Label: Digitalis Industries
oh xela, what's left to say? just in time for john twells' move to the united states, "the divine" drops at your door. whereas it's predecessor, "the illuminated," was a dark, twisted trek through the most uncomfortable reaches of the xela psyche, "the divine" looks toward the light, attemping to find solace but, again, finds nothing to hang on to. and it's one hell of a jam.
starting out with endless loops of church bells battering your skull into a reverie, the next thing you know it's like you're suddenly a cockroach in the house of god. cryptic voices haunt the bells and get dragged through the dirt. everything and everyone is lost in the static. toward the end, a choir of voices emerges, escaping the black hole plague.
but twells ain't done yet. flip things over and it leads to something else entirely. an electronic stew is the bedrock and twells' voice is the steeple. washed-out drones build momentum until the only place to escape is into the galaxies beyond. there's something sickly beautiful at work here with everything under a layer of frosted glass. twells wails, a siren song to certain doom no doubt, but it's a choice we make time and time again to embrace our delicious demise.