From their EPK, "For their third full-length album, DIMWIND marks a powerful evolution — transitioning from an instrumental duo to a vocal-driven trio. But, in the midst of writing and searching for the right vocalist, life took an unexpected and harrowing turn when drummer Jonas Eriksson's wife was diagnosed with cancer. The creative process slowed, becoming both a refuge and a way to cope with the emotional weight of the situation. Eventually, the diligent search for a vocalist paid off and the missing piece fell into place with the arrival of Misha Sedini, whose story brought an uncanny and deeply personal parallel. Misha had recently survived an aggressive form of blood cancer — and soon after his recovery, his wife was diagnosed with the exact same type now affecting Jonas's partner. In that shared experience, the album's theme became clear.

"The Carrion Waltz" is a record that delves into real pain, resilience and the haunting dance between life and death. At its heart, a tribute to fighting and surviving. Six songs await the listener, and "The Chime" is first. Some nice vocal harmonies are first, and the sound is somber, possibly reflecting the tragic journey that the band had to take to release the album. Rhythm guitars chug away at the bottom end, and while the clean vocals are harmonized, they are also tinged with frustration, and perhaps even anger. Emotions run high when the sound swells with more sonority, and you can literally feel the band's laments. "My Uninvited Host" might refer to the cancer itself. Take just a moment to imagine what it might feel like to get that diagnosis. The music is dark, angry again, and declarative at times, and emotional, pensive, and introspective at others.

"The Antagonist's Speech" is a bit firmer and louder, and you can again feel the laments from the vocals. The music is rough, reflecting some of the emotions you might expect to feel. "Counterglow" is a faint, oval-shaped patch of light in the night sky located directly opposite the Sun, and it remains a bit of a mystery. It moves slowly, with meaty bass notes, and more harmonized vocals. At this point, you might just feel spent from the constant fight, and that's what the music reflects…a sort of giving up. "Exit Talon Grasp" could be the moment where they finally get some good news…the "grip" is loosened, so to speak. The vocals are part clean, part harsh, and they reflect a measure of resolve from them. "Absorbing the Infinite Impermanence" is the final song. In some ways, it's still sad, but in other ways, it's like that sigh of relief and will to live. The vocal harmonies are fantastic.

As you might imagine, this is a highly personal album, and some people say a cancer diagnosis invokes the same feelings as the five stages of grieving. The music reflects these various stages well. Much of the album was dark, mired in shadows, and reflective of some very dark times in life. In that regard, it was interesting to listen to, and I found myself absorbed in the movements. It's something anyone who has had a health scare can relate to, and which of us haven't?