The great Celtic black metal band triumphantly return after a four year hiatus and nothing has really changed in the vision and sound of the band. "Redemption...," is their seventh album and the band is still spitting venom and stirring emotional heathen pride. The album starts off with the storming opener, "No Grave Deep Enough," blasting away as usual with those amazing folk-like chorded melodies. Vocal deity, A.A. Nemtheanga is in prime form with his impassioned vocals and word smithing and orations. An example, is his taunts at mortality itself with the defiant lyrics like "Death, where are your teeth.. Where are your claws?" The usual heathen triumphant and defiant feeling flairs up on a few songs like the "No Grave Deep Enough," "Lain With The Wolf," and "Bloodied Yet Unbowed." "Bloodied Yet Unbowed," begins with a mellower opening that builds into a fierce epic middle section where Nemtheanga scathing, heartfelt vocals preach to the flocks of war brethren. It's emotionally stirring and uplifting. However, this is more somber, bleak album dealing with the themes of death in philosophy, history and mythology. Darkened hymns like "The Puritan's Hand," and "The Mouth of Judas," brings to mind the autumnal atmosphere on the "A Journey's End" album. On "The Mouth of Judas," begins with a celtic dirge that ever so slowly builds up into galloping section before weaving back on itself to slowly die out. The album closes out with the stellar song, "Death of the Gods," with its scathing calls at the apathetic people who fall for injustice. I'm slightly disappointed that I wasn't totally overwhelmed by this new Primordial album. Maybe, after waiting four years I was expecting more veneration of the noble, heroic, heathen spirit like the last two albums. Its hard to complain though, its the usual, solid, impassioned Primordial with some newer hooks and refined fury.

With six albums released this year, the ever prolific Boris was statistically destined to make my top review list. The question is which Boris will it be: the stoner rock band, the drone band, the sludge band, the psychedelic pop band, the noise band, the garage punk band, the experimental rock band, or the band which should be the mordern day backing band for Ian Astbury? I guess my favorite Boris album for the year is the grab bag album which is "Heavy Rocks," which encompasses all of Boris' diverse styles and musical whimsy. The album explodes out of the gates with the addicting "Riot Sugar" with interplay of masisve chugging, fat stoner grooves, sticky sweet sung vocals, crashing cymbals and a wailing Ian Astbury as a guest singer. Definitley one of the funnest songs Boris has ever penned. The next song, "Leak (Truth,yesnoyesnoyes)" is a weird mashup of dirty guitar rocking psychedelia and weird vocal melody that intially doesn't work for me but on repeated listens it fits perfectly. It gets a little weird on the next song, "Galaxians", with its hyperdrive punked out rocking vibe and the primal caveman whoots and howls while some interstellar space fight simulateously is happening in the background. Not a huge fan of the next song, "Jackson Head," which is a simple themetic rocking tune with space tinged synth underlying the riffing. So we now come to where Boris oversteps its quirky experimentation with me, on the twelve minute "Missing Pieces," a combination of long drawn out Japanese sung ballad and drone, dirge feedback workout. Their are sections of the song where the brillance of the riff, guiter solo or drone works amazing well but in combination as one song it doesn't hold up to me. The "Window Shopping," song brings back the fun rocking out riffing and introduces a more poppier Boris that alternates singalong lyrics with a sludge crunch and fuzzbox soloing. "Tu, Lala," brings back the psychedeic rocking which Boris always just nails. In contrast to the other twelve minute song, "Aileron," slays with its mishmash of dreamy dronepop and glacial sludge lushness. My favorite song on the album is between this song and "Riot Sugar." The album ends on the oddity of a song called, "Czechoslovakia," which is a short thrash psychotic workout. Weird, way to end it, but then again its Boris. I have learned never to question the whims of Boris, because they do whatever they please. From releasing yet another album titled "Heavy Rocks," to playing whatever style want when they hit record. "Heavy Rocks," nearly hits the perfect blend of fun and experimention that is the brillance of Boris.

