Lawrence's Wrath and Ruin operates on the belief that metal doesn't have to exhibit some sort of Cookie Monster grind to be heavy. The band's synth-laden sound drones and pulsates, emerging from speakers like the soundtrack to some sci-fi horror film. The futuristic tone also wages an attack on that part of the brainstem still beholden to the lizard that crawled from the ooze to walk on land. Hearing Dean Edington's vocals pierce the mix, you know what it is to fear something instinctively. His words fall somewhere between shouted commands and impassioned cries. As the band's orchestral, grandiose metal swells behind him, it's as if the songs become proclamations from on high. This kind of metal doesn't plod along, all sludge and doom. It's ponderous music, with words and instruments so heavy that the sheer crushing weight causes everything to slow down, forcing you to listen carefully to the forward-thinking ideas the band is communicating.