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Wildlife Photojournalist and Animal Advocate Dalida Innes
Dalida Innes
Wildlife Photographer and Portrait Photographer
“If I could tell animal activists and conservationists something, I would say: Never give up! Once a species is gone that is a terrible loss to us all! #Boycott4Wildlife #Boycottpalmoil” #Wildlife Photographer @dainnes67
TweetDalida Innes @dainnes67 specialises in #wildlifephotography and #portrait #photography. She captures rare intimate moments with animals in all of their emotional complexity. Read more about her and her incredible photos
Tweet“I am against all supermarket brands that have deforestation in their supply chain. I am a vegan for the animals and I #boycottpalmoil #Boycott4Wildlife” Wildlife Photographer Dalida Innes @dainnes67
TweetMy name is Dalida Innes, I am from France originally and I live in Sydney, Australia. I love wildlife, landscape, travel photography and everything between. I travel as often as I can and try to make the most of it. Encounters with nature have taken me to incredible places and I have met fantastic people.
I am self-taught with a sincere passion for all things photographic
Adventurous spirit with camera in hand, I try to capture moments of wonder and serenity. For me, capturing images is like freezing the time and I can go back to it whenever I want. Trying to get that precise moment that your eye doesn’t have time to memorise or to remember.
I love witnessing special moments between animals
You never know what’s going to happen. Everyday is a new adventure when you’re photographing wildlife. No two days are exactly the same.
We can learn so much just from watching animals
I have always worked with animals. I just love watching them, observing their behaviour is something I am fascinated by. I have learnt so much from them and I want to share all of the beauty that I have witnessed with the world.
Buy Dalida’s photographic printsWhen I was a child, I used to play with a broken camera
I dreamt that as an adult I would become a filmmaker and make animal documentaries, as I loved watching these shows as a child. Later when I started to work, initially I bought my first video camera but I quickly realised that this wasn’t for me. So instead I started doing photography and it all accelerated from there.
Never give up the fight to save wild animals!
If I could tell animal activists and conservationists something, I would say: Never give up! Once a species is gone that is a terrible loss to us all!
Always respect a wild animal’s personal space
To wildlife photographers just starting out, I would say that it’s important to respect the animals’ personal space. Don’t try and encroach on the animals too much, as they will feel uncomfortable and won’t behave naturally. Always be prepared for the unexpected, it may not happen, but if it does, be ready for it.
Morning Glory by Dalida Innes Wildlife PhotographyI am against all supermarket brands that have deforestation in their supply chain
Less trees means less habitat for wild animals. Not only this, today with so much advanced research and technology there should be other ways, other methods of producing palm oil and other commodities. They have the technology to make anything they want. So I still don’t understand why they don’t just do that instead of destroying forests!
I welcome you to connect with me on social media and visit my shop to buy prints
Visit my website #Africa #ArtistProfile #Artivism #Boycott4wildlife #BoycottPalmOil #conservation #CreativesForCoolCreatures #MountainGorilla #Photographer #photography #portrait #Primate #TigerPantheraTigris #wildlife #wildlifeActivism #wildlifePhotography #wildlifephotography -
Wildlife Photojournalist and Animal Advocate Dalida Innes
Dalida Innes
Wildlife Photographer and Portrait Photographer
“If I could tell animal activists and conservationists something, I would say: Never give up! Once a species is gone that is a terrible loss to us all! #Boycott4Wildlife #Boycottpalmoil” #Wildlife Photographer @dainnes67
TweetDalida Innes @dainnes67 specialises in #wildlifephotography and #portrait #photography. She captures rare intimate moments with animals in all of their emotional complexity. Read more about her and her incredible photos
Tweet“I am against all supermarket brands that have deforestation in their supply chain. I am a vegan for the animals and I #boycottpalmoil #Boycott4Wildlife” Wildlife Photographer Dalida Innes @dainnes67
TweetMy name is Dalida Innes, I am from France originally and I live in Sydney, Australia. I love wildlife, landscape, travel photography and everything between. I travel as often as I can and try to make the most of it. Encounters with nature have taken me to incredible places and I have met fantastic people.
I am self-taught with a sincere passion for all things photographic
Adventurous spirit with camera in hand, I try to capture moments of wonder and serenity. For me, capturing images is like freezing the time and I can go back to it whenever I want. Trying to get that precise moment that your eye doesn’t have time to memorise or to remember.
I love witnessing special moments between animals
You never know what’s going to happen. Everyday is a new adventure when you’re photographing wildlife. No two days are exactly the same.
We can learn so much just from watching animals
I have always worked with animals. I just love watching them, observing their behaviour is something I am fascinated by. I have learnt so much from them and I want to share all of the beauty that I have witnessed with the world.
Buy Dalida’s photographic printsWhen I was a child, I used to play with a broken camera
I dreamt that as an adult I would become a filmmaker and make animal documentaries, as I loved watching these shows as a child. Later when I started to work, initially I bought my first video camera but I quickly realised that this wasn’t for me. So instead I started doing photography and it all accelerated from there.
Never give up the fight to save wild animals!
If I could tell animal activists and conservationists something, I would say: Never give up! Once a species is gone that is a terrible loss to us all!
Always respect a wild animal’s personal space
To wildlife photographers just starting out, I would say that it’s important to respect the animals’ personal space. Don’t try and encroach on the animals too much, as they will feel uncomfortable and won’t behave naturally. Always be prepared for the unexpected, it may not happen, but if it does, be ready for it.
Morning Glory by Dalida Innes Wildlife PhotographyI am against all supermarket brands that have deforestation in their supply chain
Less trees means less habitat for wild animals. Not only this, today with so much advanced research and technology there should be other ways, other methods of producing palm oil and other commodities. They have the technology to make anything they want. So I still don’t understand why they don’t just do that instead of destroying forests!
I welcome you to connect with me on social media and visit my shop to buy prints
Visit my website #Africa #ArtistProfile #Artivism #Boycott4wildlife #BoycottPalmOil #conservation #CreativesForCoolCreatures #MountainGorilla #Photographer #photography #portrait #Primate #TigerPantheraTigris #wildlife #wildlifeActivism #wildlifePhotography #wildlifephotography -
Answering Some Randomly Generated Questions
I know I have posted anything in a while, so today I’m going to change that. Thanks to the Blog Questions Bot that Jcrabapple has on Mastodon, I’ve decided to take the list of questions it posted yesterday and jot down my answers. So let’s go ahead and dive in and get started.
What Color Always Makes You Feel Happy, And Why?
Super easy to answer, PURPLE! The color purple hasn’t always been my favorite color. When I was a little kid and even very early adult, my favorite color was blue, and mostly dark blue over light blue. However, that started to change in my early adult days. My dad’s favorite color was always purple and he had a lot of it around the house, on clothes and most anywhere. It started growing on me over time and eventually I accepted that my favorite color had changed from blue to purple.
Purple just feels relaxing. A lot of people say that purple symbolizes the beauty of life and in a lot of ways I would agree with that statement. To me, purple is beautiful, regardless if it’s a dark purple or a light purple. While I prefer dark purple in a lot of cases, there are definitely times that I prefer a lighter shade of purple.
If You Could Speak Any Language Fluently, What Would It Be?
I’m not going to lie, this is tough. Mainly because there are so many different languages used around the world. In fact, there are numerous languages that I don’t know about or know very little about.
With that said, since I have to pick one, I guess I’m going to go with French. I know a few French words, but only a few, as in less than 10 most likely. But to hear, to hear people speak French, it just sounds smooth and relaxing in a lot of ways. Kind of hard to explain, but I think it would be the language I’d want to learn first. Not for any particular reason such as having French speaking friends, because I don’t, or needing to know it for work related stuff, because again, I don’t need to know it for that either.
Describe The Best Sandwich You’ve Ever Had
What’s with all these tough questions this time around? I don’t even know where to begin with this one. Therefore, I’m going to go out there a bit with my answer and mention something that a lot of people likely don’t know too much about. The sandwich I’ve chosen for this is the Monte Cristo from an old restaurant called Bennigan’s.
Bennigan’s was hugely popular when I was a kid an early adult living in Houston, Texas. They had a little bit of everything, but the only thing I’d ever order when I went to Bennigan’s, which was actually quite often, was the Monte Cristo.
Bennigan’s describes it like this: Honey wheat bread layered with tender ham, roasted turkey, Swiss and American cheeses. Batter-dipped, gently fried and coated with powdered sugar. Served with red raspberry preserves for dipping.
I know other restaurants who serve something similar, but I’ve never found any place that comes even remotely close to being as good as Bennigan’s made it. It’s something I wish I could replicate at home, but I’ve never been successful.
What’s One Tiny Ritual That Makes Your Day Better?
Yet again, another tough question. Tough for me since I don’t really have any “daily ritual” so to speak. I guess most people would say the usual stuff such as, starting the day with coffee/tea, taking a hot shower right after getting up.
Once again, I’m going to do something totally different with my answer and I’m going to say, hugging and kissing my wife! I start each and every day by giving her a hug and giving her a kiss. We’ve done that for the entire 12 years we’ve been together and I hope the “ritual” continues for many more years to come.
Final Thoughts…
These were some really good questions, which is why I decided to answer them. Two or three of them really made me stop and think for a minute before I could give a good answer.
If you’re a blogger, like to write somewhere at random times, I’d like to see you take these questions and answer them too. Feel free to tag me on Mastodon – Cliff On Mastodon or link back to this post or just mention me in the article. Or don’t do any of those and just provide the answers for others to read. I’m ok regardless of how you do it!
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Hours of Worship – Death & Dying Vol. II Review
By Thus Spoke
When it comes to metal, “depressing” can mean a number of things. There’s funeral doom depressing—melodramatic, with heartbreaking melodies and savage growls. There’s DSBM depressing—hopeless, with listless refrains and inhuman shrieks. Then, there’s something like the music of Hours of Worship, which, now we come to it, isn’t metal at all. But it is depressing, and that’s precisely what the duo intend. Death and Dying Vol. II is, as you might expect, the follow-up to sophomore record Death and Dying Vol. I, and continues along the ambient gothic trajectory mapped out by that predecessor. The path that Hours of Worship have trodden has now reached a place truly apathetic and sober, which makes even their debut The Cold That You Left look upbeat. This is the most miserable electronica you’ll ever hear.
Death and Dying Vol. II. is an instant portal to the morose, mopey world that’s become Hours of Worship’s signature. Instantly recognizable for its solemn, stringlike synths and spaced-out, apathetic vocals, this visit sees it mired still further in gloom. The (relatively) uptempo rock and pop sensibilities of the debut have now been all but stripped away. The lone exception, cover of Faith and the Muse’s “Shattered in Aspect,” is still glummer than a song with its chirruping refrain ought to be, while its companions threaten to totally ruin your day—or make it, if you’re a masochist like me. Moving away from a moody Depeche Mode, Joy Division vibe and into what’s essentially a synthesized, clean-sung version of None, Hours of Worship are only getting darker and less eager to be part of this world.
Hours of Worship know that bleakness goes down best when it’s beautiful. The sedate, melancholic melodies are a brilliant backdrop for Wound and Trembling Master to sigh out their ennui in breathy baritones. Little chimes ring resonant in the air alongside pulsing bubbles of warm noise and quivering ethereal refrains (“Losing the Will to Live”). Drum beats echo. Vocals layer and melt into the syrupy synths as they drawl (“Opaline Ashes”). Sometimes sobriety wraps this prettiness in a shroud of monotony, the repeating flickers of is-that-guitar-or-keyboard1 almost sinister before they meet with an airy descending aria (“Bunker in Disarray,” “Derelict & Ruined”). Stand-out “Losing the Will to Live,” however, hides nothing of its pulchritude. With weeping chords and delicately developed descending scales, a heartbeat of echoing drums, and painfully morose moans, it’s a masterclass in wretched allure. Beside this, the bluntness of “Beneath a Hanging Tree”—the most depressing piece of all—is only intensified. Its low ratio between bluntness and beauty magnifies that of others—the carillons of keys breaking dull chords (“Derelict & Ruined”), subtle chorals and warped notes forming mournful refrains (“Losing the Will To Live”), and listless drones alternating with Byronic near-whispers (“Opaline Ashes”).
