Possibly the most dauntingly impossible review I'll have to do for this series.

Swans is considered to be one of the greatest bands in underground music, and with good reason. Ever since the early 80's, this Michael Gira project has put out album after album, with their style changing indescribably from era to era.

The early 80's saw their contributions to no wave and noise rock with "Filth," "Cop," "Greed," and "Holy Money," moving into a style more reminiscent of post-punk (but still with their noise rock influence) on "Children of God." On "The Burning World," "White Light from the Mouth of Infinity," and "Love of Life," they became much more gothic and put a slight emphasis on harmony. From then on, from "The Great Annihilator" until today, they've combined all their previous influences with post-rock and drone elements, in addition to a ton of other things that I just can't begin to describe.

The middle of this later period (or, the end of their career in the 90's before their breakup) saw the release of Swans' final album, "Soundtracks for the Blind." It would be fourteen years until they made a return in 2010. This was easily the most ambitious the group had gotten up to this point, and they may never top the innovation found on here.

However, seeing (or hearing) this innovation may be difficult for more casual listeners, as this album is nearly two and a half hours long, and many of these tracks are based around musical themes rather than structure, and you can't tell who's playing what or even what's being played much of the time. It combines studio material with several live tracks, and these songs can be anything from ambient soundscapes to post-rock funeral dirges to old-school EDM to straight up noise and unnerving quiet energy.

The album opens up with "Red Velvet Corridor," an instrumental of sorts which has some very interesting keyboard sounds in front of what feels like noise, and a few drones that enter and exit throughout.

This cuts off suddenly and in fades "I Was a Prisoner in Your Skull," easily one of the high points on the record. An absolutely gorgeous synth chord introduces itself, with a tone that feels equally chilling and majestic. Juxtaposing with this wall of sound is a looped recording of a voice babbling incessantly, in an almost cynical and mocking way. The chord morphs into a sheet of noise and some drums come up in the mix in the back and the track evolves into what finally sounds almost like a band playing. As soon as it starts, however, it's cut short by more noise and a slide whistle.

This is where the album takes a turn for something absolutely sinister. A voice appears in the track and says the following:

He begins to tell everyone just that, using this and other examples as proof:

It's almost like the voice you're hearing is your conscious reminding you that he's necessary in your day-to-day life to keep you from being unable to do anything, and it's where the album first introduces these themes of insanity and dependence.

Now of course, I can't break down the whole album like this (we'd be here all day), so I'll touch down quickly on some highlights and you can fill in the details once you've listened to them.

"Yum-Yab Killers" is a live track that draws heavily from punk rock, featuring a female vocal (which I can only assume is their keyboardist Jarboe) and it's possibly the most accessible moment across this record's two discs.

"Volcano" is another track with a female vocal, featuring skittering hi-hats, a four to the floor kick, and a lot of uplifting chord progressions to mask its (once again) haunting lyrics.

"Animus" is the second of three or four of those post-rock funeral dirges I was talking about earlier; once you've heard one, you've heard them all, but that being said, they're all very unique for having such similar themes.

"Minus Something" features one of many spoken word bits across the album. The voice on this track speaks of feeling deteriorated, upset, and drained of life, much like a lot of the music on "Soundtracks for the Blind" feels.

This is easily the most diverse album I've ever heard in my life, and it certainly takes a well-trained ear and a long attention span to allow the secrets of "Soundtracks for the Blind" to unfold. But once you're in the proper time, place, and mood, everything about it begins to make sense.

Number seven is on the horizon, and it may be the most esoteric album on the list.