Earlier in the year, we were taken aback by Unconquered, the perfect display of drone ingenuity which Eric Quach (destroyalldreamers) managed to wrap into a musical form. Seven months later, thisquietarmy strikes again, this time with a dark prerogative and a cunning plan. Like a baby born before its due date, Blackhaunter aims to reveal your private fears in all sorts of public places. So far, so good, but does one defy them?

There is a thin borderline between the start and end points of Blackhaunter. At times, it seems to be not only a perpetual loop, but also a layer of a layer of a layer, a never-ending void unremittingly sucking you in. The record's complexity is immediately transparent but, instead of putting you off, it creates a sort of extremely intimate space; for once, there is only the sound and you: your alter-egos mingle with the music’s multiple personality.

While the first two tracks succeed in setting an utmost dark and atmospheric tone, "Vampyr" serves as a real musical transmigration. For six minutes that seem to stretch out to infinity, it is as though there exists a multitude of life segments. With every blink, you die and get interjected into another life, and as every twinkle bears for the next, you get to see, hear and feel more than you’ve ever imagined. Suddenly, the cycle of life and death stops being an abstract notion, and the black and white universe starts expanding underneath your closed eyelids. There is no stop button, no going back and, for a while, no thought that this could ever come to an end. The track manages to be the perfect album summarizer: visceral to the hurting point, it absorbs your being and slowly transposes all your inner realities.

Following in the surrealists’ steps, Blackhaunter stands against everything loud, existing as an ever-flowing, ghastly-abstract shout, quiescent, but constantly humming in one’s ear. For that matter, thisquietarmy represents the genuine reincarnation of avant-garde, conquering realm after realm after realm. With "Taming the Beast," the drone story takes a break and goes into a more definite, yet still greatly daring direction. Listening to it in complete darkness might reveal a wide palette of unearthly harmonies; if anything, it sounds like committing suicide in an alien key, sending you in the deepest of trances while persisting with its twisted progression.

Despite the many levels of sound, nothing seems to take over. Even in the more powerful tracks, there is a zen-like quality residing between the intricacy of it all, and this comes as reassurance, for silence is not dead. Silence is transforming, winding together its many blades in order to form this tangled weapon of noise mass destruction, for whilst other acts choose to shout in your face, thisquietarmy is no less than a backstab, making you coexist with the wound. "Hunting Demons" is all about that trauma; not about exploring ways to attenuate the pain, but a short guide to finding the spot and thrusting the weapon deeper and deeper, until the injury takes over completely. So dare to wake up while Blackhaunter usurps, and assume this quiet revolution.

-Diana Sitaru