��� The alluring third album from obscure Swedish ambient outfit Draugurinn continues the ritualistic Nordic black ambiance that lone member Disa has been producing since 2010. Some might know Disa from her herbarium-obsessed black metal outfit Turdus Merula that also released a couple of albums on Le Cr�puscule Du Soir, but over the course of previous albums Dau�ad� and Myrkraverk, she's also been fleshing out her own blend of primitive percussion, layered kosmische drones and sumptuous vocals under the Draugurinn name, all layered together into dark and vast choral driftscapes that glimmer with a sinister abyssal beauty.

��� M��uhar�indin brings us some of the project's grimmest work to date. The seven tracks drift languidly through a subterranean soundworld filled with mesmeric chantlike vocals and distant pounding tribal rhythms, clattering percussion that resembles the clack of animal bones resounding from the depths of a cave, temple bells hypnotically ringing in the depths, all surrounded by vast murky synths and smears of black orchestral rumble and sinister cinematic strings. Some of this slips into decidedly soundtrack-like territory, like the ominous post-industrial ambiance of "H�n Kallar � Surt Og Syni Hans" that recalls some of the latter-day Lustmord material. Disa's vocals are present throughout most of the album though, from haunting far-off wordless singing to witchlike cries that crank the creep factor up considerably; synths are prominent but textural, and while some tracks like "�au Skapa �r Eldinum, K�tlu Og Heklu" see the keyboards taking on a more melodic, funereal role, it never quite delves into a purely "dungeon synth" style approach. There's a familiarity around Draugurinn's black cosmic ambiance, but it's a sound that I definitely continue to enjoy, apocalyptic kosmische rituals that often ascend into peals of striking nightside beauty. There's certainly aspects of this stuff that would appeal to fans of the Halo Manash/ Arktau Eos / Emme Ya / Endura vein of shamanic dark ambient ritual, though Disa's trancelike rhythmic creepscapes are much simpler and more minimalistic, usually centering around a single motif that slow builds in intensity through repetition; it's just as recommended to fans of the graveyard sorceries of Aghast and Lamia Vox, too. Released in a limited edition of five hundred copies.