Behind every ambiguously pronounced name lies an ambiguously pronounced sense of purpose. In other words: who can say what is really going on here? Whatever it is, it is delightfully dada. irr. app. (ext.) remain more concrete (i.e. musique) than a rusting parking structure on a windy day. Music does occasionally spill out from the crisp snips and gravel, but it is only as one other element in an overall sound construct. Here, no-music IS the music! Get it? Now go read some John Cage. The simplicity of a burbling stream washes out of a reverberation of flange. Voices are air dropped into the squeaking remnants of things left decaying in the basement. Small noises are looped and heaped upon one another, evoking a temporarily quiet cacophony that is sloooowly faaaaded ooooout in favour of a slooowly faaaaaded iiiin drones vs frogs episode. One thinks lovingly on Hafler Trio, P16.D4, NWW, Chris Watson, etc. Put your Irr. to the App. and get (Ext.)!