The first minute and a half of Supersilent’s 8 is almost just that–super-silent. You’ll find yourself twiddling the volume knob–particularly if you’ve just come from the Norwegian crew’s blissed-out, Eno-esque 6 (7 was a DVD)–until the ten-minute mark hits and the low synth flutters have, almost imperceptibly, morphed into doom-metal sludge. Everything becomes much too loud, and then, on “2,” the sludge thins to a trickle: seven minutes of faint electronic warbles. As 8’s numbers climb–tracks here are labeled as simple ascending numerals–the pattern repeats, alternating between the spare and hushed and the cacophonous, with the sounds–from electronic chirps to operatic vocals to guitar thrash–becoming odder at every step. Lovely, ecstatic, and confounding.