In ten years this album could possibly make my top 5 for the decade, yet currently it will lay nestled in the bottom feeders of this list. Why? Obtuse. Pretensious. Kvlt. Perplexing. Genuis. Any of these words describe this brillant mess of an album. Even after following and loving every Caina album this one man band has produced, I had no clue what to expect on the final opus in the history of Caina. Defying categorization and pushing sonic boundaries is the touchstone for Andrew Curtis-Brignell the visionary behind Caina. Well I wasn't expecting a regression in sound which upon the initial inattentive listenings seemed to be the case. I missed the fragile despair and the haunting complex melodies that Andrew was favoring on the last album "Temporary Antenna", which made my number one album in 2008. After continous listening attempts these elements do glimmer and shine their presence on the album. They are just obscured within the avant-garde, crust, showgaze, gloomy pop-punk, Darkthrone black thrash, ambient, primitive black metal. Also the quirky and primitiive production gives the soundscape a bleary haze and doesn't help the richly crafted songs. Finality is the theme of the album which is fitting since I can't imagine Andrew crafting anything equal that could top the complicated, obtuse songs and presentation. The dense complexity and the perplexing nature of "Hands That Pluck," makes this quite a forbidding listening experience, yet upon continous exposures the greatness of the album overcomes the ugly presentation. One year of struggling to understand the atmosphere and music is too little time for this unpolished gem. In ten years I might be hailing the glory of Caina for this aurual masterpiece or I my still be attempting to grasp the genius that I know is within it.

Regretfully in 2006, I completley overlooked and missed the Warning's final amazing album "Watching From a Distance." Luckily enough a new project, 40 Watt Sun, arose out of the Warning's ashes with vocalist/guitarist Pat Walker and drummer Christian Leitch evolving the Warning's sorrowful doom sound into a more delicate and intimate doom sound. Granted this still is doom metal but its more romantic and emotional doom metal. As crazy as this sounds the muisc and feel reminds me of a metalized Red House Painters album where all the songs are so similar yet uniquely compelling and enthralling. What makes the album so compelling is Pat Walker's vocals which convey such raw passionate qualities and are able to communicate vast emotional nuances. Subtract his vocals and "The Inside Room" is just a fundamental doom metal with dashes of simple repetitive melodies. The album is very cohesive and works best listened to in its entirety, however, the two stand out tracks has to be the opening song "Restless" and final song "This Alone." "Restless," is an absolutely gorgeous song with its soul searing vocal melodies that are augmentated by slow bruising guitar and slow minimalistic melodies that rise to the surface to match vocal lines. Walker's vocals truly shine on this song where his soothing but emotionally fragile soar above the somberness. The final song, "This Alone," is heartfelt, languid ballad that slowly plods and enraptures in lazy doom vibe. Thematically the lyrics on the "The Inside Room," revolve around the topics of longing and hope which are felt deeply again because of Pat Walker's vocal skill and talents. The production on the album makes each song sound massive and epic with perfect crumbling distortion that never overwhelms the shining vocal lines. For such a one dimensional tempo driven album, each song is able to captivate and engage with its joyous sorrow and delicate heaviness. "The Inside Room," is definitley a compelling listen, however its not an instanteous album but a grower that will only get better with age.

Since the Faunts seem to be on a hiatus and my falling out with Radiohead continues on unabated, a new band called Immanu El arises out of Sweden and steps up to take the crown for the dreamiest pop rock music of the year. "In Passage," is a captivating, poignant yet introspective album that slowly envelopes the listener in a melodic gauzy dreamscape. The opening track, "Skagerak," gradually evolves from a shimmering calm into a raptourous indie pop blissfest. It starts off with a soft preamble with just the piano and vocals setting up the initial pensive mood for the song, while the guitars slowly shimmer and gently build into a calculated cresendo of breathtaking harmonies. Immanu El are very talented in the usage of dynamics and texturing so their songs' blanket the listener with soothing melodies before gently steering the dynamic towards the loud sections of the songs, however its their power of quiet restraint that is quite refreshing. Every note seems calcuated for the ethereal soundscape they are trying to project with the occasional coalescing of the hushed, hymnal vocals, piano and guitars converging just long enough for a brief climatical respite before the deliberate minimalistic undetones mellow the experience. The song, "Conquistador," really reminds of the Faunts with the familair usage of soft chiming, intricate melodies which overlays the hushed, haunting vocals. Moments just seem elongated out with mists of shimmering guitar and wonderous ethereal vocals washing over the listener. Even though, there is the familar wavery nuanced melodies of the Faunts or the similar usage of dynamicism used by the likes of Sigur Ros. Immanu El have been able to create their own niche of poigant, introspective pop loveliness with "In Passage" that hopefully foretells some amazing things for this young band.

