If this Swedish quartet are the new keepers of the water towers then the previous occupants are soon going to regret handing over the keys – there’s no way anyone’s getting their damage deposit back here.
Over the course of Cosmic Child, a largely conceptual album, the gargantuan doom riffs and thunderous, low-end drum-pummelling alone is of such sheer physical mass that it feels like the incalculable gallons of acid-laced water cascading thunderously down upon you from the explosion of some giant cosmic water tower.
Yet it’s not all a barrage of lysergic punishment – there are moments of ethereal, Pelican-esque acoustic noodling and fairy-bothering folkish mandolins. While the Maiden-loving guitar harmonies towards the end of Pyre For The Red Sage might sit awkwardly with some, and certain reference points appear too obvious, Cosmic Child is a triumph of both subtlety and of crushing scope.
