Fausto Romitelli died of cancer at the young age of 41 after inventing a brilliantly distinctive post-spectralist style. Romitelli’s music was hallucinatory and complex, fusing Francophone timbral richness with the warped contours of psychedelic rock. His most famous work is Professor Bad Trip but his last work was the video sort-of-opera An Index of Metals. Both have been recorded by Ictus, who premiered the music and immediately set a high bar for other interpretations.

Ensemble Miroirs Étendus’s live An Index of Metals recording gives us an impressively precise performance in high audio definition. An Index of Metals, described by the composer as a video-opera, comprises five songs separated by interludes and instrumental shorts. The composer’s conception was a trippy IRCAM sound-and-light show with video screens and surround sound, inspired by the sensory overload of raves. The soprano’s text, by Kenka Lekovich, is not narratively compelling, but we are swept up in the abstract flow. The amplified ensemble mixes traditional (flute, violin) and modern (electric bass guitar, synthesiser) elements. The interludes are sampled from Finnish power electronics duo Pan Sonic, while the very first thing we hear is a crackly Pink Floyd loop.

On this recording, in ‘Hellucination 1, Drowningirl’, hints of Sciarrino appear in the fluttering clarinets underlying the gentle chanting; there is an element of Björk in the unadorned, vibrato-less voice, which eventually roils and churns over a distorted low electric guitar. ‘Drowningirl II’ ratchets up the tension with delirious Pierrot-style Sprechgesang over swelling spectralist chords and electronic sweeps. By ‘Drowningirl III’, which is like Portishead mashed up with Debussy, we haven’t a clue what the words are about, but Linda Oláh’s passionate delivery keeps us riveted.

The last vocal movement has always left me unsatisfied, as if the work remained unfinished. That impression remains here, though Oláh shows admirable range, conjuring fire and brimstone over the droning electric guitar, swooping winds and plucked string harmonics. It’s at once quickening and a downer – the should-have-been opening act of a glittering career, yet the last act of Romitelli’s life. On disc here, it’s a good way for newcomers into Romitelli’s sound world.