The man, the mullet, the myth: Davey Heckenschneck! Can't give a snippet here because it's the only song i can think of that has to be heard in it's entirety to vaguely grasp what's been achieved on all conceivable levels. This song is so beyond words, all i can say it's...well, errm... particularly good! But many others have tried, see for yourself: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/B0000070S1/ref=cm_cr_dp_2_1/104-6418425-3463150?v=glance&s=music&vi=customer-reviews

The slightly gospel-inflected interpretation by Hathaway on his eponymously titled recording with Roberta Flack in 1972 (Atlantic Records) is simply transcendent. The string arrangements by Arif Mardin wondrous, flute accompaniment by Hubert Laws, as usual, fluid and moving. And the closing moments by Roberta Flack, angelic.

The 9:52 long track immediately blasts you off your feet with a ethereally heavy series of riffs and Aaron Turner's rough vocals. Keeping it interesting, the structure continues to evolve, and drifts downward into a more dreamy movement which stays dense and builds the tension for the following verses. About halfway in, the song reaches the first climax that (I think) embodies the "Threshold" in the song title. After which, it moves into a more contemplative section, smoothing out the turmoil and tension brought on by the first half, while building its own. Beautifully, it succeeds in building yet another crescendo, only to end in free fall, with guitar and bass fantastically accenting the mood. The bass in this song is truly something to behold, wavering and powerful in its tone.

What I like about this song reflects on why I like Isis' music in general: it's complex, atmospheric, emotional, intricate, and smart. It truly is "thinking man's metal." Isis is all about themes and atmospheres, emotions and vibes, rather than clear ideas and lyrics. It's visceral, raw, and transcendent. And in some ways, I think this song embodies everything that makes them great.

In order to fully examine the minds of torment and depression, one would need to be familiar with Nick Drake's 'Black Eyed Dog.' With his transcendant ability to translate his demons into song, Nick Drake accounts a supernatural phantasm chasing him through the darkness of his own neurosis. 'Black eyed dog he claws at my door' - sung in his upper register, with the use of heavey falcetto, sounds like he is straining to survive a nightmare. His performance, despite the sparse production of acoustic guitar and vocal, is expansive. Use of harmonics and finger roll on this song proves the mastery of his instrument, as an amateur guitarist I am baffled by the sound he can create. The singular pulse of the guitar string rings-out with a delicate harmonic while the layering of other voices continue subtly underneath. And the result is the tragic embrace of his own psychological deterioration; a horror unlike the Macabre style of the French, it stands as its own haunting style, that of 'Drakesque.'

As we know his depression did finally catch up to him, and as a revisionist I would say that Nick knew it would all along, sooner or later. One would only need to hear this song and some of the pieces are put into place.