When I first stumbled upon the wonderful post-hardcore supergroup Less Art last year, I was a little unfamiliar with the home projects of the members. Obviously, I am a longtime and die hard fan of Thrice, but I had only given a precursory listen to Curl Up and Die, and had never heard of Kowloon Walled City at all.

But, the strength of Less Art invited me to look into them, and oh, am I glad I did.

Container Ships, their 2012 sophomore record, is a patient, cerebral piece of heavy music that blends sludge metal and post-hardcore in a brilliant way that lands somewhere between ISIS and Fugazi.

The songs are long and plodding, repeating riffs as long meditations, giving as much attention to the space between the chords as the notes themselves. The bass and guitars tune low and play loud, their amps rumbling with an apocalyptic din. The drums are warlike, heralding the oncoming storm without exploding—until the storm comes, that is.

Scott Evans’ unique vocal delivery is equally punishing. He doesn’t quite scream as full throatedly as most of the band’s sonic comparisons (i.e., Sumac, Cult of Luna, Mouth of the Architect). Rather, he utilizes a sort of atonal talk-shout, not unlike Guy Picciotto of Fugazi when he gets going, or a doomier Aaron Weiss of mewithoutYou.

It’s a simple enough formula—and not a particularly unique one. One review I found derided the whole scene as “beard metal,” and said it was for “unshowered Grizzly Bear fans rushing to whatever metal didn’t make them feel icky.” And honestly, I felt called out.

But none of that means this isn’t a powerful record. On the contrary: every amp-rattling second of it is ominous and threatening. Opener “The Pressure Keeps Me Alive” circles a foreboding riff for two minutes before kicking in with the actual song. The seven-minute title track marches with a low tempo and atmospheric guitars, Evans’ extended vowels howling like a wounded animal. The closing track “You Don’t Have Cancer” nearly reaches nine-minutes, trudging through minor-key melodic guitars to an explosive climax.

Even at shorter song times and faster tempos, the songs are just as powerful. “50s Dad” has all the menace of the doomier tracks set to a mosh pit tempo. “Wrong Side of History” juxtaposes angular bass hits with arpeggiated guitars in a way that recalls late era Frodus.

The record clocks in at a deceptive 36 minutes, but thanks to the crushing weight of its gloom, it hits with the power of an album twice as long. And as much as you all know I love slow, sludgy metal, you can bet that this is going to be getting plenty of time on my turntable.