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Panopticon – Det Hjemsøkte Hjertet Review By Thus SpokeWhat feelings come with an ending? Grief? Gratitude? Hope? As the Laurentian Trilogy comes to a close with Det Hjemsøkte Hjertet,1 the reflections on things passed which each album casts in a different light are at their most poignant. Panopticon turns from personal catharsis (…And Again into the Light) to metaphorical mirroring of individual crisis with that which devastates the natural world (The Rime of Memory), and now the very fabric of every one of us as people—bound inextricably to our experiences and environment. Mourning the loss of a loved one; memories of a people left behind by industrialisation; vanished caribou who once roamed the forests and the trees that grew old before the saw; a losing battle with time; isolation, love, joy. These fragmented, vivid, impressions of The Haunted Heart masterfully draw together an opus as potent musically as it is emotionally, five years almost to the date since it began.
Det Hjemsøkte Hjertet’s conclusiveness is tangible, its every note suffused with nostalgia and closure—even opener, “Woodland Caribou,” feels like a resolution. Drums boil and crash with anguish, tremolos are effervescent with feeling, and strings are more prominent and more stirring than ever before. But even in its finality of reprising themes and devastating climaxes, Det Hjemsøkte Hjertet reveals that everything does not truly end after all. With a chorus of guest vocalists,2 Austin Lunn tells a story of a life coming to a close in chapters that reflect not only on one person’s experiences, but those of a culture and a wilderness extending beyond them. It’s the most immediate Panopticon has ever been: lacking any preamble, moving faster and with assured ardour through every blackened arc, reaching deeper into your soul with every singing string refrain. Det Hjemsøkte Hjertet sees an infusion of characteristic folk, black metal, and magical atmosphere in a way that’s at once so heart-wrenchingly intimate and viscerally overwhelming it can hardly be described as less than perfection.
From the moment it begins, Det Hjemsøkte Hjertet has hold of you, most strikingly because of how breath-catchingly gorgeous it is. Some of the saddest, most profound melodies of Panopticon’s career (“Woodland Caribou,” “Blood and Fur Upon the Melting Snow,” “Ghost Eyes in the Firelight”) combine with some of the wildest (“The Great Silence, Extinct,” “The White Cedars,” “A Culture of Wilderness”). Even the heaviest moments dazzle in their dissonant devastation with mournful urgency (“The Great Silence…,” “A Culture…”). But what takes this beauty and rage into transcendence is how these tides of emotion are so tightly wound together, referencing one another, the refrains of The Laurentian Trilogy, and even all of Panopticon up until this moment. The soft sigh of a violin refrain (“Woodland Caribou”) sobs in precipitating a mid-album climax (“Blood and Fur…”), and the dancing tremolo-string swoops of “The Great Silence…” are mirrored in “Blood and Fur,…” and “The White Cedars.” The shuddering heaviness of “A Culture…” reawakens the gravity of “Moth-Eaten Soul”3 while untamed exuberance (“A Culture…,” “Blood and Fur…”) revives “An Autumn Storm”4 and the spirit of Roads to the North, and flute—accompanied only by the crackling of a fire—brings the acoustic introspection of the trilogy firmly to the forefront (“Lyset”).
But it’s the final act, “Ghost Eyes in the Firelight,” that pulls these threads—and one’s heartstrings—taut. Gracefully drawing in the elements from throughout the trilogy, it then softly and assuredly builds to a conclusion that hums ever more with familiarity. As the shimmering tremolos rise to a steady beat, you realise it’s the central theme of “…And Again into the Light” lifting upwards on their featherlight wings. All the lyrics on Det Hjemsøkte Hjertet sing with poignancy, but in this ascent that poignancy peaks,
The light from the window fades like the winter recently past.
Free of this mortal coil, free at last.
A slight pain in his chest grew as he laid down upon the melting snow.
Gazing upward into the night sky, he closed his eyes to the dark night,
but behind the blackness of his eyelids,
the stars remained
but behind the blackness of his eyelids,
the stars remained…and again into the light
As cymbals judder and guitars perform a final flourish, the haunting calls of loons signal the completion of this circle, the spilling in of the light to the serenade of violins to a devastating reprise, filling your chest with its warmth and your eyes with tears.5 A more perfect way to end things could not exist. My heart clings longingly to the place evoked by Det Hjemsøkte Hjertet‘s consuming atmosphere and touching humanity. I cry with the empathy of its creator, crying for time gone, for those no longer here, for the lost wilderness, for the empty homes and hearts and the silent forests. But I also cry with a kind of transcendent joy. Because in closing, things begin anew. Just as the final whining strings lead into the beginning of …And Again into the Light, they blur too into that of “Woodland Caribou.” A ring, the renewal of hope. The darkness does not last. The fire will not burn out.
Rating: Iconic
#2026 #50 #AmericanMetal #AtmosphericBlackMetal #BindruneRecordings #BlackMetal #DetHjemsøkteHjertet #Folk #May26 #NordvisProduktion #Panopticon #RABM #Review #Reviews
DR: ? | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Bindrune Recordings | Nordvis Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026 -
AMN Reviews: Various Artists – Music for Ancient Catacombs (2026; Eighth Tower Records)
Music for Ancient Catacombs is the fourth installment in a series of thematic compilation albums from Eighth Tower Records that has established itself as a consistently rewarding project in drone and experimental ambient. The series began in 2023 with Music for Abandoned Monasteries, which invited fifteen artists to contemplate sacred spaces left to crumble and be reclaimed by silence. Later that same year, Music for Haunted Asylums turned its gaze to the deinstitutionalized psychiatric hospitals that litter the landscape of the post-war Western world. Most recently, Music for Alien Temples pushed the concept outward into speculative and cosmic territory, imagining the ritual spaces of non-human civilizations. That album earned a spot on our Best of the First Half of 2025 list.
Now the series goes figuratively underground, a “back to basics” release using drones, texture, percussion, and atmosphere to evoke states of dread, mystery, desolation, and the sublime. Thirteen artists, veterans of the form alongside newer voices, explore varying temperaments, from haunted stillness to barely-contained noise.
Kammarheit opens with In Quiet Depths, a masterclass in restraint. Hushed and synth-driven, the track is suffused with a darkness that feels geological in its patience. Underground Sorrow from progettosonoro is sepulchral in the truest sense. The listener can feel the weight of stone overhead, and something unseen moving just ahead. Nerthus conjures a funerary atmosphere in Missa Tenebrarum, echoing percussion marking time in vaulted spaces while haunted melodic passages drift and dissolve.
Ashtoreth & Penumbral Aethyr’s Khthon is the album’s most unpredictable offering, an abstract, shifting amalgam of noise and disembodied vocalizations that refuses to settle into any particular form. Adonai Atrophia fills The Lowest Chamber with echoing percussive thuds and wafting, processed vocal fragments implying presence while leaving its source unidentifiable. PNÉVMMA’s kry-pti is brief but effective, church bells submerged in gloom, a short passage that is transitional rather than absolute. Aconis continues this trend with Sanctum in the Depths, a quietly unsettling piece built on pulsating static and background crackling.
Guru Bobol’s linthre is the album’s longest track. It is repetitive and hypnotic, with drones and sparse percussion coalescing around intermittent bells in a way that suspends time. Mario Lino Stancati’s Somnium disorients through rhythm rather than noise, featuring lilting electronic motifs that ride pulsing waves. In Entering the Stone Circle, New Risen Throne layers slowly rattling percussion over creaking structures, as waves of thick, oppressive drones stack like sediment.
SÍLENÍ’s Within the Vaults offers the compilation’s sole moment of relative brightness, as luminous tones and watery, chiming textures emerge from the surrounding darkness without fully dispelling it. Sublimatio Mortis follows an ominous arc in A Pilgrimage Towards Nothingness, with bells that give way to harsh textures and fractured melodic figures representing a malevolent coherence. Dapalis Sepolcri’s La Fosse des Cholériques is a compositionally ambitious piece with wide dynamic range, dense layering, and crescendos that build to a point of being nearly overwhelming. It is an outlier in the best sense.
What Eighth Tower Records has quietly achieved with this series is a reliable method for making abstraction visceral. These contributions embody the given premise with conviction. The result is thirteen different perspectives on subterranean dread, unified roughly by style but more by a shared commitment to finding meaning in atmosphere. This is another strong entry in a strong series.
Music for Ancient Catacombs will be released on May 14, 2026 by Eighth Tower Records.
#USG -
💥Announcement! Friday 20.03.2026💥
🔥✊🏾APOTHEKE Party to Fund the Right to Stay and Repression Costs✊🏾🔥
Friday, 20.03.2026 | 7.00 pm | Bernkasteler Straße 78, 13088 Berlin
Arrival: Tram 12, 27; Bus 156, 255, 259 to Berliner Allee/Rennbahnstraße | Tram M4, M13, 12; Bus 255, 259 to Weißer See
📣 Call to action: https://asanb.noblogs.org/?p=16129 - @kim.rebelforlife
We invite you to join us at the second solidarity APOTHEKE party, this time in beautiful north-east Berlin at “Bass mit Hass”, to support current struggles for the right to stay and against the costs of repression, and to swap powerlessness and isolation for solidarity and warmth.
We hate the death machine called capitalism, we hate fascism, we hate the deportation authorities, the Smart City craze and the exploitation of the earth; articulating this simply feels good.
If you resist the death machine, no matter how large the shadows around you are and how far removed from others you feel, you may be alone, but you are also with all of us who are resisting.
Come together and let’s give grief, hatred and anger a space; this space shall be enveloped in vibrant bass and the crackling of the fire shall warm you.
Feel free to bring ideas, longings and wood
-
💥Announcement! Friday 20.03.2026💥
🔥✊🏾APOTHEKE Party to Fund the Right to Stay and Repression Costs✊🏾🔥
Friday, 20.03.2026 | 7.00 pm | Bernkasteler Straße 78, 13088 Berlin
Arrival: Tram 12, 27; Bus 156, 255, 259 to Berliner Allee/Rennbahnstraße | Tram M4, M13, 12; Bus 255, 259 to Weißer See
📣 Call to action: https://asanb.noblogs.org/?p=16129 - @kim.rebelforlife
We invite you to join us at the second solidarity APOTHEKE party, this time in beautiful north-east Berlin at “Bass mit Hass”, to support current struggles for the right to stay and against the costs of repression, and to swap powerlessness and isolation for solidarity and warmth.
We hate the death machine called capitalism, we hate fascism, we hate the deportation authorities, the Smart City craze and the exploitation of the earth; articulating this simply feels good.
If you resist the death machine, no matter how large the shadows around you are and how far removed from others you feel, you may be alone, but you are also with all of us who are resisting.
Come together and let’s give grief, hatred and anger a space; this space shall be enveloped in vibrant bass and the crackling of the fire shall warm you.
Feel free to bring ideas, longings and wood
-
💥Announcement! Friday 20.03.2026💥
🔥✊🏾APOTHEKE Party to Fund the Right to Stay and Repression Costs✊🏾🔥
Friday, 20.03.2026 | 7.00 pm | Bernkasteler Straße 78, 13088 Berlin
Arrival: Tram 12, 27; Bus 156, 255, 259 to Berliner Allee/Rennbahnstraße | Tram M4, M13, 12; Bus 255, 259 to Weißer See
📣 Call to action: https://asanb.noblogs.org/?p=16129 - @kim.rebelforlife
We invite you to join us at the second solidarity APOTHEKE party, this time in beautiful north-east Berlin at “Bass mit Hass”, to support current struggles for the right to stay and against the costs of repression, and to swap powerlessness and isolation for solidarity and warmth.
We hate the death machine called capitalism, we hate fascism, we hate the deportation authorities, the Smart City craze and the exploitation of the earth; articulating this simply feels good.
If you resist the death machine, no matter how large the shadows around you are and how far removed from others you feel, you may be alone, but you are also with all of us who are resisting.
Come together and let’s give grief, hatred and anger a space; this space shall be enveloped in vibrant bass and the crackling of the fire shall warm you.
Feel free to bring ideas, longings and wood
-
💥Announcement! Friday 20.03.2026💥
🔥✊🏾APOTHEKE Party to Fund the Right to Stay and Repression Costs✊🏾🔥
Friday, 20.03.2026 | 7.00 pm | Bernkasteler Straße 78, 13088 Berlin
Arrival: Tram 12, 27; Bus 156, 255, 259 to Berliner Allee/Rennbahnstraße | Tram M4, M13, 12; Bus 255, 259 to Weißer See
📣 Call to action: https://asanb.noblogs.org/?p=16129 - @kim.rebelforlife
We invite you to join us at the second solidarity APOTHEKE party, this time in beautiful north-east Berlin at “Bass mit Hass”, to support current struggles for the right to stay and against the costs of repression, and to swap powerlessness and isolation for solidarity and warmth.
