Like with any group of tireless, fearless, infinitely creative artists, to discuss one album by Circle is to discuss a snapshot. In the course of over 20 years, and over 30 albums, the Finnish band has explored more genres than most people can name. They have been savage metalheads, trippy prog disciples, deftly accurate Krautrockers and purveyors of otherworldy folk.

In other words, to hear one record is to hear a moment static in time that may possibly never be revisited again. The moment here is Miljard, a 2006 instrumental album where the band chose to push themselves further than usual by assuming the form of ascetics working in the sparse realms of ambient music.

There is no form here, at least none that can be picked up casually. The opening melancholy keyboard line of “Parmalee” illustrates the heart of the record: simple webs of melody used to stitch together brooding, fractured, disparate sounds that meander, skitter, rumble and squeal through all ten tracks.

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