This grandiose set of songs cobbled together from decaying sound scraps has all the ominous mystery and majesty of a silent twilight, and all the implied struggle of the abandoned structures where and from which it was created.
It’s a few steps away from hitting major highs, but it does the most important thing for an album of its kind: it falls together and clicks into place.
This grandiose set of songs is woven together from the wreckage of ominous uncertainty and muted sadness, a melodic ode to the (theoretical) anguish of destruction and longing.
Houses accomplish their aim of filling an hour with a cinematic, transportive music—a perfect soundtrack to milling about the end times.
The problem here is that A Quiet Darkness comprises mostly dirges, and dirges that don’t do a hell of a lot to distinguish themselves from each other.