The dour sensibilities of Death & Dying Vol. II do nonetheless take their toll. Despite being moody as hell, opening duo “Bunker in Disarray” and “Derelict & Ruined” are neither confrontationally joyless as “Beneath a Hanging Tree,” nor grimly graceful like “Losing the Will to Live,” and “Opaline Ashes.” Their brand of washed-out disinterest therefore sits in the limbo of placidity, and they aren’t as strong as the songs that follow. The smooth drum transition between the two of them is, however, very nice. More broadly, there remains a nagging thought that Hours of Worship’s recent proclivity for the particularly funereal is holding back their talents for music with a bit more grip. But perhaps one ought not complain about a lack of sparkle from a record whose primary goal is to disillusion them with the land of the living
Death & Dying Vol II achieves what it sets out to do. You will come out its other side weary and jaded. Its ability to swallow up hope and cast a gloomy veil really is second only to DSBM, even surpassing it, at its most monotonous—for better or worse. If you enjoy wallowing in misery as much as Hours of Worship do, indulge yourself for a while.
Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Worship the Dead
Website: hoursofworship.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: October 31st, 2024#2024 #35 #AmericanMetal #DarkAmbient #DeathDyingVolII #DepecheMode #Gothic #HoursOfWorship #JoyDivision #None #NotMetal #Oct24 #Review #Reviews #WorshipTheDead
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Hours of Worship – Death & Dying Vol. II Review
By Thus Spoke
When it comes to metal, “depressing” can mean a number of things. There’s funeral doom depressing—melodramatic, with heartbreaking melodies and savage growls. There’s DSBM depressing—hopeless, with listless refrains and inhuman shrieks. Then, there’s something like the music of Hours of Worship, which, now we come to it, isn’t metal at all. But it is depressing, and that’s precisely what the duo intend. Death and Dying Vol. II is, as you might expect, the follow-up to sophomore record Death and Dying Vol. I, and continues along the ambient gothic trajectory mapped out by that predecessor. The path that Hours of Worship have trodden has now reached a place truly apathetic and sober, which makes even their debut The Cold That You Left look upbeat. This is the most miserable electronica you’ll ever hear.
Death and Dying Vol. II. is an instant portal to the morose, mopey world that’s become Hours of Worship’s signature. Instantly recognizable for its solemn, stringlike synths and spaced-out, apathetic vocals, this visit sees it mired still further in gloom. The (relatively) uptempo rock and pop sensibilities of the debut have now been all but stripped away. The lone exception, cover of Faith and the Muse’s “Shattered in Aspect,” is still glummer than a song with its chirruping refrain ought to be, while its companions threaten to totally ruin your day—or make it, if you’re a masochist like me. Moving away from a moody Depeche Mode, Joy Division vibe and into what’s essentially a synthesized, clean-sung version of None, Hours of Worship are only getting darker and less eager to be part of this world.
Hours of Worship know that bleakness goes down best when it’s beautiful. The sedate, melancholic melodies are a brilliant backdrop for Wound and Trembling Master to sigh out their ennui in breathy baritones. Little chimes ring resonant in the air alongside pulsing bubbles of warm noise and quivering ethereal refrains (“Losing the Will to Live”). Drum beats echo. Vocals layer and melt into the syrupy synths as they drawl (“Opaline Ashes”). Sometimes sobriety wraps this prettiness in a shroud of monotony, the repeating flickers of is-that-guitar-or-keyboard1 almost sinister before they meet with an airy descending aria (“Bunker in Disarray,” “Derelict & Ruined”). Stand-out “Losing the Will to Live,” however, hides nothing of its pulchritude. With weeping chords and delicately developed descending scales, a heartbeat of echoing drums, and painfully morose moans, it’s a masterclass in wretched allure. Beside this, the bluntness of “Beneath a Hanging Tree”—the most depressing piece of all—is only intensified. Its low ratio between bluntness and beauty magnifies that of others—the carillons of keys breaking dull chords (“Derelict & Ruined”), subtle chorals and warped notes forming mournful refrains (“Losing the Will To Live”), and listless drones alternating with Byronic near-whispers (“Opaline Ashes”).
The dour sensibilities of Death & Dying Vol. II do nonetheless take their toll. Despite being moody as hell, opening duo “Bunker in Disarray” and “Derelict & Ruined” are neither confrontationally joyless as “Beneath a Hanging Tree,” nor grimly graceful like “Losing the Will to Live,” and “Opaline Ashes.” Their brand of washed-out disinterest therefore sits in the limbo of placidity, and they aren’t as strong as the songs that follow. The smooth drum transition between the two of them is, however, very nice. More broadly, there remains a nagging thought that Hours of Worship’s recent proclivity for the particularly funereal is holding back their talents for music with a bit more grip. But perhaps one ought not complain about a lack of sparkle from a record whose primary goal is to disillusion them with the land of the living
Death & Dying Vol II achieves what it sets out to do. You will come out its other side weary and jaded. Its ability to swallow up hope and cast a gloomy veil really is second only to DSBM, even surpassing it, at its most monotonous—for better or worse. If you enjoy wallowing in misery as much as Hours of Worship do, indulge yourself for a while.
Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Worship the Dead
Website: hoursofworship.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: October 31st, 2024#2024 #35 #AmericanMetal #DarkAmbient #DeathDyingVolII #DepecheMode #Gothic #HoursOfWorship #JoyDivision #None #NotMetal #Oct24 #Review #Reviews #WorshipTheDead
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Hours of Worship – Death & Dying Vol. II Review
By Thus Spoke
When it comes to metal, “depressing” can mean a number of things. There’s funeral doom depressing—melodramatic, with heartbreaking melodies and savage growls. There’s DSBM depressing—hopeless, with listless refrains and inhuman shrieks. Then, there’s something like the music of Hours of Worship, which, now we come to it, isn’t metal at all. But it is depressing, and that’s precisely what the duo intend. Death and Dying Vol. II is, as you might expect, the follow-up to sophomore record Death and Dying Vol. I, and continues along the ambient gothic trajectory mapped out by that predecessor. The path that Hours of Worship have trodden has now reached a place truly apathetic and sober, which makes even their debut The Cold That You Left look upbeat. This is the most miserable electronica you’ll ever hear.
Death and Dying Vol. II. is an instant portal to the morose, mopey world that’s become Hours of Worship’s signature. Instantly recognizable for its solemn, stringlike synths and spaced-out, apathetic vocals, this visit sees it mired still further in gloom. The (relatively) uptempo rock and pop sensibilities of the debut have now been all but stripped away. The lone exception, cover of Faith and the Muse’s “Shattered in Aspect,” is still glummer than a song with its chirruping refrain ought to be, while its companions threaten to totally ruin your day—or make it, if you’re a masochist like me. Moving away from a moody Depeche Mode, Joy Division vibe and into what’s essentially a synthesized, clean-sung version of None, Hours of Worship are only getting darker and less eager to be part of this world.
Hours of Worship know that bleakness goes down best when it’s beautiful. The sedate, melancholic melodies are a brilliant backdrop for Wound and Trembling Master to sigh out their ennui in breathy baritones. Little chimes ring resonant in the air alongside pulsing bubbles of warm noise and quivering ethereal refrains (“Losing the Will to Live”). Drum beats echo. Vocals layer and melt into the syrupy synths as they drawl (“Opaline Ashes”). Sometimes sobriety wraps this prettiness in a shroud of monotony, the repeating flickers of is-that-guitar-or-keyboard1 almost sinister before they meet with an airy descending aria (“Bunker in Disarray,” “Derelict & Ruined”). Stand-out “Losing the Will to Live,” however, hides nothing of its pulchritude. With weeping chords and delicately developed descending scales, a heartbeat of echoing drums, and painfully morose moans, it’s a masterclass in wretched allure. Beside this, the bluntness of “Beneath a Hanging Tree”—the most depressing piece of all—is only intensified. Its low ratio between bluntness and beauty magnifies that of others—the carillons of keys breaking dull chords (“Derelict & Ruined”), subtle chorals and warped notes forming mournful refrains (“Losing the Will To Live”), and listless drones alternating with Byronic near-whispers (“Opaline Ashes”).
The dour sensibilities of Death & Dying Vol. II do nonetheless take their toll. Despite being moody as hell, opening duo “Bunker in Disarray” and “Derelict & Ruined” are neither confrontationally joyless as “Beneath a Hanging Tree,” nor grimly graceful like “Losing the Will to Live,” and “Opaline Ashes.” Their brand of washed-out disinterest therefore sits in the limbo of placidity, and they aren’t as strong as the songs that follow. The smooth drum transition between the two of them is, however, very nice. More broadly, there remains a nagging thought that Hours of Worship’s recent proclivity for the particularly funereal is holding back their talents for music with a bit more grip. But perhaps one ought not complain about a lack of sparkle from a record whose primary goal is to disillusion them with the land of the living
Death & Dying Vol II achieves what it sets out to do. You will come out its other side weary and jaded. Its ability to swallow up hope and cast a gloomy veil really is second only to DSBM, even surpassing it, at its most monotonous—for better or worse. If you enjoy wallowing in misery as much as Hours of Worship do, indulge yourself for a while.
Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Worship the Dead
Website: hoursofworship.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: October 31st, 2024#2024 #35 #AmericanMetal #DarkAmbient #DeathDyingVolII #DepecheMode #Gothic #HoursOfWorship #JoyDivision #None #NotMetal #Oct24 #Review #Reviews #WorshipTheDead
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By Steel Druhm
Sometimes a promo one-sheet actually does its job and gets you incredibly curious to hear something. That was the case with Ireland’s unusual death metal act Vircolac. I had no knowledge of them, but the one-sheet made it sound as if I had to hear their sophomore release Veneration or risk missing out on something unique and special. Steel hates missing out on something good as much as the next Viking gorilla, so I grabbed it and stashed it in the Jungle Room. The trials and tribulations began soon thereafter. You see, Vircolac are a very tough bird to pigeonhole with a sound ranging from OSDM to crust, doom, and several niche places in between. They’re not so much proggy as they are fucking crazy, and Veneration is all over the damn map in an unpredictable, haphazard way that feels devoid of a plan or blueprint. It’s filthy and ugly, but there are rare moments of unexpected beauty and grandeur too. In a nutshell, it’s a hot, soupy mess.
Things open with ” The Lament (I Am Calling You) ” which is 100% pure Celtic folk music with passionate female singing and sawing strings. It’s primal, powerful, and leaves a big impression. As it fades out with increasingly frantic, unsettling strings, you’re launched abruptly into the gaping maw of vicious death that is the title track. It’s scuzzy, punky death in the vein of Autopsy with abrasive riffs and gruesome vocals tearing at your ear flesh. Over the next 5 minutes, Vircolac deliver a series of aural experiences that don’t always seem to be part of the same song. At one point the bruising death lapses into something that sounds a lot like recent Dark Tranquillity, only to stumble into moments that feel like the early Hellmammer demos from the 80s. It’s a wild ride for sure. Is it a good one though? Tough to say. “Repentant” is also chaotic, abrasive crust-death but this gives way to large Black Royal-esque power grooves that shake the rafters. It’s wild and woolly and there’s good stuff going on, but as with the title track, segments feel pasted together with boogers and bubble gum without rhyme or reason.
Then there are the mammoth tracks like “Our Burden of Stone on Bone” where the band really cuts loose with their Build-a-Bear song construction using extra glue, glitter, and googly eyes. As before, there are interesting pieces to this musical Frankenstein, but the madcap way they stitch things together makes for a tough listening experience. Transitions are like jump cuts in some artsy-farsty try-hard indie movie and nothing seems to develop logically. They latch onto a cool riff or groove and then leap into something unrelated without warning. Many of these jumps are between blasting death and plodding doom segments. While Incantation do these kinds of transitions seamlessly, Vircolac can not or will not. This gives the listener musical whiplash and makes it challenging to stay focused on the madness. Nearly 9-minute closer “She is Calling Me (I. War II. Death III. Redemption)” is better, with a somewhat more linear direction, but it too suffers from the band’s ADHD composition style. At a slim 36-plus minutes, Veneration ends up feeling much longer due to the disorganized writing. I struggle mightily to absorb the album in one sitting, usually bailing around the halfway point to go listen to something less chaotic and challenging, like Archspire.
