Motion Sickness of Time Travel
The ambient cosmic drone that launches this 64th release from Georgia’s Rachel Evans is placid — almost reassuring. It’s the sort of score you’d expect to hear in an ’80s sci-fi movie while watching a ship slowly dock with a space station. That mirage is soon shattered, though, by brief bouts of dissonance and ear-piercing whistles that sound like they’re somehow coming from all directions at once. Shock and awe isn’t the norm for a Motion Sickness of Time Travel album, but the jolt it delivers is undeniable.