It’s Hell in there. Or at least it sounds like it. From the moment you step into Sierra Metro’s concrete darkness at the edge of town, you’re hit with a barrage of mind-melding visual and aural loops, from Italian goresploitation flicks to bug-eyed retro-future sci-fi, grim reaper-obsessed kids’ cartoons and other paraphernalia seemingly put together from a skip-load of analogue artefacts that make up the heart of Darren Banks’ set of scarifying junkyard constructions. Loungecore cooing underscores the screaming, ghosts in the machine shine through see-through negligee and upended workbenches are left for dead.

Banks cites Otto Dix’s 1933 allegorical anti-Nazi painting, ‘The Seven Deadly Sins’, as casting a black cloud of influence over his work. In reality, Soothsayers’ insistent, three-dimensional explosion more resembles comic book anti-hero Ghost Rider cast as part Horseman of the Apocalypse, part trash culture savvy Steptoe picking up a wagon-load of schlock-age detritus made kitsch.

Tucked away in Room 2, the discretion of Oonagh Hegarty’s Tabloid Alchemy is an altogether less attention-seeking construction, both in scale and volume. Given its star-struck subject matter, however, this is a wilfully apposite strategy, as Spirograph patterns circle around little versions of celebrity culture silhouettes, while out of context close-ups of Britney Spears are immortalised in a Sellotape-encrusted jewel-box. Little doll’s house models made from cardboard scraps offer a draughtsman’s eye-view into less than perfect cribs.

Such a deliberate counterpoint between Banks and Hegarty’s work takes you from the end of the world to self-destruction in a few short steps, suggesting that all life as we imagine it – if not quite the reality – is here.

Sierra Metro, Edinburgh, until Sun 28 Feb