The players here are talented enough. Brendan McConnell uncorks some blistering, dissonant riffs and also offers some gonzo soloing. Some of his playing is actually quite striking and at times, beautiful. He’s a Renaissance man of sorts and his playing is easily the most interesting thing going on here. Darragh O’Laoghaire comes from the Chris Reifert school of rabid wolfman vocals and he goes all in at all times. He’s a good death vocalist, but his somewhat one-note croaking feels out-of-synch with the wildly shifting music at times. It’s the songsmithing that really derails the journey here, with a completely undisciplined, tumultuous style that tests the listener’s resolve.
Veneration is a tough album to grasp and an even tougher one to score. There’s so much going on that it becomes difficult to process. The core style is well within my wheelhouse and there’s a lot of potential, but it isn’t fully realized. With some smoothing and a modicum of focus, I could see Vircolac being a deadly force. For now, they’re just a sanity destabilizing one. Mileage may vary for the criminally insane.
Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Descent
Websites: vircolac.bandcamp.com/album/veneration | facebook.com/vircolacdeathmetal
Releases Worldwide: February 23rd, 2024#25 #2024 #Autopsy #DarkDescentRecords #DeathMetal #Feb24 #Incantation #IrishMetal #Review #Reviews #Veneration #Vircolac
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By Steel Druhm
Sometimes a promo one-sheet actually does its job and gets you incredibly curious to hear something. That was the case with Ireland’s unusual death metal act Vircolac. I had no knowledge of them, but the one-sheet made it sound as if I had to hear their sophomore release Veneration or risk missing out on something unique and special. Steel hates missing out on something good as much as the next Viking gorilla, so I grabbed it and stashed it in the Jungle Room. The trials and tribulations began soon thereafter. You see, Vircolac are a very tough bird to pigeonhole with a sound ranging from OSDM to crust, doom, and several niche places in between. They’re not so much proggy as they are fucking crazy, and Veneration is all over the damn map in an unpredictable, haphazard way that feels devoid of a plan or blueprint. It’s filthy and ugly, but there are rare moments of unexpected beauty and grandeur too. In a nutshell, it’s a hot, soupy mess.
Things open with ” The Lament (I Am Calling You) ” which is 100% pure Celtic folk music with passionate female singing and sawing strings. It’s primal, powerful, and leaves a big impression. As it fades out with increasingly frantic, unsettling strings, you’re launched abruptly into the gaping maw of vicious death that is the title track. It’s scuzzy, punky death in the vein of Autopsy with abrasive riffs and gruesome vocals tearing at your ear flesh. Over the next 5 minutes, Vircolac deliver a series of aural experiences that don’t always seem to be part of the same song. At one point the bruising death lapses into something that sounds a lot like recent Dark Tranquillity, only to stumble into moments that feel like the early Hellmammer demos from the 80s. It’s a wild ride for sure. Is it a good one though? Tough to say. “Repentant” is also chaotic, abrasive crust-death but this gives way to large Black Royal-esque power grooves that shake the rafters. It’s wild and woolly and there’s good stuff going on, but as with the title track, segments feel pasted together with boogers and bubble gum without rhyme or reason.
Then there are the mammoth tracks like “Our Burden of Stone on Bone” where the band really cuts loose with their Build-a-Bear song construction using extra glue, glitter, and googly eyes. As before, there are interesting pieces to this musical Frankenstein, but the madcap way they stitch things together makes for a tough listening experience. Transitions are like jump cuts in some artsy-farsty try-hard indie movie and nothing seems to develop logically. They latch onto a cool riff or groove and then leap into something unrelated without warning. Many of these jumps are between blasting death and plodding doom segments. While Incantation do these kinds of transitions seamlessly, Vircolac can not or will not. This gives the listener musical whiplash and makes it challenging to stay focused on the madness. Nearly 9-minute closer “She is Calling Me (I. War II. Death III. Redemption)” is better, with a somewhat more linear direction, but it too suffers from the band’s ADHD composition style. At a slim 36-plus minutes, Veneration ends up feeling much longer due to the disorganized writing. I struggle mightily to absorb the album in one sitting, usually bailing around the halfway point to go listen to something less chaotic and challenging, like Archspire.
The players here are talented enough. Brendan McConnell uncorks some blistering, dissonant riffs and also offers some gonzo soloing. Some of his playing is actually quite striking and at times, beautiful. He’s a Renaissance man of sorts and his playing is easily the most interesting thing going on here. Darragh O’Laoghaire comes from the Chris Reifert school of rabid wolfman vocals and he goes all in at all times. He’s a good death vocalist, but his somewhat one-note croaking feels out-of-synch with the wildly shifting music at times. It’s the songsmithing that really derails the journey here, with a completely undisciplined, tumultuous style that tests the listener’s resolve.
Veneration is a tough album to grasp and an even tougher one to score. There’s so much going on that it becomes difficult to process. The core style is well within my wheelhouse and there’s a lot of potential, but it isn’t fully realized. With some smoothing and a modicum of focus, I could see Vircolac being a deadly force. For now, they’re just a sanity destabilizing one. Mileage may vary for the criminally insane.
Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Descent
Websites: vircolac.bandcamp.com/album/veneration | facebook.com/vircolacdeathmetal
Releases Worldwide: February 23rd, 2024#25 #2024 #Autopsy #DarkDescentRecords #DeathMetal #Feb24 #Incantation #IrishMetal #Review #Reviews #Veneration #Vircolac
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Massen – Gentle Brutality [Things You Might Have Missed 2023]
By Kenstrosity
If you know me—and most of you should by now—you know that I love bands who fearlessly combine multiple genres into one pot. I want to be blown away by their exploratory vigor, dismissing all pretense of genre loyalty with gusto. Give me something that challenges my advanced ability to categorize and compartmentalize, and you are likely to garner an instant fan. Enter Massen, a Belarusian/German Frankenstein monster who unleashed one of the best records of the year, Gentle Brutality. ENERGY SYSTEM.
Imagine, if you would, what would happen if you smashed together Anaal Nathrakh‘s grindy, hooky extremity with Harm’s Way‘s and Dyscarnate‘s chunkiness, then dressed the result in a warm Silent Stream of Godless Elegy coat. That is essentially what Massen sound like, and let me tell you, it’s brilliant. Of all the things you could merge into one sound, this is one concoction I never expected. Yet, Gentle Brutality is pure magic, brutally heavy and unrelenting while simultaneously exuding a violin-led beauty that lures its audience towards the next indelible hook with unstoppable momentum. ENERGY SYSTEM.
Gentle Brutality’s immensity reveals itself early on in its forty-two minute runtime, with “Energy System” representing possibly the best opening track of 2023. Its ridiculously catchy verses and swaggering riffs are somehow overshadowed by the song’s bridge, featuring eponymous lyrics that I’ve been singing to myself every day, multiple times a day, for four months straight (so far). Then, I have the immense mid-album highlight “Askoma (Sorethroat),” which guarantees several fractures of my vertebrae in ten seconds or less, pounding skulls with the kind of groove that only diagnosed sociopaths have the emotional immunity to resist. Just when I think they can’t inject any more razor sharp hooks into Gentle Brutality, Massen shove another throbbing slab of grinding groove into my face with closer “Our Melody is Not Dead,” wrapping up the record with a resounding bang and leaving me wanting another round. ENERGY SYSTEM.
Immensity notwithstanding, Massen’s musicianship across the board are truly what make Gentle Brutality special. Stealing the show almost every time she features, vocalist and violinist Kara brings power and majesty into every second she gets the spotlight, transforming even the grindiest of Massen’s material into a jig-worthy romp brimming with vitality and emotion (“Corps de Ballet,” “Disgusted,” “Askoma (Sorethroat)”). That’s not to shortchange Alex “Aleerma” numerous contributions as primary death vocalist, guitarist, drummer, keyboardist and bassist. His monstrous roars characterize many of this record’s biggest hooks, and his and fellow guitarists Karymon’s and Eugene’s riffs, leads, and solos provide a palpable sense of force to each of Gentle Brutality’s eight tracks (but especially “Disgusted,” “Askoma (Sorethroat),” “Throwing the Stones,” and “Our Melody is Not Dead”). Even the softer quasi-ballad “Together Alone” succeeds as a result of this group’s collaborative efforts, giving me an excellent bit of belting to practice in the car. ENERGY SYSTEM.
Simply put, Massen are a relentless, unstoppable machine, seemingly incapable of putting a bad song on record. Gentle Brutality proves that beyond a shadow of doubt. No other record in 2023 sounds like it, and few reach the same standard of quality. Gentle Brutality is irresistible, and I can’t recommend it highly enough. ENERGY SYSTEM!
Tracks to Check Out: “ENERGY SYSTEM,” “Askoma (Sore Throat),” “Disgusted,” “Throwing the Stones”
#2023 #AnaalNathrakh #ApostasyRecords #BelarusianMetal #BlackMetal #DeathMetal #Deathgrind #Dyscarnate #GentleBrutality #GermanMetal #Grind #Grindcore #Hardcore #HarmSWay #Massen #MelodicBlackMetal #MelodicDeathMetal #Review #Reviews #SilentStreamOfGodlessElegy #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed2023
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Massen – Gentle Brutality [Things You Might Have Missed 2023]
By Kenstrosity
If you know me—and most of you should by now—you know that I love bands who fearlessly combine multiple genres into one pot. I want to be blown away by their exploratory vigor, dismissing all pretense of genre loyalty with gusto. Give me something that challenges my advanced ability to categorize and compartmentalize, and you are likely to garner an instant fan. Enter Massen, a Belarusian/German Frankenstein monster who unleashed one of the best records of the year, Gentle Brutality. ENERGY SYSTEM.
Imagine, if you would, what would happen if you smashed together Anaal Nathrakh‘s grindy, hooky extremity with Harm’s Way‘s and Dyscarnate‘s chunkiness, then dressed the result in a warm Silent Stream of Godless Elegy coat. That is essentially what Massen sound like, and let me tell you, it’s brilliant. Of all the things you could merge into one sound, this is one concoction I never expected. Yet, Gentle Brutality is pure magic, brutally heavy and unrelenting while simultaneously exuding a violin-led beauty that lures its audience towards the next indelible hook with unstoppable momentum. ENERGY SYSTEM.
Gentle Brutality’s immensity reveals itself early on in its forty-two minute runtime, with “Energy System” representing possibly the best opening track of 2023. Its ridiculously catchy verses and swaggering riffs are somehow overshadowed by the song’s bridge, featuring eponymous lyrics that I’ve been singing to myself every day, multiple times a day, for four months straight (so far). Then, I have the immense mid-album highlight “Askoma (Sorethroat),” which guarantees several fractures of my vertebrae in ten seconds or less, pounding skulls with the kind of groove that only diagnosed sociopaths have the emotional immunity to resist. Just when I think they can’t inject any more razor sharp hooks into Gentle Brutality, Massen shove another throbbing slab of grinding groove into my face with closer “Our Melody is Not Dead,” wrapping up the record with a resounding bang and leaving me wanting another round. ENERGY SYSTEM.
Immensity notwithstanding, Massen’s musicianship across the board are truly what make Gentle Brutality special. Stealing the show almost every time she features, vocalist and violinist Kara brings power and majesty into every second she gets the spotlight, transforming even the grindiest of Massen’s material into a jig-worthy romp brimming with vitality and emotion (“Corps de Ballet,” “Disgusted,” “Askoma (Sorethroat)”). That’s not to shortchange Alex “Aleerma” numerous contributions as primary death vocalist, guitarist, drummer, keyboardist and bassist. His monstrous roars characterize many of this record’s biggest hooks, and his and fellow guitarists Karymon’s and Eugene’s riffs, leads, and solos provide a palpable sense of force to each of Gentle Brutality’s eight tracks (but especially “Disgusted,” “Askoma (Sorethroat),” “Throwing the Stones,” and “Our Melody is Not Dead”). Even the softer quasi-ballad “Together Alone” succeeds as a result of this group’s collaborative efforts, giving me an excellent bit of belting to practice in the car. ENERGY SYSTEM.
