Foam Fangs could be a term used to describe SILKs preferred take on that too-easily dismissed 70s dancefloor dementia of disco – the soft bite, love nibble, mirrorball on steady/ready perma-revolve. Jesse Reiner (Jonas Reinhardts first mister, alongside past/part-time collaborators like Phil Manley of Trans Am and Damon Palermo of Mi Ami/Magic Touch), who never quite had the Kranky krinkle of his ohm-ambient labelmates, travels head-on, Tomorrowland-style, through long-form cosmic Moroder constellations of >Foam Fangs<. Nothing frothy about it, though there is a bit of the rubbery in Reiner’s bounce-about, cool, funky kraut-disco. Suddenly we are beaming back to a time when the world looked forward, envisioning a 21st century decked with silver, chrome, and neoprene. It is a sonic space both transparent and shiny, the metallic ding and cold ribbon of data, scrolling through infinite space. The opener, >Foam Fangs<, transports us instantly into an ever-expanding universe of sound and light at once fanning out and folding in on itself. Variations on that theme continue as the Jonas journey oscillates through the beat-beyond.