Following on from those important and far-sighted revivals of Vox Populi’s Half Dead Ganja Music and Frank Dommert’s Kiefermusik, Spencer Clark turns his occasional arkival attentions to the cenobitic electronics and water-snake concrète of Hamburg artist Dörte Marth, aka MAAT, pulling from her two album releases of 1993, Sie and Konstruktionen, for the tracklist of The Next. Painted from a glistening palette of electronic drums, cooing Eastern melodies and perverse classical motifs, MAAT’s work is somehow also brooding and oneiric and full of occult suggestion - and is perhaps most easily understood in the context of exploratory industrial music, especially its intersections with the post-classical avant-garde, idiosyncratic genre-movie soundtracks, and the then-emerging numb-wave of Isolationist/ambient techno. Clark invokes H.N.A.S., Limpe Fuchs, Anima… you could happily add to that list Phew, Rapoon and Black Light District, while there are passages of computer-controller string-judder and AI synth drift that anticipate, respectively Konrad Sprenger’s Stack Music and Autechre’s Amber, and Marth’s sparingly deployed vocals - eldritch and dramatic yet distant and detached and artfully off-key - invite the standard Christa Pfanger comparison. In its more playful passages the music’s influence on Spencer Clark’s own recent work - Typhonian Highlife, Fourth World Magazine - is obvious. But whereas Clark’s work assumes, and relies upon, some understanding of his early 80s/late 90s VHS myth-kitty, MAAT seems to exist in its own hermetically sealed world, in thrall not to the lurid dreamworks and image-making of late capitalism but simply to Marth’s own curious and implacable id. Really been knocked for six by this record, it's properly out on its own. Forget everything you thought you knew! Edition of 280 and an essential purchase.