The question to any perfect debut is “Where can we go from here?”

Their self-titled full-length was as close to flawless as a record could get—it’s golden harmonies and Seattle-bluegrass instrumentation combined to form a record that was truly timeless, sounding traditional and contemporary at once.

And so when they returned to the studio to record what would undoubtedly be one of the most anticipated records of the year, they decided (wisely) to expand rather than progress.

Their sonic palette isn’t too different; all of the same colors are still here—the sun baked voices, the acoustic guitars, mandolins, pianos, and pulsing drums, the cavern-sized reverbs. The only song that adds any new elements is The Shrine/An Argument (the best track by a mile) with a droning keyboard and fighting saxophones. The rest of the tracks use those old hues in broader, louder strokes.

Sim Sala Bim (Johnny Quest reference, nice) starts with the same wordless vocal interplay Heard Them Stirring utilizes, but the members aren’t huddled close as they were before—rather they sound stretched across the horizon like a band of mystics. And throughout the album, they evoke scenes of Biblical magnitude.

There are no light snowfalls here—there are floods, fires, parted seas. On much of the album, Robin Pecknold sounds less like a vagrant than a prophet, conjuring more than singing. In his quieter moments, his cheer is dampened and he whispers, forlorn. In his louder moments, he rains fire down around him, hollering at his lack of true power.

But for all of my metaphors and symbolism and biblical allusions, there are times when words absolutely fail. Stop reading this and listen to the record.