Icelandic musicians excel in ethereal and otherworldly. Whether it be Sólstafir, Björk, Sigur Rós or the honorary Icelander John Grant. This is widescreen windswept Black Metal. Yes, it is still as menacing as a lorry load of mutant clowns, but there is an eerie and wraith-like quality. It is (unsurprisingly) in places reminiscent of early Sólstafir and will appeal to those who wish they would tone down the Americana and up the Black Metal.

It’s maelstrom of sound that conjures up desolate coastlines and ghostly shadows just on the edge of sight. The riffs are big and punchy, but the corrosiveness of the vocals saves it from becoming anthemic. What you end up with is a bleak beautifulness that matches the wild formidable landscape the album was birthed in. A coarse, but ultimately stunning record.