My love affair with Baroness wasn’t an immediate one. Even after becoming a fan, it took me a while to be fully convinced.

But delving into their back catalogue the last few months, I have realized that they are one of the best bands around. Despite the diversity of their sonic palette, everything they do is absolutely untouchable.

This realization has bid me to systematically buy my way through all of their albums, which brings me to The Blue Record, their wonderful second record.

My introduction to Baroness was the sleek, melodic, experimental, prog-tinged head banging album Purple.  It grabbed me in a way that no other record had—until they released Gold & Grey, an opus of similar elements.

The power of those two records finally convinced me to go back to their earlier material. And when I heard The Red Album, it sounded almost unrecognizable as the same band. It was an excellent record, to be sure, and finally helped me realize why Baroness is lumped in with sludge bands so much, but it didn’t hit the same way as those later albums.

But on Blue, I can see the band becoming the Baroness I fell in love with.

There’s still plenty of the sludgy riffage that filled the track listing on Red, but whereas on their debut, the vocals were almost exclusively screamed or shouted, there is plenty of clean voiced melody here. There’s even some harmony, as seen in the acoustic led “Steel that Sleeps the Eye,” or even the blistering “A Horse Called Golgotha.”

But that melodic shift is not exclusive to the vocals. The guitars are much more virtuosic, and at times even baroque. There’s a bit that calls to mind the harmonizing guitar lines of bands like Queensryche, and even some Queen-ish moments—moments that scatter the later albums that I love so much.

That’s all great, but none of it would matter nearly as much if this record wasn’t paced so well. The tracks are arranged with meticulous intention. These aren’t just great riffs and licks: this is a massive statement from a band that excels in making massive statements. There are periods of inhaling and exhaling, rest followed by explosions. Ballads and interludes fill the time between anthemic marathons.

The same melodic motif appears several times, in the opening tracks “Bullhead’s Psalm” and “Bullhead’s Lament,” pensive tracks that bookend the high-octane aggression of the rest of the album.

The most impressive moment though is the B-side triptych. “Steel that Sleeps the Eye” strums away with morose harmonies before giving its melody to the grooving, chugging “Swollen and Halo.” When the dust settles, it fades to “Ogechee Hymnal,” a heavier reworking of the opening instrumental motif. These three tracks feel like a microcosm of the full album, charting fierce dynamic shifts and melodic themes with all of the care of a composer writing an opera.

It’s this exact type of compositional mastery that made me fall in love with Baroness in the first place. And while the band has certainly grown since this record, Blue is just as rewarding as anything else I’ve heard from them.

Now I guess it’s time to buy Green & Yellow.