here is a Swedish flag hanging over my desk here in residence. I love Refused, leggy blondes, guys named Adolf who weren’t half bad, and, less so lately, progressive social policies. So, when I listen to Jasper TX’s debut experimental ambient album about the end of something resembling the world, I get even more excited knowing mastermind Dag Rosenqvist’s a Swede.

Now, I don’t listen to Mogwai, or Sigur Ros. I haven’t even heard Fennesz. I’ve just never gotten around to it. Thus, when I listen to ambitious, drawn out music like the kind featured on I’ll Be Long Gone Before My Light Reaches You, I’m left to my primitive understanding of the legends like Stockhausen, Varèse, and, *cough*, Radiohead.

All of this might mean that Rosenqvist has a free throw on this one; I’m green in his area of expertise, and I’m keen on his background. Not to mention that the strictly instrumental aspects of his work are much more minimal than most of the would-be contemporaries I’m familiar with, while his use of futuristic elements play effectively with his theme, if not wisely on his influences.

I’ll Be opens with “Blown Out to Sea, I’m Never Coming Back.” Its hushed ocean waves crashing at the shore come in over black box static, and tones surging in thirds. Pure sonic waves of ambience gush into the fold as high pitched organs screech methodically for three minutes, before a mellow power chord riff glides in with fourths. After one round on the guitar, a kick/snare drum beat leads into a massive orchestration of bending strings and pattered keys, with all the ambience of the first five minutes maturing akin. One by one the layers give way to the soothing waves smoothing out the landscape, and feedback squeals the track through its final minutes of droning strums. It takes a full minute after that to hear the mic being fumbled, then delicately tapped on methodically. It’s like a broken heart beat being sung by the most pretentious of emo kids.

“Letting Go (The World is Coming to an End),” with its chimes and deep pulsing background sludge feels redundant at first, but after the melody gives out, furious bursts of sheer trembling volume attack the senses to failure, and the sinister feeling behind this album begins to take full shape. In spite of feeling as though this and other epic songs are simply rehashing what’s been done by the aforementioned pioneers, the intensity with which Rosenqvist meticulously crafts each segment of the music, every tone brimming with anticipation of further and more accessible accentuation, makes the final five minutes of “Letting Go” easy to swallow—pleasant even.

“Help Them Die” is the album’s defining track, and it’s a gorgeous feat for such an ugly sentiment. More impressive is that it’s only four minutes and carries with it a brief, tempered pay off; something Rosenqvist couldn’t duplicate as he searches for meaning in “Rounds,” and shoots for the moon through crackling, passive guitar distortion dueling with a banshee on the never-ending “My Heart Is Broken, I’ve Lost My Way.”

Even still, his meticulous craftsmanship shines in closer “All Those Broken Birds Singing Winter Into Spring,” where a locomotive industrialization is cut through with more of the same pentatonic plucking from “Help” and earlier track “Braille.” Taking his time and pushing through the fog delicately, adding electrically charged organs to set the piece adrift into the changing season. A distant drum beat emerges under the cover of wailing bends. Finally, the birds speak up, and the ambient background serves as perfect imagery for chirping on the beach as the tide comes in once more to help sing the album to closure.

For all of its stuttering, “I’ll Be Long Gone Before My Light Reaches You” isn’t so easy to target for grandiose musicianship. It incorporates all of the major elements of educated experimentation, and hits the perpetual touchstones, through field recordings and electronic patterns the likes of Cage and Stockhausen set the foundation for years ago. It stands out from the ubiquitous pack of post-rock innovators by covering ground most wouldn’t dare attack. That’s also one reason it’s an album you’re not likely to hear much about.

But, I promise, it’s at least as interesting as Takk.