Our story begins at a temple in Cairo, Egypt during the Vernal Equinox of 1904. Here The Great Beast and his Scarlet Woman, while performing a variety of magickal rituals, did make contact with an entity referring to itself as Aiwass, the minister of Hoor-Paar-Kraat, or Horus, the Egyptian deity. It was revealed to The Beast that mankind was now entering a new era, following the end of the Aeon of Osiris. The Aeon of Horus had officially begun and the Beast was to be the spokesman. The new Law of Horus was then revealed as "The Book of the Law".

Now our story leaps to exactly 100 years later. While reflecting on this important event and its centennial anniversary, a young band of musicians called The Impossible Shapes, residing in the hills of Southern Indiana, set forth to create a musical celebration and commemoration of the new Aeon of Horus, the age of the Crowned and Conquering Child. They sing stories of war and demons, beasts and princesses, romance and magick, planets and stars. They hope you will join in the celebration and sing along.

The Impossible Shapes are:

Chris Barth vocals, guitar

Aaron Deer bass, keyboard

Jason Groth guitar, bass

Mark Rice percussion

The Impossible Shapes is a quartet from the southern reaches of Indiana featuring bass/keys-man Aaron Deer, guitarist/bassist Jason Groth, drummer Mark Rice, and songwriter/singer/guitarist/polemicist Chris Barth. Horus is the group's fifth proper full-length album since 2000 and The One that takes the clues and abstractions of all previous and encapsulates them as a monumental and subversive vessel. At point-A we have a classic album from a post-Aquarian world that would be on the electric side of Bert Jansch's Pentangle or Fotheringay. Then from point-B Barth takes a lyrical journey that saunters against the slim lines of magickal romance, demon chasing, Pan, and vile humanistic impulses that reads of equal parts Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Aleister Crowley. His litanies on discovery and the shadowy desires of hedonism and courtly love line each song with a tint of naturalistic folk force and free will.

The Impossible Shapes' previous Secretly Canadian album, We Like it Wild, carried a rock n roll torch with both hands. On Horus, produced with LonPaul Ellrich (Marmoset, June Panic) at his Queensize Studio, the momentum resurfaces into an air of suspension. The band's guitar/drum swagger has slowed, allowing the slanted rhythms more time to curl around each verse, organ pump and moonlight howl. A swell of grandeur appears across this song cycle, morphing out of the delicate, hill-side inflected guitar melodies into miniature cathedral celebrations. An association of fellow travelers exists within the 12 songs evoking the ancestral pull of early Pink Floyd and a non-acoustic Incredible String Band changing milk-into-gold with their dark brethren Comus. They even dip in some Tuli Kupfeberg, Charles Potts and the song "Survival" sounds just like it would fit on the Buzzcock's Singles Going Steady.

The magical spells cast song-by-song grow with each moment that they are set free with every listen.