This Swedish duo traipse through dusky atmospheres and static-streaked piano vignettes with the gait of a failed mystic who, unable to cast off all temporal ties, remains anchored in a no-mans land connecting this world to the other. Their stark, sullen piano-led compositions seem haunted by dateless memories, chafed impressions which exert a subconscious pressure, spurring them on night after night to wallow in cosmic lamentations.

As their second full-length effort, "Feelings For Something Lost" replays many of the same scenario's found in their previous work: steeped in lo-fi production techniques, remnants of street noise and tactile sounds of hissing swaddle murky piano chords that brood and dissolve to leave an air of desolation and decay. Whereas their previous effort placed certain constraints on the arrangements so as to have them build up a festering energy which would be discharged in an eruption of guitar feedback, this album places even greater emphasis on the rough edges and rawness of the more grave moments.

The title track conveys a relaxed directness, its clanking melody remains constant, unaware of the aggregates of staccato metallic noises slashing across the sparse stereo field as though a person with their head in the clouds. Further tracks swell and breathe, meander about and get entangled. At the same time, many of these entanglements, that is to say many of these relations, often bear a strong family resemblance, while others seem tacked on or unnecessary. The music is enigmatic in places, but self-consciously so - a point made clear by the fact that little in variance of mood or energy takes place.

Perhaps wishing to hide some of their own mechanisms from each other, the duo seek the aid of Deaf Center's Erik Skodvin and Cecile Schott (aka Colleen) on two pieces. Skodvin lends a hand on "Departures (Burning Saints For Your Own Sins)", injecting into the piece some rumbling stabs and scything metallic sounds, which shift through unsteady tonal drifts, creating a queasy sense of impending demise. On the other hand, the light and airy flutter of chords on "Leaves Abstract In A Village Plunged Into Mourning" immediately alerts one to Colleen's presence. While her nimble and sharply articulated movements provide a welcome change in mood and pace, as it stands, her influence seems too apparent, too recognizable, and her inclusion therefore strikes an awkward note in an album full of them. 5/10 -- Max Schaefer (30 January, 2007)