Sometimes you can tell from the first listen of a recording that its creator has a totalizing vision that transcends time and genre. You will experience this rare sensation when you play Panoram's “A Doom With A View.” The Italian producer has tapped into a vein of surrealist sonic collage that's at once allusive and elusive. The album parades baffling micro-movements past your ears like a secret history of misunderstood musical remnants heard on damaged media formats, 50 years after a catastrophic disaster. It exposes continuity and logic as specious myths; jettisoning these vestigial elements in order to make space for a higher form of aural alchemy.
A Doom With A View's two long tracks come off as a scrambled signal from the final crackles of the information age; at times you feel as if this music's been filtered through an advanced race's sensorium before it penetrates your lowly mortal ears. Its transitions seem at once logical and absurd. Just when you think you have a grip on its progress, Panoram makes a mockery of your assumptions. He bathes guitars and keyboards in a space-age sheen and swathes them in freaky interstellar frequencies and disturbing turbulence. Despite the Andromeda Strain-like chaos, something sensual and dramatic's thrumming under the surface. This is the soundtrack to a golden age that's rusting around the edges. Its degradation holds you rapt, its Elysian inferno beckons you to hum along to its eroding siren song. In a perfect world, A Doom With A View would be the last thing you hear in this life.