The album, which eventually ran to six hours in length, was divided into six stages. The first stage follows the template laid down by The Caretaker’s breakthrough record, An Empty Bliss Beyond This World: inspired by the dance hall scene in Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining, it sounds like haunted boogie-woogie music, full of echoing melodies and a gentle, vague sense of dread.
As the album progresses, each stage gets increasingly degraded. The recognisable melodies get chewed up. There’s more interference; more noise. Eventually, by the sixth stage, the album becomes a mess of horror and chaos, eventually plateauing out into long, fuzzy waves of sound.
And that’s because Everywhere At The End of Time is not just an album. It’s a creative replication of what happens when you begin to lose your memories.