I admire Joan Didion. I'm not at all familiar with her articles but I understand that she was hanging around in the 60s and "really called it like she saw it," says my girlfriend as if she were old enough to have lived through the decade herself. "Most journalists were talking about all of this 'free love everywhere' and 'everything was magical' but she was just like "they were giving 5 year olds hits of acid,'" she quickly sums up the counterculture movement in her own words. Didion really tried to show that she had a subjective and unique point-of-view through her writing, but it kind of had that kind of holden-caulfield-effect in that she expresses her limited viewpoint and almost indirectly confesses that she's an unreliable source. In short, she calls it like she sees it, and it somehow allows the reader to form a better objective viewpoint. She does not think in abstracts–she reports what is there. It's not sensational. It is stated plainly and beautifully.

I might catch a little heat for writing this review. I publicly (and jokingly) criticized a review of The Unbeheld's latest release on an internet message board. It wasn't that I felt it was inaccurate, it's that it felt sensational. There were a handful of adjectives used that sound like a sportswriter trying to describe an athlete (I believe "colossal," "monolithic" and "pulverizing" were all used). Vocalist Brian Anderson tried to back the reviewer by admitting that he uses some of these words in the lyrics, yet all of this is lost once you hear his whiskey-sour vocal delivery. His voice packs enough punch to make you woozy but still remains sweet and sour enough to keep you interested. While the vocals definitely keep the record feeling bluesy and dynamic, the album remains to be a platform for acrobatic guitars.

I think it's important to mention that In The Arms of Mother Chaos was recorded and mixed by Alan Burcham, who collaborated with Anderson and bassist Nathan Raab in past projects (Grandma). Some would consider him to be the best candidate to capture these songs accurately. I say that this album is a guitar record because the first thing that I notice is how distant drummer Shawn Zorn sounds in the overall mix. The drums still manage to fill the space, but it feels disproportionate with the weight of the guitars, mixed as though it was meant to reach you first. Guitarist Ben Aviotti sometimes overwhelms the listener with riff after riff when paired with Raab's gritty bass tone, but this almost provides a backdrop for Anderson's vocals–which rarely struggle to keep afloat above the sea of dense guitars. Though this formula is mostly used to their advantage, this backdrop often becomes a veil when Anderson drops out and I am reminded that I am listening to an album more influenced by gear fetishes and Clutch rather than any archaic text.

The record may feel excessive to the novice listener, but the band's excessive-nature is precisely what makes them interesting. The influences are abundant and obvious and each member finds their niche and and masterfully revels in it. In "Voices of Yage," the band seems to tap into some sort of subconscious world that is a little less aware of their their abilities as musicians who often play bar gigs, and this sort of minimal approach allows their excessive nature to flourish within the limitations of the monotonous drone. The song grows to new heights within the space of about three chords. This is foreshadowed in the later half of "New Monsters," which trails off into the land of chaos and the absurd, but the song quickly regains composure when you hear the gang vocals. In the end, In The Arms of Mother Chaos calculatedly and intentionally (and ironically) stands up to its name. Most stoner-rockers will instantly find something to love about the loud guitars, but the album's strong points are in it's excessive subtlety and attention to detail, which is often found in the decay after the pick meets the string or the stick strikes the surface. The album may be a daunting listen, but the rewards and insight are abundant for the patient (or stoned) listener.