Without a doubt this is the comeback album of the year and maybe one of the best into the foreseeable future. In my opinion Will Haven was dead to me after lead singer Grady Avenell retired to be with his family in 2002. Granted, the band reformed and continued and released an album that was Will Haven in name only. However, gone was the menacing, nihilistic spirit of the band and in its place a blunted shell of lackluster normalcy. My apprehension and wariness of yet another boring, doldrum band reunion had me passing on this album for quite some time. Boy was I ever wrong, when the opening riff of the "When The Walls Close In," gut punched me and Grady lets loose with a chilling, anguished scream I knew the menace and vitriol had been recaptured and nobodies auditory functioning were safe. "Voir Dire," drips with an ominous, cathartic rage that only Will Haven have been know to distill. Early in their career the band somehow got lumped into the whole nu-metal genre, but really thats a huge mistake because they always had their own original sound and style. They were far too gritty and street badasses to fit into the formulated nu metal style. Honestly, nobody projects the ominous, lurching swagger and pissed off vibe that challenges the listener through the intense ferocity that Will Haven is able to create. They perfectly blend a mixture of volatile hardcore and thunderous sludge with just enough sinister atmosphere via quiet interludes or cinematic soundbites that the listener is always on edge for the next sonic pummeling. "Voir Dire," is stylistically a continuation of the 2002, "Carpe Diem" album with the blending of those menacing melodies intermixed monolithic detuned riffs and Grady's tortured, eviscerated vocal screaming. Amazingly enough the band do conjure up some of their most heaviest, crushing riffs of their career on the song "Lives Left to Wither" where the last part of the song verges into Black Sheep Wall territory of sheer monstrous atonal brutality before a brief movie quote gives just enough respite for the listener to prepare for the next round of pounding. After a decade since their last album, its mind boggling hard to comprehend how the band has produced this most accomplished work of cathartic rage and fury. If retirement beckons again for the band this aural assault is the crowing jewel for their legacy.

I'd say the culuralization of black metal into American music is now complete. Who would have thought back 20 years at the infancy of black metal that this fringe music would be released on a popular hardcore label, called Deathwish Records. Both Euronymous and Quorthon are rolling off their individual craven alter and viking funeral pyre in disgust and moribund horrification at today's youth. Well the founders can rest peacefully because the new kids are alright. Instances of hardcore elements are minimally used on "Road To Judah," with an occasional hardcore throw down which is usually meshed with a bliztering black metal grinding section or gauzy melodic interlude. The only truly glaring hardcore element in the Deafheaven's music are lyrical in nature where some emo tendencies do show themselves. Hey, though what is wrong with that? In their youth I'm sure both Euronymous and Quorthon both wrote love songs about satan and thor and they are now black metal luminunaires. Sonically, Deafheaven's real influence is Cascadian black metal, however its their use of that influence along with their shoegazing and post-rock inclinations that elevates this young band to greatness. The twelve minute opener, "Violet," opens with a sprawling mixture of urban streets sounds and shoegazey post-rock before expoding into a wave of cacophonous black metal riffing. The vocals are very typical scathing black metal vocals with less screeching and more of thelaryngeal retching style. Within the blacken maelstrom that Deafheaven relentlessly delievers is a undercurrent of lush textures and melodies that rise and fall as the grinding black riffage engulfs the senses. The ability to fluidy transition and alternate from spiraling black metal to melancholic clean guitar or a soaring, trumiphant gait is ever apparent on songs like, "Language Games," and "Unrequited" where the meshing of brutality and beauty is effortless. The closing song on the album, "Tunnel of Trees", also dislays this dictomoy of extremes. The first half of the song has a looping, swirlying blackened riffing not that disimilar to Weakling or Wolves in the Throne Room but its the amazing transition from that violence into the earthy, hazy middle section of the song where the band shows it's talent. Eventually the band combines the furious black metal from the begining of the song with the gauzy, hazy post-rock and the result is breathtaking. For a debut album, Deafheaven have set a high standard for themselves and other young black metal bands to emulate. Since they are from San Francisco, I can't wait to see them play live. As one epic black metal band dies in San Francisco, Ludicra, along rises another young band that takes the black urban encrusted gaunlet. Today's black metal sound is in capable hands.