Simply put, Massen are a relentless, unstoppable machine, seemingly incapable of putting a bad song on record. Gentle Brutality proves that beyond a shadow of doubt. No other record in 2023 sounds like it, and few reach the same standard of quality. Gentle Brutality is irresistible, and I can’t recommend it highly enough. ENERGY SYSTEM!
Tracks to Check Out: “ENERGY SYSTEM,” “Askoma (Sore Throat),” “Disgusted,” “Throwing the Stones”
#2023 #AnaalNathrakh #ApostasyRecords #BelarusianMetal #BlackMetal #DeathMetal #Deathgrind #Dyscarnate #GentleBrutality #GermanMetal #Grind #Grindcore #Hardcore #HarmSWay #Massen #MelodicBlackMetal #MelodicDeathMetal #Review #Reviews #SilentStreamOfGodlessElegy #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed2023
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By Dr. A.N. Grier
After a much-needed vacation,1 and being sick as fuck for weeks, ole Grier is back with something you might not want in your life but you need it. In 2016, AMG Himself reviewed the third record from Bombus, a little-known Swedish outfit. Like AMG, I was surprised that something so simple could plant a seed in my ear and keep me returning for more. But, I suppose it’s no surprise when surrounded by endless extreme metal that a palate cleanser like Repeat Until Death would find a home in my regular rotation. The band basically plays metalized rock with predictable song structures and hooking choruses, where nothing overstays its welcome. Three years later, we appeared to have missed the release of Vulture Culture. But maybe that was for the best considering it only contained a handful of new ideas and struggled to come together as a complete album. I was hesitant when I saw this year’s Your Blood in the bin. Though one spin in, I knew something magical was happening to Bombus and Your Blood turned out to be their most ambitious record to date.
After spending years with Century Media Records, Bombus has penned a new deal with Black Lodge Records. Not only that but co-founding vocalist and guitarist Matte Säker left the band. In his stead, not only was another vocalist/guitarist recruited (they have two), but a third guitarist was added to the mix to bring the band from a four-piece to a five-piece. With these newfound axes, the band traveled a new road that brought soaring solos, intricate leads, and harmonizing soundscapes. Your Blood also offers the most melodic collection of pieces the band has ever accumulated. The result is far less predictable than previous albums, introducing new twists that’ll pull at your heartstrings, bob your head, and raise an eyebrow (or two). If you know the band’s previous output, nothing will prepare you for what’s to come.
While one of the more straightforward ditties on the record, “Killer” does a decent job introducing you to the new Bombus direction. After opening with all three guitars lending their strings to soaring leads, the song settles into a melodic groove. As the song builds, the passion and sadness of the track intensifies, sucking you into its mere three-and-a-half-minute runtime. With an accessible piece setting the mood, things get real weird, real fast. The follow-up track, “The One,” zaps you into a time warp that introduces a slow-moving vocal style akin to Nick Cave and a poppy drum beat that could have come from The White Stripes. I know, it’s a couple of odd descriptors, but the song is absolutely hypnotizing as it weaves in and out of intense moments and drum-led spoken-word interludes. But, the weirdest track of them all is the title track. Like so many other bands these days, Bombus reaches into Spaghetti-Western influences. With cawing crows and more sinister Ghoultown vibes, this track slithers around like a sidewinder, erupting into the catchy chorus while passing through cold, dark desert nights.
Between these oddities, Hellhammer-esque nastiness, Motörhead beauty, speed metal licks, Pain-like psychedelics, and Volbeaty clapping segments,2 a couple tracks truly crawl to the top. “Carmina” is one of the most interesting tracks on the album, showing how much time the band spent to improve and diversify their sound. Probably one of the heavier tracks on the album, much like their style of old, this track uses a combination of hammering vocals, bass, and drums to set up the chorus. The chorus is interesting because it passes through two phases: first, punching Rob Zombie-ish shouts, and then low, overlapping vocals. After passing the midway point, the band settles into Chug Land, pounding away on a riff as the guitar leads swirl around the background chants. The best song on the album immediately triggered me in the strangest way possible. The simple riff of “Take Your Down” is almost identical to the soundtrack of one of my favorite revenge scenes in television history: when Frank Castle finally gets his hands on William Rawlins. It’s a powerful song with a fantastic chorus that punches on those revenge qualities and puts goosebumps on my arms.
Outside of the weirdly cool (but also still weird), synthy guitar work of “No Rules” and the howling wolf at the beginning of “The Beast,” which had me spitting out my coffee in laughter, Your Blood is a great new direction for Bombus. The songs are painstakingly structured for a style like this, the choruses are some of the best they’ve ever written, and the diversity makes it exciting on repeat listens. The album flow is also well done vocally. As the album plays out, the vocals get nastier and more pained. After introducing some cleans toward the beginning of the album, the back half finds them more and more raucous, concluding the record with the most desperate performance. Your Blood might not be the vicious metal record you want, but if you take a minute to explore the band’s discog, you’ll be surprised by the results of this new record. Everywhere I look on the interwebz, people ask, “Why are these guys not more popular.” And you know what? I have no idea.
Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 267 kb/s mp3
Label: Black Lodge Records
Websites: bombusmusic.com | facebook.com/bombusmusic
Releases Worldwide: November 1st, 2024#2024 #35 #BlackLodgeRecords #Bombus #Ghoultown #HardRock #HeavyMetal #Hellhammer #Motörhead #NickCave #Nov24 #Pain #Review #Reviews #RobZombie #SwedishMetal #TheWhiteStripes #Volbeat #YourBlood
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By Dr. A.N. Grier
After a much-needed vacation,1 and being sick as fuck for weeks, ole Grier is back with something you might not want in your life but you need it. In 2016, AMG Himself reviewed the third record from Bombus, a little-known Swedish outfit. Like AMG, I was surprised that something so simple could plant a seed in my ear and keep me returning for more. But, I suppose it’s no surprise when surrounded by endless extreme metal that a palate cleanser like Repeat Until Death would find a home in my regular rotation. The band basically plays metalized rock with predictable song structures and hooking choruses, where nothing overstays its welcome. Three years later, we appeared to have missed the release of Vulture Culture. But maybe that was for the best considering it only contained a handful of new ideas and struggled to come together as a complete album. I was hesitant when I saw this year’s Your Blood in the bin. Though one spin in, I knew something magical was happening to Bombus and Your Blood turned out to be their most ambitious record to date.
After spending years with Century Media Records, Bombus has penned a new deal with Black Lodge Records. Not only that but co-founding vocalist and guitarist Matte Säker left the band. In his stead, not only was another vocalist/guitarist recruited (they have two), but a third guitarist was added to the mix to bring the band from a four-piece to a five-piece. With these newfound axes, the band traveled a new road that brought soaring solos, intricate leads, and harmonizing soundscapes. Your Blood also offers the most melodic collection of pieces the band has ever accumulated. The result is far less predictable than previous albums, introducing new twists that’ll pull at your heartstrings, bob your head, and raise an eyebrow (or two). If you know the band’s previous output, nothing will prepare you for what’s to come.
While one of the more straightforward ditties on the record, “Killer” does a decent job introducing you to the new Bombus direction. After opening with all three guitars lending their strings to soaring leads, the song settles into a melodic groove. As the song builds, the passion and sadness of the track intensifies, sucking you into its mere three-and-a-half-minute runtime. With an accessible piece setting the mood, things get real weird, real fast. The follow-up track, “The One,” zaps you into a time warp that introduces a slow-moving vocal style akin to Nick Cave and a poppy drum beat that could have come from The White Stripes. I know, it’s a couple of odd descriptors, but the song is absolutely hypnotizing as it weaves in and out of intense moments and drum-led spoken-word interludes. But, the weirdest track of them all is the title track. Like so many other bands these days, Bombus reaches into Spaghetti-Western influences. With cawing crows and more sinister Ghoultown vibes, this track slithers around like a sidewinder, erupting into the catchy chorus while passing through cold, dark desert nights.
Between these oddities, Hellhammer-esque nastiness, Motörhead beauty, speed metal licks, Pain-like psychedelics, and Volbeaty clapping segments,2 a couple tracks truly crawl to the top. “Carmina” is one of the most interesting tracks on the album, showing how much time the band spent to improve and diversify their sound. Probably one of the heavier tracks on the album, much like their style of old, this track uses a combination of hammering vocals, bass, and drums to set up the chorus. The chorus is interesting because it passes through two phases: first, punching Rob Zombie-ish shouts, and then low, overlapping vocals. After passing the midway point, the band settles into Chug Land, pounding away on a riff as the guitar leads swirl around the background chants. The best song on the album immediately triggered me in the strangest way possible. The simple riff of “Take Your Down” is almost identical to the soundtrack of one of my favorite revenge scenes in television history: when Frank Castle finally gets his hands on William Rawlins. It’s a powerful song with a fantastic chorus that punches on those revenge qualities and puts goosebumps on my arms.
Outside of the weirdly cool (but also still weird), synthy guitar work of “No Rules” and the howling wolf at the beginning of “The Beast,” which had me spitting out my coffee in laughter, Your Blood is a great new direction for Bombus. The songs are painstakingly structured for a style like this, the choruses are some of the best they’ve ever written, and the diversity makes it exciting on repeat listens. The album flow is also well done vocally. As the album plays out, the vocals get nastier and more pained. After introducing some cleans toward the beginning of the album, the back half finds them more and more raucous, concluding the record with the most desperate performance. Your Blood might not be the vicious metal record you want, but if you take a minute to explore the band’s discog, you’ll be surprised by the results of this new record. Everywhere I look on the interwebz, people ask, “Why are these guys not more popular.” And you know what? I have no idea.
Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 267 kb/s mp3
Label: Black Lodge Records
Websites: bombusmusic.com | facebook.com/bombusmusic
Releases Worldwide: November 1st, 2024#2024 #35 #BlackLodgeRecords #Bombus #Ghoultown #HardRock #HeavyMetal #Hellhammer #Motörhead #NickCave #Nov24 #Pain #Review #Reviews #RobZombie #SwedishMetal #TheWhiteStripes #Volbeat #YourBlood
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By Dr. A.N. Grier
After a much-needed vacation,1 and being sick as fuck for weeks, ole Grier is back with something you might not want in your life but you need it. In 2016, AMG Himself reviewed the third record from Bombus, a little-known Swedish outfit. Like AMG, I was surprised that something so simple could plant a seed in my ear and keep me returning for more. But, I suppose it’s no surprise when surrounded by endless extreme metal that a palate cleanser like Repeat Until Death would find a home in my regular rotation. The band basically plays metalized rock with predictable song structures and hooking choruses, where nothing overstays its welcome. Three years later, we appeared to have missed the release of Vulture Culture. But maybe that was for the best considering it only contained a handful of new ideas and struggled to come together as a complete album. I was hesitant when I saw this year’s Your Blood in the bin. Though one spin in, I knew something magical was happening to Bombus and Your Blood turned out to be their most ambitious record to date.
After spending years with Century Media Records, Bombus has penned a new deal with Black Lodge Records. Not only that but co-founding vocalist and guitarist Matte Säker left the band. In his stead, not only was another vocalist/guitarist recruited (they have two), but a third guitarist was added to the mix to bring the band from a four-piece to a five-piece. With these newfound axes, the band traveled a new road that brought soaring solos, intricate leads, and harmonizing soundscapes. Your Blood also offers the most melodic collection of pieces the band has ever accumulated. The result is far less predictable than previous albums, introducing new twists that’ll pull at your heartstrings, bob your head, and raise an eyebrow (or two). If you know the band’s previous output, nothing will prepare you for what’s to come.
