Chicago doomgazers level up to legend tier with their sixth cosmic dreamscape.

Cycles in the Infinite Dream is an appropriate title for the sixth album for a band that’s been a bit of a sleeper. Their first two albums of heavy psych, stoner doom and space rock, Let it Burn (2017) and Calm Black Water (2018) came out during an avalanche of releases by hundreds of similar bands, lead by Elder and Ufomammut. A few paid attention and recognized the band stood out, with their spacious arrangements incorporating saxophone, modular synths and sitar, with pretty cohesive themes. The first imagines the setting of a fiery alien landscape with cover art, song titles, lyrics and even sound evoking the imagery, kind of a mix of Sleep and it’s offshoot High on Fire. The second goes to the ocean’s depths, with thick, fuzzy bass weighing you down to sink into the darkness so that you only vaguely sense the giant squid or Cthulhu horrors drifting by you. Chaotic Divine (2020) ventures to a vast desert planet with a more atmospheric, cinematic approach that became an entrypoint for new fans. That pandemic year also included experiments with the band and Catechism (a name for Spencer Ouellette’s electronic experiments), Infected Ambient Works, which seemed to reference  both Aphex Twin’s Selected Ambient Works (1992) and maybe the Ambient 4: Isolationism (1994) and Macro Dub Infection (1995) collections. Solace (2023) reflected those influences in it’s expansion of sonic terrain including doomgaze and post-metal, and Burden (2024) circled back to heavier structures.

As impressive as their back catalog is, their sixth album has really grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and got my full attention. For this cosmic dreamscape they masterfully balance heavy and ethereal, often switching several times within a song. I like interesting changes almost as much as I love riffs. And man, does this have a load of them, some of the catchiest, ear-wormiest of their career, starting with the epic, expansive opener “Rites of Passage.” The production and sound design really stand out. Rob McWilliams’ vocals float on top like an ethereal spectre, while also being more forward in the mix than ever before. While the production is maximalist, the layers remain defined and engrossing, while still leaving space for ambience, such as on “Cloudfall,” which starts with some stoner chugs, charges into a cybertronic synthstorm and dissipates into twinkling atmospheric clouds. Known for incorporating saxophone, multi-instrumentalist Ouellette has added lap steel to his repertoire, adding a haunting flavor of Ambient Americana to “Aerial Birth” possibly the album’s most transportive highlight, though the lonesome Western feel of “Escher” is a grower too. When the band is at their heaviest and crunchiest on “The Vessel,” fleeting comparisons to early Mastodon kind of make sense. Even better is crushing, tectonic “Primal Thread,” the moment when I realized this is going to be my favorite REZN album. At 3:00, there’s a drone noise lick that extends for a full minute before it swings down a cosmic hammer worthy of Ufomammut’s crushing power. The final track “Terra Preta” again features pedal steel, this time approximating Pink Floyd’s spacious, drifting, clean guitar drift for a suitably dramatic finale.

Fans will no doubt have a variety of favorites, but I’m most impressed with REZN’s latest as a culmination of their progress, and a great entry point for new listeners as a culmination of their strengths. In an era when many are hard pressed to give an entire album full attention, I’m recommending a deep dive into their full catalog. Not only their six official albums, but if they are in the running for your new favorite active band, why not the ambient album and their collaboration with Vinnum Sabbati, Silent Future (2023).

Welcome REZN to the Six Album Run Club