This is the perfect album for a day of lazy summer time porch sitting. Ever so slowly sipping your favorite beverage until the darkness fitlers out the bright cares of the day. It's just heavy enough with its murky distortion to keep you awake, yet mellow and floaty enough to overpower your conscious will for wakefullness. The whole tone of the album is set with the opening song, "Jackyl," with its plodding dirty guitar that is tuned so low it sounds like bass. The vocals by Nicole drift and float into the song with a sleepy gradualness while the guitar meanders about in a near country, americana swagger. True Widow has truly mastered the power of restraint and pacing. All their songs meander and amble in a ketamine daze with both the instuments and vocals matching the snail pace perfectly. That's not saying True Widow craft boring songs, because they don't, everything is just slowly drawnout in a dreamy fashion. The band utilizes two vocalists, Nicole and DH Phillips, with Nikki singing on the more drifing, lulling songs while DH weary stylized drawl seems to vocalize the more upbeat, if you can call anything True Widow does upbeat, songs. A couple of my the standout songs are "NH," "Skull Eyes," and "Doomser." "NH", song sounds like a half speed Sabbathian arena rock anthem with huge sustained notes that linger and crumble with cooed dreary vocals singing about our slow mortality. The song "Skull Eyes," is flawless blending of harmonized pop murk and hasn't to be the catchiest song on the album. Wait what in the nirvana is this "Interlude," song before "Doomser?" It sounds like a brief Nirvana tribute on the banjo? Or maybe True Widow have just lulled me into a weird 1990's grunge Deliverance flashback. The final track, "Doomser," is a slowcore, bludgeoning shoegaze song that is definitely their heaviest and slowest song. Yet again its lulls and entrances without slipping into tedium. I have jokingly referred to True Widow as the doom version of Low which is sort of correct, because they both sift through the same slow, hypnotic, subtle song construction. True Widow just has really loud and distorted guitars and fuzzed out bass which never verge into metal terriority but do brush around the edges of shoegaze and stoner rock. The subtle dynamics and long melodic hooks that waft and enthrall on "As High As The Highest Heavens..," that truly make this one of the best chill out albums.

Coming up on twenty years of existence and nine albums, Low has released their most confident and mature sound to date. The band haven't reverted back to their minimalist, glacial slowcore sound, however, "C'mon," is more lush an intimate sounding then the last few albums. The experimentation with the Low sound is minimal and less disonant compared to their last album, "Drums and Guns," and I dare say "least abrasive" then any release in the last decade. Small country music flourishes like the steel guitar in "Nothing But Heart," the droning organ in "Nightingale," and the banjo in "Witches" fit so well into the core Low sound of slow melodies and those beautiful twin harmonies. As usual the exquisite vocal combination of husband and wife, Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker, are pitch perfect and stunningly beatiful. Songs like, "Try to sleep," and "$20," showcases the amazing intimate relationship between them and their vocals. Both songs could have easily fit on their first couple of album, however there is some undefinable confidence that is instilled into these songs nowadsays. "$20," is a restrained, plaintive ballad where the vocal line "My love is for free," reoccurs through the song and makes its seem like the listener is intrudering on some personal conversation. While "Try to sleep," has some quiet intensity with yet again those beautiful and deceptively simple melodies. The rockingest and grittest song on the album is "Witches," which is one of my favorite songs of the year. Alan sings about how his dad helped him fight off night terrors as a child with a baseball bat and how tough guys shouldn't act like Al Green because their all weak. Musically it's a lethargic rock song with slashing ryhthm guitar, minimalistic drums, those angelic vocals, banjo flourishes, and some stumpling guitar licks from Alan. It dawned on me after seeing Low play live countless times, Alan Sparhawk is a guitar god. Both "Nightingale and "Witches" display his minimalistic but he has a very unique guitar phrasing and tone. As usual the soundscape of Low is based on the quiet vocal interplay. On "Majesty / Magic," is a chilly song that that utilizes both Alan and Mimi vocals lines that build into a crensendo of music and emotions. However, my favorite vocal song has to be, "Especially Me," with Mimi singing with that beautiful, mediative voice over lush quiet atmosphere of the song. Its really hard not to read into the relationship between Alan and Mimi with lyrics that seem to be far more personal then on any of their recent albums. I believe I have seen a couple of these songs live a few times before they hit disc. So the familiarty and immediate meditative, emotional connection to the album felt like just coming home. "C'mon," is just has the quintessentail sound of a comfortable, intimate and confident Low.

