From the depths of Zeuhl, Jazz, Progressive and Canterbury rock, Cos emerges and enchants with a hypnotic and cryptic language that asks to be deciphered, leaving the listener momentarily stranded, somewhere between Boma and Bomma, much like an opium smoker or the hippos on the river Boma, or both… Unique and truly Belgian, with a touch of defiant humour, yet with uncanny finesse, Cos rightfully delivers the word, often with no words at all, through a rich texture of pulsating and elastic bass lines, magical farsifa organ, intricate drums and percussion and the ever-present blistering duality of Shell and Son. Son who almost entirely discards language, using her voice much as a new instrument. Schell who reinvents language in his subtle punctuated guitar phrasing. With this album, we are given hints of something that parallels the creation of a new world. We are passengers of a ship that is heading to uncharted terrain, a place that belongs to Cos and to Cos alone, a place that feels like outer space, yet familiar and even comforting. A place from which one never returns as the same person.