Cathedral's releases have a definite mark of an excellent group: each one is radically different, yet still pumping with the trademark blood of its creators. "The Last Spire" comes off as a dark, brooding opus most similar to their excellent yet underrated "Endtyme" record, with hints of "Forest of Equilibrium" and trace amounts of the instrumental eccentricity of "The Guessing Game." It puts Cathedral in the grave in a way that honors just about everything Lee and crew have ever made, and it's a fantastic conglomeration of the seasoned doom metal sound—the squad's undisputed strength—and tiny jabs of the occasional experimental element or instrument. No fun, upbeat numbers like "Midnight Mountain" or "Ride," though; it's all sonic, lightless gloom.

However, "The Last Spire" encapsulates its own identity. It's a dark album in that it sounds apocalyptic and nihilistic and evil and bleak, but does not envision isolation or sadness like "Forest of Equilibrium." It's an intense album in that its sound quality is heavy and powerful and authoritative and experienced, but does not steer toward exclusive darkness like "Endtyme." The experimental (or progressive, I suppose) elements are implemented into the picture through some very unpredictable and dazzling mediums, and in the end "The Last Spire" is an organic Cathedral release representing what are pretty much the best aspects of the group's discography. It is both everything and nothing, natural and foreboding, direct and sophisticated. It goes without saying that "The Last Spire" is the most digestible Cathedral album since "The Carnival Bizarre," and it sounds like a band going out on top.

The introduction to the funeral of Cathedral, "Entrance to Hell," is a haunted piece of dark samples that sounds like wandering through a forlorn, foggy graveyard while undead creations circle their prey; it's a proper introduction to the album's atmosphere. The symphony of death truly begins on "Pallbearer," wherein the fierce, crawling doom metal onslaught ignites. The song is eleven-plus minutes of Cathedral at its most diabolical. The riffs slowly churn and boil over drummer Brian Dixon and returning bassist Scott Carlson hammering underneath Gaz Jennings' loyal guitar work and Lee's trademark voice, and they all sound twisted and totally into it. Midway through the monolith Cathedral tosses in an acoustic passage-solo combo that comes from nowhere, yet works splendidly; a perfect example of those minor experimental/progressive touches à la "The Guessing Game" coming into fruition.

It circles back to the straightforward Cathedral sound, ending the way it started. "Pallbearer" is an honest illustration of the whole piece: dark doom metal with adventitious influences. More interesting, Carlson's bass has more of a prominent role in the music than any former bassist or release that Cathedral has ever seen; it's a much more pivotal factor here. Because each tune remains so loyal to the album's blueprint yet tilted on its own unique angle, no song is precisely similar. The least ambitious of the bunch, and definitely the most likeable, happens to be "Tower of Silence," a seven-minute bludgeoning of murky, simple heaviness retching through Lee's sadistic singing and Dixon beating easy drum patterns into oblivion. Carlson and Jennings both contribute leads during the solo section, and the anthem is a righteous cut of doom from the womb of its masters, debatably one of their finest, ever.

"This Body, Thy Tomb" and "Cathedral of the Damned" likewise depend on more riff-based postulates than the abstract instrumental sections of other songs. Then again, this is Cathedral, and they do quite well exhibiting sunless, pulverizing staples of old-school doom metal. "Cathedral of the Damned" is perhaps the most upbeat number, yet it is countless miles from the speed and velocity of tempo anomalies like "Soul Sacrifice." Longtime session keyboard specialist David Moore has an incredibly prominent role throughout the album. His arsenal of instruments (Hammond organ, Mellotron, synthesizers, etc.) is more often than not weaving between Cathedral's work, and it at times comes to the forefront of the bombardment, particularly throughout his solo section during "An Observation." It feels so comfortable and right; it's like coming home for the last time.

"The Last Spire" is straightforward yet dynamic, bold yet loyal, startling yet proud. It is a swansong worth writing home about; not a lot of bands have that privilege. The material within "The Last Spire" runs deep into the intestines of Cathedral, like all of its dark secrets and masks rolled into one superb entity. The spirit of Cathedral has left the autumn's twilight. Its body now rests in the cemetery of the gods. This album is the final goodbye. Cathedral's one final opus envisioned the properties of itself with utmost perfection, and it is a fantastic display of mastery, no matter how painful the parting may be. They'll hopefully make the carnival in Valhalla that much more bizarre, and you know when they reach its gates, the freaks of nature will stand right up, until the circle of time finally closes.