The Swiss extreme metal pioneers start their third album with a garage dazed cover of a minor new wave hit and it only gets weirder from there – a moonlit Gothic rendezvous, an industrial cut-up job, symphonic moaning, a prescient rejoinder to Phil Collins. Even their more typical excursions into the crypt of rays feel weirder sandwiched by all the experimentation. Head-scratching at times, but an accurate title and one of metal’s most impressive displays of not giving a fuck.

– Jeff Treppel