At the Mountains of Madness

The moment this live album starts you'll know whether you want to listen to it or not. It punches you in the face, galvanizing the listening audience with tortured horns, wonderful organs that are part cosmos, part frenzy, part contemplation. Speaking of contemplation, it's not all madness on the mountain, and if you're patient, you'll find hidden gardens with secret grottoes on the slopes. But if you tarry overlong, you'll get caught in the storm. The kind of storm mountains are so fond of: one of fits and starts. And if you listen closely, you might just hear the denizens of the mountain communicating to one another in bird whistles. Watch your step, though. Everything and the kitchen sink is dumped here.