2016 pt. 9

Anohni - Hopelessness

*******HIGHEST RECS*******

Melodramatic martyr and political abridger, perhaps -- but between the curiously sumptuous throat-throwing via emphatic trans protagonist, the 'bama bashin' as we near his term-termination, and the pointed roundup of harrowing happenings heard (and not so heard) 'round the world, let's call it a snide snapshot of cultural currency; a summary of discernible disheartenment as we move closer towards said term-termination and the future at large. Though they certainly don't make for the most insightful of dialogues, the topics alone give it a welcome weightiness; Hudson Mohawke's overzealous boom-bap production finally feels complementary, and together with spacious-glitcher Oneohtrix Point Never they form the kind of damaged electro-epic rushes that are fit for the spectacle of mass animal extermination and the tearful regret of drone-bombs and torture, the could-be hooky pop hits that poke fun at surveillance and highlight the hypocrisy in capital punishment. The album title is telltale: this is no call to arms. She doesn't give a shit what happens to you and don't care 'bout herself much neither, oh and humanity is not only headed for armageddon but rather deserving of its wrath. The sort of rash+direct idealisms we're not worthy of living up to, I s'pose. 8/10

Babyfather - BBF Hosted by DJ Escrow

Cements its satirical snobbery and affinity for experimentation thick-n-quick by hollowing out a sampled British-pride line via a C-or-so's worth of loops; casting the path for "20 bands" and "pour some liquor on my head" as deadpan+bored mantras entwined with baby-cries, casual remarks of "gunshot" and "mad smoke in the studio" during one of the jet-engine noise-hunks and a snuck-in "fuck you mate" in the other, and not-one-but-two reprises of that ol' British-pride line. Primarily it's an extensive slab of hip-hop mockery that places concept, album-flow, and a skittish+squeaked-up narrator on a pedestal far above songs and strain, abstractions/phone calls/icy-drink-clinks more obligatory than bangers/sincerity/significance. Real riveters are there but few and far between, though near-end "The Realness" may take the cake for managing to channel just that: nothin' quite like chattin' bout the entanglements of trusting your crew and mini-reviewing a Cormega album over some solemnity. 6/10

Beyoncé - Lemonade

*******HIGHEST RECS*******

Even if the cheat-centric celeb drama is a contrived embellishment at best and a tricky Tidal-tempter at worst, Bee's got the economically expert voc-cords and 'tude and stylistic melange and thoughtful production to back it up. Make no mistake; dealing with deception and heralding defiance are smell-n-taste tangible throughout, but my what a medley of methods: desolate heartbroken balladry, belligerent frayed-at-the-seams garage rock starring Jack White, a good ol' fashioned hootenanny, reconceptualization of a 13-year old Yeah Yeah Yeahs hook and the reggae horn, an uber-resolute morale-peak climactic triad. Or perhaps from a crasser stance, it's just kinda vivifying to hear a lady this illustrious nonchalantly toss out there that she's gonna fuck her up a bitch and no-bullshit gruntingly exclaim "suck my balls balls". 7.5/10

Chance the Rapper - Coloring Book

Steadfast sustaining the winsome posi-gospel spirit found on his ultra-lit "Ultralight Beam" guest-spot, 'Coloring Book' makes for a more-than-meet titular pick: Chance's agile geniality is markedly illuminating+comforting, the plethora of partakers spanning from Young Thug to the Chicago Children's Choir bears a fete-esque vibrancy, nostalgia and newfound fatherhood permeate throughout, The Lion King gets referenced not-once-but-twice, big guffawing-head hooks and a "don't be mad!" chaff you into givin' in to feelin' good. In true guest-laden lengthy mixtape fashion, it sports its fair share of clutter and inconsistencies; and as addled voice-laden production and unabashed pronouncements of "HOW GREAT IS OUR GOD" tend to do, this goes an iota overboard on the pitch-shifts and pietism. 7/10

dvsn - Sept. 5th

The more I tuned in, the more it wavered -- what was initially despicably drowsy and tepid r&b using syrupy understatements as whitewash turned into gravitating towards a few of the particularly-gratifying hooks became somewhat-smitten with their slo-mo sensual+emotional sincerity, the trap-n-bass-inflected ethereality for beats, and the falsettos qualified at melting heart. "Try / Effortless" at track 3 is when they start to do just that / and make it seem so, "Do It Well" is perhaps when they do it the well-est, "Hallucinations" is a dream on a cloud; on the whole however it heavily recalls the ol' drowsy-n-tepid thing with a dash of cringe to boot. The soulful old-style croon vox intermixed with not-so-old-style propositions are a hoot, too: "fuck with me now" as a come-on, the straight-up proposal that sleeping with him will make her feel better about all his wrongdoings, opting not to pull out but eager to go in+out. Name of the one about being eager to go in+out: "In+Out". 6.5/10