We hate the death machine called capitalism, we hate fascism, we hate the deportation authorities, the Smart City craze and the exploitation of the earth; articulating this simply feels good.
If you resist the death machine, no matter how large the shadows around you are and how far removed from others you feel, you may be alone, but you are also with all of us who are resisting.
Come together and let’s give grief, hatred and anger a space; this space shall be enveloped in vibrant bass and the crackling of the fire shall warm you.
Feel free to bring ideas, longings and wood
-
💥Announcement! Friday 20.03.2026💥
🔥✊🏾APOTHEKE Party to Fund the Right to Stay and Repression Costs✊🏾🔥
Friday, 20.03.2026 | 7.00 pm | Bernkasteler Straße 78, 13088 Berlin
Arrival: Tram 12, 27; Bus 156, 255, 259 to Berliner Allee/Rennbahnstraße | Tram M4, M13, 12; Bus 255, 259 to Weißer See
📣 Call to action: https://asanb.noblogs.org/?p=16129 - @kim.rebelforlife
We invite you to join us at the second solidarity APOTHEKE party, this time in beautiful north-east Berlin at “Bass mit Hass”, to support current struggles for the right to stay and against the costs of repression, and to swap powerlessness and isolation for solidarity and warmth.
We hate the death machine called capitalism, we hate fascism, we hate the deportation authorities, the Smart City craze and the exploitation of the earth; articulating this simply feels good.
If you resist the death machine, no matter how large the shadows around you are and how far removed from others you feel, you may be alone, but you are also with all of us who are resisting.
Come together and let’s give grief, hatred and anger a space; this space shall be enveloped in vibrant bass and the crackling of the fire shall warm you.
Feel free to bring ideas, longings and wood
-
Rosa Faenskap – Ingenting Forblir Review By KronosDo you ever hear a punk song and think, “Sure, I’d also like to overthrow the establishment, but couldn’t you learn to play guitar a bit better?” Have you ever found yourself embarrassed to be banging your head to a sick black metal riff written and performed by one of the world’s most repugnant lowlifes? Yes. So have thousands of our brethren in every squat and co-op from Greece to Iceland; and as is their wont, they have taken matters into their own grubby hands, pressing a huge variety of records that radiate out from the collision of metal and hardcore in every hue and shade, from the bilious How Hate is Hard to Define to the cerulean Archivist. Rosa Faenskap, unsurprisingly, fit themselves into the long-wavelength end of that rainbow.
Practicing a particularly dark and frostbitten form of Euro-Lefty-Black-Hardcore, Rosa Faenskap find themselves between the vicious pallor of Thurm and the sanguine rage of Svalbard, on occasion reflecting a few fleeting tones from the early Plebeian Grandstand records. Emil Vestre grinds out icy tremolo leads as jagged as they come, crashing and crackling in coupled cacaphony with vocalist Håvard Solli’s snarling bass; in the pre-breakdown chug and pick-scrape of “Faenskap for alltid,” you’d swear you were standing six feet away from their amplifier in a damp Oslo basement. Drummer Anders Jansvik’s performance is likewise big and booming. Whatever the trio might lack, it’s not energy.
Ingenting Forblir by Rosa Faenskap
Though Rosa Faenskap are pretty green, this sophomore record is remarkably focused, holding its space through force and fury, hammering a few riffs as harshly as possible before their close. “Den Svake Mannen” rides a rung-out arpeggio so continuously that you can still hear it when Vestre switches over to tremolos, but I’m never disappointed to hear them return to it halfway through the song. “Faenskap for Alltid” pursues a more straightforward black metal at first, expertly executing a couple of stock tremolo metal riffs with a panache that I’m surprised to hear outside of a Spectral Wound record before the band shift from blackened to bruising, stomping through a breakdown and proclaiming “faenskap for alltid!” again and again.
Ingenting Forblir’s success stands in part on the band’s canny writing, but is far more indebted to its quality of sound. The record’s production and mix, handled by the band in collaboration with Oskar Johnsen Ryd and Torfinn Sommerfeldt Lysne, respects the vitality of the material, sounding live and livid. My only complaint is that Jansvik’s drums can get buried during busy sections, in part due to a muffled snare tone. Despite a low-DR master, the record is dynamic where it needs to be; when the band leave Vestre alone and pensive with their guitar, the quiet registers, and I feel myself slipping a bit closer in towards the record.
“Jeg Våkner Snart” closes Ingenting Forblir as the band’s most ambitious and successful song, layering tremolo leads over gang vocals, retreating into quiet, reverberating melody, and ending in a boiling conflagration of noise. For a sophomore record leaner and meaner than the band’s 2023 debut, it’s just the right ending. Ingenting Forblir hardly breaks new musical ground, but Rosa Faenskap’s sour determination will likely propel it into my regular listening rotation this year. In practice, I might not be up for faenskap for alltid, but I’ll happily recommend faenskap for lenge.
Rating: 3.5/5.0
#2026 #35 #BlackMetal #BlackenedHardcore #FysiskFormat #Hardcore #Mar26 #NorwegianMetal #Review #Reviews #Svalbard #Thurm
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Fysisk Format
Websites: rosafaenskap.com | rosafaenskap.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026 -
Rosa Faenskap – Ingenting Forblir Review By KronosDo you ever hear a punk song and think, “Sure, I’d also like to overthrow the establishment, but couldn’t you learn to play guitar a bit better?” Have you ever found yourself embarrassed to be banging your head to a sick black metal riff written and performed by one of the world’s most repugnant lowlifes? Yes. So have thousands of our brethren in every squat and co-op from Greece to Iceland; and as is their wont, they have taken matters into their own grubby hands, pressing a huge variety of records that radiate out from the collision of metal and hardcore in every hue and shade, from the bilious How Hate is Hard to Define to the cerulean Archivist. Rosa Faenskap, unsurprisingly, fit themselves into the long-wavelength end of that rainbow.
Practicing a particularly dark and frostbitten form of Euro-Lefty-Black-Hardcore, Rosa Faenskap find themselves between the vicious pallor of Thurm and the sanguine rage of Svalbard, on occasion reflecting a few fleeting tones from the early Plebeian Grandstand records. Emil Vestre grinds out icy tremolo leads as jagged as they come, crashing and crackling in coupled cacaphony with vocalist Håvard Solli’s snarling bass; in the pre-breakdown chug and pick-scrape of “Faenskap for alltid,” you’d swear you were standing six feet away from their amplifier in a damp Oslo basement. Drummer Anders Jansvik’s performance is likewise big and booming. Whatever the trio might lack, it’s not energy.
Ingenting Forblir by Rosa Faenskap
Though Rosa Faenskap are pretty green, this sophomore record is remarkably focused, holding its space through force and fury, hammering a few riffs as harshly as possible before their close. “Den Svake Mannen” rides a rung-out arpeggio so continuously that you can still hear it when Vestre switches over to tremolos, but I’m never disappointed to hear them return to it halfway through the song. “Faenskap for Alltid” pursues a more straightforward black metal at first, expertly executing a couple of stock tremolo metal riffs with a panache that I’m surprised to hear outside of a Spectral Wound record before the band shift from blackened to bruising, stomping through a breakdown and proclaiming “faenskap for alltid!” again and again.
Ingenting Forblir’s success stands in part on the band’s canny writing, but is far more indebted to its quality of sound. The record’s production and mix, handled by the band in collaboration with Oskar Johnsen Ryd and Torfinn Sommerfeldt Lysne, respects the vitality of the material, sounding live and livid. My only complaint is that Jansvik’s drums can get buried during busy sections, in part due to a muffled snare tone. Despite a low-DR master, the record is dynamic where it needs to be; when the band leave Vestre alone and pensive with their guitar, the quiet registers, and I feel myself slipping a bit closer in towards the record.
“Jeg Våkner Snart” closes Ingenting Forblir as the band’s most ambitious and successful song, layering tremolo leads over gang vocals, retreating into quiet, reverberating melody, and ending in a boiling conflagration of noise. For a sophomore record leaner and meaner than the band’s 2023 debut, it’s just the right ending. Ingenting Forblir hardly breaks new musical ground, but Rosa Faenskap’s sour determination will likely propel it into my regular listening rotation this year. In practice, I might not be up for faenskap for alltid, but I’ll happily recommend faenskap for lenge.
Rating: 3.5/5.0
#2026 #35 #BlackMetal #BlackenedHardcore #FysiskFormat #Hardcore #Mar26 #NorwegianMetal #Review #Reviews #Svalbard #Thurm
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Fysisk Format
Websites: rosafaenskap.com | rosafaenskap.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026 -
Rosa Faenskap – Ingenting Forblir Review By KronosDo you ever hear a punk song and think, “Sure, I’d also like to overthrow the establishment, but couldn’t you learn to play guitar a bit better?” Have you ever found yourself embarrassed to be banging your head to a sick black metal riff written and performed by one of the world’s most repugnant lowlifes? Yes. So have thousands of our brethren in every squat and co-op from Greece to Iceland; and as is their wont, they have taken matters into their own grubby hands, pressing a huge variety of records that radiate out from the collision of metal and hardcore in every hue and shade, from the bilious How Hate is Hard to Define to the cerulean Archivist. Rosa Faenskap, unsurprisingly, fit themselves into the long-wavelength end of that rainbow.
Practicing a particularly dark and frostbitten form of Euro-Lefty-Black-Hardcore, Rosa Faenskap find themselves between the vicious pallor of Thurm and the sanguine rage of Svalbard, on occasion reflecting a few fleeting tones from the early Plebeian Grandstand records. Emil Vestre grinds out icy tremolo leads as jagged as they come, crashing and crackling in coupled cacaphony with vocalist Håvard Solli’s snarling bass; in the pre-breakdown chug and pick-scrape of “Faenskap for alltid,” you’d swear you were standing six feet away from their amplifier in a damp Oslo basement. Drummer Anders Jansvik’s performance is likewise big and booming. Whatever the trio might lack, it’s not energy.
Ingenting Forblir by Rosa Faenskap
Though Rosa Faenskap are pretty green, this sophomore record is remarkably focused, holding its space through force and fury, hammering a few riffs as harshly as possible before their close. “Den Svake Mannen” rides a rung-out arpeggio so continuously that you can still hear it when Vestre switches over to tremolos, but I’m never disappointed to hear them return to it halfway through the song. “Faenskap for Alltid” pursues a more straightforward black metal at first, expertly executing a couple of stock tremolo metal riffs with a panache that I’m surprised to hear outside of a Spectral Wound record before the band shift from blackened to bruising, stomping through a breakdown and proclaiming “faenskap for alltid!” again and again.
Ingenting Forblir’s success stands in part on the band’s canny writing, but is far more indebted to its quality of sound. The record’s production and mix, handled by the band in collaboration with Oskar Johnsen Ryd and Torfinn Sommerfeldt Lysne, respects the vitality of the material, sounding live and livid. My only complaint is that Jansvik’s drums can get buried during busy sections, in part due to a muffled snare tone. Despite a low-DR master, the record is dynamic where it needs to be; when the band leave Vestre alone and pensive with their guitar, the quiet registers, and I feel myself slipping a bit closer in towards the record.
“Jeg Våkner Snart” closes Ingenting Forblir as the band’s most ambitious and successful song, layering tremolo leads over gang vocals, retreating into quiet, reverberating melody, and ending in a boiling conflagration of noise. For a sophomore record leaner and meaner than the band’s 2023 debut, it’s just the right ending. Ingenting Forblir hardly breaks new musical ground, but Rosa Faenskap’s sour determination will likely propel it into my regular listening rotation this year. In practice, I might not be up for faenskap for alltid, but I’ll happily recommend faenskap for lenge.
Rating: 3.5/5.0
#2026 #35 #BlackMetal #BlackenedHardcore #FysiskFormat #Hardcore #Mar26 #NorwegianMetal #Review #Reviews #Svalbard #Thurm
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Fysisk Format
Websites: rosafaenskap.com | rosafaenskap.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026 -
Rosa Faenskap – Ingenting Forblir Review By KronosDo you ever hear a punk song and think, “Sure, I’d also like to overthrow the establishment, but couldn’t you learn to play guitar a bit better?” Have you ever found yourself embarrassed to be banging your head to a sick black metal riff written and performed by one of the world’s most repugnant lowlifes? Yes. So have thousands of our brethren in every squat and co-op from Greece to Iceland; and as is their wont, they have taken matters into their own grubby hands, pressing a huge variety of records that radiate out from the collision of metal and hardcore in every hue and shade, from the bilious How Hate is Hard to Define to the cerulean Archivist. Rosa Faenskap, unsurprisingly, fit themselves into the long-wavelength end of that rainbow.
