More than 20 years and a couple of dozen albums into their musical journey together, Australian improvising trio, The Necks, seem to be living up to John Peel’s famous description of The Fall as being ‘always different, always the same.’ This latest follows a familiar template with two long tracks that explore ideas of patient repetition, incremental change and tectonic development. ‘Rum Jungle’ dives straight into the action, setting a cluster of polyrhythmic elements in motion. Tony Buck’s swift, ticking cymbal (a direct descendent of Sunny Murray’s pointillist abstract swing) rolls along next to throbbing bass and ominous pummelling of the low end of the piano. As new chords and shimmering keyboard effects are introduced, it feels like thunderclouds lifting for a long, slow sunrise. ‘Daylights’ takes a different approach to the same basic idea of piling up seemingly contradictory tempi to construct a coherent whole. Here, astral twinkles, scattered percussion and a simple three-note bass riff build a sparse groove that’s nonetheless solid enough to support Buck’s nippy hi-hat skipping around on top. It’s the very definition of a slow burner.