The track opens with a heavily distorted, almost liquid texture, like waves of pressure oscillating in and out, creating a suspenseful and immersive atmosphere. A scathing yet sweet voiceover lurks just beneath the surface, its words indecipherable yet urgent, as if whispering forgotten ancient knowledge through layers of digital decay and radio-like interference. The result is something arcane, something machine-like, as if the listener has been swallowed by an occult wave-forming supercomputer.

At the 30-second mark, flickers and glitches emerge like sparks from a machine whirring to life. The track skips forward unpredictably, hinting at something brewing beneath the surface. The voiceover, sweet yet ominous, presses on, feeling less like a human narrator and more like the machine itself addressing the listener. Around 45 seconds in, the voice begins to disintegrate, ping-ponging between channels, its fidelity rapidly deteriorating. The sensation is that of a spreading corruption, a virus worming its way through the soundscape.

Then, the drop. The music, once restrained, crashes in all at once, an unrelenting cacophony of thumping digital percussion, evoking imagery of machines imitating tribal drums or gunshots echoing across a post-apocalyptic wasteland. The track doesn’t move in predictable loops but rather free-falls, flowing with an organic yet chaotic energy, like a storm with no fixed center. Synths and drums scrape against one another, bleeding together in a gorgeously controlled chaos. The gradual build-up to the crescendo is masterful, making the payoff feel both inevitable and overwhelming. 

The production is meticulous in its destruction. Every clipped frequency and distorted edge feels intentional, an embrace of digital decay rather than a fear of imperfection. Some have compared Ghozt’s sound to experimental artists like Arca and Amnesia Scanner, yet Ghozt carves out a unique identity, pushing industrial club music into new territory. The sound design alone tells a story of a future where humanity and machinery are indistinguishable, where underground raves are held in the ruins of data centers, and where rhythm is dictated by malfunctioning hardware.

Ghozt has crafted something raw, visceral, and entirely new-a fresh take on industrial music that feels elemental, almost alchemical. If SUMMONINGCIRCLE was its own genre, it might be best described as dystopian chemistry. This is music that doesn’t just play, it processes, corrodes, and survives in its own chaos. In an era where so much electronic music is polished to perfection, SUMMONINGCIRCLE is a reminder that the underground is where the realest rawest art happens.

Emotionally, SUMMONINGCIRCLE is overwhelming in the best way. It doesn’t ask for passive listening; it demands attention, creating an atmosphere of unease and exhilaration. It’s music for the end times, for neon-lit nights in abandoned cities, for moments when chaos feels more honest than order. Ghozt taps into something primal, something ritualistic, making this track as much an experience as it is a piece of music.

So long as the future continues to go where it seems to be heading- Ghozt is what the future sounds like.

Stream SUMMONINGCIRCLE: open.spotify.com/track/0xJEVtoBgmgA5Ea16gJ3ZB?si=5059c5e789134120 

Website: ghozt.xlx.world

Instagram: @thisisghozt

Bandcamp: ghozt.bandcamp.com

Written By Konbini2004: linktr.ee/konbini2004