Since the late 1970s Biota has ploughed its own furrow, producing a body of work that resembles nothing anyone else has done or is yet doing. Their compositions evolve in long, constantly shifting timbral blocks filled with fragments and echoes of quasi-familiar musical languages. They use instrumental resources bridging half a millennium and two thirds of the planet to create unique combinations of texture, colour and movement. It's a music of constant flux, dissolving, re-forming and mutating without agitation or stress, where motion and stasis blend into a single ambiguous condition. And although it will never arrive, the path, with its simultaneous familiarity and strangeness has an eerie power to compel. The recordings, as always from the Dys Studio, are meticulous and carefully constructed - the fused product of generation after generation of processing and mixing. There's an almost Feldmanesque quality of necessity and unpredictabilty. The band now takes, on average, five years to prepare, record and finalise a new release. They're in no hurry.