For deeply introspective and powerful instrumental post-rock/metal, Russian Circles are tough to beat. Alternating cogently between jarring slow passages and thundering heavy metal textures, the Chicago-based trio formed in 2004 and has since been releasing expansive soundscapes with incredible consistency.

Station marks the group’s second full-length album. It is constructed with intense care and attention to detail. Each note unfolds like a petal on a dark rose, adding mood and ambience to the profoundly engaging compositions.

Fans of Russian Circles will likely find less heaviness on Station, which may be disappointing for fans who know what they want. Some may even find the record to be somewhat underwhelming. With expectations of mammoth metal violence, the light and calculated guitar found throughout Station will be unexpected.

The intensity of the compositions should not so easily be cast aside, however. This is one hell of a great record. Station is filled with enormous levels of texture, with some songs sounding like classic Tool and others flowing more like symphonic arrangements.

Regardless of the possible influences, Russian Circles have composed a series of seven masterpieces.

Station expands with steady intention and dispenses with “thundering for thundering’s sake” type metallurgy. Instead, the trio builds songs appropriately and efficiently.

The heavy metal bursts arrive as the innate expansion of dominant construction and not simply as an expected emblem of the band’s sound. When guitars rip through the shell, it’s because they belong there as a natural element and not because they simply exist in the genre as an accepted part of the madness.

It will certainly be said that there’s a bit too much substance here to go around and that will be a suitable appraisal for those who enjoy their music in certain containers. For the rest of us, however, the eagerness to follow the rabbit hole is a gratifying journey.

Russian Circles play with ambience and electronic pieces here, adding cement to tracks like the excellent “Youngblood” without sacrificing the essence. The turbulent guitar rips through the surface to provide an inconceivable experience.

Other tracks rise and crash down like massive waves, such as the ill-omened “Harper Lewis” or the Tool-esque “Station,” both of which hurtle and collide as though in the midst of a violent tempest.

That tempest controls Station, pushing and pulling the music in multiple directions for a serious sonic attack. The seven-song-squall is a post-rock lovers’ dream, a hazardous kaleidoscope of might and madness, and a damn good rock record worthy of several spins with speakers gutsy enough to handle it.