The duo of former Creation is Crucifixion members Ryan Unks and Nathan Berlinguette sure do present a grim outlook with this one. Combining their efforts, the two concoct an immense black hole on this, the moniker's second full-length (the first featured only Unks). Meshing dark ambient, metal and drone, the resultant sound is both apocalyptically shaded throughout, a detailed and dense look on the sounds of an end.
Considering the album's consistently dour landscape, the tracks presented are actually quite distinct, giving the disc an air of organic and genuine feeling rather than seeming coaxed from the grasp of some preconceived stylistic genre. Instead, the opening "Progress" broods forward with foreboding expanse of black drone interspersed with sharp cries and metallic clatters. The infused effect is one of a sonic representation of the post-apocalyptic industrial wasteland, barren and cold.
The two-part "Mores" begins with a steady and quite gentle drone that gradually continues its descent into foreboding fan belt textures and a thick bass pulse. The explosion opening the beginning of the second part is as dense as anything presented here, as grinding drones and shard-like vocals emerge from the buried background. The production, with the vocals set far back amongst the murk, makes the effect that much more frightening and isolated.
"Aspiration" opens with a scream and a drone atop a light organ line, easily the fairest sound presented on the album. The eerie effect of this heavenly sound being beaten again and again pretty much dissolves the hope of any uplifting conclusion to the disc, though to be fair that was pretty much clear from the get-go. Sprawling along, the piece is a monster of punctuated dissolution, a truly grimy realization of the fight between light and dark, with dark obviously taking the upper hand. Still, the dialogue remains an interesting one throughout, as the two present themselves in continuous, almost harmonious opposition, never quite giving in completely either way.
The approach is ultimately a far more densely orchestrated one than most acts forging similarly dark soundscapes. The other two-part piece here, "Denial," moves with patient poise, beginning with a soft and angelic vocal hum emitted into the haze from the belly of some secret cave. Moving cautiously forward, each sound presents itself with care, contributing to the ever-evolving shape of the work as a whole. It may represent a dark chaos, but it is achieved through highly human ends.
The closing second part seals the casket for good however. Thick guitar squall and vocals (again--perhaps too consistent throughout the album to remain as entirely damaged as initially appearing) create a dense blanket of violent energy that seeps outward in toxic dispersion. Yet this too quiets slowly into an unclear and unanswered end, leaving more questions than answers on this consistently ambiguous record.
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