It just leapt from nowhere. A random click fuelled by a whimsical interest and a glass of the red stuff, and all of a sudden I am literally head first into something so utterly reminiscent of nothing particularly notable – except every thought that has ever run through my head. There are childhood memories, broken dreams , misty encounters and that longing for a place to call home. Yup, all that from one sodding click.

Cicada The Burrower is a fascinating affair. There is an intensity and a depth that can only spring from a familiarity with a genuine understanding of the human condition and a journey that can only be taken should you wish to reach that point. As a back story, the figure behind the band is transgender, a fellow human being and called Cameron Davis.

There is little merit in reviewing this album in the usual way. Genres are (thankfully) pointless as the flow takes us through experimental jazz and lounge music, before you happen to stumble through the sweaty, foggy allure of a post-black metal gig. It’s an outpouring and a veritable vomit of styles – but it’s a very, very beautiful pile of vomit rather than one of the ones you step over and leave for someone else to clean up.

Standout tracks are ‘Glamour’ and the sublime ‘ Psilocybin Death Spiral’ – yet that should not in any way discredit the voyage that the rest of the album provides. In short, this is a brave, deeply heartfelt and victorious offering that has literally towered above much else the world is offering.

No, it’s not vying for the extreme, and no, it’s not trying to be metal – but my god, if the heart of both the aforementioned is the harrowing, desolate, judgemental depictions of every day – then here is the gold medal winner. Close….


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