t seems incredibly odd that the Japanese neo-psychedelic outfit Acid Mothers Temple should undertake a piece by a composer like Terry Riley; metal and minimalism are not often mentioned in the same breath. But the six-member group’s take on Riley’s composition “In C”—a sequence of 53 brief melodic sections, repeated as many times as desired—is surprisingly natural. The piece’s repetition and loose structure, which allow the musicians plenty of room for improvisation, proves to be perfectly suited to AMT’s rhythmic, Krautrock-influenced approach.

Over the course of nearly 20 minutes, AMT jam around the loose structure of “In C,” incorporating shimmering electronics and a steady rhythmic chugging in their destabilized take on the piece. After an extended introduction characterized by a skipping organ and the lovely vibraphone melodies that ornamented some of Riley’s own recordings of the piece, it builds into the frenzied, chaotic rumble that’s expected of this group. Throughout the piece, the jubilant melodies ride along on intricate percussion, accented by electronic noise—it all sounds wildly fun and exciting.

Rounding out the rest of this album are two original (and equally long) AMT compositions. “In D” is a drone piece that layers several long static tones over each other with only slight alterations throughout its twenty minute length. The pulsating drones interact to create a layered piece that passes by almost unconsciously, echoing around inside your skull. Subtle changes over the course of the track—like the creepy, wordless vocalizing that crops up in the second half—only add to its effectiveness as late-night atmosphere. Sandwiched in the middle of the album between two more upbeat tracks, however, it’s an overly sleepy interlude that draws the action to a complete halt for way too long.

Things pick back up in a big way for “In E,” a minimalist composition which, again, mines completely different territory than what came before it. Starting with a bed of droning electronics, the track is soon taken over by Mokoto Kawabata’s aggressive guitar, marking the first time on the album that he’s stepped to the forefront. The same steady rhythmic drive—borrowed from Neu! and Can—that served as a brick-and-mortar infrastructure for the electronic flights of “In C,” here girders the roaring metal soloing of Kawabata. Echoing screams form a ghostly backdrop to the noise, and the guitars deftly rise and fall, build tension then release, rising in crazed crescendos of riffing before falling briefly into interludes of meditative repetition. The respites are only momentary, though, and the bulk of the piece is dedicated to climactic, finger-shredding ax work as Kawabata pours it all out through his instrument. By the time it’s over, you’re as exhausted as he must have been.