Throughout this record, the narrated vocals are striking. They don’t tell the story so much as guide you through it. They hover between poem and testimony. Around them, the band builds dramatic contrasts using warm chords against sudden shadows, delicate ambient layers giving way to surges of guitars that feel like the emotional dam finally being released

In the end, Coastlands stands as the band’s most transformative statement to date. If I’m completely honest, it took me the last four weeks to finally feel this album and understand where the band were going with it. Once it clicks with you, then you’ll see that it’s a deeply textural, and beautifully gazed reimagining of their identity, proving that reinvention can be both risky, but ultimately for the band, personally rewarding.

There’s a certain kind of beauty that only reveals itself when everything around it is falling apart, and Laursetine, from So Hideous, thrives within that chaos. This is not an album for casual listening, it’s a descent into a meticulously arranged storm. Every track bleeds cinematic grandeur, yet the emotional core is raw enough to leave you scraped and exposed.

Fast forward more than five years later and I believe the post-music world has finally been rewarded with the album it’s been a long-time yearning for. What is beautiful about A Single Flower is that rather than trying to surpass Departure Songs, it’s been written to compliment it. It’s that quieter, contemplative brother that speaks volumes in whispers, but who’s message is quietly devastating. For me, A Single Flower is already a masterpiece.

Serenades proved that heaviness could coexist with vulnerability, and that sorrow could be sculpted into something uniquely comforting. Thirty-two years later, the album remains a testament to the enduring power of melody in extreme music