Laura Gibson - Empire Builder

A commendable crew of multifaceted folkies, yes, commendable indeed -- can't say commendable creeps near really-remarkable at any time here, but it does rest rather comfortably in really-quite-pleasant. Starts strong/strongest? with the one-two friendly handshake of "The Cause" and "Damn Sure", but soon after begins to fall into sleep-mode a bit too often. But hey, kudos on the percussive nuances and the percussion in general and the capable lyricism and the striking slow-churn string-swells. The title-track also lives up to its name by building an empire impressive enough to not be eclipsed for the remainder of the album, at song #4 outta 10. But very likable, really. 5.5/10

M83 - Junk

Tempting as it is, I vowed to not use the word 'junk' while describing 'Junk'. Cuz one, a bit easy+evident, and cuz two, this isn't "anything that is regarded as worthless, meaningless, or contemptible; trash." Really. It's pretty much full-time corny and at-times horrendously ho-hum, draggingly tottering from obnox to mopey to quizzical, toting bilingual schmaltz and maladroit vocal pitch-shifts and 'tis overlong to boot, but it's not junk (oops). Gonzalez is just too capable a mood-synth/electro interlayer to not allow some amenities to emanate. As for the schmaltz, I'll take Susanne Sundfor's lass-laced plain ol' sappy ballad over any of the Mai Lan features, the so-called Beck feature, heck most of the remainder; call that a positive or negative. Never made any vows about the cover art, however -- rather relevant, in a way. ~*~meh~*~

Sorority Noise - It Kindly Stopped For Me [EP]

Resolutely depressive pop-punkers deliver a diminutive followup to last year's bipolar vice-and-anxiety-fueled magnum-opus; gutting the punk, the pop, most of the band, and any temperament that's not mournful. The resultant stripped-down hush-fest reads as a wearied breather aftermath from the high-strung oscillations of Joy, Departed; and under the scant guise of principally acoustic plucks+lonesome piano, the palpability of frontman Cameron Boucher's downtrodden despondence is endearing-going-on-excruciating. Begins on what seems like a hopeful fresh-start note, which lasts all of two minutes: then friends die, "A Will" is as funereal as it implies, Boucher drunkenly tramps through the woods and can't bare/bother to keep a tune; poor guy even fucks up his hoodie and rips through his hypothetically black jeans in the process. 7/10

Teen Suicide - It's the Big Joyous Celebration, Let's Stir the Honeypot

Album Title Interpretation: Teen Suicide Suicides Name and Go Out With Big Sprawling Bang. By Big I mean 26 tracks in an eternity-seeming 68 minutes, and by Sprawling I mean winding barrage of sketchy+washed out lo-fi-rock that's charming in its let-it-all-hang-out grandeur but oh so overtly overkill. It's defiantly dense, warmth and melancholy and awkwardness and dollops of psychedelia and incoherence run amuck amid the bedroom acoustics+pianos and choral-cooer lullabies and cozy electronix, doses of fuzz-n-scuzz are fairly forcible and depraved, respectively -- but the ratio of solid standout tunes and seemingly one-off/kinda forgettable inconsequentials is excessively lopsided, and like, not in the good way. And outta this whole ungodly-sized mass, the apex might just be the opener. 5.5/10

Leon Vynehall - Rojus

Ah yes, good deep house that doesn't dip too much into the minimal and strays fruitfully far from the sterile -- oft-optimistic without surrendering its heavy trance-bass-thump and totes a whole boatload-a-busyness without approaching extravagant. Save for the atypical ambient-lean soother intro, the grooves are robust, buildups and tear-downs are judicious as fuck, the soundscape wields melodies-aplenty and voice flashes; but more importantly, percussion-sounds-aplenty and everyday etceteras and voices going ahhhh or woahhhh. Do just about all of 'em go on a wee-bit too long? Do the voices going "your love" and "energy" feel a trace trite? Sure. That parade-through-a-jungle-rave beat at "Kiburu's" tho. 7/10

halfway prospectus 2016

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2016 pt. 8

Amnesia Scanner - AS [EP]

