Here Stratos has learned how to deal with silence and long sonorous passages. We see an almost liturgical side of Stratos, who is after all a man of faith, as well as a wider sensitivity to his source material on this disc. He's less interested in knocking your socks off than he is in making thoughtful statements of mood. The first cut, "The Dawning," is indicative of that. It's hymnal in quality, with some delicate strings. But at about 2:20, we get a touch of the old Stratos, with a rumbling, staccato attack on a secondary theme.

Stratos relies on a lot of two-note themes that oscillate back and forth in the background while he syncopates other figures against them. This begins to become noticeable in "Where Sky Knights Reign," Track 2. The other thing about this album is that it has a '50s feel to it. It's reminiscent of Schneer/Harryhausen flicks like Jason and the Argonauts or even First Men in the Moon. Indeed, Stratos confirms it: "Jason and the Argonauts, in addition to The World of Warcraft and various other fantasy soundtracks played a large role in inspiration for TCOR."

The world of Ramlar takes shape

The theme for Track 3, "Brightwood," is quite appealing, with some very nice passages—a nice playoff between the woodwinds and the strings sawing away in the background, with some nice skirls on the flutes. This cut reminds one of certain passages Stravinsky's Rite of Spring in places. It has a consistent quality in the strings; they are right on the beat, one-two, one-two, one-two.

One challenge Stratos has here is to suggest the different cultures of the land of Ramlar. He's done that by using an array of "world" instruments to suggest other lands. In the fourth cut, "Two Worlds," he takes off in an Indian, Middle Eastern direction by using a droning tamboura and plucked strings over simple percussion ... he's added some reverb to this cut to smear it out a bit and suggest a wider space. (Normally he's a very "dry" producer.)

Track 8 is a tabla-driven percussion piece. Stratos has discovered the virtues of underplaying on this disc, and this cut is typical of his more reserved approach to this music. It may be the quietest, sparest cut on the album. "Stones of War," Track 9, one of my favorites, opens up with a loose rattle of percussion, almost like shells being shaken, with a flute call and response. A more insistent rhythm starts to bubble up, an insistent, yearning call from the melodic instruments. It's all tied down by the shaking percussion.