My Cat Is An Alien, “IN∞FI∞NI∞TO” (Elliptical Noise, 2026)
This latest transmission from the Opalio brothers is the result of a major creative breakthrough of sorts, as they recently had the epiphany that their signature “spontaneous composition” process could also work in reverse as well. Always metaphysically minded, the Opalios realized that infinity itself was passing through their compositions, as the revelation that they could now play with time in either direction was both creatively liberating and also kind of heavy in a Zen/cosmic sense (“a flux with no beginning and no end, apparently always the same yet always different, that flows in an eternal becoming”). In less mind-expanding terms, that means that this album’s two longform pieces were created by subtracting layers from a spontaneous composition that had already reached “the apogee of the real-time creation.” The effect of that temporal sorcery is impressively dramatic, however, as IN∞FI∞NI∞TO captures MCIAA at their most hypnotically minimal and hallucinatory peak.
The heart of this album is essentially just two deceptively simple motifs: a murmuring backwards pulse and and a sliding and fluttering tone that leaves smeared and pulsing after-images in its wake. The combined effect is quite an evocative one, however, as it feels like I am sitting on a desolate alien beach watching a swirl of psychotropic seagulls swooping and diving as waves rhythmically roll in from the sea.
As the opening piece progresses, however, that scene starts to transform in subtly time- and reality-bending ways, as it feels like the same moment is endlessly flickering and looping into infinity in a trance-inducing manner while also subtly morphing in unexpected ways. When an insistently repeating and detuned-sounding two-note string motif appears, for example, I imagine a ramshackle and hooded ritual gamelan procession has begun moving slowly across that eternally refreshing moment in time. Similarly, when Roberto’s hazy vocal drones start to creep into the frame, it conjures a supernatural glow emanating from the endlessly pulsing sea.
Gradually, however, I start to feel like I have been staring into the sun for too long and the previously recognizable shapes begin to flicker in and out of focus while the colors smear and streak, yet the piece is continually propelled forward by a host of insistently looping small-scale rhythmic events (the pop of a vinyl runoff track, the skipping start of each vocal loop, etc.). Around the halfway point though, an insistent alarm beep and a deep bass throb unexpectedly enter the scene and everything quickly curdles, darkens, and becomes more harmonically complex, disjointed, and confused. Throughout it all, however, that relentless beep remains a constant pulsing beacon as reality dissolves and melts around it in pleasingly phantasmagoric ways.
Fittingly, the album’s second half begins exactly the same way as the first one (the point of maximum subtraction), but it evolves in a completely different and more minimalist way than its predecessor. For one, the hooded gamelan procession has vanished from the scene and so has the supernatural glow from the sea, which opens up plenty of space for the lysergic seagulls to reassert themselves as the focal point of the piece. In a way, it also feels like the original scene has been reduced to a single endlessly looping instant in time to even more hypnotic effect.
Around the halfway point, however, the pitch of the seagull cries begins to subtly vary, which starts to create pulsing otherworldly harmonies as the lingering vapor trails of delay accumulate. The timbre of alien bird squawks and squeals begins to transform as well, as the edges alternately fray, sharpen, and flare. Unsurprisingly, that induced yet another synesthesia-like hallucination for me in which it felt like the imagined birds reappeared in slightly different places and slightly different colors every time I metaphorically blinked my inner eye.
While many of the sounds within these two pieces are the usual familiar MCIAA ingredients (Maurizio’s self-made double-bodied string instrument, Roberto’s wordless vocalizations and Alientronics), they feel like they are combined and manipulated in fresh new ways this time around and it genuinely does feel like the beginning of a promising new phase of “alien minimalism.” In keeping with that theme of rebirth, the Opalios were so inspired by the concept and mood of this release that they opted for an even more ambitious packaging presentation than usual, as the physical edition includes an accompanying art book, a manifesto, and various other visual delights. That will no doubt be enticing for collectors, but the album itself is strong enough to stand quite well by itself, as both pieces are excellent. In fact, the second piece is easily one of my favorite MCIAA compositions to date and it is quite an unusually accessible one too (if hypnotically pulsing and psychotropic space music can ever be said to be accessible). If anyone out there is looking for a good entry point into the Opalios’ oft-challenging and boldly original strain of otherworldly mindfuckery, this is it.
Listen here.
