Mark Reynolds' latest aggressively odd offering feels like the soundtrack to an unpleasant alternate take on that scenario, one in which Mouth, Chunk and their less colorfully named cohorts fall to their doom while the errant tone echoes ominously and endlessly. Reynolds makes minimalism malicious, holding blaring organ tones for so long that they become bearable before alarming lulled listeners with a louder, harsher blast.
Scattered vocal samples provide cues and clues. The phrase tooted all the horns ushers in a brass parade that seems ghostly given its bleak surroundings, as if it were coming from a band marching in stubborn support of a decimated army. Most of the dialogue comes from the selection's centerpiece, during which Reynolds uses whispered words as repetitively and abrasively as his other instruments. Pollinate! he instructs, and the musical reply approximates the buzzing chorus of countless tiny, flapping wings.
Drosophilia's title references the fruit fly. At 53 minutes, its lone track would probably outlive a swarm of the ill-fated insects, and it definitely outdistances the tolerance levels of most listeners. But for adventurous types willing to risk taking a plunge, Reynolds provides enough treasure to make the quest worthwhile.