The follow-up to 2008â€™s Khora, Fragments of the Marble Plan adds an electronic carapace to Aufgehobenâ€™s cataclysmic noise-rock foundation. The prevailing sound evokes the Mego label before it added â€śEditionsâ€ť to its name and became enamored of American guitar mavericksâ€”back when it purveyed cyclotronic, abstract electronic music that had the centrifugal force of an irrefutable Ph.D. thesis. Such is the overwhelming power of Aufgehoben on the British groupâ€™s sixth album that even exposure to the MP3s makes one relieved to have health insurance. Music this apocalyptic has few peers, but some approximate touchstones are the most radically â€śoutâ€ť and knotty moments of Norwegian post-jazz ensemble Supersilent, This Heat after realizing that Brise-Glace didnâ€™t pay them a penny in royalties, or Farmers Manual after extensive immersion in Mainlinerâ€™s back catalog. Fragments of the Marble Plan is a terrifying force of nature, a Rube Goldberg machine run amok, the sound of civilization atomizing into controlled chaos. Itâ€™s so cold, itâ€™s hellish. Although Aufgehoben feels your need for catharsis, they convince you that being ready to jump out of your skin is the new normal. If Aufgehoben prompted clichĂ©s, one would say that they â€śtake no prisonersâ€ť on Fragments of the Marble Plan. This music is warâ€”with all of the fascinating horrors and grisly casualties inherent in that endeavor. Get a helmet.