Though superficially similar to its immediate predecessor, Rot, Conrad Schnitzler’s 1974 release Blau is entirely its own beast. Like Rot, it consists of two monumental excursions into abstract electronic music, conveyed to the listener in a cryptic monochromatic package with a one-word title. But where Rot was austere, demanding, and harsh almost to the point of belligerence, Blau is immersive, subtle, and even sometimes calming, giving the listener space to explore its sonic textures. It opens with “Die Rebellen Haben Sich in Den Bergen Verstekt,” a simmering assemblage of metallic sounds that creeps along like the soundtrack to a sinister dream, all tension and no release. This is followed by “Jupiter,” an arrhythmic expanse of screeches and burbles that sounds like a transmission from an alien intelligence. The 2012 reissue of Blau on Bureau B includes six relatively brief bonus tracks, experiments in mood and texture that may remind some listeners of a more somber, technology-obsessed version of the electronic portraiture attempted by Brian Eno on releases like Music for Films.