���Four albums in with Russian black metal experimentalists Epitimia, and I still didn't know what their name meant. A quick look online reveals the name Epitimia to come from the Russian orthodox church, a reference to a kind of "spiritual correction", a penance imposed upon the sinner by the priest, an idea that lightly echoes through the band's existential lyrics on (Un)reality, questioning reality and the emotional and psychic landscape of the inner self. We're definitely in stranger territory with this sprawling new double album from the band, an eighteen-song descent into Epitimia's most shadowy and evocative music I've heard to date, exploring a genre-blurring sound reminiscent of Norwegian avant-gardists Manes and Arcturus.

���Right from the opening twilight drift of "Birth", the trio glides through the darkness amid cool noir-stained saxophones and lush dreamy jazziness, a far cry from the raw, ramshackle black metal one would expect based on previous releases; that first song is quite bewitching, not quite the sort of darkened Bohren-esque jazziness you might expect, but lighter and more ethereal. But then they rip that cloudy, shadowy atmosphere apart with the second song, "Delusion I � Escapism", the first in a seven part saga that moves through a variety of emotional states, beginning with a burst of abrasively doleful black metal, a prog-influenced complexity directing their long, winding structures as this bleeds over into the subsequent songs, mid-paced melancholic black metal woven from layered, weepy tremolo melodies and grooving, staccato riffing. Solid enough stuff on its own, but when the saxophone suddenly reappears midway through "Escapism", the music takes on a soulful majesty that immediately elevates this above the band's previous works.

��� As (Un)reality unfolds, we're treated to wistful, delicate vocals that drift languidly over the loping frostbitten black metal, the band dropping into unpredictable tempo changes; there's killer discordant riffage that has a vaguely Voivoidian vibe, sudden detours into bleary trip-hop like ambiance, and more of the band's eerie guitar work that has a folky, distinctly Slavic feel. Songs will suddenly shift into shadowy electronica, as skittering drum n' bass outbursts or traces of stuttering breakcore surface beneath the cold, regal blackness. Operatic vocals swell over passages of crunchy, angular math-metal, and there are rushes of euphoric shoegaze-influenced poppiness and washes of dreamy guitar jangle that sometime venture into Alcest-like territory (the song "Illusion III � Foretime" on the second disc is as captivating as anything in this vein I've heard lately), with the band even drifting into some seriously spaced-out dub towards the end of the album.

���All of these elements are woven into their songs with a thoughtfulness and songwriting ability that shows an impressive evolution from previous works. But as proggy as the songs get, this stuff is also really catchy, the musicianship on (Un)reality immensely improved over previous outings from the band, with tighter and more professional playing. While I dug the scruffy ambition of their previous album, this is on another level, the combination of jazz and black metal executed in a rather unique fashion, with that sax playing from guest player D'Arcy Molan giving large portions of this album a cool, jazz-noir vibe. A killer combination of Ulver/Arcturus-progginess, ratty black metal, cosmic imagery, dolorous dream-pop, and ambitious dark rock that continues to evolve and deepen with each album. Gorgeously in a six-panel digipack with twelve page booklet.