Bell Witch is a ghost haunting that occured in Tennessee, which inspired "The Blair Witch Project" movie, its also a Seatle based extreme doom band that deal in rumbling, dark ritual musical sermons. Both are intended to scare the living snot out of you. The atmosphere that Bell Witch conjures on this disc drips distorted emanations amid eeire lumbering transient single note melodies. The band is a duo of only bass and drums but that doesn't stop them from crafting an enormous and devasting sound. The tone and atomsphere for the disc is established on "Beneath the Mask," with its great usage of samples from the movie "Masque of the Red Death." Usually samples don't contribute much to songs, however on the song, "Beneath the Mask," the movie dialogue is used quite effectively as substitue for vocals lines. A slow, soothing somber, nearly guitar sounding melody is played underneath the conversation between Prince Prospero and the Red Death. As Prospero and Red Death verbally spar over who is truly the master of one's own morality the atmosphere is engulfed with sinister direness. This leads into the eleven minute song, "I Wait," which opens with a slo motion, bludgeoning riff that is repeated over and over at the speed of molasses drying. After a while, the riff wanders softing away, then a chilling guttural scream pierces the song and the lumbering distorted beast lurches forward into that slo motion, distorted groove. This groove then transitions into barely moving power chord dirge with widely spaced drum beats. A slow, moss gathering solo ever so lethargically builds in pararell with some throaty, choral vocals. Bit by bit the song accelerates and builds layer upon sonic layer into a midpaced doom stride with the eventual merging of the guttural growling from the beginning of the song with the choral vocals. The stellar, song writing the band displays in their ability to craft such a slow but enthralling song showcases Bell Witches amazing ability meld simmering atmospherics and dynamics perfectly. "Mayknow," is the longest track on the disc at eighteen minutes and it instantly crushes the listener with fat slabs of dreadful distorted doom. The song follows a similar pattern of the previous song "I Wait," containing huge expanses of ghastly choral singing and coronach atmospheritics before locking into drum and bass pummeling, distorted groove. The song includes many places where the song mellows into a trance inducing journey with ghostly single melodies that build and layer upon themselves before those deep guttural vocals and screaming mix back into those pulverising riffs. At times, the heavy sections are so disturbingly heavy and ponderous that it sounds like the sound is being reversed and sucked down a black hole. Finally, the album closes with "The Moment," which is much like how the album started with a three minute soothing, melancholic strummings that brings the album to a closure. Amazingly for such a young band, Bell Witch, has crafted a frighteningly compelling listen experience that mesmires and terrfies with its intensity and witching enchantment.

Legends of punk lore don't normally reinvent themselves, especially after a hiatus of over twenty years. Incredibly one of the creators of crustcore seemed to have stopped being anarchists and started studying the hidden gnostic texts. Those twenty odd years of silence seemed also to have been spent practicing and honing their musical talents because they sure aren't the old punk crust band I used to listen to in th 1980's. Gone are the super raw subthrash riffs, punk frenzy, coarse production values and teenage angry vocals, in its a place is a refined mixture of metal, tribal beats, gothic tendencies, and the confident vocals by Rob (The Baron) Miller whic have aged quite gracefully. The song construction and layout of "Sonic Mass," flows wonderfuly by drawing the listener into the their world of archtypes, mystery religions and illumination. The song, "Days," is fitting simmering opener with passionate but subdued vocals that build into a militant tribal march and is a foreshadowing for the primal darkness to come and the bands evolved soundscape. Very odd, the second song, "Shield Wall," is another introduction, however its has a foreboding sound with big pounding tribal drums, clashing of swords and swirling keyboards and guitars. The song literally explodes into the next song, "The Messenger" with monstrous chugging guitars and synocopated beat with gnarled vocals singing about thrice great Hermes and the great work. The song is both catchy and mystical sounding at the same time. "God of the Grain" is like a modernized Ministry song, with it infectious tribal underbelly and catchy guitar harmonies over whirling dervish samples which perculate to the surface. Its surprising how primal and impactful The Baron's mantra and ode to the sacrificial harvest godmen, "Mithras, Dionysius, Adonis, Osiris, and Jesus" which starts the climax of the song. The band pulls out quite the unpected folk accoustic guitar number on "Sonic Mass Part 1." Oddly its very remeinscint of either Steve Von Till or Scott Kelly's accoustic side projects away from Neurosis. Neurosis has always spoken highly of old Amebix as a influence upon the formation of the band and its interesting to hear the mentor learning from the pupil. The song is very heartfelt and brooding with perfect mixture of graveled vocals, mandolin and accoustic guitar. "Sonic Mass Part 2," rampages and ravages with more of the chugging riffs and swirling key atmospherics. "Here Comes The Wolf," reeks of radio friendly, metalized gothic heavy metal and sounds eeire similar to an 1990's Finnish deathrock band called Babylon Whores. Super catchy song but yet another totally unexpected twist in the back catalog of Amebix. The final song, "Knights of the Black Sun," is the ultimate summation of the new Amebix sound and all the emotions the band have instilled into the previous songs. It melds their new adrenalinized metal, primal gothic tendencies into the insurmountable anthem for the spirtual repressed. When The Baron's fierce vocals scream out, "The great god fear is dead. So from the rooftops call it out. You were always free," the culmination and chorus is trumphiant and glorious. Even after all the years since their crustcore zenith and the multitude of bands Amebix has influnced which number many of my all time favorites like Godflesh, Neuroisis, Sepultura. My expectations upon finding this album was zero. Amazingly the same thematic nature on "Sonic Mass" based on rebirth and sacrifice archtypes and hidden gnosis can be transferred on to Amebix. Their reinterpretation of their original musical vision and sound has become as powerful, captivating and enlightened as anything they have previously created. These days will never come again.

