The Angelic Process
Weighing Souls With Sand

This album does not exist.

This figure on the cliff never plunged into the stormy sea waves, their life never ended abruptly and sadly. Abrupt and sad as only the end brought by a suicide far from being titanic can be. A suicide that is, in fact, the last thing you have before nothingness, an angelic wing that tears you away from life to other places. This darkness does not exist. And indeed, here and there from the pitch of the drone, light seems to re-emerge, glimpses and glimmers of hope that last briefly, have a short life, in fact, as you perceive them, they've already been reabsorbed by the mass of clouds pulsing above your head. This drone does not exist. And indeed it is shoegaze, it is doom, it is atmospheric, but it is desperate, granite-like, and gloomy as only the drone knows how to be.

This album talks about suicide, it talks about the apocalypse, it talks about torn flesh, expansive spaces, it talks about Delirium, Despair, and Desire, it talks about Dream, and her sister Death, whose voice seems to rise above those of her brothers and sisters. This album is suicide but it is also love, it is a promise dropped into an erupting volcano and left there to melt miserably. This album does not exist, but it lives and resonates in my ears as one of the most thrilling things I've heard in recent times.