Much like the winter in America's Northeast, Dregs is long, dark, and cold. And, like wisps of snow dancing on the wind, this album moves slowly but deliberately enough to remind you of its presence. Low, slow, and distant, the title track sets the tone for the album quite nicely. Subtle in its delivery, but burning with intensity, the throbbing percussion pulls along a layer of crunch with a veil of airy highs flying above. Tortured vocals come into play as the track takes a darker turn, in a foreshadowing of the album to come. Deep in the basement, the high tech torture chamber makes sounds heard on "Embracing Slavehood Through Apathy." Almost cinematic at points, the layers breathe and move with purpose, bringing the listener closer and closer to the rack. Distance is the key with the vocals, as their space adds an extra dimension of creepiness. Buzzing, rising, and falling, "There Can Be No Coexistence" moves a bit more freely compared to the previous tracks. Drifting at its own pace, it takes its time expanding from a mere, oscillating drone into a full, dark, hypnotic head-nodder. The first of two long tracks, "Obstetric Violence," revisits the pacing of preceding songs. Placed far in the background, the vocals have a Skullflower-esque vibe to them, and work very well at adding another layer to the quickly condensing mix. Quieter, thinner sections punctuate the song, and help bolster those more intense passages. Distant wailing like a space ship crash on the horizon changes it up a bit on "Just Another Dose." The softest fare on the album, "Dose" provides a nice respite from the darkness and allows the listener to digest what has come before in comparison to what's playing. Haunting vocals and cavernous reverb box in the oscillations on "We May Mourn." Creepy and airy, the shortest track on the album makes the most of its 3:21 run time. Samples are either hit or very miss on albums, and the "wet dream" sample that starts "Oviparous" is one that misses quite a bit. Cut from a sex ed film, it's quite goofy and doesn't fit with the dark tone of the album. The song, however, slowly builds into a menacing, bubbling wall that grows and writhes in pain. Lows and highs work in conjunction to add a sense of unease before the final build collapses onto itself. "Dunes of Ash" closes out the album on a very long note. Although minimal and droning for the most part, buzzing noise and metallic percussion eventually break forth and keep this 20 raga from getting totally stale.
 
Theologian's latest is an experiment in allowing the music to build, move, and decay at its own pace. Some songs work better than others, but that's to be assumed with every album. For the most part, Dregs puts forth interesting, cold industrial that will please the wintertime soul. Unfortunately, there are some bits that don't quite work, and some tired bits that are further highlighted by the overlong run time. All in all, though, it's another good Theologian release.