At first, there doesn't seem to be a sound signal. Silence, therefore, shapes the initial landscape, intriguing the viewer. However, gradually and shyly, a shrill detail begins to emerge, breaking with the state of torpor. Between a sometimes hollow, sometimes sharp-looking shuttle, this texture ends up reaching its apex amid a sound that not only borders, but flirts gently with the dark. Entitled to echoing rhythmic pulses and an offering of sensory associated with loneliness, Enthalpy highlights the chaos of an initial dissonance, while making the listener plunge into a world of vulnerability and insecurity.

Contrary to what has been experienced in the previous composition, here the atmosphere is already presented in the midst of sonic silhouettes that bring with them the amazement, the suspense, the tense. By taking the viewer into a dark ecosystem of dark nuances, the song manages to cause fear in the face of pure darkness. In fact, there is no concrete, the tactile, but what Boling Point Transfusion does is put the viewer in a scenario as dense, hazy and sticky as the threshold. After all, their beehold-like sounds and strident whispers give the impression of feathered souls asking for help.

The stridency is already offered at its peak. From its haughty posture, the senses of urgency and immediacy shape the ecosystem in order to create a principle of tension in the sensoriality acquired by the listener. Of an acidic nature, the sound that shapes the landscape of the song brings with it the idea of an incendiary, but gradually combustion. The curious thing, in this process, is to realize that, even in the face of a principle of aggressiveness, the sound of Nuclear Charge even flirts, even if timidly, with the theme of synth-pop. Dangerous in its essence, the track clearly defends the idea of the impending, of the inevitable.

The scenario is graced by the adoption of the fade effect in. Like a kind of sound-narrative looping, the present song features the same introductory structure as Enthalpy. Of gradual sound awakening, but without hiding its shrill and acidic essence, the stripe makes the dark its safe harbor. Your comfort zone. Sensorily dense and tense, the band still draws attention for experiencing an exploration before the dark before a lens that borders the guttural. When sound reaches its apex of presence, it becomes linear and sequential, but does not diminish the purposeful nuisance offered to the viewer. Exthalpy is a track that still stands out for bringing the torpor amid a kind of dramatic, dark chaos.

Elements is an EP that simply gives wings to the imagination. However, not by a disneyresque, colorful and cheerful optic. Here, there is the dense, the tense. The chaos. Here, the shadows whisper and the silence murmurs. Darkness presents itself as the majority setting of all its sonic narratives.

It is precisely before them that the listener has to deal with his own weaknesses. Insecurity, fear, a sense of disprotection. Loneliness as proof of weakness associated with the perception of trust. Even if the tears run out at certain times, the drama Elements offers is fleeting and almost ludibriant. Here is an EP in which acid, synthetic and lo-fi unite in a dark and noisy aesthetic-structural rawness.

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.