A 21-minute slice of ominous and whacked-out electro-grime; awash with dirty deformities, walloping 'what-the's, stutters-n-sputters: muddlement abounds fo sho, but hacked+marred vocal deliveries help accelerate conditions into gnarled club bangers for contorted creatures, and though these six arrangements lurch and confound with the best of 'em, each one does tote a sense of compactness. Comicality amongst the inexplicable: cartoonish boinks and a hook that sounds like "mush head". 6.5/10

Ash Koosha - I AKA I

Still steadfastly squooshin' all kindsa koosha in your hear-holes: right from the onset of "Ote" there's bizarrely blistering bleeps+blops and a pitched-up someone switching between "poopies" and gobbledygook. But such overzealous scrambling is otherwise scarce this time around -- still a sharp+woozy litter of sketchy convolutions and slime-slides and fairly-warped everythings, surely, but I AKA I often finds his sound palette a bit more reasonable (dare I say relatable?) and the compositions steadier (dare I say composed?). Still kinda arduous after about 15 minutes, though, too. But if slowin' your roll increases the capacity for observation and ken, and even makes for moments of poignant placidity, so be it. Cuz I do dare say, I prefer this digestible to the debut. 6/10

Boliden - Landscape and Memory

*******HIGHEST RECS*******

Endlessly enveloped in an airy-n-dubby ghost-ohm ambient fog, which adorns these otherwise meat-and-potato melodies-and-beats with quite the spacious substratum of pensive ethereality. An aura of halcyon remoteness is in full-force and hella absorbing, the compositional bits and pieces accomplish a lot with a little, and each track still forks over individual greatness despite manifest similarities -- do they get repetitious? Oh undoubtedly. Straight-up stagnant, even? Er, yeah kinda. But between the gauzy accessibility and the cushiony tones and the deep-yet-buried bass and the near-celestial atmosphere, this makes for a notable aural tranquilizer -- one that does it (and this is important) while unfailingly pursuing dat groove, only permitting the interstitial "Interstitial" to go full comatose. Which makes for a nice switch-up besides. 7.5/10

Drake - Views

A faceless female's commencing comment forecasts the constitution to come -- "It's a little chilly out there." And considering how promptly this sets sail into a near-bloodless grouse-fest, 'little' may have been an understatement. When "Fire & Desire" schlepps on through at the tail-end of this elephantine track-list, it's a kind of indicative corroboration that those are the two traits this album lacks the most. Well, those and magnitude-moderation: how about accommodating an 80+minute slog with a flow+format that propitiously correlates? What happened to the vigorous bars-4-dayz from that year-gone scrawled-on mixtape? Why not propel the pulse provided by a bulk of the beats and a handful of highlights towards the rife-n-dull not-so-fortunates? But one thing hasn't changed -- blame the length or Drake's Drakiness existing in a particularly listless+bothersome state or both -- and that's guest-spots instantaneously contributing heroic relief by merely deviating from our star-at-hand, without much effort to boot: PartyNextDoor accomplishes it (again) by simply emoting, Future kills it while reiterating the same chuckly line four times in a row. If it interrupts poutingly rattling off yet another surfeit of women and their chosen life-paths instead of settling down with the boy, I say do it up. ~*~meh~*~

Explosions in the Sky - The Wilderness

Sure, they cling to the proverbial post-rock patterns: the piecemeal pacing, the serene silkiness segueing into optimistic alleviation escalating into thunderous intimidation or some other amalgam of vice-versas. But for a sensibly configured 9 tracks in 46 minutes, this does pack in alotta intricate proteanism and satisfying shift-work, sidestepping undue lulls and readily tiptoeing movement-to-movement without wilting towards pure precision. Not that it's without many-a slack or stagy section, but many-a poignant ones and a primarily peachy overall package make for adequate amends. And though it seems they're chiefly used as an apparatus for stability, some xtra exertion on the drums would be nice: "Tangle Formations", I'm lookin' at you. 6/10

