“Bruising post-metal from Scotland's capital.” That is all that I could find about the band on-line, so we will have to let the music do the talking. “Usud” is the first song, and the bruises don’t show immediately, but by the end of the song you are covered in them. The music is dark, sinister, and brooding, and transitions to utterly contentious pretty quickly. It reminds you of the more nefarious side of life…the kind that comes out after the sun goes down and the kind that relishes anything away from light, love, and peace. “Signum” goes even deeper into the abyss and into areas of your mind that you thought were locked away forever. It scratches at the door, then kicks it in, and you are face to face with your demons. Even the clean moments are filthy.

“Rescission” means “the revocation, cancellation, or repeal of a law, order, or agreement,” and the music is more chaotic at times. There are also some moments of levity, but they are short-lived. “Hecatomb” translates to “an extensive loss of life.” It’s a slow, grinding song that wears down the listener and slowly strips him of his happiness, one note at a time. Once again, there are softer moments, but they are hardly less impactful, as hopeless tones continue to drag on. “Samsa” is shorter and perhaps more intense. Dissonant tones abound, with a hefty side of bleakness and misery. Forget everything that you know about the world above ground, because this one resides deep in places you can’t even get to.

“Enso” is slower and allows the pain to sink in deeper, and hurt even worse. The slow pace stretches out for what seems like days, weeks, and even months, of horrid repetitiveness. Someone once characterized Hell as repetition, and that is what I hear in this song. “Karst” actually has some hopeful tones in the beginning, and you have to ask yourself, “are they playing with me.” Following the opening, each note begins a steady progression downwards, step by horrid step. “Verte” closes the album, and it features both bleak and depressive tones, as well as some fleeting moments of hope. On many levels though, I feel that these moments just make the harsher tones even worse, until they dig in, and take up residence in your mind.

This album plunges deep into the abyss of despair to a landscape where light and hope have long since vanished. Every note feels drenched in sorrow. The pacing is deliberate, almost suffocating, as if time itself has been stretched thin. The atmosphere is thick with emotional weight, creating a listening experience that is bleak, visceral, and all-consuming. This isn’t just music—it’s an emotional journey through the darkest corners of the soul, where every shred of optimism has been extinguished. It’s a soundtrack for those moments when the world feels unbearably heavy, a reflection of the internal chaos that comes with hopelessness.