It took me quite a while to discover this incredible album and band. All the press and hype I ran into on my daily searching for new music jaded my view before I even gave the band a chance to prove themselves. Even with the legendary Fenriz, from Darkthrone, name dropping Morne on album covers and in interviews, it took me months to finally to set aside my preconceptions. Everything I heard and read about Morne was in reference to Neurosis, now granted there are many little sonic similarities and the throaty vocal yelling harkening back to the early Neurosis sound style. However, if anything Morne has a closer pedigree and familiarity with fellow Bostonians, Isis, and their "Celestial" album. The seventeen minute sludge opus, "Asylum," kicks of the album with a powerful, mid tempo sludge groove with hoarse shouted vocals and chest pounding ferocity. Slowly, an under current of keyboard synth melodies rises to the surface and the song evolves into the reflective waters that Isis used to tread. Midway through the song the sludge and roll gives way to wondrous pensive ambience of synth keyboards and quiet, dirty chiming guitars that slowly wander with amorphous melodies, before the song builds into a pummeling, apocalyptic ending. This song's ending could easily have been transposed from Neurosis', "Through Silver In Blood," album with the continuous bass thrumming, lurching down tuned guitars, keyboard psychedelic swirl, tribal drums and chanted vocals leading to a goose bump inducing sonic climax. After the amazing ending Morne segues without hesitation into the next song. The album has many songs that bleed together so seamlessly that sometimes its hard to place which song is currently playing. A perfect example of this is the songs "Edge of the Sky," and "Nothing To Remain," were both songs seem to intertwine the cascading sludge guitars, piano tinkling, and waves of beautiful, dissonant sonic soundscapes. There is a primal, oceanic, transcendent quality that hypnotizes the listener into Morne’s sonic other world. On the album, the vocal stylings are a hardcore based hoarse yell that isn't too noteworthy, however the combination with the emotive guitar player makes them absorbing and a very apt fit. The vocals at times can be considered as being both depressing and aggressive when really the variance is minor. I totally love the half speed Amon Amarth viking march that leads off "I Will See You". Its a slow gallop along the golden halls of metal with triumphant sounding guitar lines that evolve into a slow tempo distorted thrash workout. Speaking of distortion, the production is heavy and crystal clear which lets every nuance of distorted goodness linger and die in its own timely manner. Morne tread into the doom and post rock territory with the utter despair and desolation that seeps out of the song, "Killing Fields." It's the effective blending of the mournful characteristics of both Morgion and Mindrot which lets he song drip with heavy sorrow and hypnotic forlornness. These somber emotions are quickly dispatched and replaces with the next song, "My Return," with its heavy, catchy and anthemic crunchy groove. The song blissfuly evolves into shifting melodies that linger and wane under their watery transcendence. The last song, "Volition," totally surprised me with the first seven minutes being only pianos, violin, viola, cellos and Jarboe. Jarboe, from the Swans, sings in her usual enchanted, sensual but unhinged style while the string instruments delicately lilt and sway. Morne enters into the song by dropping huge fat slabs of distorted doom riffing that counters the sweetness that transpired earlier in the song. With “Asylum," Morne have forged a timeless, stellar album which perfectly intersects the the vast segments of the metal community. Each song is it’s own microcosm of metal, doom, post rock, and sludge which combine into a beautifully and deeply atmospheric entities that enthrall and demand constant listenings. After my initial trepidations and stupidity it saddens me that I missed out on months of this incredible aural experience.

Art expresses the transcendent. Crushed my soul with heavy bliss.