Sewn together seamlessly from eerie garbled vocals, skeletal rhythms and faded cabaret instrumentation, 'Heart of the Total Eclipse' is Justin Tripp's way of folding trip-hop in on itself, creating an uncanny tapestry of the eerily familiar and uneasily alien. Best known as one half of New York City-based operatives Georgia, who have released a slew of genre-dissolving plates on cult imprints like YOUTH and EM, Tripp is a prolific producer whose archives are notoriously vast. On top of his solo excursions for Plaque, Haunter and Sagome, he debuts a bounty of unheard material each month on NTS's "All Kind Music" hour. Still, 'Heart of the Total Eclipse' covers new ground; a suite of slow-motion fantasies, it's led by a chorus of artificial hooks that sound far too memorable to be computer generated.

On 'Hill Climbing', dusty, rattling drum hits propel Tripp's arsenal of tempered feedback squeals and Radiophonic oscillations. And if you didn't know better, you might assume you were hearing a decades-old vocal performance, sourced from a lost, bottom-of-the-basement jazz or R&B record. Listen closer though and the words don't quite make sense; there aren't any words at all, in fact. It's less obvious on 'Infrastructure of Meaninglessness', when the reverberating voices hum and float over Tripp's gossamer piano vamps, touching the same euphoric spaces as classic dream pop. And the digitally-enhanced performance is front and center on 'Fraction of Successes', leading with a Lynchian level of absurdity and shuttling listeners into an illusory space filled with contradictions.

Enigmatic and unsettling, 'Heart of the Total Eclipse' is a neo noir soundtrack for troubled times. Not pegged to nostalgia, it wonders instead how reliable our memory even is.