Across their prolific and celebrated career, Mogwai has managed to use their ability to twist music and mood to conjure up narratives that don’t need words to be understood. So naturally, a few filmmakers have come to the Scottish post rock godfathers to help them tell their own stories.

One of these was Mark Cousins, who brought the group on for his documentary Atomic, Living In Dread and Promise, which examined the enormous possibility for both prosperity and destruction that nuclear power brings.

I haven’t seen this documentary. I’m not sure I need to. What I do know is that this album manages to capture the awe and dread of the topic with such clarity that the film might be unnecessary.

As an art form, soundtracks are in an odd position. The music is meant to aid the story on the screen. As such, even the best soundtracks often feel incomplete when heard out of context. Even the best soundtracks mostly serve to remind the listener of the major scenes of those films.

On the other hand, nothing about Atomic feels incomplete. It could be that Mogwai’s records have also carried a sort of abstract sense of cinematic that it doesn’t feel like it’s missing anything. And while Mogwai could have phoned this one and relied on the imagery to do the heavy lifting, that’s not the Mogwai way (the Mog-way?).

Atomic stands up to the rest of the band’s body of work with ease, offering some of the most evocative and emotional pieces in their catalog. Their sonic palette has all of the old Mogwai standbys, and a few new ones. Recorded after the electronics-heavy Rave Tapes, there’s no shortage of synthesizers, but they are accompanied by those classic Mogwai guitars, and several orchestral flourishes, all while capturing a wide spectrum of moods with subtle shifts. “Ether” opens the record with triumphant promise, arpeggiated synths twinkling beneath a cascade of guitars and an anthemic horn section. “SCRAM” pulses with electronic textures and drum beats while guitars create a lush atmosphere. “Bitterness Centerfuge” is Classic Mogwai, layers of fuzz guitars building an imposing and awe-inspiring wall of noise.

But as the album moves on, the exciting potential of atomic energy turns apocalyptic. The mostly electronic “U-235” is minor-keyed and apprehensive.  “Pripyat,” named for the Ukranian town now abandoned after the Chernobyl disaster, signals the most significant change on the disc, turning from the promises of unlimited energy to the dread of reactor meltdowns and nuclear holocaust. The Slavic tones in the melody conjure images of Chernobyl so vivid you don’t even need the documentary’s visuals. “Little Boy,” named for the bomb dropped on Hiroshima, shifts between sparse, desolate verses and choruses that burst with lament. “Are You A Dancer” isn’t quite as dour as the tracks before it, but it is still mournful, save for a glimmer of hope provided by a lilting string section.

Those singing strings bring another shift with them—the promise that despite the destruction of nuclear cataclysm, there might yet be a way toward a brighter future. The guitar-heavy “Tzar” is the heir to a long line of life-affirming post rock anthems from the Glaswegians, ringing tremolo guitars soaring in a hopeful major key. “Fat Man,” named for the bomb dropped on Nagasaki, starts off sparse, a solo piano accompanied by a subtle, muffled kick drum. It’s joined by a soft rise atmospheric synth pads and ghostly guitars before the drums enter in a haunting march that tempers the hope of the track before it.

In the scope of Mogwai’s long and impressive career, Atomic is probably not an album of much consequence. And given the nature of the project, it’s a bit more subdued than many of their records, with fewer flirtations with heavy metal catharsis. But what makes it impressive is that even when Mogwai could have phoned it in, the end project is as stunning as this.