To say the least, Wooden Veil’s new album is disturbing. Imagine if Genesis P-Orridge and Stockhausen defied the laws of anatomy to have a lovechild, who went on to compose a bespoke soundtrack to your worst nightmare. Co-written with Damian from the Omen. Yet somehow I can imagine this album fitting nicely into Berlin’s infamous electronic music scene. Certainly they are in good company on Dekorder, alongside artists including PXP (Penetration + Perversion), Felix Kubin and The Hafler Trio. Wooden Veil seems to utilize free-improvisation with rudimentary percussion, keyboards, bells, glockenspiels, banjos and more, with electronics layered on top. The result is a collection of dense, haunting soundscapes usually underpinned by a percussive ostinato or vocal chant.

The lead female vocals, which drift in and out, frankly provide some much needed respite and grounding. Delivered half-whispered in an almost childlike manner, they nod towards the pioneers or Bristol’s trip-hop scene, Portishead. The tracks that introduce (and I apologise in advance for using this awful yet apparently inescapable term) “world music” elements are highlights, and successfully save the album from drowning in a sea of self-indulgence. “Bird Shaped” layers Santoor, percussion and electronics to create what is best described as a twisted lullaby. “Red Sky” uses Ud and Doumbek to conjure up images of North Africa, and “Red Desert” starts with a brief yet sublime piece of Yiddish-inspired violin and guitar. “Gloom Across The Ice” sounds like Mongolian throat singing layered like a Gregorian chant, starting modally before becoming pleasingly dissonant and sinister.

Throughout listening, I couldn’t help feeling that only Wooden Veil’s live performances –complete with costumes, masks and semi-Pagan rituals- can really do justice to what is essentially a performance art group. Still, at least for once their name is wholly appropriate: tough, uncompromising and secretive, yet genuinely intriguing.