To End It All’s spirit tree: The Boswellia. Deep in the heart of a dry place exists a certain tree. Branches of odd beauty grow out from something ominous and overshadowing. At the base of this organic structure the ritualistic denouncing of vile forms can be heard, marking a descent into the scornful damning of plagued souls. These words loom heavy above the troubled rumble of claustrophobic power electronics dirges which are the blackened roots of this hardened mass. Recalls Plague Mass-era Diamanda Galas by way of industrial doom as if a conduit for agony and disgust. The wretched are cursed and spat upon. The end result is something assaulting and confrontational punctuated by moments of lulling sonic solitude. This is the music of troubled land; a desolate soundscape where damned souls are banished.
- Andrew Buchanan-Carter (live review)