Limited edition of 350 copies.

Double vinyl housed in gatefold sleeve.

Nous is a record that swallows a listener into a chasm with little room to breathe. Opener “Lowest Class” is rough and sparse as chunks of rusted doom churn beneath crusted vocal bellows from Daniel Jansson. In an area beneath the lowest levels of the abyss the track descends, its low-end throbbing with more and more pace as the song unravels and spins to a noisy, droning conclusion. The heaviest track of the record, the penultimate “The Grid,” is brown noise levels of stomach churning as it reaches into the gut to pull out dense, hopeless drones. Other tracks attempt to claw a listener back into the world of light, if only briefly. “One Last Smoke” balances shards of off-kilter melody against warbling, modulated vocals and a deep, funerary low-end. The track, like many on the record, feels on the edge of toppling into unhinged, formless territories.

Culted’s strongest trait, however, is holding their blackened doom vehicle on the precipice in a position of ultimate unease. Like the similar sounding Drug Honkey, Culted’s approach relies heavily on elements of noise, ambience, and programming to cocoon their bereft vessel. Eighth track “Crown of Lies” is a solid example of this approach. Its spacey throb wobbles and sways before a noisy, overwhelming breakdown of noise counters its airy build up. Nous is a record of oscillation. “Ankle Deep” begins as a tender lament – a final farewell to a loved on. Open string plucking tickles like candle flame and a sense of delicate unease settles. Then, death infests the room. The track quite literally billows out into a horrendous din of throbbing density. Monotone riff waves are veiled in cranking amp noise and a general sense of well-honed despair. Culted impressively move from the tender to the explosive.