At the outset, you know shit's serious when an album's short intro and interlude tracks measure seven and eight minutes respectively. (The other three titans are two to three times that length.) The record opens with drones, a slow campfire beat, and owl hooting. Deep ritual hum-grunts enhance the highly ceremonial ambiance. The treble clef finally gets its due in the form of some percussed strings. Clear, strident guitar tones ring out through the tense darkness that fills "Jäljet", later making room for chords thrumming with menacing distortion. As the track settles into its middle third, it relaxes slightly into naturalistic harmonies reminiscent of a less saturated Celestiial. At times, the heaviness evaporates entirely and the whole sonic space is inflated with subtle melodies; then the near-militaristic, feedback-soaked electric sludge locks in and grinds the spirit quest vibe into Mother Earth-flavored paste.

If you like your songs to have individual impact, get thee away from Syven. These five movements echo and expand upon each other, cycling through ideas that take on various configurations and meanings as the recording continues. If you're bold enough, though, to open yourself to the vast and threatening world around you, Syven will hold the door for you and beckon you through it. Go ahead. Enlightenment and terror await.