Suuns have no doubt ingested a lot of art rock, the Montreal group's minimalist rhythms are equally informed by Joy Division, Suicide and Can, often wrapped in a noisy squall of droning guitars and pulsing synths. Add to this Ben Shemie's breathy, paranoid sing/speak, and there are times that it seems like Suuns are about to drive over a sonic cliff. But there's actually a great sense of restraint at play. We were enveloped in Sunns' dark and thrilling post-punk from the first listen, never to return.
This album gurns and churns with the dense, atmospheric power of an angel wrestling the forces of hell.
Wolfe's voice is an ethereal swirl, but it can cut like a blade. Her guitar, meanwhile, is a reaper's scythe, and with it, she flails like a Balrog summoned deep and raging from the bowels of Middle Earth.
It's an album of dreams and nightmares, a sludge-gaze torrent of painful questions hurled into the void.
A brave, bold and empowering listen. Michael Mueller