Ever since I’ve discovered that screamo was an actual subgenre and not just what my mom calls any band with screaming (Thrice and Alcest have both bore the term), I’ve found it very difficult to find much screamo that I like. Bands like envy and Boneflower are gorgeous and cathartic in a way that hits me to my core, but most of the pioneers of the genre—Orchid, Saetia, pg.99, et al, have inspired an almost visceral rejection from my ears. As a relatable tweet once said, “scream fans will say, ‘this track is legendary’ then play the absolute worst song you’ve ever heard.”

But every once in a while, something will come out of that scene that blows me away. Don’t Think About Death, the long-awaited debut full length from Brighton UK’s Chalk Hands, definitely uses screamo’s conventions as a sonic center, but it uses that palette to create one of the most moving records I’ve heard yet this year.

To be fair, the way screamo has been described to me has always sounded incredible. Loud guitars, aggressive drums, and screamed vocals are used more to illicit passionate emotions rather than the anger and aggression that most screamed genres have been known for. It’s like the catharsis of emo turned up to eleven. But very little of the screamo I have heard has actually resembled this crystalline and fiery sound that was in my head.

This album, however, almost sounds like it was taking notes from the ideal in my head.

From the opening bursts of “Fail, Grasp, Restore,” the record rarely lets up. Even when it pulls back from the bombast of heavy guitars and crashing cymbals—which is often—the passion isn’t dulled any. There is an immense shift in dynamics, wandering into near ambient post rock, frantic math rock, and some moments of pure emo. But even at its most subdued, the emotional focus is just as laser-precise. “A Valleity” is maybe the most varied song, moving between explosive moments of passion to a clean-voiced gang chorus to a closing section of unaccompanied ambient bass (I think—could be a low guitar). The title track is almost entirely instrumental, barring two lines delivered in a half-sung scream, weaving mathy guitar figures, practically delicate drumming, and a melodic sensibility that seems unlikely given the passion of the earlier tracks together up to an emotional climax that even finds brass horns aiding the distorted guitars.

Not that they don’t deliver plenty of blistering, throat-sheering catharsis. Tracks like “Teeth and Nails” and “Les Jours Passent Et Ne Me Ressemblent Pas (The Days Go By and Don’t Look Like Me)” are so combustive that their energy likely couldn’t be sustained beyond their brief runtimes. Yet these short, powerful songs feel complementary to the longer, quieter tracks rather than that incongruous.

I know it’s only March, but I feel pretty confident in predicting that this album will have a prominent place in my year-end list come December. While many artists have combined similar elements together to create dazzling sonic structures, few have managed to do it in a way that is this masterful. It packs a powerful punch that is both emotionally immediate and has a rich enough composition to endlessly unfold at repeated listens. And at only thirty-six minutes, there’s plenty of time for those.