It’s a rare event to be blessed by an album that transcends the simple act of complacent listening. In the case of Low Skies’ second long player, the songwriting and narratives provide a vehicle into an all sensory encompassing encounter. Swelling with eerie imagery, sutured romanticism and tragically lush melodies that mimic the triumphs and failures of life itself, when the speakers move under the weight of All the Love I Could Find, you won’t only hear, you’ll see, feel and believe.

Low Skies’ inception – a merging of young lives from varying middle-American locales – shines through vibrantly in their craft. Formed in 2000 in the calloused expanses of Chicago, the quintet’s rooting stretches from the dusty voids of rural West Texas, through the rustic bounty of the heartland and on to the frost tarnished streets of Minneapolis. Spearheaded by vocalist/guitarist Chris Salveter and drummer Jason Creps, Low Skies self-released their first EP prior to finding a home with Flameshovel Records. The debut full-length, The Bed, was released in 2002, finding praise locally and nationally. Shortly thereafter, on the cusp of a support tour the band finalized their lineup and sound with the addition of experimental button pusher Luther Rochester and brothers Jacob and Brandon Ross on guitars and bass respectively. They toured vigilantly, supporting acts such as Neko Case and Okkervil River, but not until now has the band’s full potential been actualized in the recording studio.

Rooted in gothic elements of folk and blues that are undeniably American, but with a contemporary aim that gives a pulse to these songs, slow and steady, sweeping through arteries and dusty single-lane highways. Salveter’s balladry, guttural and gorgeous, burns with conviction and is beautifully offset by the timbers of guest vocalist Kelly Hogan and back-dropped by sliding, shot up guitars. All the Love I Could Find rises and resolves, mining the past while moving incessantly towards the horizon.

The world of Low Skies is one of dark truths and treacherous love. There’s no masking the guilt, the loss, the longing, the sex or the blood. It’s the dark end of the human spectrum that’s often feared and avoided; and precisely where Low Skies resides, delivering it bruised and beautiful, with teeth bared and arms outstretched. The goosebumps will rise and the wrecking ball will drop, and if you don’t end up saved you’ll still feel oddly safe– wrapped up tight in a set of weary, weathered arms.