Endlessly prolific, unrelentingly harsh, and more streamlined in a singular vision than most artists could even conceive of, Japanese noise artist Merzbow has been at the forefront of his field for decades. Crafting emotional currents and wordless commentary from sounds that most people would tune out as unintentional feedback or grating noise, Merzbow's countless releases consist of rewired electronics, brittle synthesizers, and Armageddon-invoking computer processing, and on double album Kibako, even moments of queasy organic ambience. The collection consists of eight movements, most pushing the ten-minute mark and some twenty. Blasts of compositional noise like "Lokijikan" sit beside the creaky electro-acoustics of "Kikoezu Mori (0303)" and find a middle ground in the unexpectedly musical trio of violin, processed feedback, and found percussion sounds on "Fff." In a discography that spans literally hundreds of releases, Kibako is a good place for newcomers to Merzbow to begin, and will either befuddle the diehards or give them even more reason to embrace the unholy noise.