About three seconds into Monoliths and Dimensions you know exactly what you’re getting into. Well, maybe not exactly, but I would guess most listeners have decided within a minute if this album is for them. The opening “riff”—a bass note so low and with so much feedback it’s origin could be Cthulu itself—drones on for longer than most pop songs. The vocals (however sparse) are from a man possessed, guttural and foreign and terrifying. Even seemingly innocent instruments like the trombone are warped and twisted into a nightmarish audio assault. But unlike most metal, this album’s slow burn—no more than a candle flickering on a dark horizon—will drown you under it’s weight. Four songs. 53 minutes. Only one track (just barely) under the 10-minute mark. This is an album that locks you up and throws away the key.