Below text is an excerpt from the full review you can read on Weird bones website

… And then there’s this. I’ll confess that the blurb completely sold me, and it would have had to have been a real dud for me not to appreciate something about it, even if it was just the concept. I’ve been thinking about this album for a day or two, trying to unpick why it’s had such an effect on me. You know that phrase about ‘if a tree falls down in a forest and there’s nobody there, does it make a sound?’. I think there’s a strong element of that, a feeling that whatever nastiness and ritual we’re hearing the audio of, it’s happening regardless of you listening. Not being there doesn’t mean it still isn’t happening. Fittingly, for something which revolves around ancient practices, there’s an air of permanence and even matter-of-factness that gives this an almost field recording tone.

‘Captivity’ opens the gate with claustrophobic textures and the sound of winches and pulleys being prepared. This isn’t BBC Sound Effect LP stuff (not that there’s anything wrong with those) – the underlying hum and murmur create a stillness and meditative zen that disarms the listener and makes what follows all the more harrowing. ‘I.A.O.’ invokes esoteric orders with circular cymbal treatments and shimmers only for some genuinely terrifying chanting to groan out of the shadows, at which point all bets are off and the whole journey becomes behind-the-cushion stuff.

‘On Carmel’s Peak’ is brief but potent, giving us a bit of geography to orient ourselves. We’re high up and far from safety; there’s a threat coming from all around us. There’s no point running; the repeated refrains tell us that whatever comes next is predetermined and final. GREAT. L’Ultima Cerimonia’ feels like the final rite before the veil lifts, but this isn’t the James Bernard growling thunder and crashing crescendi of ‘The Devil Rides Out’ – it’s got a reverence to it, as if the ropes and snares we’re going to face are indeed sacred and Godly, that we should be grateful for our fate.

‘Akhkharu’, clocking in at over 11 minutes, is, appropriately enough, given that it’s a grimoire of vampyric magick – slow, seductive, and steeped in blood. A swooning Yamaha lifts us up, but then drops us into impossible caverns, that stomach lurch you get that has you completely defenceless. Ropes are cranked. The observers stay silent. There’s a slight lick of flame and an incessant rhythm to what’s happening, and yet there’s no sense of what happens next. ‘The Inquisition’ is exactly as terrifying as it sounds. Just in case we were in any doubt, everything has now become very serious. Elders are clearly involved, and they’re not the merciful sort. Bell-like chimes and a portentous drum move the ceremony along, tightening its grip like the chords around the poor wretch’s limbs.

‘Khampa’ and ‘Ortson Erdap!’ (read it backwards) are riddles wrapped in distortion. The chanting has started in earnest – it’s in reverse, of course, and what language it’s in isn’t clear. It’s very…VERY unsettling. By this stage, it doesn’t feel like you’re listening to a musical creation; we’re into ‘Cannibal Holocaust’ found footage territory. We’re being pulled in all directions – things are creaking – it could be wooden scaffolding or it could be our sockets. The chanting continues regardless, the bell peals are louder – something has happened – are we dead? Has something been wrenched out of where it should be? The priest is still chanting backwards, as is his wont.

‘Dhyana’ offers a moment of meditative dread – exaltations and prayers have been offered, and everyone takes a moment to comprehend what we can see before us. The twitching and resistance have ceased, and the ritual of the ropes has finished its most vicious sequence. ‘Sotterranea’ dives underground, both literally and sonically. We’re still on our mountaintop, but now in the caverns beneath, a jumble of contorted body parts taken away to…well, let’s not think about that. There are whispers from the assembled few – blessings, relief, fear. ‘Le Quattro Porte’ closes the ritual with four doors, none of which lead out. What has happened will remain secret until once again, the Goddess calls for an offering.

There’s no catharsis here, no sunrise. Just the rope, the snare, and the sound of something ancient waking up. A magical album, I doubt I’ll hear anything so affecting for the rest of the year.

Daz Lawrence