All musical elements seem to close in on the listener, leaving him no room for breath amidst this thick and imposing monolith of an album. The tempo is just a few notches above funereal, but still zealously flirting with funeral doom's austere tortoise paces. The album 'paints' a wide canopy of grey-scaled backgrounds upon which their mammoth compositions are laden, which invariably bear the raw and murky trademark sound of the genre's purveyors.

The first track, "Sons", could well be the musical essence of tragedy, as emanated by recent disasters such as 9/11; a news snippet of which is amended to the final moments of the track. From there on, "Werewolf / Echoes of the Past" takes over, strewn with a sentiment of a smoldering incessant enmity, creeping beneath this angst-ridden musicianship which perpetually urges to be heard; the allure of it (or the Tragedy perhaps) is that it never is. It's like the far-distant woes of a doomed race, crying in vain their wretched threnodies. A similar approach is followed by the third and final track, "Sharp Contemplation", which in addition is intermitted by more clean parts of sheer, dank ambience.

Evidently the album is not for the faint of heart; the dissonant and serpentine riffing distorted in consonance with the gargantuan bass sound allow no room for hackneyed sentimentalities exhibited by the more traditional doom outfits. It is essentially a very uncompromising album, standing aloof from other musical genres, bearing its own, personal musical imprint. Now exactly which kind of listeners will be gratified by this release is something indefinable; obviously the doom/sludge aficionados among us are already wetting their pants, but in my estimates the listening group should extend to a much wider circle.