Named for the Egyptian god of the dead, Anubis live up to their moniker with a debut that treats prog rock as a vehicle for mood and myth. The self‑titled album unfolds across extended tracks that favour patient build and narrative structure over quick hooks. Guitars shift from clean, echo‑laden arpeggios to thick, overdriven chords; analogue synths and organs cast sepia‑toned shadows; rhythm sections alternate between loping, ceremonial pulses and sharply accented, odd‑metre passages. Vocals, when they appear, tend to be more incantatory than conversational, furthering the sense of ritual.

Rather than indulging in virtuosity for its own sake, the band channel their chops into atmosphere. Themes are introduced, transformed and reprised with a sense of purpose, and dynamic arcs often trace a path from near‑silence to cathartic climax. There are clear nods to classic 1970s prog and heavy psych, but also a cinematic sensibility that makes the record feel like the score to an unmade occult film. Anubis is immersive, brooding and surprisingly cohesive, inviting the listener to descend and stay awhile.