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Flora—it’s a system, and its existence is beholden to its innermost workings. It designates interaction, it describes life as process, and it collects and repurposes its most crucial mechanisms towards ends that we presume to understand. Take the circumstances of club cultures, purported underground cultures, whatever’s rising against—it, too, is a system, and its existence is likewise beholden to its determining parts.

The Nordic Flora Series sees Varg coursing a path as natural to his work to date as it is synthetic to whatever you want to measure it with.

Spread across his own Northern Electronics label, which he jointly runs with Abdulla Rashim, as well as Copenhagen’s Posh Isolation—to name just two of the syndicated labels—the Nordic Flora Series is a constellation, a vast community of iridescent pieces that, taken as a whole, effect a torrential storm. Programmed for despatch over the coming year in voluminous formats both conventional and novel, you’ll undoubtedly hear about it all, or at least once the transmission signals are deciphered.

The first two episodes have made their gestures, and now the album Gore-Tex City, third in the Nordic Flora Series, can lacerate expectations.

The familiar registers of Varg’s work are here, but the chaos has never been this enterprising. Stealth dance floor assaults are layered with lobotomised, spoken word meetings in malls, and free-form electronics pepper acoustic bereavement motifs. It shifts from heavy to chronic as blown-speaker-rap stubs out cigarettes in gated techno enclosures. It’s an evocation of some kind of disturbance that will amount to something singular, purposeful and sure-footed, so consider this a warning.

Taking the breadth of genres and methods that are found in the sediment of his work, Varg envelopes all the terrain that he can with as much as he can. Yet the Nordic Flora Series pays vexing hassle to its enabling systems. With it, Varg is coasting his own way through, and in doing so breaches conventions that help keep the whole in check. The series is a bit of a fuck off, but it’s a smirking fuck off. It’s a set, slowly revealing its hand, a dialogue with what will only becomes apparent in time.

There’s a rush, and you’ll lose your footing, so orientate yourself in the space. Varg’s already disappeared, but the flowers are just starting to bloom.