For Numinosum Bell looks inward and delivers his thoughts almost as if he's sleepwalking. That's not to say by any means that this is a bad album; it's just a little shocking to hear Bell this mellow. He's gone so far askance from what is expected of him that it takes a little getting used to.

Instead of anger there is honest reflection, maybe brought on by Bell's getting up in age (39) and his realization that things won't last forever, a subject he confronts on "Residual Presence." "Canon for My Beloved" is a dirge for a late relationship that begins with the forlorn sound of a howling wolf or coyote, reinforcing the feeling of aloneness that permeates the record. But somehow Bell doesn't seem too bummed about his mid-life summation and therein rests the primary fault of this album---a lack of emotion.

Taken individually the songs on Numinosum are just fine but cumulatively, about half way through the record, they start to reflect Bell's trance-like state and put the listener to sleep. Did you ever fall asleep playing a vinyl record and wake up to find the disc still spinning and popping and crackling through the speakers? Well it's almost as if Bell knows he's going to set you dozing because this effort ends with about ten minutes of that noise.