Though Curse You, Evil Clown is technically an expanded reissue of the long out-of-print 3” CD-R Curse of Evil Clown (released by Meupe back in 2005), it doesn’t follow the re-release formula of simply tacking a bunch of bonus tracks onto the end. Rather, it’s more like a director’s cut, presenting the original in a new light through the inclusion of other chronologically and thematically linked pieces. As such, it’s best assessed as a complete entity, with no demarcation between old and new.

Curse You, Evil Clown opens with the chopped and layered tones of ‘Stumbling’. It’s the shortest track here and an introduction to the disc’s overall ambient tone. Second track ‘Stall and Burn’ is a slow-burning combination of crackling static and off-camera scrapes. As the volume and density of the track’s many disparate sound sources grow, so too does its ineffable sense of post-apocalyptic dread. Frighteningly inhuman, it feels like a precursor to the dark dissonance Pimmon would explore more fully on Smudge Another Yesterday.

The mood lightens somewhat with the intricate pulses of ‘Dream Clown’. Beneath a minimal, early Matmos-esque rhythm lurks a half-buried but persistent melody. Barely perceptible, it hovers at the periphery like a semi-forgotten memory that stays teasingly out of reach. Things get noisy again with new track ‘Bottomless Trap-Hole [Scheme 4]’, with what sounds like an overmodulated guitar going head-to-head with a battery of analogue effects. Against the pristine backdrop of the preceding three tracks, its abrasive dirtiness stands out sharply. The shimmering glow of ‘Zero Gravity’ offers a much-needed aural balm. One of the most soporifically beautiful pieces in the Pimmon catalogue, its soft cushion of gently oscillating tones is a flawless exercise in drift. Again, buried so deep as to be almost inaudible is a loping bass melody, straining against the track’s otherwise formless structure.

The extended closing track ‘G-Stains’ is a torch-lit stumble through subterranean; all scorched circuitry and indistinct, vaguely menacing noises. At times it feels like some kind of song or more fleshed-out piece of music is trying to break out, but it never pierces the surface. And that, in many ways, sums up the beauty of Curse. It only ever hints at things, keeping buried so much that might otherwise overpower the delicacy of these compositions. Subtlety is, in many ways, Pimmon’s strongest suit – and here, it’s used to its greatest effect.

by Adam D Mills