Score: 6.5/10 It's really nice to find a piece of media (of any type) in which you can always find something new. That being said, A Death Cinematic's latest is a complete mindwarp - every time I listen to it, I feel completely differently about it. I hated it, I loved it, I was impressed by its darkness then dismayed and confused by its lightness - there has simply been no pinning it down. Last.fm seems to be convinced that Sunn O))) and its various kin (Khanate, KTL, Asva, Ascend...) are the most similar bands to this anonymous solo artist, but I don't see the resemblance; Stephen O'Malley and Greg Anderson are renowned for their ability to bludgeon with waves of black sound, but A Parable... doesn't bludgeon at all. It tends, rather, to quietly infiltrate, to sneak into the chinks and blisters of our outsides and overwhelm from the inside. In a phrase, it's more black death than Black Knight. If there is anyone who could be in the same category as A Death Cinematic, it seems like some of the more recent experimental black metal groups are them. British 'black metalist' Ca�na, in particular, has created a similar sound, but even he can't nail down the same marriage of black metal, post-rock, and ambient that makes A Death Cinematic such a unique project, and this record so unlike anything else I've ever heard. There is an almost shoegazey fuzz to many of the guitar layers that characterise this album; the high reverb and 60's-esque gain create a morose, mournful tone much of the time, but these echoed strains also carry a menace that is only reinforced by the more modern distortion loops or minor-key background melodies. I don't know what A Death Cinematic does to sound so evil, but it works. My biggest complaint is the length. A Parable on the Aporia of Vengeance and the Beauty of Impenetrable Sadness is a double-disc, hour-and-thirty-five-minute affair that is primarily an effective communication of a vision. In order to merit that kind of length, though, an album has to be spectacular, and by the last few tracks on disc two, A Parable... has really started to lose steam. It is an unfortunate fact that the nature of drone and ambient types of music means that they often lack identifiable propulsive elements. While closer "Brilliance of the Morning Snow" eloquently and accurately conveys the idea of a winter sun rising over fresh powder, its full effect is lost, muted by everything that preceded it, and I am tired by the time I get there. For most of its runtime, this record barrages the listener with several very different sounds that work together by being slightly at odds with each other, and this is doubtlessly responsible for my fatigue. This is not a construction where a melody stands out, bolstered and accented by countermelodies and harmonies, but of several competing lines that are mixed and improvised in such a way that certain ones are more immediately accessible without being dominant. It is an interesting but also trying experience to try and sort those strands of music out, to mark the distinctions between them and make sense of how they work together, and ultimately I think few people are up to the challenge of doing that for an hour and a half. A Parable on the Aporia of Vengeance and the Beauty of Impenetrable Sadness is supposed to stand as a single piece in eleven movements, and for the most part, this is an intriguing and well-executed effort. Though it does not inspire the sort of dread or sense of impending doom that Sunn O))) might, there is an inescapable darkness in this record that I find appealing. This is music for a lonely, moonless night. -Lee Stablein, The Silent Ballet

There's ambitious, there's grandiose, and then there's the latest release from A Death Cinematic -- two cds of dark, apocalyptic noise-drone housed in a highly elaborate package, limited to 250 copies. You have to actually see one of the band's handmade, meticulously crafted cd cases to truly appreciate the effort that goes into the design and production of the packaging; it's fitting for a guy who went to art school that his musical project should be equally focused on the physical package. The band's visual approach (if not the packaging itself) is vaguely reminiscent of early releases by Godspeed You Black Emperor!, and the fuzzy, soundtrack-oriented vibe shares some elements of that band's sound, but the work here is purely instrumental and devoid of politics (at least overtly), and shares as much with dark-ambient and noises genres as it does with soundtracks. The eleven tracks are long, haunting, and bear titles like "When I leave I wish to kill the sun" and "Their blood crawls through frozen fields and dead nights" -- baroque and creepy titles are the band's signature, really, just as much as the mix of tinkling guitars and scratchy noises. The sonic depths of the tracks themselves are considerably more amorphous, consisting of abstract noises, found sound, and some of the most ghost-like guitar outside of an early Brian Eno or Roxy Music record. There's no particular concept or overweening plan to the pieces, just a slow, steady flow of unnerving sound and fragmented melodies that suggest an impending act of doom that never quite arrives. Haunting minimalism is at the core of the band's aesthetic, a sound that's actually enhanced by its low-tech origins (all the material was recorded to four-track in an attic). There's no question that two discs worth of dissociative drone and evaporating guitar is a lot of death-ambient to wade through, but it's all good. Disquieting, yes, but good.