Practicing a particularly dark and frostbitten form of Euro-Lefty-Black-Hardcore, Rosa Faenskap find themselves between the vicious pallor of Thurm and the sanguine rage of Svalbard, on occasion reflecting a few fleeting tones from the early Plebeian Grandstand records. Emil Vestre grinds out icy tremolo leads as jagged as they come, crashing and crackling in coupled cacaphony with vocalist Håvard Solli’s snarling bass; in the pre-breakdown chug and pick-scrape of “Faenskap for alltid,” you’d swear you were standing six feet away from their amplifier in a damp Oslo basement. Drummer Anders Jansvik’s performance is likewise big and booming. Whatever the trio might lack, it’s not energy.
Ingenting Forblir by Rosa Faenskap
Though Rosa Faenskap are pretty green, this sophomore record is remarkably focused, holding its space through force and fury, hammering a few riffs as harshly as possible before their close. “Den Svake Mannen” rides a rung-out arpeggio so continuously that you can still hear it when Vestre switches over to tremolos, but I’m never disappointed to hear them return to it halfway through the song. “Faenskap for Alltid” pursues a more straightforward black metal at first, expertly executing a couple of stock tremolo metal riffs with a panache that I’m surprised to hear outside of a Spectral Wound record before the band shift from blackened to bruising, stomping through a breakdown and proclaiming “faenskap for alltid!” again and again.
Ingenting Forblir’s success stands in part on the band’s canny writing, but is far more indebted to its quality of sound. The record’s production and mix, handled by the band in collaboration with Oskar Johnsen Ryd and Torfinn Sommerfeldt Lysne, respects the vitality of the material, sounding live and livid. My only complaint is that Jansvik’s drums can get buried during busy sections, in part due to a muffled snare tone. Despite a low-DR master, the record is dynamic where it needs to be; when the band leave Vestre alone and pensive with their guitar, the quiet registers, and I feel myself slipping a bit closer in towards the record.
“Jeg Våkner Snart” closes Ingenting Forblir as the band’s most ambitious and successful song, layering tremolo leads over gang vocals, retreating into quiet, reverberating melody, and ending in a boiling conflagration of noise. For a sophomore record leaner and meaner than the band’s 2023 debut, it’s just the right ending. Ingenting Forblir hardly breaks new musical ground, but Rosa Faenskap’s sour determination will likely propel it into my regular listening rotation this year. In practice, I might not be up for faenskap for alltid, but I’ll happily recommend faenskap for lenge.
Rating: 3.5/5.0
#2026 #35 #BlackMetal #BlackenedHardcore #FysiskFormat #Hardcore #Mar26 #NorwegianMetal #Review #Reviews #Svalbard #Thurm
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Fysisk Format
Websites: rosafaenskap.com | rosafaenskap.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026 -
Rosa Faenskap – Ingenting Forblir Review By Kronos
Do you ever hear a punk song and think, “Sure, I’d also like to overthrow the establishment, but couldn’t you learn to play guitar a bit better?” Have you ever found yourself embarrassed to be banging your head to a sick black metal riff written and performed by one of the world’s most repugnant lowlifes? Yes. So have thousands of our brethren in every squat and co-op from Greece to Iceland; and as is their wont, they have taken matters into their own grubby hands, pressing a huge variety of records that radiate out from the collision of metal and hardcore in every hue and shade, from the bilious How Hate is Hard to Define to the cerulean Archivist. Rosa Faenskap, unsurprisingly, fit themselves into the long-wavelength end of that rainbow.
Practicing a particularly dark and frostbitten form of Euro-Lefty-Black-Hardcore, Rosa Faenskap find themselves between the vicious pallor of Thurm and the sanguine rage of Svalbard, on occasion reflecting a few fleeting tones from the early Plebeian Grandstand records. Emil Vestre grinds out icy tremolo leads as jagged as they come, crashing and crackling in coupled cacaphony with vocalist Håvard Solli’s snarling bass; in the pre-breakdown chug and pick-scrape of “Faenskap for alltid,” you’d swear you were standing six feet away from their amplifier in a damp Oslo basement. Drummer Anders Jansvik’s performance is likewise big and booming. Whatever the trio might lack, it’s not energy.
Ingenting Forblir by Rosa Faenskap
Though Rosa Faenskap are pretty green, this sophomore record is remarkably focused, holding its space through force and fury, hammering a few riffs as harshly as possible before their close. “Den Svake Mannen” rides a rung-out arpeggio so continuously that you can still hear it when Vestre switches over to tremolos, but I’m never disappointed to hear them return to it halfway through the song. “Faenskap for Alltid” pursues a more straightforward black metal at first, expertly executing a couple of stock tremolo metal riffs with a panache that I’m surprised to hear outside of a Spectral Wound record before the band shift from blackened to bruising, stomping through a breakdown and proclaiming “faenskap for alltid!” again and again.
Ingenting Forblir’s success stands in part on the band’s canny writing, but is far more indebted to its quality of sound. The record’s production and mix, handled by the band in collaboration with Oskar Johnsen Ryd and Torfinn Sommerfeldt Lysne, respects the vitality of the material, sounding live and livid. My only complaint is that Jansvik’s drums can get buried during busy sections, in part due to a muffled snare tone. Despite a low-DR master, the record is dynamic where it needs to be; when the band leave Vestre alone and pensive with their guitar, the quiet registers, and I feel myself slipping a bit closer in towards the record.
“Jeg Våkner Snart” closes Ingenting Forblir as the band’s most ambitious and successful song, layering tremolo leads over gang vocals, retreating into quiet, reverberating melody, and ending in a boiling conflagration of noise. For a sophomore record leaner and meaner than the band’s 2023 debut, it’s just the right ending. Ingenting Forblir hardly breaks new musical ground, but Rosa Faenskap’s sour determination will likely propel it into my regular listening rotation this year. In practice, I might not be up for faenskap for alltid, but I’ll happily recommend faenskap for lenge.
Rating: 3.5/5.0
#2026 #35 #BlackMetal #BlackenedHardcore #FysiskFormat #Hardcore #Mar26 #NorwegianMetal #Review #Reviews #Svalbard #Thurm
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Fysisk Format
Websites: rosafaenskap.com | rosafaenskap.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026 -
Louisville Hardcore Icons Endpoint To Reissue Their Album “After Taste” On February 27th
Photo by Chris HigdonNew York-based rock label Equal Vision Records and Endpoint are excited to announce the Friday, February 27 release of After Taste (Deluxe Edition), a fully remixed and remastered, 18-track expanded version of the influential Louisville, KY hardcore band’s 1993 album. When it was first released, After Taste was widely considered a “departure” for Endpoint. It’s slower, they said. It’s more melodic and less political. Back then, descriptions like these were deployed to signal to others when a band was supposedly moving away from hardcore — a genre that, up until the turn of the decade, was best known for being fast and discordant and socially outraged. In retrospect, nothing about this judgment holds up.
“Writing ‘After Taste’ was a time of transition for Endpoint — we were evolving as musicians and our music tastes were changing. The record is a testament to that change,” guitarist Duncan Barlow recalls. “The songs are a combination of heavy hardcore riffs and occasional pop sensibilities. We were trying to grow without losing our core values and our hardcore style, and as we grew together, we also found ourselves in a new dark period where we were watching our friends abuse drugs and alcohol, helping one another through heartbreaks, and struggling with the larger questions of identity and well-being.”Endpoint had always operated ahead of hardcore’s exploration curve. Which is to say that After Taste was, in fact, a confirmation of their ongoing commitment to evolution and all of the messy complexities that arise from it. It’s an album with range and dimensionality and even fearlessness. Much like their live shows at that time, sensuality and chaos dance with each other in unpredictable ways. And much like vocalist Rob Pennington’s live monologues from the era, its songs are neither afraid to be too vulnerable nor too vehement. Watch the music video and stream the new remixed/remastered version of “Force Fed” from After Taste (Deluxe Edition) on YouTube HERE. Pre-order the album HERE.
https://youtu.be/C-q0_S5Oq-w?si=d119vm7oM4k4eA_q
In the early 1980s, hardcore punk swept across the globe like a wildfire of youthful energy and angst. In the States, the pyres burned brightest in the highest population enclaves, particularly the major coastal cities. Miraculously, through tattered pages of fanzines, tales shared by friends, and crackling records and mixtapes, hardcore expanded beyond its metropolitan birthing grounds and into the corners of unassuming towns like Louisville, KY.
Louisville was disconnected from the pulse of culture when, in 1987, a handful of high school skaters and miscreants formed a band called Deathwatch. Deathwatch quickly morphed into Endpoint and, over the next six years, became the flagship Louisville hardcore band of the era. They are quite possibly the essential Louisville Hardcore band. While there were handfuls of hardcore bands in Louisville before Endpoint and many in the decades that followed, during their short existence, they defined a sound, perspective, and tangible sense of community that spread across the Midwest, throughout the continent, and across the oceans.
Because being from Louisville meant that Endpoint were blissfully free from the kinds of self-imposed restrictions that bound other artists — bands who lived in cities with more entrenched styles of hardcore, like New York or Cleveland or even Washington D.C. — and they repeatedly and consistently used that license to grow with liberal helpings of curiosity and courage and adaptation. Let’s not forget that this is the same band who, only one album prior, explicitly instructed us in this regard: “Don’t be scared of growing old,” Endpoint vocalist Rob Pennington advised us. “Just grow towards the sky.”
#ENDPOINT #HARDCORE #MUSIC #NEWS -
Poison Ruin Announce New Album; Share New Single And Video “Eidolon”
Photo by Kat BeanPoison Ruin’s Hymns from the Hills ambitiously rewrites the very rules of what punk is capable of achieving, pushing their sound into expansive new terrains without sacrificing an ounce of the bleak symbolism and uncompromising aggression that first established them as an urgent new voice in the world of extreme music.
The Philadelphia punks have expanded their signature approach to grim mythmaking and scythe-swinging aggression in bold new directions, offering up a new body of songs that strike one as equal parts natural, undeniably of this world, and phantasmal.
On Hymns from the Hills, Poison Ruin’s previous stories of toil and dispossession are revealed to be but one chapter etched upon a bleaker tapestry- One populated by spirits traversing sunless deserts and wilted hillsides, demonic torture objects limning the edges of the psyche, bodies transfigured into Luciferian snakes, Sadean prisoners bound to the screaming silence of abandoned castle towers.
Poison Ruin’s signature form of raw, anthemic aggression pummels on lead single “Eidolon”, released today alongside its video. Frontman, lyricist and guitarist Mac Kennedy states, “‘Eidolon’ is about being stuck in a broken reality, a cog in a fate-machine doomed to play out the same cursed loop until it fully breaks down. The ones who had the power to affect change have abandoned the scene. Their phantoms loom down in quiet disapproval of the disaster that slowly plays out beneath– Grim reminders of what could have, but will not be.”
https://youtu.be/VzQAPQT3kF4?si=FIh4QXSVsDsbXogN
The record is at once a forceful restatement of Poison Ruin’s trademark sound and a departure from it. The crackling, cassette-dubbed darkness and crushing rhythms listeners have become accustomed to are buttressed by a carefully sculpted mosaic of new textures, from flourishes of Killing Joke hacksaw primitivism and blast-beats worthy of the Relapse catalogue number to crisp analog synth lines and ambient serenades reminiscent of Scott Walker and The Durutti Column. Like a serpent moving ever outward with spiraling circularity, Hymns from the Hills expands Poison Ruin’s sonic landscape in imaginative new directions while maintaining its center of gravity firmly in the band’s already established mythos.
Hymns from the Hills is meticulously composed. Much like the rest of their work, this LP was self-recorded without the use of professional studio equipment. To meet the greater sonic demands of Hymns from the Hills, however, Poison Ruin lyricist and guitarist Mac Kennedy relocated to a private practice space, retiring from his previous routine of squeezing in tracking sessions around the rare moments that the band’s shared practice space happened to be vacant. To best serve the record’s grander ambitions, the band enlisted the mixing prowess of Jonah Falco (F*cked Up, Career Suicide) and the mastering of Arthur Rizk (Power Trip, Blood Incantation, Cavalera), who helped to elevate the record’s teeming variety of sounds to new heights of self-assured fidelity. Kennedy lent a second hand to the mixing process, splicing in grittier tape recorded segments in order to maintain a certain tonal continuity with the band’s previous work, creating a rich structure of unconventional frictions, crystalline flashes of polish ripping through abysses of hissing low end only to shatter against the whipping sting of rusted chains moments later.
