Considering the lyrics on the No Religion 7", I was surprised by some of the music and the packaging on the latest full-length from Ireland's most whimsical gypsy. The music sounds and feels entirely religious through the first four tracks and, to a great degree, recalls the gothic architecture and monolithic scope of the more astounding and awe-inspiring cathedrals of the world. The album was, in part, recorded live in St. Augustine Church, Galway and the cover art reflects the religious content, not just with the angel on the cover, but in the slip the package is housed in. It immediately reminded me of many of the Virgin Mary shrines I've seen and it made me wonder: what is Aranos up to? The first four tracks have all the beautiful echo and warmth a cathedral can possibly provide, but for the most part these songs are composed of drums, bass, organs, and violin played at very subdued levels. When "Yevka Sings" hits, it's quite a shock because the choral chanting is so utterly sublime and powerful above the instrumentation that its emotional and physical impact can only be compared to being smacked gently by a massive diesel engine. The music caught me so off guard that I felt my stomach drop and I immediately began the song over just so I could prepare myself for it and feel the vocal bliss about to come. I'm not sure if this quartet of religiously soaked music is supposed to share or counterpoint any feelings raised by No Religion (though "Breath of Unknowing" comes awfully close to sharing a name with the mystical text The Could of Unknowing), but what is obvious is that Aranos is capable of bringing out the more omni benevolent emotions tied with good mystical or "religious" music. The final six tracks employ varied methods of making music to create a carnival-like atmosphere, a whirlwind of musical ideas that, as far as I can tell, share little to no relation with the first part of the album. The atmosphere is almost always soft and careful, as though it were made to procure images of prowlers or ghosts shifting through the trees and tall grass at night, but in other places Aranos comes right out of hiding to paint slightly more vivid sound pictures housed in spastic movements and rock n' roll attitude. "Crab Life" sounds exactly like its title; small sounds jumping and skipping about, recalling the shuffled steps of crab on the ocean floor. "Silver Goat," on the other hand, is fronted by Aranos' unmistakable and piercing voice, the music a galloping mix of staccato violins and racing rhythms propelled by a final, violent movement. This is perhaps Aranos' most varied album, but also one of his most consistently enjoyable. Other albums by him may only be appropriate for certain moods, but I keep coming back to this album and finding that it adheres to almost any of my capricious listening needs. - Lucas Schleicher