Need an antidote to neatly-packaged beigeness? Over a marathon 80 minutes, World's End Girlfriend aka Katsuhiko Maeda propels us through a joyously unhinged sonic adventure which counterposes symphonic passages and dizzying eclectic modern compositions. 'Seven Idiots' takes all the elements of music which hit you the hardest and pushes the listener to extremes of pace and mood you're more likely to find from a freestyle DJ than on a single album. 

Particularly during the first half the pace is frantic, and the effect is often confusing yet  always exhilarating. Rather than build, the dynamics switch diametrically, where punishing drum and bass is waiting round the corner from weeping strings, finger-popping funk basslines or smoky noir-jazz.  On 'Les Enfants du Paradis', a huge fuzzed-out Strokes-y guitar lick precedes a robotic Mario wig out with string accompaniment. Maeda has said that he creates the skeletons of pieces from vocal songs, then gets rid of the vocals before kicking them into shape. It instils his avant-garde approach, which many would see as acute madness, with a kind of pop sensibility.

Some have remarked that too much of WEGF's current output sounds like a reto-futurist computer game. This does a disservice to the breadth of styles which inform the energised vision of 'Seven Idiots'. At times it could soundtrack a future dystopian police chase, at others the tone is more elegiac. 'Unfinished Finale Shed'  is a beautifully restrained send-off, adorned with simple keys and plaintive guitar like falling leaves. The breathless momentum achieved early in the album utilises rhythms inspired by hardcore techno, power metal, hip-hop, classical, jazz and everything inbetween. The closest thing it has to a sense of identity ironically comes from the guitar sound, and bold FX-laden licks are often a springboard for the ensuing mayhem. 

Staccato snatches of noise, bleeps and squelches like malfunctioning toys, disembodied voices and manipulated scratching mean this is rarely a comfortable listen, with less of the more withdrawn ambience of his previous work. Yet somehow there is a romantic swing underpinning much of it. 'Der Spiegel im Spiegel im Spiegel' may cross the line into random, formless bollocks, but on 'The Offering Inferno,' the noise terror is more disconcerting. Backwards-spewing screams and distorted dog barks are punctuated by a single piano note on each eight count. It sounds like the end of the world, the ground opening up and hell sucking souls from the earth.

This is music as a raw experience, not as a lifestyle option. Our own Beethoven with ADHD, World's End Girlfriend takes huge pop signifiers, blows them up and fires the shrapnel into the staves of classical arrangements. It's an exhausting odyssey of a listen, and to absorb it as a whole is an act of defiance in itself. You probably don't have the time. I can't think of a better reason for you to listen to 'Seven Idiots' right now.