James Cumberland and John Dowling have never been ones for easy listening. Their previous incarnation as JINSAI explored jazz-adjacent noise and electronic experimentation across nearly a decade, and while Siren Section represents a refinement of that vision, "refined" doesn't mean "polished." The production on *Separation Team* is thick with grit, treating distortion as atmosphere rather than assault. It's the sonic equivalent of looking through frosted glass—shapes are recognizable, but details blur and shift.

The album's greatest strength lies in its commitment to sustained mood over instant gratification. This is music that demands deep listening, that unfolds in layers rather than hooks. The glitch-driven electronics stutter and fracture against shoegaze-influenced washes of guitar, while post-punk rhythms provide skeletal structure beneath the atmospheric haze. The duo's high school friendship, forged in the crucible of the 1990s, manifests as a kind of creative telepathy—these are songs built on opposing tensions held in delicate balance, heaviness and restraint occupying the same sonic space without neutralizing one another.

Thematically, *Separation Team* traffics in systems breaking down. The personal becomes technological becomes emotional, all collapsing and repairing in recursive cycles. It's psychedelic not in the paisley sense but in the way it reframes familiar existential dread through filtered lenses and feedback loops. The vulnerability here isn't worn on the sleeve so much as embedded in the grain of the recording itself, in the way clean melodies emerge from murky beds of noise only to dissolve back into static.

*Separation Team* won't convert skeptics of electronic post-punk's more experimental fringes, but for those already attuned to its particular wavelength, this is a rewarding, if demanding, return. After four years of work and eight years of silence, Siren Section have crafted something that exists outside trends and genre exercises—an album that sounds exactly like itself and nothing else, which is perhaps the highest compliment one can offer.