Alabaster Deplume’s skronky mix of spiritual jazz, freaky folk, and experimental music has the power to make you feel everything at once—and it’s often a thrilling, if unsettling, experience. On Gold, a sprawling double album cut from 17 hours of improv-heavy recording sessions with over 20 musicians (including guest vocalist and percussionist Falle Nioke), the Mancunian multi-instrumentalist and spoken-word poet deconstructs his own ego in bursts of spontaneity and sincerity. On “F*****g Let Them,” he sets forth a passionate manifesto, declaring “I go forward in the courage of my love” before leaning into a breathless, brassy groove. As piercing as his words, his uninhibited sax riffs rustle through rustic acoustic folk on “I’m Gonna Say Seven” and quiver to near-oblivion on slow-burning dirges like “Now (Stars Are Lit).” Throughout, mesmerizing choral chants swirl around, threatening to detach the experience from reality, until Deplume's calming voice slides in with poignant reminders. “I remember my ex’s email address/but I forget that I’m precious,” he incants. “Don’t do it/don’t forget you’re precious.”