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Laced with occult imagery and enigmatic samples, the Scottish duo’s immersive new album—their first in 13 years—offers some of the most captivating music of their career.

Inferno opens as Boards of Canada albums so often do, with a cluster of brassy, vaguely optimistic synths, a dead ringer for the sorts of abstract jingles once encountered alongside the introductory credits on VHS tapes; barely a minute later, things leap into action with “Prophecy at 1420 MHz,” whose chiseled rock beat, evolving synthscapes, and plangent guitar lead feel like the platonic ideal of a Boards of Canada song, blown up to gargantuan proportions. The title is a reference to the frequency at which hydrogen resonates, believed to be a likely signal path for interstellar communication; as the track gathers steam, a robotic voice delivers a gravelly treatise on consciousness and being: “Nothingness comes to a greater awareness of itself/The divine intellect/I am the truth, extinction… I am God, the ultimate resonance.” It’s a high-stakes bid to claim ownership of the oldest story in the book: the meaning of life.

The occult themes and enigmatic samples would be irrelevant if the experience of listening to Inferno weren’t so scintillating. But the elevated subject matter seems to have animated Eoin and Sandison, too; everywhere you listen, strange and thrilling things are afoot, stirring up pockets of turbulence in even the most placid passages. I keep coming back to the weird guttural undertow of “Father and Son,” where it sounds like a demon is growling in response to the chirpy Christian platitudes. In an ambient sketch given the very OPN-like title “Memory Death,” there are buzzing flies and an inhaling sound that makes me think of the old Skype log-in chime, as though some death-bringing force were leaching into our dimension through the WiFi. Throughout the album, the guitars have an unusually gothic cast, almost as though the brothers had spent much of the past 13 years steeped in the Cure’s Pornography. — (via Pitchfork)

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It’s difficult to discuss Boards of Canada without relying on cinematic references – Blade Runner, Silent Running, and Solaris are all present in terms of aesthetic association and visualisation, but where those masterpieces lean into pessimism Inferno remains achingly optimistic (perhaps despite itself). “Prophecy at 1420 MHz” – the lead single from the album – could well be the key that unlocks the intention behind the record as a whole and connects to the concept of science fiction. 1420 MHz is the frequency of the hydrogen line, or the “Wow! signal” that many believe points to extraterrestrial radio transmission communication first observed way back in 1977. This feels a long way from the post-apocalyptic tones on 2013’s Tomorrow’s Harvest as we’re looking up at the stars rather than down at the barren land.   

“Into the Magic Land” has a childlike awe to it with simplistic patterns repeating and swelling, making it reminiscent of the all-too-often overlooked instrumental post-rock band Rothko, while “You Retreat in Time and Space” weaves a nostalgic, 1970s tinged aural tapestry where everything is just slightly out of focus and reminds you – for those old enough – of the tracking function on old VHS players. Album closer “I Saw Through Platonia” is probably/possibly/definitely the best track Boards of Canada have ever produced. Referring (perhaps) to Julian Barbour’s concept of a mathematical notion of a timeless landscape where everything is possible all at once (yeah… I’m not doing a great job of explaining this but no doubt there are tonnes of sexless TED Talks on this matter that you can probably find online – this is a band who are clear that “Music is Math,” after all), the track shimmies and shines before fading into nothingness/everythingness. It’s gorgeous, and if this is to be the last Boards of Canada release then it’s one hell of a bow and statement. 

Inferno centres on the fragmentation and erosion of memory, on the concept of human performativity, and the notion of simulacra as pure distraction. Whereas a masterpiece such as William Basinski’s The Disintegration Loops plays on the concept of time as an incessant eroding factor, there is an optimistic core at the centre of this record that feels juxtapositional to much of their earlier work that places a focus on the past rather than the present. Here, though, Boards of Canada are firmly rooted as documentarians of the ruinous now. — (via Beats Per Minute)

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- 45RPM, 2LP on red translucent vinyl
- Housed in triple gatefold sleeve
- Includes 8" hexagon flexi-disc & 16 page booklet

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Label: Warp Records / Music70
Format: 2 x Vinyl, LP, Album, Red Translucent
Flexi-disc, 8", 45 RPM, Shape, Single Sided, Deluxe Edition
Released: 2026
Genre: Electronic
Style: Downtempo, Ambient, IDM, Experimental

File under: Leftfield
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