O'Brother - Endless Light

Their steadily leaden swirl of partly-proggy post-rock crunchin' is atmospherically appealing, and though overall overcast inching is pretty much intrinsic, they stir up an adequate amount to chaw on -- opaques, acoustics, shimmers+squeals, slo-mo agility, strikingly sharp group-vox harmonizing, a conclusive stretch of ambiance. But whereas the dismal drag is manageable, the melodramatic non-group angst-vox have me rolling my eyes and muttering the band name typically throughout. Indubitable smh moments include when he wants to watch it all burn and that part about the brain-dead infant. 5/10

Puce Mary - The Spiral

///BRAV-FUCKING-O\\\

After provoking just a bit more than a shrug following a live performance in a Brooklyn dive and conspiring to create one of the dullest albums of 2015 alongside fellow-droner Loke Rahbek, I slunk towards this salmon spirality skeptical-yet-hopeful. And maybe I've since grown more masochistic, or her aesthetic has become more efficacious -- most likely a lil bit of this and a lil bit of that -- but this time around she has spawned a screech-n-thud stew that is not only sincerely frightening, but ups the vigor and variance. The all-out bleakness is torturous and engulfing, but its inundation of the digitally damned is quite the riveter: suitability for horror-score material is sealed when a xerox of Hellraiser's Chatterer rattles on through, strident screamin' comes off equal parts abused machine/garbled human/dinosaur in the distance, and it still engages amid lowdown creepin'; staving off inertia and keeping mystery a-flowing. Motifs for deadpan+barely audible spoken word: the marriage of sperm and blood, the scratching and peeling of skin, you know. 7/10

The Range - Potential

*******HIGHEST RECS*******

The opening one-two punch of portentous make-or-break cliffhanger and stately dance-floor euphoria perseveres as a gratifying trend throughout -- it's consistently urgent, gripping, inspirative; and when it comes down to most overarching, celebratory. From surreptitiously championing the voices of uncharted commoners via molding barely-viewed Youtubers into majestic hook-meisters and reappropriated ramblers to clenching clean-n-classy with no forfeiture of detail-n-potency to the utilization of many-a sparkly piano and feather-flutter cymbal with no lapse of sizable significance, he blends catchy immediacy and valuable instrumentals like no one's business -- and has a hell of a time doing it. Perceived commerciality and dramatic pop-leanings may scare off some of the die-hard electro-dudes: oh just submit already. If all else fails, the guy can really champion a voice. 8.5/10

The Thermals - We Disappear 

Fuzzy power-chord-pop on autopilot is one thing, but how bout palpable vacuity in both production and performance? They come across clocked in and cursory, fulfilling a duty rather than exerting some oomph -- the squeal+scuzz bookends on the opening track may be the edgiest juncture here, the admittedly magnetic guitar-hook on "If We Don't Die Today" for sure most ear-grabbing, and most of the remaining bulk squeaks by through semi-competent+semi-catchy formalities. Not often do 'oh-oh-oh's and 'alright, okay's and 'woah-woah's sound so bubbly-yet-blank -- and before you know it/barely a half-hour in, they do indeed disappear. But, like, were they ever even really there, man? 5/10

White Lung - Paradise

Continued concretion of their now-distinct and much-entrenched sound, no doubt -- between Way's vehement vox and William's high-string-centric ninja-riffs and Vassiliou's dogged drummin', they have taken a somewhat sapped style and developed their own unmistakable rendition of it. But damn me if this isn't yet another near-carbon copy of their previous albums: okay yeah there's a bit more semi-polish applied, this clocks in at 28 minutes instead of the ushe ~20, "Below" is an even-more conspicuous+spectacular tone-down than "In Your Home" was, and from a technical standpoint, they've improved as a group. How bout that creative growth tho? How bout that taking 2 years to make a 10-track sub-half-hour record (again) only to transmit a touched-up reiteration? Speaking of "In Your Home": now that was a laudable closer. 6/10

2016 pt. 7

Bent Shapes - Wolves of Want

Nearly wrote 'em off as all-too-familiars whose LP here seemed all-too-curt, but the chummy+canny pop sensibilities are strong with this one -- frontman Ben Potrykus's proneness towards (actual) singing is appreciated as is his casually savvy lyricism, front-ish-woman Jenny Mudarri provides ample backups and ah-ah-ah's for supplementary sweetness, and their output evokes/ensues the bygone Masshole-alt-rock lineage of Buffalo Tom or The Lemonheads or when they get fuzzy and solo-y, perhaps some Dino Jr.; albeit peppier interpretations. Bonus points for still tossing in the ol' acoustic+piano down-n-out ender and suddenly breakin' out the wordy-n-goofball plain-spoken section in the middle of a sub-2-minute tune. I think we can all agree that "Xerox Voids" ends way too abruptly at just over a minute, though. 7/10

