I first heard the name Between The Buried And Me around the time “Alaska” was released. A nascent metal fan delving deeper into the waters, I read as many reviews about as many albums as I could. The words that were written about “Alaska” were rhapsodic, a level of reverent praise that demanded I pay attention to the masterpiece the band had unleashed. And so, like anyone intent on experiencing the best music out there, I listened intently. Perhaps the timing was off, or I had yet to develop an appreciation for outside-the-box thinking, but “Alaska” left me feeling cold and empty.