While one of the more straightforward ditties on the record, “Killer” does a decent job introducing you to the new Bombus direction. After opening with all three guitars lending their strings to soaring leads, the song settles into a melodic groove. As the song builds, the passion and sadness of the track intensifies, sucking you into its mere three-and-a-half-minute runtime. With an accessible piece setting the mood, things get real weird, real fast. The follow-up track, “The One,” zaps you into a time warp that introduces a slow-moving vocal style akin to Nick Cave and a poppy drum beat that could have come from The White Stripes. I know, it’s a couple of odd descriptors, but the song is absolutely hypnotizing as it weaves in and out of intense moments and drum-led spoken-word interludes. But, the weirdest track of them all is the title track. Like so many other bands these days, Bombus reaches into Spaghetti-Western influences. With cawing crows and more sinister Ghoultown vibes, this track slithers around like a sidewinder, erupting into the catchy chorus while passing through cold, dark desert nights.
Between these oddities, Hellhammer-esque nastiness, Motörhead beauty, speed metal licks, Pain-like psychedelics, and Volbeaty clapping segments,2 a couple tracks truly crawl to the top. “Carmina” is one of the most interesting tracks on the album, showing how much time the band spent to improve and diversify their sound. Probably one of the heavier tracks on the album, much like their style of old, this track uses a combination of hammering vocals, bass, and drums to set up the chorus. The chorus is interesting because it passes through two phases: first, punching Rob Zombie-ish shouts, and then low, overlapping vocals. After passing the midway point, the band settles into Chug Land, pounding away on a riff as the guitar leads swirl around the background chants. The best song on the album immediately triggered me in the strangest way possible. The simple riff of “Take Your Down” is almost identical to the soundtrack of one of my favorite revenge scenes in television history: when Frank Castle finally gets his hands on William Rawlins. It’s a powerful song with a fantastic chorus that punches on those revenge qualities and puts goosebumps on my arms.
Outside of the weirdly cool (but also still weird), synthy guitar work of “No Rules” and the howling wolf at the beginning of “The Beast,” which had me spitting out my coffee in laughter, Your Blood is a great new direction for Bombus. The songs are painstakingly structured for a style like this, the choruses are some of the best they’ve ever written, and the diversity makes it exciting on repeat listens. The album flow is also well done vocally. As the album plays out, the vocals get nastier and more pained. After introducing some cleans toward the beginning of the album, the back half finds them more and more raucous, concluding the record with the most desperate performance. Your Blood might not be the vicious metal record you want, but if you take a minute to explore the band’s discog, you’ll be surprised by the results of this new record. Everywhere I look on the interwebz, people ask, “Why are these guys not more popular.” And you know what? I have no idea.
Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 267 kb/s mp3
Label: Black Lodge Records
Websites: bombusmusic.com | facebook.com/bombusmusic
Releases Worldwide: November 1st, 2024#2024 #35 #BlackLodgeRecords #Bombus #Ghoultown #HardRock #HeavyMetal #Hellhammer #Motörhead #NickCave #Nov24 #Pain #Review #Reviews #RobZombie #SwedishMetal #TheWhiteStripes #Volbeat #YourBlood
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By Dr. A.N. Grier
After a much-needed vacation,1 and being sick as fuck for weeks, ole Grier is back with something you might not want in your life but you need it. In 2016, AMG Himself reviewed the third record from Bombus, a little-known Swedish outfit. Like AMG, I was surprised that something so simple could plant a seed in my ear and keep me returning for more. But, I suppose it’s no surprise when surrounded by endless extreme metal that a palate cleanser like Repeat Until Death would find a home in my regular rotation. The band basically plays metalized rock with predictable song structures and hooking choruses, where nothing overstays its welcome. Three years later, we appeared to have missed the release of Vulture Culture. But maybe that was for the best considering it only contained a handful of new ideas and struggled to come together as a complete album. I was hesitant when I saw this year’s Your Blood in the bin. Though one spin in, I knew something magical was happening to Bombus and Your Blood turned out to be their most ambitious record to date.
After spending years with Century Media Records, Bombus has penned a new deal with Black Lodge Records. Not only that but co-founding vocalist and guitarist Matte Säker left the band. In his stead, not only was another vocalist/guitarist recruited (they have two), but a third guitarist was added to the mix to bring the band from a four-piece to a five-piece. With these newfound axes, the band traveled a new road that brought soaring solos, intricate leads, and harmonizing soundscapes. Your Blood also offers the most melodic collection of pieces the band has ever accumulated. The result is far less predictable than previous albums, introducing new twists that’ll pull at your heartstrings, bob your head, and raise an eyebrow (or two). If you know the band’s previous output, nothing will prepare you for what’s to come.
While one of the more straightforward ditties on the record, “Killer” does a decent job introducing you to the new Bombus direction. After opening with all three guitars lending their strings to soaring leads, the song settles into a melodic groove. As the song builds, the passion and sadness of the track intensifies, sucking you into its mere three-and-a-half-minute runtime. With an accessible piece setting the mood, things get real weird, real fast. The follow-up track, “The One,” zaps you into a time warp that introduces a slow-moving vocal style akin to Nick Cave and a poppy drum beat that could have come from The White Stripes. I know, it’s a couple of odd descriptors, but the song is absolutely hypnotizing as it weaves in and out of intense moments and drum-led spoken-word interludes. But, the weirdest track of them all is the title track. Like so many other bands these days, Bombus reaches into Spaghetti-Western influences. With cawing crows and more sinister Ghoultown vibes, this track slithers around like a sidewinder, erupting into the catchy chorus while passing through cold, dark desert nights.
Between these oddities, Hellhammer-esque nastiness, Motörhead beauty, speed metal licks, Pain-like psychedelics, and Volbeaty clapping segments,2 a couple tracks truly crawl to the top. “Carmina” is one of the most interesting tracks on the album, showing how much time the band spent to improve and diversify their sound. Probably one of the heavier tracks on the album, much like their style of old, this track uses a combination of hammering vocals, bass, and drums to set up the chorus. The chorus is interesting because it passes through two phases: first, punching Rob Zombie-ish shouts, and then low, overlapping vocals. After passing the midway point, the band settles into Chug Land, pounding away on a riff as the guitar leads swirl around the background chants. The best song on the album immediately triggered me in the strangest way possible. The simple riff of “Take Your Down” is almost identical to the soundtrack of one of my favorite revenge scenes in television history: when Frank Castle finally gets his hands on William Rawlins. It’s a powerful song with a fantastic chorus that punches on those revenge qualities and puts goosebumps on my arms.
Outside of the weirdly cool (but also still weird), synthy guitar work of “No Rules” and the howling wolf at the beginning of “The Beast,” which had me spitting out my coffee in laughter, Your Blood is a great new direction for Bombus. The songs are painstakingly structured for a style like this, the choruses are some of the best they’ve ever written, and the diversity makes it exciting on repeat listens. The album flow is also well done vocally. As the album plays out, the vocals get nastier and more pained. After introducing some cleans toward the beginning of the album, the back half finds them more and more raucous, concluding the record with the most desperate performance. Your Blood might not be the vicious metal record you want, but if you take a minute to explore the band’s discog, you’ll be surprised by the results of this new record. Everywhere I look on the interwebz, people ask, “Why are these guys not more popular.” And you know what? I have no idea.
Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 267 kb/s mp3
Label: Black Lodge Records
Websites: bombusmusic.com | facebook.com/bombusmusic
Releases Worldwide: November 1st, 2024Show 2 footnotes
- A real one. Not just a vacation from all you fuckheads. ↩
- Yeah, this album is wild. ↩
#2024 #35 #BlackLodgeRecords #Bombus #Ghoultown #HardRock #HeavyMetal #Hellhammer #Motörhead #NickCave #Nov24 #Pain #Review #Reviews #RobZombie #SwedishMetal #TheWhiteStripes #Volbeat #YourBlood
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AMG’s Unsigned Band Rodeö: Nephylim – Circuition
By Dolphin Whisperer
“AMG’s Unsigned Band Rodeö” is a time-honored tradition to showcase the most underground of the underground—the unsigned and unpromoted. This collective review treatment continues to exist to unite our writers in boot or bolster of the bands who remind us that, for better or worse, the metal underground exists as an important part of the global metal scene. The Rodeö rides on.”
Oranjeboom, a low-frills lager, holds little love in its home country of the Netherlands, so much so that its production there was discontinued until only recently.1 Why does that matter? It really doesn’t, but it is a fun fact about the Netherlands and a beer synonymous with their lineage. Nephylim hails from the Netherlands too, and, with any luck, their brand of big scope, big sad melodeath will stake a claim that lands with bolder flavor. Over the past ten years, this five-some has cut an EP and a full-length through their own determination. And now, with this sophomore follow-up Circuition, Nephylim may just be hitting their stride. Or, at least, our Rodeö crew seems to think so. Crack open a cold one and sip on riffy sadness. – Dolphin Whisperer
Nephylim // Circuition [March 7th, 2025]
Steel Druhm: Sometimes when you press play on a Rodeö candidate, you wonder why they aren’t signed because they sound so polished and professional. Such is the case with Dutch melodeathsters, Nephylim, and their sophomore opus, Circulation. Taking cues from Ominium Gatherum, Be’Lakor, Enshine, and the more progressive works of Edge of Sanity, Nephylim voyage across various styles of melodeath but always keep things anchored firmly in the Wheelhouse of Steel. After a beautifully regal instrumental opener, Circulation heats up on “Travail Pt. 2 – Animus,” which is like a glowing distillation of Wolfheart and Be’lakor with a seriously epic vibe coursing through it. The guitars riff, trill, and shimmer with a Tuomos Saukkonen-esque flair as grand orchestrations amplify the sound to herculean proportions. It’s the beast of death metal with the beauty of melancholic music, and this style has a proven appeal. I love the majesty of “Grand Denial” and the hints of Dark Tranquillity woven throughout, and the title track bears traces of Dan Swanö’s Moontower and Tomi Joutsen-era Amorphis as it seamlessly melds heavy and sadboi moments. Unfortunately, not every cut hits with the same soul-searing slash of wintery pathos. “Amaranth” is a bit too generic and pedestrian, and though “Withered” does some things very well, the writing is a touch less compelling. Elsewhere, closer “Inner Paradigm” feels like something from the later eras of In Flames, not bad, but less impactful. At thirty-eight minutes, there are bits of bloat scattered around, but nothing that’s fatal if swallowed. There’s a lot to like about Circulation, and I’m left still wondering why Nephylim aren’t signed. With this much potential, they should be! 3.0/5.0
GardensTale: From two live shows, I already knew Nephylim were good. I could not have anticipated what a masterclass Circuition would turn out to be, though. Combining the maudlin symphonic details of Fires in the Distance with the melancholy hope and impeccable composition of Countless Skies is no easy feat, but the songwriting has taken a giant leap forward. Circuition is absolutely packed with beautiful melodies, addictive hooks and enticing cascades. The flow is downright brilliant, such that even after a dozen spins, I find myself glued to the speaker in anticipation of the next stanza, the next riff, the next solo. These are linked together with transitions that are set up and knocked down perfectly, helping every track rush past in spiraling eddies like white water rapids after heavy rain. “Circuition” yanks the heart-strings the hardest; follow-up “Withered” has a more basic structure, but the amazing harmonies and powerful solo make it a standout anyway. Cherry on the cake is the top-shelf production, with meticulous mastering and a balanced mix. The sparse clean vocals aren’t great, just okay, and a few tracks end a little more abruptly than I’d like, but these are small bumps on an engaging journey that begs to be spun again and again. 4.0/5.0
Kenstrosity: Dutch sadboi melodeath quintet Nephylim graced my Bandcamp feed a few months back. I was intrigued, but did not bite. At least, not until our Kermity GardensTale recced it for Rodeö duty, at which point I dove straight in. Embodying a wondrous merging between Countless Skies, Fires in the Distance, and a light touch of The Drowning, sophomore effort Circuition garnered instant adoration from this sponge. A rarer feat, Nephylim’s latest only deepened its hold on my heart, as the opening “Travail” suite enamored with epic soars of melody, crushing riffs that ground the piece in deathly gravity, and emotive roars that shake the roots underfoot. “Amaranth” doubles down on that palpable momentum, bringing forward a fun factor that belies Circuition’s introspective character. Beautiful synths and keys dot the landscape just above that metallic verve and swinging rhythm, evoking something inherently mystical while still operating within the bounds of the human spirit (“Circuition”). As the potent pull of songs like “Grand Denial,” “Withered,” and immense closer “Inner Paradigm” continually challenge my perception of what constitutes a highlight, I find myself universally immersed, committed, and compelled by Circuition. Experiencing this, as much as I pine for new material from those great acts that Nephylim remind me of, I know in my soul that Circuition is one of 2025’s foremost contenders. Great!
