified way- for this is a climactic moment, and one that shifts and whirrs even when the vocals end.

The 80’s sci-fi aesthetic is well adapted on Aporia, but with many of the structures across a lengthy 21 tracks feeling the same, it’s hard to picture this album as a holistic entity without an accompanying film. In these trying times, Aporia is an expansive and difficult to process album, and Lowell Brams and Sufjan Stevens put this sentiment best in their own words: