I suppose that if they'd really wanted to be daring and iconoclastic, Molasses could have recorded an album of tooth-rattling speed metal tunes... But instead, as their name implies, they're slow. As slow as...well, themselves in January -- which is possibly literally true, as the album was apparently recorded last winter.

Molasses includes members of Godspeed You Black Emperor. It's important to get that out of the way immediately, as it establishes a certain set of expectations. For instance, you won't be surprised to learn that you'll never be well no more comes in a beautiful package. The disc is safely hidden in a slip cover that slides into the back cover of a grey, twine-bound booklet screen-printed with silver ink, which in turn slips into a larger envelope. This all seems unbelievably cool until you realize that the CD's slip-cover fits just a little too tightly into the booklet, which also fits a bit more snugly in its own envelope than is absolutely necessary. I damn near got into a car accident just trying to get the thing out of the package, and in fact had to give up on it until I had two hands free and no further steering and shifting duties to attend to.

I was probably better off, though, as Molasses isn't appropriate driving music unless you're in a funeral procession. Unlike the post-rock leanings of Godspeed, Molasses favors spartan, semi-improvised arrangements of banjo, guitar, piano and strings, with Scott Chernoff's mournful vocals over the top. Chernoff sings with an unstructured malaise, like he's halfway through the process of dying from an infected stomach wound and is making up these songs as a way to pass his final hours. It's easy to picture him sprawled on a splintery log porch, his Molasses cohorts clustered nearby, their Bibles and bottles of whiskey within easy reach. You'll never be well no more reeks of backwoods religion -- perhaps it's Southern Baptist gothic, or maybe wild-eyed born-again Appalachia, but it's utterly sincere, unmistakably creepy and disturbingly beautiful.

Of the five songs here -- okay, actually there are six, but try to act surprised when the sixth one comes on -- "Drunkard's Lament" is perhaps the most effective. While ditching the banjo in favor of guitar, upright bass and piano, it also features a chorus of saws! Chernoff's vocal delivery is optimal here: intimate and contrite, he mixes aspects of Roger Waters and Leonard Cohen. "Sleeping Pill Blues" follows as an able closer, stirring in schizophrenic stringed weirdness that guides the song towards a final descent into madness. Don't go looking for Godspeed-isms, as you won't find many here, other than a certain air of windblown loneliness that's probably more reflective of the individual members' styles than of Godspeed's direct influence.

You'll never be well no more may lack the cathartic peaks of symphonic post-rock, but it's certainly not a "quiet" disc, nor a relaxing listen. It can, in fact, be a distinctly uncomfortable listening experience, and is best suited to listeners who don't mind looking into the occasional abyss.