Maddog: When Fenrir finally closes the curtain on 2025, Nephylim’s Circuition will be one of my few fond memories of this disastrous year. This hidden melodeath gem triumphs by embracing simplicity without stagnation. No one would argue that Nephylim’s guitarists stretch the limits of human dexterity. And yet, as Circuition buried my ears in riffs upon riffs, it dragged me into its orbit. Blending the classic stylings of Dark Tranquillity with the modern touch of Æther Realm, Nephylim won me over through its irresistible energy. While I initially fell in love with merely a couple of its songs, Circuition’s consistency unveiled itself over time. Indeed, while the closer “Inner Paradigm” was initially my least favorite song, its Shadows of the Dying Sun riffs and its somber ending have made it a highlight. Despite its consistency, Circuition’s mood changes keep it fresh. The fantastic midsection of the album progresses from gargantuan riffs (“Grand Denial”) to tear-jerking Enshine melodies (“Circuition”) to explosive choruses (“Withered”). Circuition is textbook, but it’s both a thrilling spectacle and an emotive powerhouse. Every piece is essential, and every piece is distinctive. 4.0/5.0
Killjoy: The term “Nephilim” in the Hebrew Bible is often translated as “giants” in English. Accordingly, melodic death metal band Nephylim does everything big. Riffs? Big. Rumbling death roars? Big. Thunderous rhythm section? Big. Circuition feels like a highlight reel of the serious and somber side of melodeath, with each individual song bringing something unique to the table. “Travail Pt. II – Animus” embellishes the somber intensity of Insomnium with delicate piano keys reminiscent of Fires in the Distance and heaps of symphonic bombast. The suspenseful drum beats which introduce “Amaranth” organically build excitement by layering on bass and then guitar lines before releasing the pent-up energy with a furious snarl and fiery riffs. But there’s also a tender side to Nephylim; “Circuition” adopts a melancholic and folk-tinted mood laced with deep, beautiful croons, all of which I associate with Vorna. Circuition is considerably more ambitious than Nephylim’s debut, but they never let their ambitions spiral out of control. If anything, I’d like to see them continue to develop their symphonic side that they teased in the first two tracks. Although I find the last third of the record ever so slightly less engaging, I can endorse all thirty-eight minutes of Circuition as worthy of your time. 3.5/5.0
#2025 #AngryMetalGuySUnsignedBandRodeo #AngryMetalGuySUnsignedBandRodeo2025 #ÆtherRealm #BeLakor #Circuition #CountlessSkies #DarkTranquillity #DutchMetal #EdgeOfSanity #Enshine #FiresInTheDistance #InFlames #IndependentRelease #Insomnium #Mar25 #MelodicDeathMetal #Moontower #Nephylim #OmniumGatherum #ProgressiveDeathMetal #SelfRelease #TheDrowning #Wolfheart
-
AMG’s Unsigned Band Rodeö: Nephylim – Circuition
By Dolphin Whisperer
“AMG’s Unsigned Band Rodeö” is a time-honored tradition to showcase the most underground of the underground—the unsigned and unpromoted. This collective review treatment continues to exist to unite our writers in boot or bolster of the bands who remind us that, for better or worse, the metal underground exists as an important part of the global metal scene. The Rodeö rides on.”
Oranjeboom, a low-frills lager, holds little love in its home country of the Netherlands, so much so that its production there was discontinued until only recently.1 Why does that matter? It really doesn’t, but it is a fun fact about the Netherlands and a beer synonymous with their lineage. Nephylim hails from the Netherlands too, and, with any luck, their brand of big scope, big sad melodeath will stake a claim that lands with bolder flavor. Over the past ten years, this five-some has cut an EP and a full-length through their own determination. And now, with this sophomore follow-up Circuition, Nephylim may just be hitting their stride. Or, at least, our Rodeö crew seems to think so. Crack open a cold one and sip on riffy sadness. – Dolphin Whisperer
Nephylim // Circuition [March 7th, 2025]
Steel Druhm: Sometimes when you press play on a Rodeö candidate, you wonder why they aren’t signed because they sound so polished and professional. Such is the case with Dutch melodeathsters, Nephylim, and their sophomore opus, Circulation. Taking cues from Ominium Gatherum, Be’Lakor, Enshine, and the more progressive works of Edge of Sanity, Nephylim voyage across various styles of melodeath but always keep things anchored firmly in the Wheelhouse of Steel. After a beautifully regal instrumental opener, Circulation heats up on “Travail Pt. 2 – Animus,” which is like a glowing distillation of Wolfheart and Be’lakor with a seriously epic vibe coursing through it. The guitars riff, trill, and shimmer with a Tuomos Saukkonen-esque flair as grand orchestrations amplify the sound to herculean proportions. It’s the beast of death metal with the beauty of melancholic music, and this style has a proven appeal. I love the majesty of “Grand Denial” and the hints of Dark Tranquillity woven throughout, and the title track bears traces of Dan Swanö’s Moontower and Tomi Joutsen-era Amorphis as it seamlessly melds heavy and sadboi moments. Unfortunately, not every cut hits with the same soul-searing slash of wintery pathos. “Amaranth” is a bit too generic and pedestrian, and though “Withered” does some things very well, the writing is a touch less compelling. Elsewhere, closer “Inner Paradigm” feels like something from the later eras of In Flames, not bad, but less impactful. At thirty-eight minutes, there are bits of bloat scattered around, but nothing that’s fatal if swallowed. There’s a lot to like about Circulation, and I’m left still wondering why Nephylim aren’t signed. With this much potential, they should be! 3.0/5.0
GardensTale: From two live shows, I already knew Nephylim were good. I could not have anticipated what a masterclass Circuition would turn out to be, though. Combining the maudlin symphonic details of Fires in the Distance with the melancholy hope and impeccable composition of Countless Skies is no easy feat, but the songwriting has taken a giant leap forward. Circuition is absolutely packed with beautiful melodies, addictive hooks and enticing cascades. The flow is downright brilliant, such that even after a dozen spins, I find myself glued to the speaker in anticipation of the next stanza, the next riff, the next solo. These are linked together with transitions that are set up and knocked down perfectly, helping every track rush past in spiraling eddies like white water rapids after heavy rain. “Circuition” yanks the heart-strings the hardest; follow-up “Withered” has a more basic structure, but the amazing harmonies and powerful solo make it a standout anyway. Cherry on the cake is the top-shelf production, with meticulous mastering and a balanced mix. The sparse clean vocals aren’t great, just okay, and a few tracks end a little more abruptly than I’d like, but these are small bumps on an engaging journey that begs to be spun again and again. 4.0/5.0
Kenstrosity: Dutch sadboi melodeath quintet Nephylim graced my Bandcamp feed a few months back. I was intrigued, but did not bite. At least, not until our Kermity GardensTale recced it for Rodeö duty, at which point I dove straight in. Embodying a wondrous merging between Countless Skies, Fires in the Distance, and a light touch of The Drowning, sophomore effort Circuition garnered instant adoration from this sponge. A rarer feat, Nephylim’s latest only deepened its hold on my heart, as the opening “Travail” suite enamored with epic soars of melody, crushing riffs that ground the piece in deathly gravity, and emotive roars that shake the roots underfoot. “Amaranth” doubles down on that palpable momentum, bringing forward a fun factor that belies Circuition’s introspective character. Beautiful synths and keys dot the landscape just above that metallic verve and swinging rhythm, evoking something inherently mystical while still operating within the bounds of the human spirit (“Circuition”). As the potent pull of songs like “Grand Denial,” “Withered,” and immense closer “Inner Paradigm” continually challenge my perception of what constitutes a highlight, I find myself universally immersed, committed, and compelled by Circuition. Experiencing this, as much as I pine for new material from those great acts that Nephylim remind me of, I know in my soul that Circuition is one of 2025’s foremost contenders. Great!
Maddog: When Fenrir finally closes the curtain on 2025, Nephylim’s Circuition will be one of my few fond memories of this disastrous year. This hidden melodeath gem triumphs by embracing simplicity without stagnation. No one would argue that Nephylim’s guitarists stretch the limits of human dexterity. And yet, as Circuition buried my ears in riffs upon riffs, it dragged me into its orbit. Blending the classic stylings of Dark Tranquillity with the modern touch of Æther Realm, Nephylim won me over through its irresistible energy. While I initially fell in love with merely a couple of its songs, Circuition’s consistency unveiled itself over time. Indeed, while the closer “Inner Paradigm” was initially my least favorite song, its Shadows of the Dying Sun riffs and its somber ending have made it a highlight. Despite its consistency, Circuition’s mood changes keep it fresh. The fantastic midsection of the album progresses from gargantuan riffs (“Grand Denial”) to tear-jerking Enshine melodies (“Circuition”) to explosive choruses (“Withered”). Circuition is textbook, but it’s both a thrilling spectacle and an emotive powerhouse. Every piece is essential, and every piece is distinctive. 4.0/5.0
Killjoy: The term “Nephilim” in the Hebrew Bible is often translated as “giants” in English. Accordingly, melodic death metal band Nephylim does everything big. Riffs? Big. Rumbling death roars? Big. Thunderous rhythm section? Big. Circuition feels like a highlight reel of the serious and somber side of melodeath, with each individual song bringing something unique to the table. “Travail Pt. II – Animus” embellishes the somber intensity of Insomnium with delicate piano keys reminiscent of Fires in the Distance and heaps of symphonic bombast. The suspenseful drum beats which introduce “Amaranth” organically build excitement by layering on bass and then guitar lines before releasing the pent-up energy with a furious snarl and fiery riffs. But there’s also a tender side to Nephylim; “Circuition” adopts a melancholic and folk-tinted mood laced with deep, beautiful croons, all of which I associate with Vorna. Circuition is considerably more ambitious than Nephylim’s debut, but they never let their ambitions spiral out of control. If anything, I’d like to see them continue to develop their symphonic side that they teased in the first two tracks. Although I find the last third of the record ever so slightly less engaging, I can endorse all thirty-eight minutes of Circuition as worthy of your time. 3.5/5.0
#2025 #AngryMetalGuySUnsignedBandRodeo #AngryMetalGuySUnsignedBandRodeo2025 #ÆtherRealm #BeLakor #Circuition #CountlessSkies #DarkTranquillity #DutchMetal #EdgeOfSanity #Enshine #FiresInTheDistance #InFlames #IndependentRelease #Insomnium #Mar25 #MelodicDeathMetal #Moontower #Nephylim #OmniumGatherum #ProgressiveDeathMetal #SelfRelease #TheDrowning #Wolfheart
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AMG’s Unsigned Band Rodeö: Nephylim – Circuition
By Dolphin Whisperer
“AMG’s Unsigned Band Rodeö” is a time-honored tradition to showcase the most underground of the underground—the unsigned and unpromoted. This collective review treatment continues to exist to unite our writers in boot or bolster of the bands who remind us that, for better or worse, the metal underground exists as an important part of the global metal scene. The Rodeö rides on.”
