
I forgot I had headphones on. Thought something was wrong with the wiring. Not in the music, in ME. Chris Wiseman doesn’t build songs. He just lets them HAPPEN. It doesn’t rise or fall or follow rules. It just, shows up in your chest. Makes a mess and stays there.
I don’t know what’s going on in Ben Duerrs head, but he sounds as if he’s arguing with a ghost that never shuts up. “Flying the Black Flag” knocked something loose. He sounds done. Not angry, just, past it. He’s probably said it too many times and no one ever listened right. That kind of tired doesn’t sleep off.
There’s a track, “Infinity of Horrors”. I didn’t even get halfway through before I had to stand up. Not even because it was loud— it wasn’t, not really. It just felt TOO MUCH like something I’ve had to sit through in real life. Not war. Just waiting rooms. Tests. Being watched and not told. They get that feeling down cold.
The symphonic parts, don’t feel majestic. That’s not what this is. It’s not BEAUTIFUL, It’s what your insides are trying to convince you it’s fine when it isn’t. You know those mornings where you almost believe you're okay until the headache kicks in sideways? That. That’s what the pretty bits sound like.
I’ve played it three times now. Not because I like it. I don’t even know if I do. I just, keep checking it. Like a bruise you thought was healing but turns out it’s spreading. It doesn’t end when it ends. It just goes quiet.
I can’t give this a straight score as the mirror just blinked at me. Words: Matt Denny.