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The album of definitive infatuation.
It is known to most: love, when it hits you, is something overwhelming, elusive, and generally beyond your control.
You find yourself floating in this quantum foam within an indefinable space-time bubble in which you are capable of behaving without the slightest bit of rationality; you just act as if driven by a conditioned reflex: the light bulb turns on and you bite, tear, trying to devour the largest chunk you can hold between your eager jaws.
It must have happened more or less like this in that specific year there - 1998 - to the five fearless metallers from Stockholm: struck, blinded on the road to a new Damascus (New York: Unsane, Helmet), they rise from their (en)tombs, nourished and inflamed by that vivid matter, making it their sole and resolute modus operandi: completely abandoning the dazzling death-metallic arsenal that had brought them so much fame at the time.
The album is not perfect: far from it; indeed, for many, completely incomprehensible. It couldn't be otherwise: after all, it simply represents their personal, sincere, courageous, yet vital testimony of love.
UH!
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