Derelict World is Tobias Hornberger's latest album with the dark ambient project False Mirror, a richly textured abstract narrative that dreams of a ruined earth where all life has been washed away in an apocalyptic deluge, a concept which is elucidated in the short story included in the Cd booklet. The album succeeds in evoking a post-apocalyptic wasteland where there is only total and absolute desolation, a world where all humanity has been swept away in a single catastrophic event of global proportions. These tracks feature long stretches of orchestral drone and washed-out synth with distant high end melodic shadows drifting high overhead, moving through varying shades of light and darkness as the drones shift and swell, and deep, throaty chant-like drones reach through the desolate emptiness. These bleak dronescapes are created using an array of instruments and source material that include ghostly synths, subsonic bass pulsations and hallucinatory processed sounds that are culled from field recordings, a custom-built didgeridoo, gongs, bells, flute, and custom software that was designed specifically to create sound material for this project. And those field recordings include audio documents of the natural sounds of large, desolate bodies of water such as the Danube River, areas of the North Atlantic, and the Arabian Sea, giving this a very different feel than the purely Lustmord-style darkness that one might expect from this album. These sounds of water extend throughout the entire disc, appearing as the drip of dank floodwater against a ruined structure, or the rush of rapids flooding through ruined cities, the creaks and groans of derelict ships adrift on dead black seas, and waves crashing on barren shores, altogether evoking scenes of the drowning of the world, and blending these with the distant sounds of unmanned machinery and whispered voices recorded at the Neresheim Abbey in southern Germany. Derelict World becomes darker and more filled with dread as it goes in, and later tracks ("Aftermath", "Uncertain Shelter") do take on a similar cinematic quality as some of Lustmord's more recent work, but when it reaches the final chapter "The Sea Of Oblivion", the album moves from rich, black drift into a long stretch of water lapping at a shore that goes on for more than ten minutes, then flows into a gorgeous outro of eulogic kosimiche ambience that closes the album.