Poison Ruin’s mythic sensibilities grip at new poetic heights. Lyrically, Hymns from the Hills extends both the cynicism and the defiant bravado of their established fantasy aesthetics. While the record continues Poison Ruin’s tradition of employing medieval-inflected fantasy imagery, Kennedy does not intend for these figures to be read as historically accurate. “I’m not very interested in conveying the historical facts of medieval culture. If we are to make sense of the present, we need to employ a more mythic mode of language and symbol to reach beyond the spiritual malaise that envelopes us. A mythic truth resonates within any time, but its echoes call from outside of time. Medieval and fantasy imagery are simply effective personal starting points for tapping into that mode of communication.”
Hymns from the Hills sees its release April 3 via Relapse Records on vinyl, CD and digital platforms. For more information on physical variants and to pre-order, go here.
#HARDCORE #HARDCOREPUNK #MUSIC #NEWS #POISONRUIN #POSTPUNK #PUNKROCK #RELAPSERECORDS -
Poison Ruin Announce New Album; Share New Single And Video “Eidolon”
Photo by Kat BeanPoison Ruin’s Hymns from the Hills ambitiously rewrites the very rules of what punk is capable of achieving, pushing their sound into expansive new terrains without sacrificing an ounce of the bleak symbolism and uncompromising aggression that first established them as an urgent new voice in the world of extreme music.
The Philadelphia punks have expanded their signature approach to grim mythmaking and scythe-swinging aggression in bold new directions, offering up a new body of songs that strike one as equal parts natural, undeniably of this world, and phantasmal.
On Hymns from the Hills, Poison Ruin’s previous stories of toil and dispossession are revealed to be but one chapter etched upon a bleaker tapestry- One populated by spirits traversing sunless deserts and wilted hillsides, demonic torture objects limning the edges of the psyche, bodies transfigured into Luciferian snakes, Sadean prisoners bound to the screaming silence of abandoned castle towers.
Poison Ruin’s signature form of raw, anthemic aggression pummels on lead single “Eidolon”, released today alongside its video. Frontman, lyricist and guitarist Mac Kennedy states, “‘Eidolon’ is about being stuck in a broken reality, a cog in a fate-machine doomed to play out the same cursed loop until it fully breaks down. The ones who had the power to affect change have abandoned the scene. Their phantoms loom down in quiet disapproval of the disaster that slowly plays out beneath– Grim reminders of what could have, but will not be.”
https://youtu.be/VzQAPQT3kF4?si=FIh4QXSVsDsbXogN
The record is at once a forceful restatement of Poison Ruin’s trademark sound and a departure from it. The crackling, cassette-dubbed darkness and crushing rhythms listeners have become accustomed to are buttressed by a carefully sculpted mosaic of new textures, from flourishes of Killing Joke hacksaw primitivism and blast-beats worthy of the Relapse catalogue number to crisp analog synth lines and ambient serenades reminiscent of Scott Walker and The Durutti Column. Like a serpent moving ever outward with spiraling circularity, Hymns from the Hills expands Poison Ruin’s sonic landscape in imaginative new directions while maintaining its center of gravity firmly in the band’s already established mythos.
Hymns from the Hills is meticulously composed. Much like the rest of their work, this LP was self-recorded without the use of professional studio equipment. To meet the greater sonic demands of Hymns from the Hills, however, Poison Ruin lyricist and guitarist Mac Kennedy relocated to a private practice space, retiring from his previous routine of squeezing in tracking sessions around the rare moments that the band’s shared practice space happened to be vacant. To best serve the record’s grander ambitions, the band enlisted the mixing prowess of Jonah Falco (F*cked Up, Career Suicide) and the mastering of Arthur Rizk (Power Trip, Blood Incantation, Cavalera), who helped to elevate the record’s teeming variety of sounds to new heights of self-assured fidelity. Kennedy lent a second hand to the mixing process, splicing in grittier tape recorded segments in order to maintain a certain tonal continuity with the band’s previous work, creating a rich structure of unconventional frictions, crystalline flashes of polish ripping through abysses of hissing low end only to shatter against the whipping sting of rusted chains moments later.
Poison Ruin’s mythic sensibilities grip at new poetic heights. Lyrically, Hymns from the Hills extends both the cynicism and the defiant bravado of their established fantasy aesthetics. While the record continues Poison Ruin’s tradition of employing medieval-inflected fantasy imagery, Kennedy does not intend for these figures to be read as historically accurate. “I’m not very interested in conveying the historical facts of medieval culture. If we are to make sense of the present, we need to employ a more mythic mode of language and symbol to reach beyond the spiritual malaise that envelopes us. A mythic truth resonates within any time, but its echoes call from outside of time. Medieval and fantasy imagery are simply effective personal starting points for tapping into that mode of communication.”
Hymns from the Hills sees its release April 3 via Relapse Records on vinyl, CD and digital platforms. For more information on physical variants and to pre-order, go here.
#HARDCORE #HARDCOREPUNK #MUSIC #NEWS #POISONRUIN #POSTPUNK #PUNKROCK #RELAPSERECORDS -
By Grin Reaper
Dense, dark, and demented, Lychgate’s Precipice breaks nearly six years of silence with music as unsettling as the concept it’s built upon. The album’s primary inspiration draws from E. M. Forster’s short story “The Machine Stops,” a dystopian tale first published in 1909 that cautions against over-reliance on technology.1 In it, The Machine enables people to govern their lives from isolated chambers, interacting virtually rather than in person after the Earth’s surface becomes uninhabitable. Integrating notions such as blind obedience to technology, instantaneous communication, and climate change furnishes a lavish backdrop for London’s Lychgate and their fourth LP.2 Given the promise of its premise, does Precipice step off the ledge and soar, or plummet to the depths of obscurity?
Brandishing a broad array of atmospheres and a flair for generating tension, Lychgate conjures oppressive auras that equally frighten and excite. To that end, Precipice’s aural footprint lands somewhere between Blut aus Nord’s dissonant grooves and a decelerated Imperial Triumphant at their most cinematic (think “Transmission to Mercury”), taking the avant-garde trappings of each and devising a mood and character all Lychgate’s own. Emboldened by jazzy flourishes à la Dødheimsgard, Scarcity’s cacophonous, freeform nonconformity, and Morast’s caustic claustrophobia, Lychgate forges an unforgiving yet layered experience that outstrips single reference points. Tensions runs roughshod throughout Precipice, knotting its nine tracks into gnarled enigmas that demand to be sussed out with care. Gone are the clean vocals from The Contagion in Nine Steps and An Antidote for the Glass Pill, and instead vocalist Greg Chandler focuses solely on barks and snarls that remind of Doug Moore’s urgent rasps. Atop it all, Lychgate further embeds the organ into the band’s core sound and discharges potent riffs at key climactic junctures, leaving Precipice crackling with vitality and unpredictability.
Precipice’s varied compositions and instrumentations coalesce to propel Lychgate to new heights. It’s a mature release that exemplifies the prevailing virtues of prior albums, unifying them into an impressively intricate forty-eight minutes. The organ, credited to permanent member J. C. Young and session musician F. A. Young, plays a central role, spanning the gamut from lunatic funhouse (“Anagnorisis”) to Phantom of the Opera gothic drama (“Mausoleum of Steel”). It keenly weaves a calculated stress, plying tension in ebbs and flows that cleverly and constantly push the album forward. Besides organ and piano, loose guitar structures regularly bleed into riffs plucked out of an eldritch ether, oscillating between Zappa’s Jazz from Hell and unearthly, pit-scorching acrobatics (“Renunciation”). A doleful, introspective melody in “The Meeting of Orion and Scorpio” diversifies the sound and pacing, followed by a hectic skittering in “Hive of Parasites” that gives way to a slow-burn passage heavily featuring jazz flute. Myriad components fuse into a whole that should not sound as cohesive as it does, but Lychgate takes their carnival of sounds and crafts a finely-honed album that deserves more attention than it will get with an end-of-year release.
Lychgate employs a satisfying and well-considered array of ideas in service of Precipice, though a few hiccups are present. Besides the musical diversity, Lychgate flaunts remarkable instincts when it comes to pacing. Having the longest track as the midpoint of the album works well and helps establish a clear listening milestone; I only wish the back end of “Hive of Parasites” had been trimmed a touch, as the last three minutes blur together. The mix is another boon, providing ample space for S. D. Lindsley’s guitar, Tom MacLean’s bass, and T. J. F. Vallely’s drums. The only quibble is Precipice’s density, which could put off those lacking the time to absorb its demure gifts. All told, though, Lychgate earns every bit of praise by merging this many ideas so cohesively.
Despite its late release and complex composition, Lychgate delivers a smash success that commands and indisputably warrants your attention. Precipice isn’t easy to understand, but it’s irresistibly easy to spin again and again. And you should, because it takes time to unravel.3 Precipice has been one of my most played albums of the year at a time when I’ve been busiest both personally and professionally, routinely ensnaring me with its enchanting hooks and wiles. For my money, Lychgate has released the best album of their career, and you owe it to yourself to step up to the Precipice and take a leap of faith.
Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 19th, 2025#2025 #40 #AvantGardeBlackMetal #BlackMetal #BlutAusNord #DebemurMortiProductions #Dec25 #Dödheimsgard #EnglishMetal #FrankZappa #ImperialTriumphant #Lychgate #Morast #Precipice #Review #Reviews
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By Grin Reaper
Dense, dark, and demented, Lychgate’s Precipice breaks nearly six years of silence with music as unsettling as the concept it’s built upon. The album’s primary inspiration draws from E. M. Forster’s short story “The Machine Stops,” a dystopian tale first published in 1909 that cautions against over-reliance on technology.1 In it, The Machine enables people to govern their lives from isolated chambers, interacting virtually rather than in person after the Earth’s surface becomes uninhabitable. Integrating notions such as blind obedience to technology, instantaneous communication, and climate change furnishes a lavish backdrop for London’s Lychgate and their fourth LP.2 Given the promise of its premise, does Precipice step off the ledge and soar, or plummet to the depths of obscurity?
Brandishing a broad array of atmospheres and a flair for generating tension, Lychgate conjures oppressive auras that equally frighten and excite. To that end, Precipice’s aural footprint lands somewhere between Blut aus Nord’s dissonant grooves and a decelerated Imperial Triumphant at their most cinematic (think “Transmission to Mercury”), taking the avant-garde trappings of each and devising a mood and character all Lychgate’s own. Emboldened by jazzy flourishes à la Dødheimsgard, Scarcity’s cacophonous, freeform nonconformity, and Morast’s caustic claustrophobia, Lychgate forges an unforgiving yet layered experience that outstrips single reference points. Tensions runs roughshod throughout Precipice, knotting its nine tracks into gnarled enigmas that demand to be sussed out with care. Gone are the clean vocals from The Contagion in Nine Steps and An Antidote for the Glass Pill, and instead vocalist Greg Chandler focuses solely on barks and snarls that remind of Doug Moore’s urgent rasps. Atop it all, Lychgate further embeds the organ into the band’s core sound and discharges potent riffs at key climactic junctures, leaving Precipice crackling with vitality and unpredictability.
Precipice’s varied compositions and instrumentations coalesce to propel Lychgate to new heights. It’s a mature release that exemplifies the prevailing virtues of prior albums, unifying them into an impressively intricate forty-eight minutes. The organ, credited to permanent member J. C. Young and session musician F. A. Young, plays a central role, spanning the gamut from lunatic funhouse (“Anagnorisis”) to Phantom of the Opera gothic drama (“Mausoleum of Steel”). It keenly weaves a calculated stress, plying tension in ebbs and flows that cleverly and constantly push the album forward. Besides organ and piano, loose guitar structures regularly bleed into riffs plucked out of an eldritch ether, oscillating between Zappa’s Jazz from Hell and unearthly, pit-scorching acrobatics (“Renunciation”). A doleful, introspective melody in “The Meeting of Orion and Scorpio” diversifies the sound and pacing, followed by a hectic skittering in “Hive of Parasites” that gives way to a slow-burn passage heavily featuring jazz flute. Myriad components fuse into a whole that should not sound as cohesive as it does, but Lychgate takes their carnival of sounds and crafts a finely-honed album that deserves more attention than it will get with an end-of-year release.
Lychgate employs a satisfying and well-considered array of ideas in service of Precipice, though a few hiccups are present. Besides the musical diversity, Lychgate flaunts remarkable instincts when it comes to pacing. Having the longest track as the midpoint of the album works well and helps establish a clear listening milestone; I only wish the back end of “Hive of Parasites” had been trimmed a touch, as the last three minutes blur together. The mix is another boon, providing ample space for S. D. Lindsley’s guitar, Tom MacLean’s bass, and T. J. F. Vallely’s drums. The only quibble is Precipice’s density, which could put off those lacking the time to absorb its demure gifts. All told, though, Lychgate earns every bit of praise by merging this many ideas so cohesively.
