I will endeavour to elucidate in more detail. Firstly, Deep Dark creeps upon you and clang, you're in some Hellraiser's labyrinth, a ghastly chime resounding through this perpetual purgatory, accompanied by the throb of your own heart, struggling to survive the miasma of putrid evil. And the rotting stench of lost souls. Towards the end the weird configurations begin to appear and fade, only to return and further the torment. It feels darkest at the end, there is truly no hope for the wretched ones. The second track, To Krupp, immediately I love the tone, just a little unsettling, not easy and comfortable listening even though this feels a little more like airbound demons whispering foul obscenities in our ears in a language we've forgotten as a race of beings. A good mix on sound and structure, an old, primeval rhythm, the sensation of plummeting through the astral planes. We hear noises of creatures we cannot comprehend and feel them moving around us and through us. We are as nothing to them. A Rock That Isn't, is next. A background throbbing profoundly, the odd imploring chant in vain, to be mined out of its dark hole into the light, which tries to assert itself. Underground streams and trickles slowly, but inexorably, continue their course irrespective of all obstacles. Dripping stalagtites and building stalagmites. But the water ultimately overcomes the rock, wears it away, with its undying life of strife, to reach its lowest position according to gravity and the sway of the baleful moon. It is persistent. But where's there's water there's life and we seem to have a fig-leaf of hope waved briefly under our noses. So fundamentally, the track maintains its' necessary assertion to its own self-justification. Jericho opens out a wide vista of experimental opportunity well met, the track retains interest and creates an intricate structuring of sound, and subsequently the underlying beat of the dark heart. Once a great city, but there is an old saying that to 'go to Jericho' mean 'go to the devil'. Crowley found him in the desert, after all. Towards the end, underground temples become echo chambers of pointless prayer, if that's the way the saying goes? And, it seems to end in a storm of sand. Dubcek Vladicek is like slow moving, trudging, if this is about a person, a somewhat dreary existance, troublesome, but with light moments, it's quite uplifting. Still retaining a confident relentlessness. Then, about seven minutes in it feels like you're receiving too many inputs at once, only to return to its original rhythm, and then that changes, then back again, still there, despite the divergencies. Overall, this is a prime example of the genre. Thanks!-)
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