Oranjeboom, a low-frills lager, holds little love in its home country of the Netherlands, so much so that its production there was discontinued until only recently.1 Why does that matter? It really doesn’t, but it is a fun fact about the Netherlands and a beer synonymous with their lineage. Nephylim hails from the Netherlands too, and, with any luck, their brand of big scope, big sad melodeath will stake a claim that lands with bolder flavor. Over the past ten years, this five-some has cut an EP and a full-length through their own determination. And now, with this sophomore follow-up Circuition, Nephylim may just be hitting their stride. Or, at least, our Rodeö crew seems to think so. Crack open a cold one and sip on riffy sadness. – Dolphin Whisperer
Nephylim // Circuition [March 7th, 2025]
Steel Druhm: Sometimes when you press play on a Rodeö candidate, you wonder why they aren’t signed because they sound so polished and professional. Such is the case with Dutch melodeathsters, Nephylim, and their sophomore opus, Circulation. Taking cues from Ominium Gatherum, Be’Lakor, Enshine, and the more progressive works of Edge of Sanity, Nephylim voyage across various styles of melodeath but always keep things anchored firmly in the Wheelhouse of Steel. After a beautifully regal instrumental opener, Circulation heats up on “Travail Pt. 2 – Animus,” which is like a glowing distillation of Wolfheart and Be’lakor with a seriously epic vibe coursing through it. The guitars riff, trill, and shimmer with a Tuomos Saukkonen-esque flair as grand orchestrations amplify the sound to herculean proportions. It’s the beast of death metal with the beauty of melancholic music, and this style has a proven appeal. I love the majesty of “Grand Denial” and the hints of Dark Tranquillity woven throughout, and the title track bears traces of Dan Swanö’s Moontower and Tomi Joutsen-era Amorphis as it seamlessly melds heavy and sadboi moments. Unfortunately, not every cut hits with the same soul-searing slash of wintery pathos. “Amaranth” is a bit too generic and pedestrian, and though “Withered” does some things very well, the writing is a touch less compelling. Elsewhere, closer “Inner Paradigm” feels like something from the later eras of In Flames, not bad, but less impactful. At thirty-eight minutes, there are bits of bloat scattered around, but nothing that’s fatal if swallowed. There’s a lot to like about Circulation, and I’m left still wondering why Nephylim aren’t signed. With this much potential, they should be! 3.0/5.0
GardensTale: From two live shows, I already knew Nephylim were good. I could not have anticipated what a masterclass Circuition would turn out to be, though. Combining the maudlin symphonic details of Fires in the Distance with the melancholy hope and impeccable composition of Countless Skies is no easy feat, but the songwriting has taken a giant leap forward. Circuition is absolutely packed with beautiful melodies, addictive hooks and enticing cascades. The flow is downright brilliant, such that even after a dozen spins, I find myself glued to the speaker in anticipation of the next stanza, the next riff, the next solo. These are linked together with transitions that are set up and knocked down perfectly, helping every track rush past in spiraling eddies like white water rapids after heavy rain. “Circuition” yanks the heart-strings the hardest; follow-up “Withered” has a more basic structure, but the amazing harmonies and powerful solo make it a standout anyway. Cherry on the cake is the top-shelf production, with meticulous mastering and a balanced mix. The sparse clean vocals aren’t great, just okay, and a few tracks end a little more abruptly than I’d like, but these are small bumps on an engaging journey that begs to be spun again and again. 4.0/5.0
Kenstrosity: Dutch sadboi melodeath quintet Nephylim graced my Bandcamp feed a few months back. I was intrigued, but did not bite. At least, not until our Kermity GardensTale recced it for Rodeö duty, at which point I dove straight in. Embodying a wondrous merging between Countless Skies, Fires in the Distance, and a light touch of The Drowning, sophomore effort Circuition garnered instant adoration from this sponge. A rarer feat, Nephylim’s latest only deepened its hold on my heart, as the opening “Travail” suite enamored with epic soars of melody, crushing riffs that ground the piece in deathly gravity, and emotive roars that shake the roots underfoot. “Amaranth” doubles down on that palpable momentum, bringing forward a fun factor that belies Circuition’s introspective character. Beautiful synths and keys dot the landscape just above that metallic verve and swinging rhythm, evoking something inherently mystical while still operating within the bounds of the human spirit (“Circuition”). As the potent pull of songs like “Grand Denial,” “Withered,” and immense closer “Inner Paradigm” continually challenge my perception of what constitutes a highlight, I find myself universally immersed, committed, and compelled by Circuition. Experiencing this, as much as I pine for new material from those great acts that Nephylim remind me of, I know in my soul that Circuition is one of 2025’s foremost contenders. Great!
Maddog: When Fenrir finally closes the curtain on 2025, Nephylim’s Circuition will be one of my few fond memories of this disastrous year. This hidden melodeath gem triumphs by embracing simplicity without stagnation. No one would argue that Nephylim’s guitarists stretch the limits of human dexterity. And yet, as Circuition buried my ears in riffs upon riffs, it dragged me into its orbit. Blending the classic stylings of Dark Tranquillity with the modern touch of Æther Realm, Nephylim won me over through its irresistible energy. While I initially fell in love with merely a couple of its songs, Circuition’s consistency unveiled itself over time. Indeed, while the closer “Inner Paradigm” was initially my least favorite song, its Shadows of the Dying Sun riffs and its somber ending have made it a highlight. Despite its consistency, Circuition’s mood changes keep it fresh. The fantastic midsection of the album progresses from gargantuan riffs (“Grand Denial”) to tear-jerking Enshine melodies (“Circuition”) to explosive choruses (“Withered”). Circuition is textbook, but it’s both a thrilling spectacle and an emotive powerhouse. Every piece is essential, and every piece is distinctive. 4.0/5.0
Killjoy: The term “Nephilim” in the Hebrew Bible is often translated as “giants” in English. Accordingly, melodic death metal band Nephylim does everything big. Riffs? Big. Rumbling death roars? Big. Thunderous rhythm section? Big. Circuition feels like a highlight reel of the serious and somber side of melodeath, with each individual song bringing something unique to the table. “Travail Pt. II – Animus” embellishes the somber intensity of Insomnium with delicate piano keys reminiscent of Fires in the Distance and heaps of symphonic bombast. The suspenseful drum beats which introduce “Amaranth” organically build excitement by layering on bass and then guitar lines before releasing the pent-up energy with a furious snarl and fiery riffs. But there’s also a tender side to Nephylim; “Circuition” adopts a melancholic and folk-tinted mood laced with deep, beautiful croons, all of which I associate with Vorna. Circuition is considerably more ambitious than Nephylim’s debut, but they never let their ambitions spiral out of control. If anything, I’d like to see them continue to develop their symphonic side that they teased in the first two tracks. Although I find the last third of the record ever so slightly less engaging, I can endorse all thirty-eight minutes of Circuition as worthy of your time. 3.5/5.0
#2025 #AngryMetalGuySUnsignedBandRodeo #AngryMetalGuySUnsignedBandRodeo2025 #ÆtherRealm #BeLakor #Circuition #CountlessSkies #DarkTranquillity #DutchMetal #EdgeOfSanity #Enshine #FiresInTheDistance #InFlames #IndependentRelease #Insomnium #Mar25 #MelodicDeathMetal #Moontower #Nephylim #OmniumGatherum #ProgressiveDeathMetal #SelfRelease #TheDrowning #Wolfheart
-
AMG’s Unsigned Band Rodeö: Nephylim – Circuition
By Dolphin Whisperer
“AMG’s Unsigned Band Rodeö” is a time-honored tradition to showcase the most underground of the underground—the unsigned and unpromoted. This collective review treatment continues to exist to unite our writers in boot or bolster of the bands who remind us that, for better or worse, the metal underground exists as an important part of the global metal scene. The Rodeö rides on.”
Oranjeboom, a low-frills lager, holds little love in its home country of the Netherlands, so much so that its production there was discontinued until only recently.1 Why does that matter? It really doesn’t, but it is a fun fact about the Netherlands and a beer synonymous with their lineage. Nephylim hails from the Netherlands too, and, with any luck, their brand of big scope, big sad melodeath will stake a claim that lands with bolder flavor. Over the past ten years, this five-some has cut an EP and a full-length through their own determination. And now, with this sophomore follow-up Circuition, Nephylim may just be hitting their stride. Or, at least, our Rodeö crew seems to think so. Crack open a cold one and sip on riffy sadness. – Dolphin Whisperer
Nephylim // Circuition [March 7th, 2025]
Steel Druhm: Sometimes when you press play on a Rodeö candidate, you wonder why they aren’t signed because they sound so polished and professional. Such is the case with Dutch melodeathsters, Nephylim, and their sophomore opus, Circulation. Taking cues from Ominium Gatherum, Be’Lakor, Enshine, and the more progressive works of Edge of Sanity, Nephylim voyage across various styles of melodeath but always keep things anchored firmly in the Wheelhouse of Steel. After a beautifully regal instrumental opener, Circulation heats up on “Travail Pt. 2 – Animus,” which is like a glowing distillation of Wolfheart and Be’lakor with a seriously epic vibe coursing through it. The guitars riff, trill, and shimmer with a Tuomos Saukkonen-esque flair as grand orchestrations amplify the sound to herculean proportions. It’s the beast of death metal with the beauty of melancholic music, and this style has a proven appeal. I love the majesty of “Grand Denial” and the hints of Dark Tranquillity woven throughout, and the title track bears traces of Dan Swanö’s Moontower and Tomi Joutsen-era Amorphis as it seamlessly melds heavy and sadboi moments. Unfortunately, not every cut hits with the same soul-searing slash of wintery pathos. “Amaranth” is a bit too generic and pedestrian, and though “Withered” does some things very well, the writing is a touch less compelling. Elsewhere, closer “Inner Paradigm” feels like something from the later eras of In Flames, not bad, but less impactful. At thirty-eight minutes, there are bits of bloat scattered around, but nothing that’s fatal if swallowed. There’s a lot to like about Circulation, and I’m left still wondering why Nephylim aren’t signed. With this much potential, they should be! 3.0/5.0
GardensTale: From two live shows, I already knew Nephylim were good. I could not have anticipated what a masterclass Circuition would turn out to be, though. Combining the maudlin symphonic details of Fires in the Distance with the melancholy hope and impeccable composition of Countless Skies is no easy feat, but the songwriting has taken a giant leap forward. Circuition is absolutely packed with beautiful melodies, addictive hooks and enticing cascades. The flow is downright brilliant, such that even after a dozen spins, I find myself glued to the speaker in anticipation of the next stanza, the next riff, the next solo. These are linked together with transitions that are set up and knocked down perfectly, helping every track rush past in spiraling eddies like white water rapids after heavy rain. “Circuition” yanks the heart-strings the hardest; follow-up “Withered” has a more basic structure, but the amazing harmonies and powerful solo make it a standout anyway. Cherry on the cake is the top-shelf production, with meticulous mastering and a balanced mix. The sparse clean vocals aren’t great, just okay, and a few tracks end a little more abruptly than I’d like, but these are small bumps on an engaging journey that begs to be spun again and again. 4.0/5.0
Kenstrosity: Dutch sadboi melodeath quintet Nephylim graced my Bandcamp feed a few months back. I was intrigued, but did not bite. At least, not until our Kermity GardensTale recced it for Rodeö duty, at which point I dove straight in. Embodying a wondrous merging between Countless Skies, Fires in the Distance, and a light touch of The Drowning, sophomore effort Circuition garnered instant adoration from this sponge. A rarer feat, Nephylim’s latest only deepened its hold on my heart, as the opening “Travail” suite enamored with epic soars of melody, crushing riffs that ground the piece in deathly gravity, and emotive roars that shake the roots underfoot. “Amaranth” doubles down on that palpable momentum, bringing forward a fun factor that belies Circuition’s introspective character. Beautiful synths and keys dot the landscape just above that metallic verve and swinging rhythm, evoking something inherently mystical while still operating within the bounds of the human spirit (“Circuition”). As the potent pull of songs like “Grand Denial,” “Withered,” and immense closer “Inner Paradigm” continually challenge my perception of what constitutes a highlight, I find myself universally immersed, committed, and compelled by Circuition. Experiencing this, as much as I pine for new material from those great acts that Nephylim remind me of, I know in my soul that Circuition is one of 2025’s foremost contenders. Great!
