Pelican almost succeeded in a hurricane-like level of drama, rattling Neumo's walls but leaving the place mostly intact. The Chicago quartet are freakin' loud—metal loud, thunder loud—but there's the melody of shifting breezes and the delicacy of falling rain beneath their guitar-driven squalls. Purely instrumental, they're out for epicness, for musical grandeur undiluted by words. Without vocals it's easy to slip in or out of their monumental compositions—Pelican demand attentive listening for maximum effect.

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