There’s something magnetic about music that doesn’t ask for your approval, it simply exists, raw and unfiltered, challenging you to feel something. With Elements, the latest EP from Evil Gima, that challenge becomes a reward in the long run. The duo made up of film composer Dave Wirth and sound artist Jorge Martinez have built a four-song collection that’s as haunting as it is hypnotic, a meticulously crafted descent into the dark corners of sound itself.
Created over a single weekend in May 2024, Elements captures the rare kind of creative alchemy that only happens when two artists surrender completely to experimentation. Wirth and Martinez, armed with a Eurorack setup and the borrowed magic of a Roland Space Echo, turn minimal equipment into a sprawling sonic world. Every drone, feedback loop, or distortion feels deliberate yet unhinged, as if the machines themselves were gasping for air. The result is music that sounds alive.
Evil Gima aren’t interested in comfort. The duo leans fully into the unsettling frequencies that might make most producers flinch. However, within that chaos lies an extraordinary sense of control. The drones stretch and morph, melodies twist just beyond recognition, and subtle textures rise and fall like voices that aren’t actually there. It’s experimental music that feels cinematic, born from Wirth’s background in film composition but stripped of narrative safety nets. For us, Elements legitimately opened our world into what music can be and the imagination behind it.
Across its roughly twenty-minute runtime, the EP conjures an emotional spectrum that few lyric-driven projects achieve. One moment, you’re caught in the throes of an anxious pulse like on the opener “Enthalpy” and the next you’re suspended in an ambient void towards the midway point with “Nuclear Charge”. With all the music we consume on a daily basis, it’s become difficult to grasp our attention, but this managed to do it a little too easily.
We’ll make it clear that this is music that chases commercial appeal, but honestly, who cares. It embraces imperfection as art, an idea that feels increasingly radical in an era of pristine production. You can hear the physicality of tape, the hum of electricity, the imperfections that make each sound unique. We’ll say it once again, but it’s that alive feeling that drew us to listen to the rest.
Evil Gima have created something rare, a record that exists completely in its own space. It’s dark but not despairing, yet still accessible to anyone willing to listen with open ears. Put it on in the dark, let it fill the room, and surrender. Even better, we’ve got a feeling it was released just in time for Halloween.