Caspar David Friedrich was an 18th century German painter known for his sparse, dreamlike paintings. His paintings stretch from triumph to tragedy to tranquility to torment.

And Locktender’s album that bears his name traverses through the same moods, stretching their fiery sonic palette through their interpretations of Friederich’s work.

First things first, I have a well-documented history of not realizing that certain bands are in my circle. It was a shock to me to realize that Cloakroom was founded half an hour from me. And only when I was playing a show with Pack Sounds and one of them mentioned his other band, Locktender, did I realize that they were from Southwest Michigan, and had played in my area—with good friends of mine—on the regular…and only then did I realize they were formerly Men As Trees. But that’s neither here nor there.

Now that I’ve cleared up that my love for this record has no local bias, to the real review.

Each track is based on one of Freiderich’s paintings, with some creative liberties taken. The characters are explored more deeply: a monk drowns himself in the sea. The son of a wealthy family suffers a shipwreck. A killer flees to the wilderness, only to find the landscape itself passing judgment on him.

It’s heavy stuff, and unrelenting. “Monk By The Sea” is deceptively triumphant, ripping through a major key riff, while singing, “please let this overcome me,” the monk’s plea to the sea. The lyric reprises in “Winter Landscape,” where the monk follows through on his aim.

Sonically, the record is just as mercurial as Freiderich’s paintings, and as unrelenting as its lyrical themes. The band shifts from plodding sludge metal to muscular hardcore to sparse post rock to frantic screamo on a dime—a mix I didn’t think was possible due to how much the kids in those scenes hate eachother. “Seashore With Shipwreck in Moonlight” even drops notes of emo, with overlapping clean vocals singing over a bleak guitar melody.

But what’s most impressive is that for all of its genre defiance, it never feels like it. Usually, when a band jumps between so many styles, it feels a bit indulgent. They reach for handfuls of disparate elements and shoot you a wink. But Friederich is neither self-referential nor incongruent. It never feels like it’s trying to defy categorization. It plays its heaviness with complete earnestness.

What makes this album feel complete though is that the vinyl edition comes with a full lyric booklet that includes the paintings that inspired each piece. It’s best consumed as a single, multi-media work in a single, uninterrupted sitting.

So yes. Let this overcome me.