The album lurches to life with a harsh hiss and a flurry of distorted bass guitar that forms into a sort of frantic delirious riff for a few seconds before being buried under fresh layers of rattling white abrasion.  "Spector of a Child" is the perfect name for this.  When the typhoon comes to a point of true chaos, Fernow lets his colossal howl loose.  If the album hasn't blown you out of your chair by now, you've probably got the volume down around 30% or lower.  The first understated melody of the album becomes clearly audible beneath a rustling, crumbling layer of white noise, which eventually erodes completely, allowing the melody to finish the piece.

"Forever Hate" continues with whispers and solemn, glassy keyboard tones, which wouldn't be out of place on an Endvra album.  Partially overloaded percussion sounds are placed intentionally at odds with each other as if an arachnid were playing the music.  This time with utmost quietude, Fernow relates deeper damages.  "It changed my life forever / I haven't been the same since / It affected me in ways / I never thought possible / Forever / Forever / Forever / Hate".  The drifting, dirge-like feel introduced with this track pervades most of the rest of "The Black Post Society", as it turns out.  It floats with the alarming smoothness of a ghastly apparition gliding above the floor.

"Domina Milking", the album's resident black metal song, features overloaded keyboards substituted for guitars, and harsh noise taking on the role of howling wind.  The urgency returns here, and the track burns itself out in 2 minutes.

"Egyptian Bondage", the next 2 minutes, is more reflective, the vocals here being spoken calmly over sweeping, churning noise.  The lyrics, which vaguely depict a ritual which likely inspired by some ancient text, drag the piece out of the familiar context of solitary nocturnal ethos into the deep, cold and ancient oceans of the collective unconscious.

"Rose Comet" is largely quiet.  Given Fernow's track record, I expected it to explode into mayhem at any moment the first time I heard it.  This never occurs despite the song being nearly 9 minutes in length.  Fernow's hypnotic, purposeful whisper establishes a pulsation within the emptiness of a filtered rumble.  "Burned out. Wooden weapons. Tied to stone.  Birkenau.  The die is cast."  The man certainly knows how to use words to deepen the intrigue.  Heavy drone enters around 2:30, but not as suddenly or forcefully as one might have expected.  At the 5 minute mark the drone has reached an overwhelming bassy thickness that I would describe as one of the most intense sonic experiences I have had, though it isn't among the harshest of noise.  The sounds rush over the listener with incredible force...  No matter the volume you play this recording, it has the feel of being blasted at incredible volume from a massive blown speaker.

"Wooden Weapons" begins as a deeply distorted rhythmic loop and intermittent spoken statements.  For four minutes, a static, meditative space is kept - zen through immersion in volume.  Cleverly, Fernow waits until 1 minute from the end for the second unhinged explosion of fury on the album.  His cataclysmic roar burns into the din with an unsympathetic and alien vitriol accentuated by the heavy processing.  It is the accumulated brooding wrath of the most ancient and strange of agoraphobic monsters.

"Mask of the Boys" smolders into life with a repeating square wave bass tone which varies slightly to create a simplistic bassline.  This is a sinister, patiently performed track that works well later into the album as it is.  Suspense and unrelieved tension build until the 7 minute mark when a delirious Fernow repeats the scant 3 lines of lyrics, culminating in his snarl of "MASK OF THE BOYS..."  With a psychotic persistence, the track continues for two more minutes after the harsh noise has abated as Fernow whispers the lyrics over the original bass pulse.

"Months Lengthening Into Years" is the sort of freewheeling madness that could only have come from the unrestrained minds of noise musicians.  Expressive, semi-melodic screams that recall Skinny Puppy's (Nivek Ogre's) glory days dance in the offbeats of an oceanic keyboard riff.  Crunchy, conveyor belt percussion brings with it a sensation of movement.  The pieces line up loosely in time, but perfectly in emotion and tone.  An absolutely beautiful song.

Summarily, I've heard nothing like "The Black Post Society" in my life, including from Prurient, but I'm happy to say that for all its visionary originality and adventurousness, this album is entirely successful, confident and professional, and easily of the best and most memorable noise recordings I own.  The larger than life intensity and crushing sense of vastness of this recording is remarkable, and no recording I've heard combines noise with melody to so marvellous and convincing an effect (Churner's "Static Beauty" comes close).  I would highly recommend this album specifically to the newcomer to the noise genre, as well as anyone who has ever enjoyed noise in the past