Novo Line – aka Berlin's algorave maestro Nat Fowler – delivers a noisy, ultramarine voyage into the depths of his archaic hardware. Clawing at the periphery between leftfield electronics and avant-garde pop, Zeit is an entirely new sonic universe, eerily familiar yet utterly uncharted. A visionary synthesist, Fowler is renowned for his productions that make use of mainly '80s equipment including vintage digital synths, discarded MIDI Hi-Tech, tape delay and even an ancient Atari ST computer. But, despite the aged technology, the result is far from nostalgic.

'Ain't That a Mess' slams in with Monica Kremidi's crooning à la Little Annie Anxiety with reeving car engines and guitar-rock static fed through a pan effect. Multilayered melodies soar on 'Stein', the pounding drums matched by gliding strings, crafting that holy grail of cavernous, booming textures and uplifting euphoria that mark out the most transcendent of rave tracks. The deceptively gentle opening bars of 'Morning Star' are interrupted by a viscously squelching bassline, Cass McCombs' vocals dancing deliciously with the raw beat.

Rejecting contemporary tech-fetishism, Novo Line has a near-supernatural ability to exorcise novel sequences, weaving together a record that speaks to the ghost in the machine.