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The gentle Eastern flavoured bleeps and chords of "Suspended In Light" cannot prepare the unwary listener for the next harrowing 64 minutes of their life.
All of a sudden, the gentle sounds are gone, and a veritable rockfall of hulking, scathing guitars are crashing around you, scraping the skin from the inside of your ear canals. Acidic voices screech from the hellish Golgotha emanating from the speakers. There is little respite. There is no let up. Track after bludgeoning track smashes against the bulkhead of your sanity, or trickles delicately across your subconscious. Welcome to the psychosis of Neurosis.
Neurosis don't create songs as such, but geological epochs of immense sound, bordering on noise, but held on the teetering balance between control and chaos. You don't so much listen to this album as you do absorb it. Distortion drips from everything, like water dripping from the walls of a darkened cave. It is dark, brooding, and brutal, but doesn't sound anything like Death Metal or Black Metal. This transcends categorisation. There is layer upon layer of sound in a complex laminate, which at times could be random, because it meshes too perfectly to possibly be created by human hands.
Many questions are posed, only a few are answered. How are these sounds being made? Why are they so loud? Why is there such a compulsion to keep listening? Why doesn't this get boring? Why didn't I listen to this years ago? Why doesn't this sell millions?
Forget artificial stimulants that need to be inhaled, ingested or injected. 'Times Of Grace' will induce a perfectly safe, perfectly legal altered state of consciousness.