After blazing a trail in the underground with four self-released albums, these once-fiercely DIY psychedelic have joined forces with Sargent House to help forge their next chapter. Born alongside previous album three years ago in a studio in Illinois and then promptly put on the shelf, is an altogether different beast compared to its brother. While their fourth album, which was sent out into the wild last year, was an ethereal, sometimes euphoric listen, their latest LP is a murkier, heavier and more menacing experience that sees them turn the amps up to the proverbial 11 and sound all the better for it.
Lean in length but loaded with ideas, the seven-track album explores themes of delirium, claustrophobia and misery, and the Chicago quartet fortify their celestial and cinematic doom with elements of shoegaze, sludge, prog and post-metal. Built around singer/guitarist Rob McWilliams’ dream-like angelic vocals and nightmarish riffs, which have been summoned up from somewhere south of heaven, the likes of the hypnotic and hook-laden and Middle Eastern-inspired space rocker really impress. Synth, sax and flute player Spencer Ouellette sits on the subs bench for most of the record due to Rezn’s more primal and direct approach, but when he does appear, he delivers some stellar performances – especially on the Pink Floyd-flavoured, slow-burning fever dream of , which boasts some soulful soloing.
Album standout closes proceedings in jawdropping style. Featuring chugging riffs,.