So I have a desk full of records for review from some heavily established acts, some of which have been lying around for several weeks. As soon as A Death Cinematic (ADC) dropped on the system though, this reviewer has been listening to very little else and was compelled to write a review as soon as. Being a sucker for the Godspeed school of post-apocalyptic post rock, ADC�s sombre and charred soundscapes that glisten with a glimmering ray of hope totally captivated from the first listen. Self-taught and hell-bent on utilising a fully DIY approach, the tracks on �A Parable�.� are improvised pieces that are constructed simply through the use of a guitar, amp and some effect pedals with computers only being utilised in post-production as a mixing and clean-up tool. A quick gaze upon the timeless and emotive urban landscape imagery and short-videos adorning ADC�s website reveals a fascination with the uneasy meeting of decayed industrialisation and the boundless and epic beauty of nature, a phenmonena that is sonically documented on this release. Sprawled across two discs and packaged in a beautifully crafted DIY box, the 11 movements on �A Parable�.� shift slowly and strategically between lushly textured post-rock compositions, that are steeped in an apocalyptic atmosphere, and discordant drone symphonics whilst all-the-time wringing out that ultra emotive ray of hope. The fusion of these post-rock melodics and fuzzy drones are composed with aplomb and are designed to squeeze out every last drop of emotive audio-melancholy possible. Occasionally, on tracks such as �When I leave�.� and �Knives At My Brain��, ADC breaks into bouts of perpetuating fuzz-laden skree which is reminiscent of the hypnotic bob and sway of Skullflower, Vibracathedral Orchestra or Ashtray Navigations. Most of the time however this skuzz sound is integrated amongst cleaner and more focused melodies that form into epic soundscapes which crystallise the very fabric of emotion that is portrayed by pre-apocalyptic fear and post-apocalyptic mourning. After the lushly textured, hazy driftcore of �The Grasses Will Grow�..�, �The Sun Glints Through�� stomps authoritatively with a psychedelic metallic doom aesthetic. The charging momentum provided by the perpetually chunky riffage seeps right into your cerebral making your head automatically twitch and nod whilst the lilting Eastern-esque feedback melodics disorientate and captivate wholeheartedly. With its twin layers of solitary guitar and atmospheric feedback ebbing and flowing, �The Heart Races�� is a genuine masterclass in emotionally isolated expansiveness and proves to be the perfect follow-up to the dark energy of the previous track. On the second disc, the opener once again pits deliciously engaging liquid-guitar melodies against a charging wall of moody fuzz to visceral effect . After the desolate and paranoia-inducing sci-fi decay of �Knives at My Brain�� mellowism ensues on the follow-up track allowing one to take heed of those glory-times now destroyed. ��And All The Leaves�.� goes on to reverberate with emotive majesty, the glistening liquid guitars locking into idealistic melodic motifs whilst an effervescent burble plays out in the distance. At the end of this epic sprawl of an album comes �Brilliance of the First Morning Snow�, a perfect closing piece which fuses a pessimistic low-end turbulence with an optimistic guitar haze, the strings quivering with a sense of expectation amongst the sea of hopelessness. Beautiful. Scoring what sounds like that golden but brief period of time when the sky is black and society is under no illusion as to its devastating fate, ADC composes sweeping cinematic sound for the lost soul. Some may complain about the lack of explosiveness and how tracks peter out instead of �rising to the fore� but they would be missing the concept. With �A Parable�.� ADC has travelled to the very core of the concept of post-rock and has carved out a unique, dark and luscious territory that stands up there with the genre�s forbearers. To immerse oneself in the work of ADC would be a thoroughly recommended experience as the audio and visual go hand-in-hand and are designed to stimulate your emotions by showcasing a tangible peek into the world of post-apocalyptic melancholic romanticism. (KS) For fans of; Godspeed, Esmerine, Vic Chesnutt, Hotel Hotel, Skullflower, Vibracathedral Orchestra

It took me a long time and a great deal of contemplation to finally organize my thoughts on A Death Cinematic�s A Parable on the Aporia of Vengeance and the Beauty of Impenetrable Sadness. Sure, the interview I conducted with the man behind A Death Cinematic had given me some much needed insight, as had the time spent poring over the sprawling double album itself. But things didn�t completely click until recently, as I was reading The Gunslinger, book one of Stephen King�s The Dark Tower series. As I read the story of Roland, the last Gunslinger walking across the arid, endless desert in search of The Man in Black, it occurred to me that A Parable� would make the perfect soundtrack. In many ways, the music of A Death Cinematic is Roland the Last Gunslinger re-cast as the Last Guitarist, a lone musician wandering across a post-apocalyptic wasteland in search of redemption. Armed with only a guitar, an amp and some effects, A Death Cinematic creates the sonic equivalent not of ultimate catastrophe itself, but of the equally dark and terrifying repercussions. A Parable� is a sonic rumination on the days following the end of the world, filled with sorrow, yearning, anger and perhaps just the faintest glimmer of hope, no larger than a pin prick. From a purely musical standpoint, A Death Cinematic recalls to an extent the spaghetti-western doom of Earth�s Hex� album, as well as the droning ambience of SunnO))) at their most subdued. But these are merely points of reference, because A Death Cinematic is ultimately its own unique entity. Although the guitar/amp/effects setup may sound deceptively simple, A Parable� is anything but an easy listen. Layers of guitar envelop and entrance the ears of the listener, from washes of modulating static and noise to thick doom riffs to eerie, jangling arpeggios. While the tempo of the album is almost uniformly glacial throughout its duration, it never becomes boring or inert thanks to A Death Cinematic�s mastery of dynamics and variation within this leaden pace. The grim sonic alchemy created through the deft arrangement and interplay of sounds transcends such conventions as tempo and structure, creating an utterly engaging listening experience. The production perfectly suits the album, warm yet sparse and minimal. This allows the various nuances created by the layers of sound to come through, yet leaves just a little dirt caked around the edges. Special mention must also be made of the incredible artwork and packaging, painstakingly hand-assembled by the artist. Holding the this piece of functional art in your hands while listening to the album only adds to the feeling that you�ve stumbled across the last will and testament of the Last Guitarist, left behind as he set off to wander the wastelands on some unknown quest. Overall, A Parable on the Aporia of Vengeance and the Beauty of Impenetrable Sadness is an exploration of pure, unadulterated sound at it�s most bleak and harrowing, the last strains of music to escape from a dying world that has long since moved on. Are you ready to experience the end of days?