Gastr del Sol’s second album returns at last to the vinyl format — its first physical manifestation in well over a decade. Once again, a drop of the needle may ignite any number of queries, summed simply in one: What IS this music? Such is the potent energy of »Crookt, Crackt, or Fly«, retaining its otherworldly qualities some 32 years and countless musical movements since.

»Crookt, Crackt, or Fly« expands upon »The Serpentine Similar«’s minimalist stance in unexpected ways, imposing further austerity in the soundscape but for an unpredictable expansive quantity periodically overflowing — waves of blood sluicing through the elevator doors. This is partially due to a change within the group dynamic: the departure of bassist Ken »Bundy« Brown and the arrival of a new partner for guitarist and singer David Grubbs — guitarist and sound fuckerer Jim O’Rourke.

O’Rourke’s initial work with Gastr involved editing and recomposing recordings of the Grubbs–Brown–and–sometimes–John–McEntire lineup, producing an utterly outré collage of cut-ups and other types of tape processing. This became the »20 Songs Less« single, after which he was invited to play with the group. It was a time of flux; Brown recalls playing a Gastr show at the Metro around this time featuring himself, John McEntire, Grubbs and O’Rourke — and one of the pieces played was a Tortoise song!

Throughout these shifts, Gastr del Sol’s music was never less than fully considered and composed, even in moments redolent with the suggestion of the random and the non-sequitur. Grubbs and O’Rourke made no attempt to replicate »Serpentine«’s arrangement of thick, scaly drones and hypnotic song-visions in their own partnership, finding »Crookt, Crackt«’s sound instead in spiny, gamelan-like interactions between their (mostly acoustic) guitars, played precisely in and out of formation with bright, fleet-fingered abandon.

O’Rourke’s fondness for field recordings and his capacity for tape manipulation intersected with Grubbs’ sensibilities, edifying his evolving song style: written with increased sharpness and sly surreal humor, sung closer to silence. Halfway into »Work from Smoke«, the sudden collapse of the sound-walls around us signals »Crookt, Crackt«’s major departure. From the thicket of guitars, a swell of drones and free-jazz squeals — made up of bass clarinet, vibraphone and organ — pulls the listener into an entirely other acoustic space.

»Every Five Miles« derails in similarly tactile fashion: a guitar duet boils up thunderously, then fragments and spirals apart. As a free electric guitar part crops up, improbably holding the center, the acoustic space around it continues to disintegrate in ambient stereo.

A wedding of folk music idioms to classical, improvised and modern compositional modes (including Gastr’s own formative post-punk mode), »Crookt, Crackt, or Fly« is a song-based reality steadily giving way to its alternative alchemies playing out within.