King Yosef buries in his music an elemental weight that presses inward before cracking messily open. Textures sharpen to test gravity, contrasts darken, metal and flesh fusing with pork-sweet smoke that blurs differences. Beats stomp, synths hiss and split under the tension as ambient moments creep in to haunt your margins. What melodies appear seem drawn from fog, stretched gauzily before being shattered by the next ripple of distortion.

His new Bleakhouse release Spire of Fear manifests something long felt: a force within him which demands its horrid space fully. Where previous works hinted at hope, a sort of light-through-voidic-grind approach, this beast works on a leaner scale: it lets enough air whistle through so that the ruptures matter more. The same impulses you find in these uncaging rhythm and partial breakdowns are calibrated for the stage: feedback shuffling from the mists, silences flung towards aggression. These industrial hymnals breath you in.

• Spire Of Fear, by King Yosef

• Spire Of Fear, by King Yosef