Despite its late release and complex composition, Lychgate delivers a smash success that commands and indisputably warrants your attention. Precipice isn’t easy to understand, but it’s irresistibly easy to spin again and again. And you should, because it takes time to unravel.3 Precipice has been one of my most played albums of the year at a time when I’ve been busiest both personally and professionally, routinely ensnaring me with its enchanting hooks and wiles. For my money, Lychgate has released the best album of their career, and you owe it to yourself to step up to the Precipice and take a leap of faith.
Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 19th, 2025#2025 #40 #AvantGardeBlackMetal #BlackMetal #BlutAusNord #DebemurMortiProductions #Dec25 #Dödheimsgard #EnglishMetal #FrankZappa #ImperialTriumphant #Lychgate #Morast #Precipice #Review #Reviews
-
By Grin Reaper
Dense, dark, and demented, Lychgate’s Precipice breaks nearly six years of silence with music as unsettling as the concept it’s built upon. The album’s primary inspiration draws from E. M. Forster’s short story “The Machine Stops,” a dystopian tale first published in 1909 that cautions against over-reliance on technology.1 In it, The Machine enables people to govern their lives from isolated chambers, interacting virtually rather than in person after the Earth’s surface becomes uninhabitable. Integrating notions such as blind obedience to technology, instantaneous communication, and climate change furnishes a lavish backdrop for London’s Lychgate and their fourth LP.2 Given the promise of its premise, does Precipice step off the ledge and soar, or plummet to the depths of obscurity?
Brandishing a broad array of atmospheres and a flair for generating tension, Lychgate conjures oppressive auras that equally frighten and excite. To that end, Precipice’s aural footprint lands somewhere between Blut aus Nord’s dissonant grooves and a decelerated Imperial Triumphant at their most cinematic (think “Transmission to Mercury”), taking the avant-garde trappings of each and devising a mood and character all Lychgate’s own. Emboldened by jazzy flourishes à la Dødheimsgard, Scarcity’s cacophonous, freeform nonconformity, and Morast’s caustic claustrophobia, Lychgate forges an unforgiving yet layered experience that outstrips single reference points. Tensions runs roughshod throughout Precipice, knotting its nine tracks into gnarled enigmas that demand to be sussed out with care. Gone are the clean vocals from The Contagion in Nine Steps and An Antidote for the Glass Pill, and instead vocalist Greg Chandler focuses solely on barks and snarls that remind of Doug Moore’s urgent rasps. Atop it all, Lychgate further embeds the organ into the band’s core sound and discharges potent riffs at key climactic junctures, leaving Precipice crackling with vitality and unpredictability.
Precipice’s varied compositions and instrumentations coalesce to propel Lychgate to new heights. It’s a mature release that exemplifies the prevailing virtues of prior albums, unifying them into an impressively intricate forty-eight minutes. The organ, credited to permanent member J. C. Young and session musician F. A. Young, plays a central role, spanning the gamut from lunatic funhouse (“Anagnorisis”) to Phantom of the Opera gothic drama (“Mausoleum of Steel”). It keenly weaves a calculated stress, plying tension in ebbs and flows that cleverly and constantly push the album forward. Besides organ and piano, loose guitar structures regularly bleed into riffs plucked out of an eldritch ether, oscillating between Zappa’s Jazz from Hell and unearthly, pit-scorching acrobatics (“Renunciation”). A doleful, introspective melody in “The Meeting of Orion and Scorpio” diversifies the sound and pacing, followed by a hectic skittering in “Hive of Parasites” that gives way to a slow-burn passage heavily featuring jazz flute. Myriad components fuse into a whole that should not sound as cohesive as it does, but Lychgate takes their carnival of sounds and crafts a finely-honed album that deserves more attention than it will get with an end-of-year release.
Lychgate employs a satisfying and well-considered array of ideas in service of Precipice, though a few hiccups are present. Besides the musical diversity, Lychgate flaunts remarkable instincts when it comes to pacing. Having the longest track as the midpoint of the album works well and helps establish a clear listening milestone; I only wish the back end of “Hive of Parasites” had been trimmed a touch, as the last three minutes blur together. The mix is another boon, providing ample space for S. D. Lindsley’s guitar, Tom MacLean’s bass, and T. J. F. Vallely’s drums. The only quibble is Precipice’s density, which could put off those lacking the time to absorb its demure gifts. All told, though, Lychgate earns every bit of praise by merging this many ideas so cohesively.
Despite its late release and complex composition, Lychgate delivers a smash success that commands and indisputably warrants your attention. Precipice isn’t easy to understand, but it’s irresistibly easy to spin again and again. And you should, because it takes time to unravel.3 Precipice has been one of my most played albums of the year at a time when I’ve been busiest both personally and professionally, routinely ensnaring me with its enchanting hooks and wiles. For my money, Lychgate has released the best album of their career, and you owe it to yourself to step up to the Precipice and take a leap of faith.
Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 19th, 2025#2025 #40 #AvantGardeBlackMetal #BlackMetal #BlutAusNord #DebemurMortiProductions #Dec25 #Dödheimsgard #EnglishMetal #FrankZappa #ImperialTriumphant #Lychgate #Morast #Precipice #Review #Reviews
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By Grin Reaper
Dense, dark, and demented, Lychgate’s Precipice breaks nearly six years of silence with music as unsettling as the concept it’s built upon. The album’s primary inspiration draws from E. M. Forster’s short story “The Machine Stops,” a dystopian tale first published in 1909 that cautions against over-reliance on technology.1 In it, The Machine enables people to govern their lives from isolated chambers, interacting virtually rather than in person after the Earth’s surface becomes uninhabitable. Integrating notions such as blind obedience to technology, instantaneous communication, and climate change furnishes a lavish backdrop for London’s Lychgate and their fourth LP.2 Given the promise of its premise, does Precipice step off the ledge and soar, or plummet to the depths of obscurity?
Brandishing a broad array of atmospheres and a flair for generating tension, Lychgate conjures oppressive auras that equally frighten and excite. To that end, Precipice’s aural footprint lands somewhere between Blut aus Nord’s dissonant grooves and a decelerated Imperial Triumphant at their most cinematic (think “Transmission to Mercury”), taking the avant-garde trappings of each and devising a mood and character all Lychgate’s own. Emboldened by jazzy flourishes à la Dødheimsgard, Scarcity’s cacophonous, freeform nonconformity, and Morast’s caustic claustrophobia, Lychgate forges an unforgiving yet layered experience that outstrips single reference points. Tensions runs roughshod throughout Precipice, knotting its nine tracks into gnarled enigmas that demand to be sussed out with care. Gone are the clean vocals from The Contagion in Nine Steps and An Antidote for the Glass Pill, and instead vocalist Greg Chandler focuses solely on barks and snarls that remind of Doug Moore’s urgent rasps. Atop it all, Lychgate further embeds the organ into the band’s core sound and discharges potent riffs at key climactic junctures, leaving Precipice crackling with vitality and unpredictability.
Precipice’s varied compositions and instrumentations coalesce to propel Lychgate to new heights. It’s a mature release that exemplifies the prevailing virtues of prior albums, unifying them into an impressively intricate forty-eight minutes. The organ, credited to permanent member J. C. Young and session musician F. A. Young, plays a central role, spanning the gamut from lunatic funhouse (“Anagnorisis”) to Phantom of the Opera gothic drama (“Mausoleum of Steel”). It keenly weaves a calculated stress, plying tension in ebbs and flows that cleverly and constantly push the album forward. Besides organ and piano, loose guitar structures regularly bleed into riffs plucked out of an eldritch ether, oscillating between Zappa’s Jazz from Hell and unearthly, pit-scorching acrobatics (“Renunciation”). A doleful, introspective melody in “The Meeting of Orion and Scorpio” diversifies the sound and pacing, followed by a hectic skittering in “Hive of Parasites” that gives way to a slow-burn passage heavily featuring jazz flute. Myriad components fuse into a whole that should not sound as cohesive as it does, but Lychgate takes their carnival of sounds and crafts a finely-honed album that deserves more attention than it will get with an end-of-year release.
Lychgate employs a satisfying and well-considered array of ideas in service of Precipice, though a few hiccups are present. Besides the musical diversity, Lychgate flaunts remarkable instincts when it comes to pacing. Having the longest track as the midpoint of the album works well and helps establish a clear listening milestone; I only wish the back end of “Hive of Parasites” had been trimmed a touch, as the last three minutes blur together. The mix is another boon, providing ample space for S. D. Lindsley’s guitar, Tom MacLean’s bass, and T. J. F. Vallely’s drums. The only quibble is Precipice’s density, which could put off those lacking the time to absorb its demure gifts. All told, though, Lychgate earns every bit of praise by merging this many ideas so cohesively.
Despite its late release and complex composition, Lychgate delivers a smash success that commands and indisputably warrants your attention. Precipice isn’t easy to understand, but it’s irresistibly easy to spin again and again. And you should, because it takes time to unravel.3 Precipice has been one of my most played albums of the year at a time when I’ve been busiest both personally and professionally, routinely ensnaring me with its enchanting hooks and wiles. For my money, Lychgate has released the best album of their career, and you owe it to yourself to step up to the Precipice and take a leap of faith.
Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 19th, 2025#2025 #40 #AvantGardeBlackMetal #BlackMetal #BlutAusNord #DebemurMortiProductions #Dec25 #Dödheimsgard #EnglishMetal #FrankZappa #ImperialTriumphant #Lychgate #Morast #Precipice #Review #Reviews
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By Grin Reaper
Dense, dark, and demented, Lychgate’s Precipice breaks nearly six years of silence with music as unsettling as the concept it’s built upon. The album’s primary inspiration draws from E. M. Forster’s short story “The Machine Stops,” a dystopian tale first published in 1909 that cautions against over-reliance on technology.1 In it, The Machine enables people to govern their lives from isolated chambers, interacting virtually rather than in person after the Earth’s surface becomes uninhabitable. Integrating notions such as blind obedience to technology, instantaneous communication, and climate change furnishes a lavish backdrop for London’s Lychgate and their fourth LP.2 Given the promise of its premise, does Precipice step off the ledge and soar, or plummet to the depths of obscurity?
Brandishing a broad array of atmospheres and a flair for generating tension, Lychgate conjures oppressive auras that equally frighten and excite. To that end, Precipice’s aural footprint lands somewhere between Blut aus Nord’s dissonant grooves and a decelerated Imperial Triumphant at their most cinematic (think “Transmission to Mercury”), taking the avant-garde trappings of each and devising a mood and character all Lychgate’s own. Emboldened by jazzy flourishes à la Dødheimsgard, Scarcity’s cacophonous, freeform nonconformity, and Morast’s caustic claustrophobia, Lychgate forges an unforgiving yet layered experience that outstrips single reference points. Tensions runs roughshod throughout Precipice, knotting its nine tracks into gnarled enigmas that demand to be sussed out with care. Gone are the clean vocals from The Contagion in Nine Steps and An Antidote for the Glass Pill, and instead vocalist Greg Chandler focuses solely on barks and snarls that remind of Doug Moore’s urgent rasps. Atop it all, Lychgate further embeds the organ into the band’s core sound and discharges potent riffs at key climactic junctures, leaving Precipice crackling with vitality and unpredictability.
Precipice’s varied compositions and instrumentations coalesce to propel Lychgate to new heights. It’s a mature release that exemplifies the prevailing virtues of prior albums, unifying them into an impressively intricate forty-eight minutes. The organ, credited to permanent member J. C. Young and session musician F. A. Young, plays a central role, spanning the gamut from lunatic funhouse (“Anagnorisis”) to Phantom of the Opera gothic drama (“Mausoleum of Steel”). It keenly weaves a calculated stress, plying tension in ebbs and flows that cleverly and constantly push the album forward. Besides organ and piano, loose guitar structures regularly bleed into riffs plucked out of an eldritch ether, oscillating between Zappa’s Jazz from Hell and unearthly, pit-scorching acrobatics (“Renunciation”). A doleful, introspective melody in “The Meeting of Orion and Scorpio” diversifies the sound and pacing, followed by a hectic skittering in “Hive of Parasites” that gives way to a slow-burn passage heavily featuring jazz flute. Myriad components fuse into a whole that should not sound as cohesive as it does, but Lychgate takes their carnival of sounds and crafts a finely-honed album that deserves more attention than it will get with an end-of-year release.
Lychgate employs a satisfying and well-considered array of ideas in service of Precipice, though a few hiccups are present. Besides the musical diversity, Lychgate flaunts remarkable instincts when it comes to pacing. Having the longest track as the midpoint of the album works well and helps establish a clear listening milestone; I only wish the back end of “Hive of Parasites” had been trimmed a touch, as the last three minutes blur together. The mix is another boon, providing ample space for S. D. Lindsley’s guitar, Tom MacLean’s bass, and T. J. F. Vallely’s drums. The only quibble is Precipice’s density, which could put off those lacking the time to absorb its demure gifts. All told, though, Lychgate earns every bit of praise by merging this many ideas so cohesively.
Despite its late release and complex composition, Lychgate delivers a smash success that commands and indisputably warrants your attention. Precipice isn’t easy to understand, but it’s irresistibly easy to spin again and again. And you should, because it takes time to unravel.3 Precipice has been one of my most played albums of the year at a time when I’ve been busiest both personally and professionally, routinely ensnaring me with its enchanting hooks and wiles. For my money, Lychgate has released the best album of their career, and you owe it to yourself to step up to the Precipice and take a leap of faith.
Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 19th, 2025#2025 #40 #AvantGardeBlackMetal #BlackMetal #BlutAusNord #DebemurMortiProductions #Dec25 #Dödheimsgard #EnglishMetal #FrankZappa #ImperialTriumphant #Lychgate #Morast #Precipice #Review #Reviews
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By Creeping Ivy
In the world of academia, the ‘monograph’ reigns supreme. A book-length study of a single subject, a monograph should synthesize essay-length analyses into one argument that contributes something new to the scholar’s field. To analogize the world of music to academia: the monograph stands in for the album, demonstrating an artist’s ability to cohere individual songs into one holistic listen. Monograf, a Norwegian post-rock collective, published its first monograph in 2019. Nadir made a novel contribution to post-rock by adding Norwegian folk music to soundscapes reminiscent of Godspeed You! Black Emperor.1 As it reviews sophomore effort Occultation, the tenure board will determine whether Monograf is worthy of that increasingly elusive professional state—job security.
The academic analogy suits Mongraf, given the background of its primary composer. Erik Aanonsen is polymathic; he serves as vocalist and guitarist, writes the music and lyrics, and even provides nykkelharpa (a Swedish keyed fiddle). Aanonsen also leverages his degree in film scoring as producer and recording engineer for Occultation.2 With a keyboardist (Ingvill Trydal) and another fiddler in tow (Sunniva Molvær Ihlhaug), Monograf sculpt cinematic tracks that sound like a less droning Wyatt E. These songs weave serpentine riffs, atmospheric synths, and folky fiddling into a loud/quiet/loud tapestry. The fiddle melodies frequently take center stage, crescendoing into intense payoffs (“The Prophet,” “Cripplegate”). Despite being more compressed than a cinematic album should be, the production is delightfully organic, especially its crackling guitar tones. Essentially, Occultation scores its cover art: one can feel the heat rising in this druid-filled sonic desert.
Occultation explores a more metal subject than its post-rock predecessor, mostly with success. With album two, Monograf adds doom, progressive, and even extreme metal credentials to their CV.3 Aanonsen, second guitarist Martin Sivertsen, and bassist Hanna Sannes Aanonsen often begin songs with the droning simplicity of an Om-inspired riff that develops into complex noodling à la prog-era Opeth (“The Prophet,” “Occultation”). Drummer Erlend Markussen Kilane adds more complexity, roving between jazzy snare work, thundering tom hits, and scene-stealing fills (“Cripplegate,” “Carrion Seller”). Vocally, Aanonsen still delivers the ghostly cleans that dominate Nadir, but he adds a raspy shout to Occultation. For the most part, these harsh vocals create urgency that the music doesn’t quite call for. But occasionally, Monograf snags a catchy chorus out of Aanonsen’s shout (“Occultation”).
Monograf aptly structures Occultation as a whole, though the songwriting strategy grows repetitive. Occultation is a dyad; a mid-album breather (“Ashes”) divides halves comprised of two longer songs. “The Prophet” and “Cripplegate” kick things off with compelling call-and-response arrangements: the riffs call, the fiddle responds. “Ashes” is a welcome reprieve, smothering intimate acoustic chords and Aanonsen’s gorgeous cleans underneath drum flourishes that swell in volume. The track comes off, however, as a bit of an academic exercise. Once “Carrion Seller” kicks in, the listener realizes that the call-and-response song structure is something of a formula. Fortunately, closer “Occultation” varies the formula, feeling more like a slow burn than a riff/fiddle conversation.
Monograf should feel secure in their new, metal-adjacent specialization. Despite my criticism of Occultation’s repetitive songwriting, its 40-minute runtime invites repeat visitations of its alluring soundscape. Fans of drone and doom should especially take notice. While its folk-infused heaviness is not an intervention on par with the most recent Wyatt E. release, Occultation skillfully balances hypnotism and memorability in its riffwork. On monograph three, I suspect that Monograf will inch closer to the oasis in the desert that is the tenure track.
Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nordic Mission
Websites: monograf.bandcamp.com/ | facebook.com/monografband | instagram.com/monografband
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025#2025 #30 #antestor #doomMetal #drone #folk #godspeedYouBlackEmperor #monograf #nordicMission #norwegianMetal #nov25 #occultation #om #opeth #overheadProductions #postRock #progressiveMetal #review #reviews #wyattE
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By Creeping Ivy
In the world of academia, the ‘monograph’ reigns supreme. A book-length study of a single subject, a monograph should synthesize essay-length analyses into one argument that contributes something new to the scholar’s field. To analogize the world of music to academia: the monograph stands in for the album, demonstrating an artist’s ability to cohere individual songs into one holistic listen. Monograf, a Norwegian post-rock collective, published its first monograph in 2019. Nadir made a novel contribution to post-rock by adding Norwegian folk music to soundscapes reminiscent of Godspeed You! Black Emperor.1 As it reviews sophomore effort Occultation, the tenure board will determine whether Monograf is worthy of that increasingly elusive professional state—job security.
The academic analogy suits Mongraf, given the background of its primary composer. Erik Aanonsen is polymathic; he serves as vocalist and guitarist, writes the music and lyrics, and even provides nykkelharpa (a Swedish keyed fiddle). Aanonsen also leverages his degree in film scoring as producer and recording engineer for Occultation.2 With a keyboardist (Ingvill Trydal) and another fiddler in tow (Sunniva Molvær Ihlhaug), Monograf sculpt cinematic tracks that sound like a less droning Wyatt E. These songs weave serpentine riffs, atmospheric synths, and folky fiddling into a loud/quiet/loud tapestry. The fiddle melodies frequently take center stage, crescendoing into intense payoffs (“The Prophet,” “Cripplegate”). Despite being more compressed than a cinematic album should be, the production is delightfully organic, especially its crackling guitar tones. Essentially, Occultation scores its cover art: one can feel the heat rising in this druid-filled sonic desert.
Occultation explores a more metal subject than its post-rock predecessor, mostly with success. With album two, Monograf adds doom, progressive, and even extreme metal credentials to their CV.3 Aanonsen, second guitarist Martin Sivertsen, and bassist Hanna Sannes Aanonsen often begin songs with the droning simplicity of an Om-inspired riff that develops into complex noodling à la prog-era Opeth (“The Prophet,” “Occultation”). Drummer Erlend Markussen Kilane adds more complexity, roving between jazzy snare work, thundering tom hits, and scene-stealing fills (“Cripplegate,” “Carrion Seller”). Vocally, Aanonsen still delivers the ghostly cleans that dominate Nadir, but he adds a raspy shout to Occultation. For the most part, these harsh vocals create urgency that the music doesn’t quite call for. But occasionally, Monograf snags a catchy chorus out of Aanonsen’s shout (“Occultation”).
Monograf aptly structures Occultation as a whole, though the songwriting strategy grows repetitive. Occultation is a dyad; a mid-album breather (“Ashes”) divides halves comprised of two longer songs. “The Prophet” and “Cripplegate” kick things off with compelling call-and-response arrangements: the riffs call, the fiddle responds. “Ashes” is a welcome reprieve, smothering intimate acoustic chords and Aanonsen’s gorgeous cleans underneath drum flourishes that swell in volume. The track comes off, however, as a bit of an academic exercise. Once “Carrion Seller” kicks in, the listener realizes that the call-and-response song structure is something of a formula. Fortunately, closer “Occultation” varies the formula, feeling more like a slow burn than a riff/fiddle conversation.
Monograf should feel secure in their new, metal-adjacent specialization. Despite my criticism of Occultation’s repetitive songwriting, its 40-minute runtime invites repeat visitations of its alluring soundscape. Fans of drone and doom should especially take notice. While its folk-infused heaviness is not an intervention on par with the most recent Wyatt E. release, Occultation skillfully balances hypnotism and memorability in its riffwork. On monograph three, I suspect that Monograf will inch closer to the oasis in the desert that is the tenure track.
Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nordic Mission
Websites: monograf.bandcamp.com/ | facebook.com/monografband | instagram.com/monografband
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025#2025 #30 #antestor #doomMetal #drone #folk #godspeedYouBlackEmperor #monograf #nordicMission #norwegianMetal #nov25 #occultation #om #opeth #overheadProductions #postRock #progressiveMetal #review #reviews #wyattE
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By Creeping Ivy
In the world of academia, the ‘monograph’ reigns supreme. A book-length study of a single subject, a monograph should synthesize essay-length analyses into one argument that contributes something new to the scholar’s field. To analogize the world of music to academia: the monograph stands in for the album, demonstrating an artist’s ability to cohere individual songs into one holistic listen. Monograf, a Norwegian post-rock collective, published its first monograph in 2019. Nadir made a novel contribution to post-rock by adding Norwegian folk music to soundscapes reminiscent of Godspeed You! Black Emperor.1 As it reviews sophomore effort Occultation, the tenure board will determine whether Monograf is worthy of that increasingly elusive professional state—job security.
The academic analogy suits Mongraf, given the background of its primary composer. Erik Aanonsen is polymathic; he serves as vocalist and guitarist, writes the music and lyrics, and even provides nykkelharpa (a Swedish keyed fiddle). Aanonsen also leverages his degree in film scoring as producer and recording engineer for Occultation.2 With a keyboardist (Ingvill Trydal) and another fiddler in tow (Sunniva Molvær Ihlhaug), Monograf sculpt cinematic tracks that sound like a less droning Wyatt E. These songs weave serpentine riffs, atmospheric synths, and folky fiddling into a loud/quiet/loud tapestry. The fiddle melodies frequently take center stage, crescendoing into intense payoffs (“The Prophet,” “Cripplegate”). Despite being more compressed than a cinematic album should be, the production is delightfully organic, especially its crackling guitar tones. Essentially, Occultation scores its cover art: one can feel the heat rising in this druid-filled sonic desert.
Occultation explores a more metal subject than its post-rock predecessor, mostly with success. With album two, Monograf adds doom, progressive, and even extreme metal credentials to their CV.3 Aanonsen, second guitarist Martin Sivertsen, and bassist Hanna Sannes Aanonsen often begin songs with the droning simplicity of an Om-inspired riff that develops into complex noodling à la prog-era Opeth (“The Prophet,” “Occultation”). Drummer Erlend Markussen Kilane adds more complexity, roving between jazzy snare work, thundering tom hits, and scene-stealing fills (“Cripplegate,” “Carrion Seller”). Vocally, Aanonsen still delivers the ghostly cleans that dominate Nadir, but he adds a raspy shout to Occultation. For the most part, these harsh vocals create urgency that the music doesn’t quite call for. But occasionally, Monograf snags a catchy chorus out of Aanonsen’s shout (“Occultation”).
Monograf aptly structures Occultation as a whole, though the songwriting strategy grows repetitive. Occultation is a dyad; a mid-album breather (“Ashes”) divides halves comprised of two longer songs. “The Prophet” and “Cripplegate” kick things off with compelling call-and-response arrangements: the riffs call, the fiddle responds. “Ashes” is a welcome reprieve, smothering intimate acoustic chords and Aanonsen’s gorgeous cleans underneath drum flourishes that swell in volume. The track comes off, however, as a bit of an academic exercise. Once “Carrion Seller” kicks in, the listener realizes that the call-and-response song structure is something of a formula. Fortunately, closer “Occultation” varies the formula, feeling more like a slow burn than a riff/fiddle conversation.
Monograf should feel secure in their new, metal-adjacent specialization. Despite my criticism of Occultation’s repetitive songwriting, its 40-minute runtime invites repeat visitations of its alluring soundscape. Fans of drone and doom should especially take notice. While its folk-infused heaviness is not an intervention on par with the most recent Wyatt E. release, Occultation skillfully balances hypnotism and memorability in its riffwork. On monograph three, I suspect that Monograf will inch closer to the oasis in the desert that is the tenure track.
Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nordic Mission
Websites: monograf.bandcamp.com/ | facebook.com/monografband | instagram.com/monografband
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025#2025 #30 #antestor #doomMetal #drone #folk #godspeedYouBlackEmperor #monograf #nordicMission #norwegianMetal #nov25 #occultation #om #opeth #overheadProductions #postRock #progressiveMetal #review #reviews #wyattE
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By Creeping Ivy
In the world of academia, the ‘monograph’ reigns supreme. A book-length study of a single subject, a monograph should synthesize essay-length analyses into one argument that contributes something new to the scholar’s field. To analogize the world of music to academia: the monograph stands in for the album, demonstrating an artist’s ability to cohere individual songs into one holistic listen. Monograf, a Norwegian post-rock collective, published its first monograph in 2019. Nadir made a novel contribution to post-rock by adding Norwegian folk music to soundscapes reminiscent of Godspeed You! Black Emperor.1 As it reviews sophomore effort Occultation, the tenure board will determine whether Monograf is worthy of that increasingly elusive professional state—job security.
The academic analogy suits Mongraf, given the background of its primary composer. Erik Aanonsen is polymathic; he serves as vocalist and guitarist, writes the music and lyrics, and even provides nykkelharpa (a Swedish keyed fiddle). Aanonsen also leverages his degree in film scoring as producer and recording engineer for Occultation.2 With a keyboardist (Ingvill Trydal) and another fiddler in tow (Sunniva Molvær Ihlhaug), Monograf sculpt cinematic tracks that sound like a less droning Wyatt E. These songs weave serpentine riffs, atmospheric synths, and folky fiddling into a loud/quiet/loud tapestry. The fiddle melodies frequently take center stage, crescendoing into intense payoffs (“The Prophet,” “Cripplegate”). Despite being more compressed than a cinematic album should be, the production is delightfully organic, especially its crackling guitar tones. Essentially, Occultation scores its cover art: one can feel the heat rising in this druid-filled sonic desert.
Occultation explores a more metal subject than its post-rock predecessor, mostly with success. With album two, Monograf adds doom, progressive, and even extreme metal credentials to their CV.3 Aanonsen, second guitarist Martin Sivertsen, and bassist Hanna Sannes Aanonsen often begin songs with the droning simplicity of an Om-inspired riff that develops into complex noodling à la prog-era Opeth (“The Prophet,” “Occultation”). Drummer Erlend Markussen Kilane adds more complexity, roving between jazzy snare work, thundering tom hits, and scene-stealing fills (“Cripplegate,” “Carrion Seller”). Vocally, Aanonsen still delivers the ghostly cleans that dominate Nadir, but he adds a raspy shout to Occultation. For the most part, these harsh vocals create urgency that the music doesn’t quite call for. But occasionally, Monograf snags a catchy chorus out of Aanonsen’s shout (“Occultation”).
Monograf aptly structures Occultation as a whole, though the songwriting strategy grows repetitive. Occultation is a dyad; a mid-album breather (“Ashes”) divides halves comprised of two longer songs. “The Prophet” and “Cripplegate” kick things off with compelling call-and-response arrangements: the riffs call, the fiddle responds. “Ashes” is a welcome reprieve, smothering intimate acoustic chords and Aanonsen’s gorgeous cleans underneath drum flourishes that swell in volume. The track comes off, however, as a bit of an academic exercise. Once “Carrion Seller” kicks in, the listener realizes that the call-and-response song structure is something of a formula. Fortunately, closer “Occultation” varies the formula, feeling more like a slow burn than a riff/fiddle conversation.
Monograf should feel secure in their new, metal-adjacent specialization. Despite my criticism of Occultation’s repetitive songwriting, its 40-minute runtime invites repeat visitations of its alluring soundscape. Fans of drone and doom should especially take notice. While its folk-infused heaviness is not an intervention on par with the most recent Wyatt E. release, Occultation skillfully balances hypnotism and memorability in its riffwork. On monograph three, I suspect that Monograf will inch closer to the oasis in the desert that is the tenure track.
Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nordic Mission
Websites: monograf.bandcamp.com/ | facebook.com/monografband | instagram.com/monografband
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025#2025 #30 #antestor #doomMetal #drone #folk #godspeedYouBlackEmperor #monograf #nordicMission #norwegianMetal #nov25 #occultation #om #opeth #overheadProductions #postRock #progressiveMetal #review #reviews #wyattE
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By Creeping Ivy
In the world of academia, the ‘monograph’ reigns supreme. A book-length study of a single subject, a monograph should synthesize essay-length analyses into one argument that contributes something new to the scholar’s field. To analogize the world of music to academia: the monograph stands in for the album, demonstrating an artist’s ability to cohere individual songs into one holistic listen. Monograf, a Norwegian post-rock collective, published its first monograph in 2019. Nadir made a novel contribution to post-rock by adding Norwegian folk music to soundscapes reminiscent of Godspeed You! Black Emperor.1 As it reviews sophomore effort Occultation, the tenure board will determine whether Monograf is worthy of that increasingly elusive professional state—job security.
The academic analogy suits Mongraf, given the background of its primary composer. Erik Aanonsen is polymathic; he serves as vocalist and guitarist, writes the music and lyrics, and even provides nykkelharpa (a Swedish keyed fiddle). Aanonsen also leverages his degree in film scoring as producer and recording engineer for Occultation.2 With a keyboardist (Ingvill Trydal) and another fiddler in tow (Sunniva Molvær Ihlhaug), Monograf sculpt cinematic tracks that sound like a less droning Wyatt E. These songs weave serpentine riffs, atmospheric synths, and folky fiddling into a loud/quiet/loud tapestry. The fiddle melodies frequently take center stage, crescendoing into intense payoffs (“The Prophet,” “Cripplegate”). Despite being more compressed than a cinematic album should be, the production is delightfully organic, especially its crackling guitar tones. Essentially, Occultation scores its cover art: one can feel the heat rising in this druid-filled sonic desert.
Occultation explores a more metal subject than its post-rock predecessor, mostly with success. With album two, Monograf adds doom, progressive, and even extreme metal credentials to their CV.3 Aanonsen, second guitarist Martin Sivertsen, and bassist Hanna Sannes Aanonsen often begin songs with the droning simplicity of an Om-inspired riff that develops into complex noodling à la prog-era Opeth (“The Prophet,” “Occultation”). Drummer Erlend Markussen Kilane adds more complexity, roving between jazzy snare work, thundering tom hits, and scene-stealing fills (“Cripplegate,” “Carrion Seller”). Vocally, Aanonsen still delivers the ghostly cleans that dominate Nadir, but he adds a raspy shout to Occultation. For the most part, these harsh vocals create urgency that the music doesn’t quite call for. But occasionally, Monograf snags a catchy chorus out of Aanonsen’s shout (“Occultation”).
Monograf aptly structures Occultation as a whole, though the songwriting strategy grows repetitive. Occultation is a dyad; a mid-album breather (“Ashes”) divides halves comprised of two longer songs. “The Prophet” and “Cripplegate” kick things off with compelling call-and-response arrangements: the riffs call, the fiddle responds. “Ashes” is a welcome reprieve, smothering intimate acoustic chords and Aanonsen’s gorgeous cleans underneath drum flourishes that swell in volume. The track comes off, however, as a bit of an academic exercise. Once “Carrion Seller” kicks in, the listener realizes that the call-and-response song structure is something of a formula. Fortunately, closer “Occultation” varies the formula, feeling more like a slow burn than a riff/fiddle conversation.
Monograf should feel secure in their new, metal-adjacent specialization. Despite my criticism of Occultation’s repetitive songwriting, its 40-minute runtime invites repeat visitations of its alluring soundscape. Fans of drone and doom should especially take notice. While its folk-infused heaviness is not an intervention on par with the most recent Wyatt E. release, Occultation skillfully balances hypnotism and memorability in its riffwork. On monograph three, I suspect that Monograf will inch closer to the oasis in the desert that is the tenure track.
Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nordic Mission
Websites: monograf.bandcamp.com/ | facebook.com/monografband | instagram.com/monografband
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025#2025 #30 #antestor #doomMetal #drone #folk #godspeedYouBlackEmperor #monograf #nordicMission #norwegianMetal #nov25 #occultation #om #opeth #overheadProductions #postRock #progressiveMetal #review #reviews #wyattE
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"If you read back the transcript of the speech, you will see that the nice things were in there too. The words of unity and gratitude and optimism. Yet what stood out were the words of power, of the willingness to fight, of revolution. Not the moments when Zohran Mamdani smiled, but the longer moments when he wore a grim expression of determination, the look of a boxer in the corner about to bite down on the mouthpiece and wade into war.
Once it was over you walked outside and saw that it wasn’t over at all. Directly outside the doors of The Paramount, behind metal police barriers, was a crowd of — Hundreds? Thousands? — of New Yorkers who didn’t have tickets to get into the event yet came and stood on the sidewalks of Flatbush Avenue just to be close to the place where the thing was happening. There they all huddled, like Broadway fans waiting for the stars to emerge after a show, smiling and raising fists and being there, so they could say that they were. So they could feel like part of the launch of a new city. It was one of those crackling center-of-the-universe moments. You could feel certain right then that you were at the single most important place in New York City, and, by extension, the world.
Then I stepped down into the Dekalb Avenue subway station and got on a Q train full of drowsy and silent people getting off the night shift. People who did not know or care about the spectacle happening just above their heads. The irony of Mamdani’s fame is that all of it will only be worthwhile if it can be used on behalf of all the people on that train — the people farthest away from the party. I hope his eyes will stay locked on that horizon. It’s nice to believe that good things will happen."
https://inthesetimes.com/article/zohran-mamdani-mayor-new-york-city-victory
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Candle Flame Behavior Meanings
In witchcraft and other magical practices, the way a candle flame behaves can be a form of divination, offering insights into the energy of a spell, ritual, or a message from the spirit world. While a witch’s intuition is always the most important factor, here are some common interpretations of candle flame movements:
General Interpretations
* Steady and Strong Flame:
This is generally a positive sign. A tall, bright, and unwavering flame suggests that your intentions are clear, your energy is focused, and your spell is working effectively. It indicates success and a smooth path forward.
* Weak or Short Flame:
A low, weak flame can indicate obstacles or resistance. It may mean that your intention is facing blockages or that more energy is needed for the spell to be successful. It could also suggest a need for more focused intention or personal introspection. If the flame is small but steady, it may still be successful but will likely take longer to manifest.
* Fast Burning:
A candle that burns quickly and cleanly can mean that your intentions are not being met with much resistance and are likely to manifest swiftly. However, if it burns too fast, it could also mean that the result will be temporary. * Slow Burning: If a candle takes a long time to burn, it may signify that there are challenges or a long-term process involved in reaching your goal.
Specific Movements and Sounds
* Dancing or Jumping Flame:
A flame that moves erratically, jumps, or dances can represent high, intense, and often chaotic energy. This is usually a sign that the spell is working and a lot of energy is being released. It can also signify that the spell’s success may come with some complications. A jumping flame, in particular, can suggest a lot of energy is being released and that your magic will manifest quickly.
* Flickering Flame:
If a flame flickers, it can be a sign that a spirit, guide, or deity is present and trying to communicate with you. The direction of the flickering can also be significant. * Crackling or Popping Flame: A noisy flame that sizzles, crackles, or pops is often interpreted as communication from the spirit realm. The louder the sound, the stronger the message or the will of a spirit to communicate. It can also indicate spiritual discord.
* Sputtering Flame:
A sputtering flame can suggest low energy or a lack of focus in the spell. It may be a sign to re-energize your intention.
* Dual Flames:
If a single candle flame splits into two, it can represent duality, a partnership, or the presence of two different energies. This could mean two opposing forces are at play, or it could signal that two different spirits or guides have joined your ritual.
* Sudden Extinguishing:
A candle flame that suddenly goes out without a clear reason (like a draft) can be interpreted as a sign that the spell or intention is not aligned with your highest good or that the ritual has been completed. It may be a signal to stop and re-evaluate your work.
* Sooty or Black Flame/Smoke:
If a flame produces a lot of black soot or smoke, it can be a warning sign of negative energy, blockages, or spiritual resistance that needs to be cleared. It may indicate a need for cleansing or purification of the space or yourself.
Important Considerations
While these are common interpretations, it’s crucial to remember that they are not absolute rules. The most important thing is to trust your own intuition. A flame’s behavior can also be influenced by mundane factors such as drafts, impurities in the wax, or the length of the wick. Always rule out these physical explanations before jumping to a magical conclusion.
https://www.facebook.com/paganessentials
#CandleMagick #MagickalTools #Pagan #Rituals #Witch #Witchcraft
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Panopticon – Laurentian Blue Review
By Mystikus Hugebeard
With the mammoth1 Panopticon ranking and the electrifying Månegarm review behind us, we can now look towards the album that the ranking was made in anticipation of: Laurentian Blue. What we weren’t quite expecting was that Laurentian Blue would be an unusual album to follow the ranking. After ten albums of post-black metal, this is the first standalone Panopticon work of purely dark, folksy Americana.2 It goes without saying that Americana has ever been a key component to the Panopticon soundscape, so do not mistake “unusual” for “unwelcome.” After all, Laurentian Blue is unquestionably a Panopticon album, for it embodies the same soul of Panopticon’s music that Thus Spoke eloquently illuminated in her introduction to the ranking: “an immense sense of drama, emotional intensity, and an unpretentious, honest heart.”
Not only is Laurentian Blue a dark folk/americana album, it is unapologetic about it. Laurentian Blue is confidently written and deliberate in its minimalism. The instrumentation is kept strictly to the bare necessities: Lunn picks and strums away at his guitar as he sings with the warmth of a crackling fire, with sparse, harmonizing violins as accompaniment. The consecutive exceptions come in the twang of “An Argument with God” (which is also the only song with any percussion) and the bluegrass “Irony and Causality,” which serve as welcome jolts to the pacing, but the bulk of Laurentian Blue is the sort of somber Americana in “Ever North” and “This Mortal Coil’s Rusted.” It reminds one of the Appalachia iteration of Osi and the Jupiter, with a stronger country lilt heard most clearly in “Down Along the Border.” While the guitarwork in Laurentian Blue is enjoyable, whether it takes the form of wistful melodies (“The Poetry in Roadkill”) or steely strumming (“Ever North,”) the focus cannot help but rest on Lunn’s voice and lyrical work.
As always, Lunn is a commanding songwriter fluent in the emotions he wants a song to convey. Nary a note or a word wasted, cutting straight to the heart of what he wants to express. Laurentian Blue is resolute in its deeply depressive lyricism, which becomes inescapable due to the music’s minimalist nature.3 Lines like “And if I needed you to watch me slip away // I’ll find you on the other side some day” (“Down Along the Border”) and “the lie that I forced myself to believe // that I never wasted a breath…” (“Ever North”) carry a catharsis that engulfs you, further strengthened by the preternaturally well-timed violins. Sparse though they may be, they’re beautifully implemented, often swelling at just the right moment like in the chorus of “The Poetry of Roadkill.” With focus this unhindered, lyrics that fail to connect are a greater danger to a song’s impact. The Hemingway-esque bluntness of “And morality ain’t dogmatic // but instead practical // and an individual // type of thing” is compelling, but it lacks the poetry present in the rest of the album, and the accompanying music doesn’t sustain the six-minute runtime.
Through the poetic lyrical work and musical minimalism, Laurentian Blue is emotionally consistent, yet therein lies what also makes it a more challenging album. Lunn’s voice is kept adamantly deadpan throughout, indifferently asking you to engage with Laurentian Blue according to its own terms rather than manipulating your emotions. This can create a disconnect; as the violins swell and the notes ascend when Lunn sings the first “Look for me // ever north,” (“Ever North”), I selfishly feel unfulfilled when the notes dispassionately descend in the second. Other times, his singing style makes for some compelling friction. “Irony and Causality” is easily the most energetic song, and is a fascinating backdrop for the deadpan delivery of “Nothing matters when you die // you can only hope time flies // and someone will visit your grave.” Maintaining such a somber tone across the album is a deliberate choice, one that works through Lunn’s songwriting finesse. But it’s a sadness that’s more aptly felt when you’re already predisposed to such feelings.
Laurentian Blue will not be for everyone. It’s a singular emotional work that doesn’t guide your feelings, but rather presents its own emotions with understated grace and indifference. But it’s only natural that the appeal of a work this personal will ultimately come down to personal preference. Regardless of one’s taste for Americana and dark folk, Laurentian Blue is nevertheless a well-written collection of songs by a well-proven songwriter with a strong connection and understanding of the genre. You might need to be in the right mood for Laurentian Blue, but if that mood should find you, then Laurentian Blue will be a knowing, empathetic embrace.
Rating: Very Good
DR: 12 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps
Label: Bindrune Recordings
Websites: facebook | bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: August 15th, 2025#2025 #35 #AmericanMetal #Americana #Aug25 #BindruneRecordings #Country #DarkFolk #LaurentianBlue #Panopticon #Review #Reviews
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Panopticon – Laurentian Blue Review
By Mystikus Hugebeard
With the mammoth1 Panopticon ranking and the electrifying Månegarm review behind us, we can now look towards the album that the ranking was made in anticipation of: Laurentian Blue. What we weren’t quite expecting was that Laurentian Blue would be an unusual album to follow the ranking. After ten albums of post-black metal, this is the first standalone Panopticon work of purely dark, folksy Americana.2 It goes without saying that Americana has ever been a key component to the Panopticon soundscape, so do not mistake “unusual” for “unwelcome.” After all, Laurentian Blue is unquestionably a Panopticon album, for it embodies the same soul of Panopticon’s music that Thus Spoke eloquently illuminated in her introduction to the ranking: “an immense sense of drama, emotional intensity, and an unpretentious, honest heart.”
Not only is Laurentian Blue a dark folk/americana album, it is unapologetic about it. Laurentian Blue is confidently written and deliberate in its minimalism. The instrumentation is kept strictly to the bare necessities: Lunn picks and strums away at his guitar as he sings with the warmth of a crackling fire, with sparse, harmonizing violins as accompaniment. The consecutive exceptions come in the twang of “An Argument with God” (which is also the only song with any percussion) and the bluegrass “Irony and Causality,” which serve as welcome jolts to the pacing, but the bulk of Laurentian Blue is the sort of somber Americana in “Ever North” and “This Mortal Coil’s Rusted.” It reminds one of the Appalachia iteration of Osi and the Jupiter, with a stronger country lilt heard most clearly in “Down Along the Border.” While the guitarwork in Laurentian Blue is enjoyable, whether it takes the form of wistful melodies (“The Poetry in Roadkill”) or steely strumming (“Ever North,”) the focus cannot help but rest on Lunn’s voice and lyrical work.
As always, Lunn is a commanding songwriter fluent in the emotions he wants a song to convey. Nary a note or a word wasted, cutting straight to the heart of what he wants to express. Laurentian Blue is resolute in its deeply depressive lyricism, which becomes inescapable due to the music’s minimalist nature.3 Lines like “And if I needed you to watch me slip away // I’ll find you on the other side some day” (“Down Along the Border”) and “the lie that I forced myself to believe // that I never wasted a breath…” (“Ever North”) carry a catharsis that engulfs you, further strengthened by the preternaturally well-timed violins. Sparse though they may be, they’re beautifully implemented, often swelling at just the right moment like in the chorus of “The Poetry of Roadkill.” With focus this unhindered, lyrics that fail to connect are a greater danger to a song’s impact. The Hemingway-esque bluntness of “And morality ain’t dogmatic // but instead practical // and an individual // type of thing” is compelling, but it lacks the poetry present in the rest of the album, and the accompanying music doesn’t sustain the six-minute runtime.
Through the poetic lyrical work and musical minimalism, Laurentian Blue is emotionally consistent, yet therein lies what also makes it a more challenging album. Lunn’s voice is kept adamantly deadpan throughout, indifferently asking you to engage with Laurentian Blue according to its own terms rather than manipulating your emotions. This can create a disconnect; as the violins swell and the notes ascend when Lunn sings the first “Look for me // ever north,” (“Ever North”), I selfishly feel unfulfilled when the notes dispassionately descend in the second. Other times, his singing style makes for some compelling friction. “Irony and Causality” is easily the most energetic song, and is a fascinating backdrop for the deadpan delivery of “Nothing matters when you die // you can only hope time flies // and someone will visit your grave.” Maintaining such a somber tone across the album is a deliberate choice, one that works through Lunn’s songwriting finesse. But it’s a sadness that’s more aptly felt when you’re already predisposed to such feelings.
Laurentian Blue will not be for everyone. It’s a singular emotional work that doesn’t guide your feelings, but rather presents its own emotions with understated grace and indifference. But it’s only natural that the appeal of a work this personal will ultimately come down to personal preference. Regardless of one’s taste for Americana and dark folk, Laurentian Blue is nevertheless a well-written collection of songs by a well-proven songwriter with a strong connection and understanding of the genre. You might need to be in the right mood for Laurentian Blue, but if that mood should find you, then Laurentian Blue will be a knowing, empathetic embrace.
Rating: Very Good
DR: 12 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps
Label: Bindrune Recordings
Websites: facebook | bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: August 15th, 2025#2025 #35 #AmericanMetal #Americana #Aug25 #BindruneRecordings #Country #DarkFolk #LaurentianBlue #Panopticon #Review #Reviews
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Panopticon – Laurentian Blue Review
By Mystikus Hugebeard
With the mammoth1 Panopticon ranking and the electrifying Månegarm review behind us, we can now look towards the album that the ranking was made in anticipation of: Laurentian Blue. What we weren’t quite expecting was that Laurentian Blue would be an unusual album to follow the ranking. After ten albums of post-black metal, this is the first standalone Panopticon work of purely dark, folksy Americana.2 It goes without saying that Americana has ever been a key component to the Panopticon soundscape, so do not mistake “unusual” for “unwelcome.” After all, Laurentian Blue is unquestionably a Panopticon album, for it embodies the same soul of Panopticon’s music that Thus Spoke eloquently illuminated in her introduction to the ranking: “an immense sense of drama, emotional intensity, and an unpretentious, honest heart.”
Not only is Laurentian Blue a dark folk/americana album, it is unapologetic about it. Laurentian Blue is confidently written and deliberate in its minimalism. The instrumentation is kept strictly to the bare necessities: Lunn picks and strums away at his guitar as he sings with the warmth of a crackling fire, with sparse, harmonizing violins as accompaniment. The consecutive exceptions come in the twang of “An Argument with God” (which is also the only song with any percussion) and the bluegrass “Irony and Causality,” which serve as welcome jolts to the pacing, but the bulk of Laurentian Blue is the sort of somber Americana in “Ever North” and “This Mortal Coil’s Rusted.” It reminds one of the Appalachia iteration of Osi and the Jupiter, with a stronger country lilt heard most clearly in “Down Along the Border.” While the guitarwork in Laurentian Blue is enjoyable, whether it takes the form of wistful melodies (“The Poetry in Roadkill”) or steely strumming (“Ever North,”) the focus cannot help but rest on Lunn’s voice and lyrical work.
As always, Lunn is a commanding songwriter fluent in the emotions he wants a song to convey. Nary a note or a word wasted, cutting straight to the heart of what he wants to express. Laurentian Blue is resolute in its deeply depressive lyricism, which becomes inescapable due to the music’s minimalist nature.3 Lines like “And if I needed you to watch me slip away // I’ll find you on the other side some day” (“Down Along the Border”) and “the lie that I forced myself to believe // that I never wasted a breath…” (“Ever North”) carry a catharsis that engulfs you, further strengthened by the preternaturally well-timed violins. Sparse though they may be, they’re beautifully implemented, often swelling at just the right moment like in the chorus of “The Poetry of Roadkill.” With focus this unhindered, lyrics that fail to connect are a greater danger to a song’s impact. The Hemingway-esque bluntness of “And morality ain’t dogmatic // but instead practical // and an individual // type of thing” is compelling, but it lacks the poetry present in the rest of the album, and the accompanying music doesn’t sustain the six-minute runtime.
Through the poetic lyrical work and musical minimalism, Laurentian Blue is emotionally consistent, yet therein lies what also makes it a more challenging album. Lunn’s voice is kept adamantly deadpan throughout, indifferently asking you to engage with Laurentian Blue according to its own terms rather than manipulating your emotions. This can create a disconnect; as the violins swell and the notes ascend when Lunn sings the first “Look for me // ever north,” (“Ever North”), I selfishly feel unfulfilled when the notes dispassionately descend in the second. Other times, his singing style makes for some compelling friction. “Irony and Causality” is easily the most energetic song, and is a fascinating backdrop for the deadpan delivery of “Nothing matters when you die // you can only hope time flies // and someone will visit your grave.” Maintaining such a somber tone across the album is a deliberate choice, one that works through Lunn’s songwriting finesse. But it’s a sadness that’s more aptly felt when you’re already predisposed to such feelings.
Laurentian Blue will not be for everyone. It’s a singular emotional work that doesn’t guide your feelings, but rather presents its own emotions with understated grace and indifference. But it’s only natural that the appeal of a work this personal will ultimately come down to personal preference. Regardless of one’s taste for Americana and dark folk, Laurentian Blue is nevertheless a well-written collection of songs by a well-proven songwriter with a strong connection and understanding of the genre. You might need to be in the right mood for Laurentian Blue, but if that mood should find you, then Laurentian Blue will be a knowing, empathetic embrace.
Rating: Very Good
DR: 12 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps
Label: Bindrune Recordings
Websites: facebook | bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: August 15th, 2025#2025 #35 #AmericanMetal #Americana #Aug25 #BindruneRecordings #Country #DarkFolk #LaurentianBlue #Panopticon #Review #Reviews