For a night spent soul searching, grappling with existential dread as you evaluate your failures and successes, there is scarcely a better record in 2012 that could serve as your musical roadmap. The unexpected, but welcomed, shifts to tunes of optimism or playfulness go to balance the profane with the sacred, and show that even the ugliest moments of experience still allow beauty to break through. Holding court in this landscape is the id of singer Jeff Klein, howling of being, but an animal in a well on the title track, though elsewhere his primal self takes the form of a raging beast caught in a bear trap (“Born in the Belly”) or an old dog languidly giving in to fate (“Between Space”). Southern Gothic to a T, with all the pathos, depravity, dread and redemption that implies, the record is a dispatch from the squalor of emotional wreckage. The songs of Preachers sound to bubble up as a miasma from a swamp.
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