andom operates in at least two layers and each is reflexive of the content of an individual’s appreciation. There is, of course, the fatuous layer where a musician is appreciated for what they immediately produce and no more. Such admiration has peaked in the digital age of music, where the piecemeal grab-and-go presentation means that even the proverbial 15 minutes of fame is too long for anyone’s iPod. The second is graduated and comes from a patient, investigative ear. But this isn’t to say that the fatuous and graduated are mutually exclusive. Indeed, any artist that may appear fatuous can also graduate to a more permanent spot and it’s possible that a graduated musician can become merely fatuous (though I doubt bands like Low and Elbow will ever be known for their singles).

Dredg have the unusual distinction of flirting with the aforementioned bifurcation explicitly, as the tension of 2002’s El Cielo testified. There the band had rid the turbid proto-Metal of Leitmotif for something far more immediate and resonant, with Gavin Hayes notably scrapping his dissonant half screams for an impressive and effusive croon. The problem was that, in doing an impressive 180 from their debut, Dredg stretched their newfound sonic personality too far with a vague concept (sleep paralysis), superfluous production work, and an album that was simply overstuffed. Though promising, all the esteem El Cielo built fell apart on deeper listens that only left you disappointed.

Terry Date (Deftones, Team Sleep) takes the production reins of Catch Without Arms and intelligently tries to reduce the hyperbolic moments of their music. Hayes’s vocals alone possess so much diluvial strength that the ocean of queer chants, orchestral washes, and electronic elements of El Cielo are rendered unnecessary. Their depression on this third outing offers a sense of a band advancing without trying to make each step as revolutionary as their last and a centricity I hope they’ll build upon in the future.

What you get is an absolutely enthralling listen, one built with rapturous conduction and taut harmony. The guitars and drums have cast off entirely the slow crunch and rumbles of their debut for an impressive ambient coat, where the players don’t turn into some dull three-chord tessellation for the vocals but rather buoy them ever so slightly. Even when they do elect to play heavily on songs such as “Spitshine” or “Tanbark,” it all comes off as complementary rather than overwhelming, leaving Hayes to explore the space rather than be crushed by it. It’s an impressive equilibrium from which bands of Dredg’s ilk could learn.

But for all the aural splendor, Dredg’s frictionless inconsistencies come to the surface over time. You still find them clawing towards a lyrical and thematic space to match the sonic grandeur, often times at the expense of repeated listens. They go for a depth that quite simply evades them, resulting in one adulterated sentiment after another. "I looked to the sky / Saw my body die / Got to reappear up there / It's where I want to be / In the universe-city / I've found my own college" comes from “Jamais Vu” and forces an uncomfortable ambivalence: the voice soars wildly and with majesty only to be violently thrown back to the ground with such an unabashed display of lyrical amateurism. "I can't deny instinct, look what I have found / A seashell in a sea of shells / I'm good at planting my own seeds / To sprout an endless hell / It's dark like Poe" sings Hayes on “Planting Seeds.” Dark like Poe? Seashell in a sea of shells?

So once again they manage to juxtapose the puissant music with the borderline puerile ideas, ensorcelling you before dropping you with an abrupt thud. Catch Without Arms would work if it simply was a fatuous listen and nothing more, just something to tap your feet to and hum along with. But they’ve crafted the sonic shell of their latest work so well that the only recourse is to dig deeper to find its core, a place that sadly possesses only a soupcon of that shell’s promise. The band members know this—why else would they attempt to portray such grandiose themes?—and all we can hope for is that they actually achieve it at one point.