Bullion - Loop the Loop

Simulates a dreamy vacay on a friendly-robot island -- the outre-tropical sun-kissed pop and boyishly wide-eyed harmonizing meshed with genial and dexterous electro-doodling makes for an animated and elaborate sojourn that should secure accolades from Animal Collective as well as an Eno endorsement. But through all the instrumental and tectonic prowess, he seldom comes off as anything but debonair: wind-swept strings and bird-chirps assure refined relief yet he's not shy bout spacing out for a bit or getting his goof-swank on, the elusion of exceedingly-cheery cheese makes leisure sound fetching even to a worrywart workhorse, heck there's even pieces of eugenic encouragement: championing change despite the complications it may lay on ya, literally+figuratively gettin' your feet wet, embracing cleverness+finding confidence. Given the record at hand, all are concepts he clasps tight. 7/10

Zach Cooper - The Sentence

The Sentence spelled out via song-title sequence: This Is For Us To Incite Stillness In Our Hearts And Minds. The Sentence bestowed via actual auditory adventure on the other hand, somewhat incarcerative. Its shaky tape-recorder braiding of rando-noise/instrumental tinkering/mysterious-yet-consoling jazz-flute ambiance creates an intriguing and unique microcosm, one that could be likened to a sort of old-timey movie score gone wishy-washy lo-fi gallimaufry -- but torpidity and irresolute floundering make for a pretty tough slog, and the extensive sonic asperity and quick+loud bursts of weird-n-shrill don't do much to incite stillness in my heart and/or mind, personally. And what would room-fuzz exploration be if it didn't include extrinsic bits of dialogue? Two tidbits that may be inklings towards this album's conception: "Umm..I was just..not really thinking" and "Okay, you start something, whatever you wanna start.." followed by stress-breath. Perhaps this was an incarcerative sentence for Z Coops (and crew?) too. 5/10

DJWWWW - Arigato

Well, I adore the introductory melodious mosquito choir and the methods administered on followup "Sampling" so it lives up to its appellation; i.e. the bairn beckoning for ya to take a looksie under his sheet of mystery to reveal a getaway car/building demolition/person getting eaten/etc. And 4 realz, kicks are gotten from the majority of this throng-o-sounds, along with the comprehensive commingling of the recognizably contempo+the absolutely absurd that spews forth during this spastic avant-collage: flashes of Future/a Death Grips blip/a countdown into waves of Animal Collective rub shoulders with feminine cackling/rousing robots/choking humans/sundry gunfire/all sortsa miscellany and percussive implements. But much like this description suggests, raucous dizziness is its downfall -- so much is thrown at you but there's not a-lotta stickage, and the persistently transformative nature of it overwhelms to a fault. Then there's that extreme+vexatious volume spike at the midway point, perhaps an intentional shake-up seeing that it succeeds the interludial sleep-mode breath-catcher of "iPod". Elsewhere, "Network" says "network" alot, "DIS" says "bitch" alot, and ender "Hometown" serves as a congrats-you-made-it consolation prize; fittingly soothing like a revisit to a good one should. Which is a relief. Which you'll need. 6/10

Eskimeaux - Year of the Rabbit [EP]

Sports three titles that could fly on a Kanye album and three that allude to animals, and yes duh they still align with the hypothetical adorability of the latter all the way. Their brand of shy-n-soft vivacity remains a bit more compelling and, well, vivacious, compared to the maybe-too-meager-ness of collaborator/friend Frankie Cosmos; but on the whole this is of that ol' EP type: ya know, the kinda-passive, chiefly sub-3-minute songs that neither jar nor bore in particular, cordially-adequate sort. Topics include the complications of companionship, the potential derived from a day alone, and up-n-coming NYC musician life: i.e. the yearning/gratitude for a simple dinner date instead of gettin' bogged down by all those pesky newfound plans. Crucial Query: "What the fuck is a kiss anyway?" 7/10

