Alright, buckle up. Postcards From Arkham’s Manta isn’t your run-of-the-mill post-rock album—it’s a chaotic fever dream wrapped in riffs and reverb that punches you square in the gut. Released back in 2017 under Metalgate Records (Czech Republic repping hard here), this thing is less of an album and more like some sort of auditory exorcism. Let me break it down for ya.
First off, let’s talk about “Owls Not What They Seem.” Holy crap, where do I even start? This track hits like a freight train soaked in acid. It opens with this eerie build-up—soft at first, almost teasing you—but then BAM! The guitars drop like anvils, all heavy distortion and raw fury. You can feel the weight of every note pressing against your skull. And those crescendos? Damn near apocalyptic. If there was ever a song to soundtrack losing your mind while wandering through a forest at night, this would be it. It sticks with you because it doesn’t just play—it assaults. No chill vibes here; pure sonic warfare.
Then there’s “Leviathan,” which might as well come with a warning label: “Proceed with caution if you value your sanity.” This one feels like being swallowed whole by something ancient and unrelenting. The drums are relentless, pounding away like they’ve got a personal vendetta against silence itself. There’s this moment midway where everything drops out except for these hauntingly clean guitar lines, and you’re left hanging, breathless, before the chaos roars back in full force. By the time it ends, you're not sure whether to cheer or crawl into a corner and cry. That’s the magic of this record—it keeps you on edge, never letting you settle.
Now, I gotta call out the repetition in the tracklist. Yeah, yeah, we get it—there are two versions each of “Wanderlvst” and “Symmetric Kakophony,” plus alternate spellings of songs like “The KVLT of Dream” vs. “The Kvlt ov Dream.” Annoying? Maybe. But honestly, after listening to this beast, I think it fits. It’s messy, unpredictable, and kinda unhinged—just like the music itself.
So what’s my takeaway from Manta? Simple: this album ain’t for the faint-hearted. It’s loud, abrasive, and refuses to hold your hand. Listening to it feels like stepping into a storm—you either embrace the chaos or drown in it.
And hey, fun fact: owls really aren’t what they seem. Who knew?
