About seven years ago Nakamura and Butcher released Cavern With Nightlife (Weight Of Wax), demonstrating how wide reverberating spaces were able to impact their combined actions. In contrast, Dusted Machinery explores an antithetic and occasionally claustrophobic perspective. The diminished spacing of the individual emissions produces tones and noises whose hardly governable temperament is apparent, still placing large chunks of the work in the realm of non-figurative instrumental physics. The no-input mixing board is challenged by a soprano (twice) and a tenor sax in the first three tracks; Butcher employs saxophone feedback in the concluding “Nobasu”, possibly the record’s peak in terms of trenchancy of quivering matter. An intriguing point is the divergence between the molecular granulation detected via headphones, and the slight tendency to aural globalization brought by a room-influenced diffusion. As a mere example among the many, the initial minutes of “Maku” allow short peeps inside the processes of modification and subsequent recombination of the sonic particles before the membrane-pricking traits of shrilling frequencies enforce certain rules. Congenital patterns evidenced by the parallelisms ultimately disintegrate into hundreds of small discordant cells. On the other hand, in a seriously agitated piece like “Knead” one tends to appraise the music’s overall sweep rather than concentrate on microscopic detail. However one chooses to listen to it, this is an inhospitably stimulating record, destined to improve the brain’s ability to handle extreme acoustic contrasts.