Their reverence for the originals is evident, and the modern touches never infringe upon the humble, agrarian feel this gentle music creates.  The bouncy, jig style melodies, with their hypnotic circular contours, remain in the fore at all times, despite the number of instruments that have been dubbed in.  Jo Lepine sings most of the songs, and while her soprano delivery is perfectly tuneful and pleasurable to the ear, it's also somewhat wooden, as well as unchanging from song to song.  The other half of the duo, Steven Collins, sings a couple songs as well, and does a better job of balancing a desperate earnestness with technical polish.

The ancient lyrics describe various facets of peasant life.  Admittedly, laughter is my natural reaction to some of phrases uttered, as they are at times heavy handed, clumsy and literal, but due to their historical significance, I feel it's not really my place to judge them.

Vintage sounding electric guitar and bass, sometimes lightly distorted, hint at the group's love for classic rock and roll, particularly the Beatles.  Stately flutes, harmoniums, mallet percussion and subdued touches of snare drum lend the album a shimmering, mystic presence as well, though to my mind this feel may not be the best match for the mundane lyrics.  They keep songs interesting for their full durations primarily by adding and subtracting instruments.

The two drastically different versions of "January Snows" are the most transparent example of this duo's craft in action.  Playing them back to back, I hear how the melody retains a certain distinct character even when extensively reshaped and restructured for the purposes of each arrangement, and the kaleidoscopic infinity of musical possibilities that exists within this single tune and set of lyrics is revealed to me. 

The longer, 7 minute version is found later in the album, and is my favorite song on the record.   Jo calmly intones the lyrics over a warm harmonium chord and achieves a monastic, spiritual atmosphere not dissimilar to Dead Can Dance's "Aion" record.  She is later joined by dark, droning notes on the piano, before the song shifts gears entirely for a blissful instrumental passage containing call and respose between acoustic guitar and sitar (!), and a comforting hippie campfire vibe.

The closer, "Winter (A Dirge)" is another highlight, opening with a brief soliloquy and continuing with 3 minutes of heartwrenching and intense chordwork, presumably written solely by The Owl Service, seeing as there are no lyrics in play during this time.  During this segment, the group manages the brooding darkness of modern pagan folk such as Current 93, and I find myself wishing they'd write more of their own material, and feeling that their attachment to tradition is holding them back somewhat.  When Jo's voice does enter with another simple folk melody, the song maintains its feeling of freshness through its watery, wet production, which captures the rainy, forlorn feel aspect of winter.

Ultimately, "The Burn Comes Down" is a solid, pleasant listen, and wonderfully recorded at that.  While The Owl Service clearly lacks the feverish intensity with which Dead Can Dance attacked their historical explorations, considered on its own merits, there is little wrong with this album.  Some may find the music too simple and repetitive, but others will surely find it gorgeous and soothing to the soul.