Throw this disc on any time of day, turn up the volume, and you’ll begin to think the sky has opened up and the darkness descended. Yet as foreboding as that might sound, the dark tone and utterly heavy bleakness is welcome. This is as heavy and deep a recording as you’re likely to find this side of Stephen O’Malley’s work. The solo creation of Martin Dumais from Montreal, Aun has created a near masterpiece of heavyblackdoomdroneambientnoisemetal. Labels of course do no justice here, and this sort of music needs to stand on its own without consideration of its forebears if it’s going to rise above the pile of imitators. Two tracks in, it’s clear that Aun has succeeded tenfold. Using guitar, bass, violin, and electronics, Dumais plumbs a deep vein in the drone/sludge metal tradition, and milks it for all its worth. There’s a sheer focus and determination on display here that is rare in any music. Yet for all his apparent focus and intensity, Dumais surprises constantly, with a huge tonal palette and breadth of scope. On lower volumes, one could mistake this for dark ambient, providing a brooding yet not sinister backdrop. But playing this on a good hi-fi system, and turning it up a few notches reveals entirely new layers of meaning and impact. The seemingly impossible depth of the bass coupled with the rich textural elements on top provide a visceral effect that cannot be denied. One might argue that this has been done before and done better, but I’ll stand up for Dumais, citing his ability to blend multiple styles into a unique whole, his thoughtful compositional sense, and his capacity for sheer gut wrenching impact as evidence that he’s no pretender. Let the blackness in, it’s warm, enveloping, and perfect in its monstrosity. The only remaining mystery about this release is why the hell Crucial Blast opted to release it as a limited edition cdr rather than giving it the full promotional push it fully deserves. If you’ve got any passing interest in heavy music, you’ll do yourself a favor and snag one of these right away. 9/10 -- Eric Hardiman (17 March, 2009)