Father - I'm a Piece of Shit

I'd argue that guest-crony ILoveMakonnen is the real piece of shit when it gets down to the shitty-nitty-gritty, but Father's certainly got a point: evidently he's self-aware at least, though it doesn't stop him from threatening to put a bitch outside if she talks to him wrong or droppin' her at lost-n-found after he dicks her down. Right, not too freakish for hip-hop -- but what really seals the spurn is that unlike his comrade, he's got nothin' in the way of croon-clout; usually settling for torpid murmuring or gibber-groans or sleaze-stuffed sniveling. When torpidity is at its worst, I question if he's even conscious; when sleaze equals redundant sex-n-drugs raunch and porno-moans and "that sweat that funk that nasty", it's barely bearable. Sniveling at its most pitiful, however, is when he turns endearing: "I wanna die a little, cry a little, get a little high right now", "Started capping pills but I can't get my dick to stay hard". Always helps when chauvinistic lechery slowly reveals itself as jaded loneliness. ~*~meh~*~

Frankie Cosmos - Next Thing

With a mild modesty that's heartrending as it is heartwarming and the scanty-n-pure in-a-room instrumentation there to correspond, the charm of low-key personable perspicuity and tenderness that doesn't nauseate works wonders. Can't say it doesn't leave these cozily terse tunes a bit lacking and/or overly meek at times, though. I can say that said scanty instrumentation does elevate the enjoyment of distant dream-synths when those decide to pop up, however. Also relished is the 20-year old sell-out with the corporation's pen and the composed glee over that friends+touring lyfe: the latter of which enables her to not only "embody all the grace and lightness", but also "warm my vocals, sing a song / sit in cars, read a book." Ah, best of both worlds. 6.5/10

Kamaiyah - A Good Night in the Ghetto

*******HIGHEST RECS*******

///BRAV-FUCKING-O\\\

Rather than target mere nineties nostalgia, Kamaiyah trajects something more along the lines of assured nineties make-believe: rockin' brick phones+beepers+Guess gear, an N64-flaunting music video, interludial landline phone-rings, the 'hoochie-hoo's and 'woopty-woop's, tunes titled "Mo Money Mo Problems" and "One Love". But despite the well-touted throwback traits, this is a straight-up hip-hop refresher -- not just cuz this unapologetic freaky-freak hoyden-queen crushes most of her peers in frequently fluent verse-work and can absolutely rock a hook besides, or from the beats not being produced by Trap-Dude-X for once -- but for seemingly evading violence in favor of rags-to-success euphoria/living every damn day like it's Friday/fuckin' up the club, from the advocacy of a girl looking to 'break down' the guy for a change while declining to become his tied-down steady, cuz "Come Back" is a lush r&b request for an ex to stay put rather than return. And just when you think it's all one ginormous sex-gala, in swoops a tearjerker finale; wherein her cancer-stricken dawg is movingly/somberly serenaded and the possibility of drinkin' out the bottle getting outta hand is professed. For someone claiming to have been doin' her own thang since like '94, not bad: theoretically, she would've just begun learning how to talk. 8/10

Matt Karmil - IDLE033

Combating garishness all the way via understated bass-murk submergence and not being in a rush to get somewhere, this gamut of electro-instrumentals skulks its way through chopped-n-crackly ambience, lumpy slow-churnin' chill-outs, reticent-n-loopy hip-hop, ominous+oscillating specter ensembles, and for the terminal twosome, a revitalizing superimposition into surprisingly snappy techno. In a sea of slackened adequacies that are agreeable but never astounding, the principal-persuader award goes to "Freeform"; whose multitudinous incessancy at least comes close. 6/10

Moonsorrow - Jamalten Aika

*******HIGHEST RECS*******

///BRAV-FUCKING-O\\\

Can't say they (like most) are able to wind through a 5-track 67-minute metal-epic without growing at least a wee bit burdensome, but oof do they wind through. From the broad and never-vagabond ebb-n-flow to the earnest-as-fuck chanting to the seamless transitioning in and outta heavy+roaring riffery/incantational in-a-storm fossil-folk/boingy-boing breakdowns, this is a masterstroke in the commixing of savage, seasoned, triumphant, traditional. An odyssey where gremlin-esque zoogenic snarls and direly dusty shouts of anguish are as imperative as the call-n-response fragile wizard and larger-than-life group-gods, the crushing+furious as riveting as the tender acoustics and ominous outdoorsy atmospherics of rope-creaks and bubblin' streams. See memorabilia-of-masterstroke "Mimisbrunn" for an adept sum-up of these fine traits, but plz refer to entire masterstroke for the masterstroke. 8/10