Somewhere amongst the scrolls of ancient literature there is an adage that proclaims the emotional being. “It is thrice as difficult to detail love and fondness than it is to espouse hate,” it would read. As similarly as the awe-stricken poet racks his or her mind for the words that will encapsulate their inner self, the articulation of profanity during the empty-handedness of that fruitless searching is easier to produce.

How do you gesticulate the profundity of the heart? An organ of poetic structure, its metaphorical verisimilitude is the hardest to explain in words. Centuries later, the critic faces the same problem. It isn’t difficult to dismiss a work and call foul on its only merits; in fact, it is easier to trash something than to praise it. Articulating the overwhelming fondness toward a surprising and tasteful album becomes a burden upon a burden. The critic never knows which words to pick, which phrases to employ, or by which means he will spread the word.

Disseminating information during the modern technological age has eased its way into a cumbersome train wreck. One visit to Myspace or Youtube can overwhelm the senses, forcing pages upon pages of graphics, artwork, photos, and audio/video of artists one may have heard of alongside plenty of unfamiliars. What then, is an artist to employ in order to achieve a reputable status within the music community? At this moment in time, having a Myspace page is not enough. Some bands, such as Tragedy or your father’s favourite artists, didn’t need the internet to become known. However, not every band is Tragedy, and though the chances are miniscule, a page with an audio player can work wonders for your distribution possibilities. Such is the case behind Baroness.

It’s pressing to call out a group who, within a span of six years, have released two full-lengths and a handful of EPs as the next thing. A lot of moral questioning is brought to the fore, and the mind immediately searches for the artists who are better deserving of such praise. When metallic hardcore escaped the refined clutches of Converge and Deadguy and abbreviated alongside a shattering number of fashion faux-pas, the next thing became a terminally ill utterance. The underground was sought after once more as the jaded elite wondered why anyone left. By and mighty, however, may this utterance redeem its place in the underground music spectrum;

Baroness are here and they aren’t leaving.

2009 has brought with it many surprises. This is perhaps the only year in recent memory this reviewer shuttered at the thought of a possible top ten list come December. So many releases have refined qualitatively and stormed the gates to the coveted poll position that the gates of musicdom have become literally clogged. Funny then how a band so intent on standing by the waters will rush to the front of the pack. Where the inexperienced tremble and fight for the sound each individual song will sound like on their final product, Baroness harken back to a frame of mind where music was a bona fide experience. 2009′s Blue Record could be the most devilishly clever title in a long time: It is a front-to-back experience that heavily debts itself to the mono masters and 78RPM labyrinths of long ago.

Touch the needle to the first groove and whisk yourself away. “Bullhead’s Psalm” bathes itself in a perpetual echo, utilizing a vibrato and twang not heard since the terminal psychedelia of decades past. A beautiful intro, it seamlessly spirals into “The Sweetest Curse,” the tip of the hat to the band’s past releases. Sludgy and rolling, its detuned, palm-muted fills push against the chains of Neur-Isis comparisons until everything explodes into the sweetest harmonization this side of Boston.

Locating your niche sound is something that hardly, if ever, chances upon a band early; even then, the likelihood of remaining true to the debut sound is far off. A band is often pigeonholed into a certain sound; they either sparked a trend or became tired of playing the same old thing. Baroness got sick of the E-chord. The album really starts to shine a minute into the epic “Jake Leg,” a swirling decrescendo of 70s jams and beautifully toned guitars. John Baizley and Pete Adams steal this track, their vocals intertwining and twisting into one. This is further accentuated on the acoustic-driven “Steel That Sleeps the Eye.” The song sends shivers up the spine as its ghostly delivery brands itself in the subconsciousness. Its ethereal effect is by no means exclusive, finding later tracks “Ogeechee Hymnal” and “Bullhead’s Lament” achieving the same, discordant levels of meditation.

Several traces of post-rock are apparent on Blue Record, both setting it apart from its Relapse contemporaries and practically ushering in a whole new era of music. Odd time signatures, majestical drone, and a number of traditional Southern instruments are used to staggering effects, defining rather than hindering or cluttering the music. “O’er Hell and Hide” and “Blackpowder Orchard” use both dissonance and traditional banjos, while the Pelican-esque “The Gnashing” hits the final nail on the head of this musical hybrid. All of which, when combined, form to make what could be the most encompassing release of this year.

The question still rests: How do you convey the heart to words? Baroness trump this with another: How do you lay spiritual enlightenment to tape? For years artists have used musical arrangements and experimental compositions to electrify the senses and draw the listener into a bona fide experience. As a mere form of reference, during the 1990s artists such as Orchid and Sunny Day Real Estate dealt within opposite ends of the spectrum to “emote” interpersonal anguish with discordant sound as a cathartic outlet. Their experiments may have laid the foundation for some facets of modern music, but neither hold a candle to the undeniable emotion surrounding Blue Record. Counter to the bands mentioned, this is real. This is the artist connecting with his instrument until they become one. With one fell swoop, Baroness have achieved the unthinkable: They’ve altered the musical landscape.

This is it. This is revolution. This is the synthesis of style. This is postmodernism at its most listenable. This is Baroness. This is the fucking Blue Record.

(9.4/10)