We're old and familiar friends. These compositions represent the thing that happens when we get together. They aren't representative of one individual, one moment in time, or one chain of decisions. Some are ancient refrains, beginning life as habits and warm-ups, in-jokes; others are distilled jams; more still are refined from MIDI sketches and ideas whistled into voice notes. On whatever terms these elements become something we're happy to stand in front of you and play, to put on record, so be it.” So ANTA describe the process behind 2024's Organesson. Characteristic of the Bristolian Sci-Prog quartet, the record weaves together mesmerising, muscular riffs in insanely loud compositions that extend well into excess. Less typical is the polarisation at play, where granular polymeters will yield in an instant to passages of one or two-note simplicity. The record strides from one raging refrain to the next, lurching between devastation, joy, chaos, and stirring the themes accumulated along the way in exposition. “It comes down to those precious sweaty hours” the group suggest, “in which we get to vibrate these sounds into your face and chest, and you can dance and laugh with us. This is the stuff we remember and plan for, the moments we talk about the most when writing these songs.” ANTA's live shows, ceaseless onslaughts of deafening riffs, have been notable for maintaining the same intense energy among festival crowds or to three people in a basement. Walls of amps going full-pelt. Pounding, ornate drums and metals, wherein drummer James King is relentless in discovering strange and mighty rhythms. Full-drawbar organs, electric pianos, piercing synths from keys-man Alex Bertram-Powell. Joe Garcia's growling bass that strides rather than walks. Ben Harris' all-encompassing, dizzying guitars. Hypnotic, communal, compelling, indefinite energy. Organesson is the latest effort to put this feeling on record.