No genres, no rules: every track on A. Out’s invigorating new album is, as guys describes, a world unto itself.

Entitled Motor Cortex Stimulation, it’s a cantankerous smorgasbord of unclassifiables: industrial strength triumphant cinematic breaks, squat party techno murderation, bone-rattling bloodclart breakbeats and oil barrels of toxic, skin-melting bass are just some of the flavours in his foreboding brew. It sounds a bit like this…