Following on from 2022's hugely impressive EP Zoetrope, the mysterious duo behind Qrixkuor have not rested on their laurels but instead challenged themselves - and their listeners - with their most complex album yet. Building on their dense, suffocatingly heavy and lengthy extreme metal blasts, the band have expanded on the symphonic elements that ran through their sound previously to make an altogether different beast. Sure, those who have followed Qrixkuor to date will be on firmer ground than those who are discovering the band fresh. Yet all will still find initial listens to The Womb of the World disorienting and overwhelming, even as they recognise what an amazing piece of art it is.

Opening with sheer dramatic strings and darkly operatic choirs, So Spoke the Silent Stars has something of the air of recent Abigor to it initially, helped by the knowledge that the classical elements to the album were performed by an entity known cryptically as The Orchestra of the Silent Stars. A real orchestra? A collection of session musicians? Who knows. Yet their contribution seems real, not digitised, undoubtedly professional and is very well-woven into the extreme metal instrumentation by returning producer Greg Chandler's magic, all making for a hellishly entertaining impact on your ears.

This is only loosely describable as symphonic metal, despite having both metal and symphonic elements, because the results are something else entirely. Lashings of oddly enticing personality such as the intro to Slithering Serendipity which centres piano in a climbing maelstrom of sound, will invite comparisons to Imperial Triumphant, although Qrixkuor are far less consciously hipster and avant-garde, almost entirely lacking jazz influences in favour of cacophonic blackened symphonic dirges that take cavernous death metal and twist it into a monster of their own.

You could suggest that the tribal invocatory moments here or the relentless pounding there are rooted in Ruins of Beverast-esque gloom or Mayhemic aggression, yet it feels like stretching things to breaking point to even make musical comparisons like this - none of the bands mentioned quite twist sounds together in the way that Qrixkuor manage here, excepting perhaps Abigor... It feels like a comparison that Qrixkuor would be flattered by, although reading rare interviews with the band from the era of past releases mainman S (also of Adorior) prefers to think of it merely as 'death metal' rather than anything too yearning and transcendental.

Listening to this album you can hear his thinking - this is primarily something scratching at the genre boundaries and hard to summarise other than extreme metal, definitely not something that would appeal to classical fans or even to those accustomed to symphonic metal along the, say, Nightwish lines. Comparing recent Abigor directly to this, it feels much more playfully theatrical and less confrontational, whilst the production on the Qrixkuor helps it feel more organic and alive - I'm not yet ready to pronounce The Womb of the World the superior work, but to even mention it alongside it is a huge compliment given this is but the second full-length from Qrixkuor's pen whilst Abigor have been preaching for a literal lifespan (RIP P.K.). To be sure, being formed in 2011 and taking so long over their art cannot but help elevate the quality inherent in Qrixkuor.

Yet whatever the implications of a genre-bending album from this band that's so impressive and pretentious to consider, it must be stated that merely listening to this album is immensely rewarding. Consider And You Shall Know Perdition As Your Shrine, the shortest piece present (and one of the band's shortest songs overall) at eight and a half minutes, as one absorbs the chaotic, aggressive, and punishing collection of sounds it contains, aided by guest vocals from Jaded Lungs (also of Adorior) that are layered upon layered upon layered to the point of sheer insanity, the sense of being in the presence of genius weighs heavily.

That piece is but an introductory section to the closing sixteen-minute title track, however, following seamlessly with gothic-cloaked dread and building across the runtime as occult metal par excellence. At times it sounds like a band playing alongside an orchestra, at others like something entirely original that we've not yet heard. The later sections with plenty of lead guitar feel like a shaft of light penetrating the old tomb, a glimmer of melody bursting at your ears as though a reward for patience and joining with the symphonic flourish in triumph.

The piece, and album as a whole, are just as well-written as Zoetrope and although clearly a refinement and exploration of what the band have previously started, given time with The Womb of the World it only grows more impressive and momentous. This feels like Qrixkuor truly striking out on their own to make a name for themselves, the kind of album that marks a high point in a generation and that certainly will be remembered as a mark of quality of the decade. A future classic, a remarkable accomplishment, and a must-hear for fans of aural darkness of whatever genre; the score given already seems inadequate.