Mountains of Heaven Shapes Spontaneous Power and Vast Emotion on Mountains of Heaven 1 and 2 Album

Mountains of Heaven 1 and 2 are not albums designed to sit quietly in the background. It is a living, breathing work of sound that demands physical and emotional presence. Created by Rick Guistolise as a multi-instrumental debut, this 16-track collection emerges from a place of instinct, tension, release, and exploration. Every moment feels driven by a need to create something unfiltered, something that exists beyond traditional structure.

The background of this album is essential to its identity. None of the songs was written before recording. Instead, everything was constructed live and in real time at LettucePray Records’ secret facility in Ohio. That decision alone reshapes how the music feels. You can hear the spontaneity in the way songs evolve, how they stretch, collapse, and rebuild themselves. This is not music that follows a blueprint. It follows impulse.

The sound is massive but not careless. Heavy drums and bass anchor the tracks while atmospheric guitars and cinematic drones stretch outward, creating a sense of motion rather than repetition. Influences from Godspeed You Black Emperor, Sonic Youth, My Bloody Valentine, and Explosions in the Sky are present, but they are absorbed rather than imitated. Mountains of Heaven does not borrow. It transforms.

Tracks like Brilliant Massive Stones and Of Sound hit with physical force, pushing forward with relentless energy. There is weight here, but also momentum. In contrast, pieces such as Music and Laughing and Imperilous drift into hazier territories, creating space for reflection without losing intensity. Banquet and Saudade close their respective arcs with melody and restraint, offering moments of emotional grounding after long sonic journeys.

The album was born from what Guistolise describes as seasons of aggression and pondering, a need for something big and adventurous to fill the gaps between other music. That emotional origin is audible. This is not escapism. It is a confrontation. The music does not distract from the feeling. It amplifies it.

What sets Mountains of Heaven 1 and 2 apart is their refusal to be categorized narrowly. Loudgaze may describe the texture, but not the intent. This is music for zoning out, for working through physical motion, for staring at the ceiling, for long drives where thoughts begin to blur into sound.

There is a freedom in this album that comes from trusting instinct. That trust creates arrangements that feel unpredictable but intentional. You do not consume this album. You move with it. Mountains of Heaven has not created a product. It has created a space. One that invites listeners to return again and again, not for answers, but for experience.