���� Monolithic, crushing miserablism. Peaceville's ongoing rollout of vinyl reissues of their prestigious catalog continues with this recent double LP edition of Quietus, the second album from New Jersey-based funereal deathgods Evoken. Originally released in 2001, this slab of terminally morose heaviness had never been previously available on vinyl. Comprised of seven cuts of some of the most oppressive slow-motion death metal you're ever going to hear, Quietus descends with all of the inexorable weight and darkness of the door to a crypt-vault being sealed forever. These guys managed to take the already stultifying tempos of bands like Thergothon and My Dying Bride and drag 'em even deeper into a fathomless well of despair through elongated, lumbering songs that stretch out forever. This stuff is miserable, burying you under a wall of creeping glacial riffage and thunderous double bass, with monstrous guttural roars echoing through the depths, but Quietus also showed the band further refining their sound, enhancing these titanic dirges with some really well-crafted funerary violin melodies, synthesized choral voices, passages of moody piano and blasts of imperious, trumpet-like synth. The vocals are pretty unique as well, a mix of lung-collapsing death growls and an overwrought moan that sort of sounds like Rozz Williams overdosing on Quaaludes. In other words, awesome.

���� There's a savagery lurking behind the funereal elegance of Evoken's music that makes this feel more threatening than a lot of the other funereal death-doom stuff that came in the wake of the original Peaceville bands, though. And the few times where Evoken shift their tempo upwards into a bone-grinding death metal attack (as on "Tending The Dire Hatred"), the effect can be utterly paralyzing. The album also takes a few interesting turns with some almost proggy guitarwork showing up, and that deep, mournful cello that haunts the entire record certainly gives it a distinctive touch. It's all so dismal and depressing and world-weary that it almost demands that you listen to it laying down. While Evoken would truly perfect this sound with the follow-up Antithesis of Light, this album is still pretty essential if you're a doomdeath / funeral doom fan.

���� Released on one hundred eighty gram vinyl in gatefold packaging (with sleeve design by Stephen O'Malley), and includes a previously unreleased instrumental track recorded in 2004 that's right at home amongst the rest of the album, sounding like a Nephilim song slowed down to a glacial crawl.