Cold Cave are a purified distillation of synth-pop, not a mere pastiche. [The band] specifically evokes the idea of a better future that we have no way of attaining to add the kintsugi crack of emotion that creates beauty in an otherwise sterile genre.

An album so frenzied, so nearly tripping over itself as it rushes headlong to who knows where, yet so blisteringly serious about what it’s doing that it evokes a black metal spirit far more true than the regurgitated mediocrity of most bands that lurk under the banner.

Obsidian Visions/Shadowed Lands blows in like a desert wind, complete with bruising skies and flashes of lightning. Tinges of psychedelia lurk at its edges, out in the shadow of the buttes, where hippy hermits still cling to their faded photographs of Grace Slick and Janis Joplin.