Known for being elusive if not downright evasive, Italian mood-music meisters Larsen are no easier to define musically than they are to pin down personally. Rumours about the production of their previous record Rever with Young God Records boss Michael Gira, describe them recording the entire album from behind black curtains, with Gira quoted as saying, “I worked intimately with the band for three weeks, but I never saw their faces.” The sense of mystery surrounding their personages no doubt helps to maintain the mystique of their eerie, mostly-instrumental soundscapes.

Apparently their latest album Play is inspired by, of all things, the music of British electronica duo Autechre. It is said that the album began with Larsen playing along to Autechre’s tracks, then using the melodies as leaping-off points to orchestrate their own pieces. Being no Autechre connoisseur, it’s not for me to rate Play as an interpretation of that seminal outfit’s work. However, oddly enough, the electonica influence is apparent, despite Larsen’s use of almost exclusively organic musical instruments. There is something in the moody repetition and gradual building and dissolving of intensity that recalls the most inspired of electronic music.

To describe Play as repetitive is not a criticism. Certainly, the melodies are simple, and often duplicated constantly for the entire track-length – which can range anywhere from two to ten minutes. However – unlike some other artists who attempt instrumental music – Larsen know how to work a simple melody into an epic and emotive piece of music.

The record opens with an unadorned, plaintive bass line, which is joined by subdued, longing strings and harmonium. Just as the ever-rolling bass threatens to enter monotonous territory, Larsen gently wrest your attention back. They don’t take the piece in a new direction, but – like a children’s game of keeping a balloon from touching the ground – they never let the momentum fall, managing to constantly introduce new ideas to keep the music afloat – and the listener hooked – for the whole eight minute running-time. While never abandoning the astonishingly simple progression at its core, the piece gradually builds into a grinding sombre rock-out complete with grumbling low vocals – earthy and affectively unintelligible.

This opening piece marks the tone for all of Play. Mysterious, brooding and impossible to pin down, the tracks are all inexplicably named after letters: C, E, S, etc. The track-names elusive of explanation, and the band-members evasive of human eyes, may smack of a self-conscious and cynical effort to be seen as intriguing. But, even without the preceding reputation of Larsen’s weirdness, the music speaks for itself. This is not a record to put on at a party, and Larsen gigs aren’t going to be inspiring energetic mosh-pit action anytime soon. However if you’re looking for a record that is low-key but intense, mysterious but thought-provoking, and elusive yet strangely emotionally riveting, you could do a lot worse than Play.