The gristle in the meat you had for lunch is Swans. The pain of a fractured wrist is Swans. The elation of a morphine injection is also Swans. Held together by the grit of Gira and the quietude of Jarboe, Children of God is intense. With dissonant droning guitars and pounding drums, it exudes tension in every turn. It almost feels like it wants you to suffer as you listen. If the apocalypse were to come tomorrow, it would be the soundtrack to the end of days. And yet, it has moments of beauty that I find intoxicating. If you hadn't guessed already, it leaves me confused and conflicted. Not for the faint of heart.