https://acloserlisten.com/2017/06/15/the-new-voice-of-tandem-tapes/

Makunouchi Bento’s sweeping synths evoke aquatic landscapes smeared with luminous acrylic. Sonar pings lead a lone submarine downward, deeper, probing the ocean floor for crash survivors amid recent debris. Cold synths pierce the murky haze like headlights. Electronic squiggles approximate a passing pod of dolphins as the submarine resounds from distant whale calls. Delayed percussion skips in place, trailing seaweed glowing with iridescence. Eventually, the submarine surfaces to Morse-code scrapings encroaching between post-Pompeii blasts and the primal patter of wood blocks and hollow drums. As if the air weren’t heavy enough, an arco’d cello labors a lugubrious farewell, sawed till a flock of seagulls arrives to peck away at flaccid strings.

Somnoroase Pasarele smears saccharine synths into tangential lines, each echoing the same theme obliquely. The production is stalactite-dripping, bat-scuttling subterranean throughout. Heat-seeking synths tangle with metallic violin scrapings slowly flanged with synthetic horns, whirling, building to a blur, reverb-soaked to a cavernous roar. Moody keys smolder against a bulging backdrop of cold, black space while atonal strings squeak brightly—swirling, floating freely like heated wax in a lava lamp programmed to interpret the closing of a silent film. Two lovers lie locked at hips and lips in a chapel nave as the sun sets, color quickly fading from the stained glass windows precisely at that moment—that swan-hearted moment—when their rousing vows are shared.