Maddog: When Fenrir finally closes the curtain on 2025, Nephylim’s Circuition will be one of my few fond memories of this disastrous year. This hidden melodeath gem triumphs by embracing simplicity without stagnation. No one would argue that Nephylim’s guitarists stretch the limits of human dexterity. And yet, as Circuition buried my ears in riffs upon riffs, it dragged me into its orbit. Blending the classic stylings of Dark Tranquillity with the modern touch of Æther Realm, Nephylim won me over through its irresistible energy. While I initially fell in love with merely a couple of its songs, Circuition’s consistency unveiled itself over time. Indeed, while the closer “Inner Paradigm” was initially my least favorite song, its Shadows of the Dying Sun riffs and its somber ending have made it a highlight. Despite its consistency, Circuition’s mood changes keep it fresh. The fantastic midsection of the album progresses from gargantuan riffs (“Grand Denial”) to tear-jerking Enshine melodies (“Circuition”) to explosive choruses (“Withered”). Circuition is textbook, but it’s both a thrilling spectacle and an emotive powerhouse. Every piece is essential, and every piece is distinctive. 4.0/5.0
Killjoy: The term “Nephilim” in the Hebrew Bible is often translated as “giants” in English. Accordingly, melodic death metal band Nephylim does everything big. Riffs? Big. Rumbling death roars? Big. Thunderous rhythm section? Big. Circuition feels like a highlight reel of the serious and somber side of melodeath, with each individual song bringing something unique to the table. “Travail Pt. II – Animus” embellishes the somber intensity of Insomnium with delicate piano keys reminiscent of Fires in the Distance and heaps of symphonic bombast. The suspenseful drum beats which introduce “Amaranth” organically build excitement by layering on bass and then guitar lines before releasing the pent-up energy with a furious snarl and fiery riffs. But there’s also a tender side to Nephylim; “Circuition” adopts a melancholic and folk-tinted mood laced with deep, beautiful croons, all of which I associate with Vorna. Circuition is considerably more ambitious than Nephylim’s debut, but they never let their ambitions spiral out of control. If anything, I’d like to see them continue to develop their symphonic side that they teased in the first two tracks. Although I find the last third of the record ever so slightly less engaging, I can endorse all thirty-eight minutes of Circuition as worthy of your time. 3.5/5.0
#2025 #AngryMetalGuySUnsignedBandRodeo #AngryMetalGuySUnsignedBandRodeo2025 #ÆtherRealm #BeLakor #Circuition #CountlessSkies #DarkTranquillity #DutchMetal #EdgeOfSanity #Enshine #FiresInTheDistance #InFlames #IndependentRelease #Insomnium #Mar25 #MelodicDeathMetal #Moontower #Nephylim #OmniumGatherum #ProgressiveDeathMetal #SelfRelease #TheDrowning #Wolfheart
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The 1970s in the United States, as seen through the innocent, yet perceptive eyes of a child, was a period marked by profound cultural, political, and religious shifts. The 1970s were a decade where the vibrant promises of the 60s’ counterculture movements began to clash with the realities of ongoing political strife and societal change. The Vietnam War lingered in the background, its echoes felt in living rooms across the nation, while the Watergate scandal shook the foundations of public trust in government. Amidst this backdrop, the civil rights movement, women’s liberation, and a burgeoning environmental consciousness were reshaping the American social landscape.
In homes where conversations often revolved around these turbulent topics, children witnessed an era grappling with identity. The religious landscape was no less complex, with traditional beliefs beginning to be questioned or redefined, creating a toxic concoction of both spiritual seeking and skepticism. It was a time when the pillars of society — politics, culture, and religion — were under scrutiny and often in a state of flux.
For many children, television became a sanctuary from this overwhelming tidal mass of change and uncertainty. It offered an escape into worlds where laughter and simplicity reigned, a stark contrast to the often confusing and somber realities outside their windows. Television shows of the 70s, crafted by visionaries like Garry Marshall, Sherwood Schwartz, Glen A. Larson, and Bernard Slade, provided not just entertainment but a respite, a place where young minds could find solace and distraction from the pressing issues of the day.
These shows were more than mere diversions; they were windows into alternate realities where problems could be solved in thirty-minute increments, where families, though sometimes unconventional, were places of unconditional love and support, and where adventures and mysteries offered a sense of wonder and excitement. In a world that seemed increasingly complex and at times, repressive, television became a realm of liberation and imaginative freedom for the children of the 1970s, subtly shaping their perceptions, values, and dreams in an era of relentless transformation.
The 1970s were a decade vividly etched in cultural memory, not just for its seismic social shifts but for its indelible imprint on the landscape of television. In this crucible of creativity, four maestros — Garry Marshall, Sherwood Schwartz, Glen A. Larson, and Bernard Slade — wove narratives that shaped not only entertainment but the moral fabric of a generation.
Garry Marshall
Garry Marshall, born in the Bronx, New York, as Garry Kent Maschiarelli, emerged as an important figure in television and film. His journey in entertainment began in the 1960s as a joke writer for comedians and a writer for shows like “The Dick Van Dyke Show.” Marshall’s major breakthrough came with the creation of “The Odd Couple,” followed by iconic 70s sitcoms such as “Happy Days,” “Laverne & Shirley,” and “Mork & Mindy,” blending humor with relatable, character-driven stories. He transitioned into film directing with hits like “Pretty Woman” and “The Princess Diaries,” showcasing his knack for heartwarming narratives. Known for his mentorship and warm nature, Marshall passed away in 2016, leaving behind a legacy as a beloved storyteller and cultural influencer.
“Happy Days” (1974-1984)
The Heart of the Show: Ah, Garry Marshall’s “Happy Days,” a delightful time capsule to the 50s and 60s. With the Fonz and the Cunninghams, it felt like stepping into a world where problems could be solved over a milkshake at Arnold’s.What It Gave Us: More than nostalgia, “Happy Days” gave us a sense of continuity during the ever-changing 70s. It was a reminder of simpler times, sure, but also a beacon of enduring values like friendship, respect, and standing up for what’s right.
“Laverne & Shirley” (1976-1983)
The Lowdown: Spun off from “Happy Days,” this was Garry Marshall’s toast to female empowerment. Laverne and Shirley were not just characters; they were symbols of independence, resilience, and the enduring power of friendship.Why It Shone: In an era where women were finding their voice, this show was a rallying cry in sitcom form. It showed us that women could be funny, strong, and unapologetically themselves.
“Mork & Mindy” (1978-1982)
The Quirky Bits: Trust Garry Marshall to bring an alien into our living rooms and make us love him! “Mork & Mindy” was a masterstroke in using humor to talk about… well, everything! From human nature to social issues, all through the eyes of a lovable extraterrestrial.
The Impact: Robin Williams, as Mork, wasn’t just a comedian; he was a teacher of sorts. Through laughter, he made us think and, more importantly, made us feel. It was a show that celebrated differences and embraced the oddballs in all of us.Sherwood Schwartz
Sherwood Schwartz, born in Passaic, New Jersey, rose to prominence in television with a career that started as a radio writer in the 1940s. After serving in the U.S. Army during World War II and contributing to shows like “The Red Skelton Show” and “I Love Lucy,” Schwartz created two of the most iconic TV series of the 20th century: “Gilligan’s Island” and “The Brady Bunch.” These shows, known for their humor and unique characters, became cultural touchstones, reflecting and influencing American society’s changing dynamics. Schwartz’s simple yet impactful storytelling style left a lasting imprint on television, and his legacy continued until his passing in 2011.
“The Brady Bunch” (1969-1974)
What’s the Story?: Created by the ever-imaginative Sherwood Schwartz, “The Brady Bunch” was about as close as you could get to a patchwork quilt in sitcom form. A blended family with six kids! It was like watching a lovable circus act that somehow managed to get along under one roof.
Why It Mattered: This show was more than just fluff. It gently nudged the idea of what a ‘normal’ family could look like, weaving a narrative where love wasn’t limited by bloodlines. In a way, it whispered to us that change was okay, and family was what you made of it.“Gilligan’s Island” (1964-1967)
The Gist of It: Another gem from Schwartz’s treasure chest, “Gilligan’s Island” was the ultimate escape – seven castaways, each a caricature of society, stuck on an island. It was like a social experiment wrapped in coconut shells and slapstick comedy.
Its Echoes: Amidst its laughter, the show was a microcosm of society. It taught us, in its own goofy way, about the beauty of differences and the strength found in coming together. It was a lesson in teamwork, dressed up in tropical shirts and silly antics.Glen A. Larson
Glen A. Larson, born in Long Beach, California, was a defining figure in television, especially known for his work in the 1970s and 1980s. Larson’s career transitioned from music to television writing, where he contributed to shows like “The Fugitive.” He created several iconic series, including the cult classic “Battlestar Galactica” and the action-packed “Knight Rider,” blending science fiction with contemporary issues. His other works like “Magnum, P.I.” and “The Fall Guy” showcased his versatility across genres. Known for integrating cutting-edge technology and special effects in his storytelling, Larson’s influential work continued to inspire and entertain until his passing in 2014.
“Knight Rider” (1982-1986)
What Was It About?: Glen A. Larson’s “Knight Rider” was like a love letter to the future. A talking car, KITT, paired with a crime-fighting heartthrob. It was action-packed, sure, but there was something more…
Why It Stood Out: This show made technology cool and approachable. It whispered promises of a future where gadgets weren’t just tools but partners in making the world a better place. It was a heady mix of adventure and a glimpse into a future that seemed as exciting as it was possible.Bernard Slade
Bernard Slade, a Canadian-born writer and playwright, began his career in entertainment as an actor before shifting to television writing. He contributed to popular 1960s shows like “Bewitched” and “The Flying Nun” before creating the iconic “The Partridge Family” and the groundbreaking “Bridget Loves Bernie,” known for their humor and exploration of family dynamics and societal issues. Slade also achieved success on Broadway with plays like “Same Time, Next Year,” earning critical acclaim for his emotionally rich and humorous storytelling. His work, characterized by a focus on human relationships and family, left a lasting impact on both television and theater until his passing in 2019
“The Partridge Family” (1970-1974)
The Beat of the Show: Bernard Slade struck a chord with “The Partridge Family,” a show that was like a warm, melodic breeze. It followed the adventures of a widowed mother and her kids who form a pop band. Not your everyday family dynamic, but that was the charm!
Why It Sang to Us: This wasn’t just a show about catchy tunes and groovy outfits. It was about family sticking together through thick and thin, about chasing dreams and the power of music to bring people together. In a time of changing family values, “The Partridge Family” was like a reassuring pat on the back, telling us that families come in all shapes and tunes.“Bridget Loves Bernie” (1972-1973)
The Heart of the Matter: Now, “Bridget Loves Bernie” was a bit of a comet – bright, beautiful, and gone too soon. This show took on the bold theme of an interfaith marriage, a topic that was pretty daring for its time.
Its Lasting Whisper: Though it had a brief run, the impact of “Bridget Loves Bernie” was significant. It opened up conversations about religious tolerance, love, and understanding. It was like a gentle nudge to look beyond our differences and find common ground in love and respect. A true trailblazer, that show was.Bernard Slade, with his keen eye for the complexities of human relationships and a heart big enough to embrace them all, gave us shows that were not just entertaining but enlightening. They added depth to the colorful canvas of 70s television, offering stories that resonated with sincerity and warmth. In a decade known for its shifts and swings, Slade’s creations were like a comforting arm around the shoulder, reminding us of the enduring power of love, music, and understanding.
The Lasting Impact
These shows, in their varied hues, did more than entertain. They educated, enlightened, and shaped the moral expectations of their viewers. Through laughter, drama, and familial warmth, they offered a mirror to society, reflecting its complexities and simplicities alike.
This was television not just as a pastime, but as a potent medium of social commentary and moral shaping. As someone who grew up basking in the glow of their stories, I can attest to their profound impact. They weren’t just shows; they were the moral compasses of a generation, guiding, challenging, and nurturing us into a future that they had, in part, helped to mold.
This was television as a compass for the soul, guiding a child through the perplexing labyrinth of their era and equipping them with the moral fortitude for the century ahead. In a time when the world outside seemed embroiled in conflict and contradiction, these shows illuminated paths of understanding, empathy, and resilience. They taught lessons of love transcending familial norms in “The Brady Bunch,” championed the spirit of perseverance and friendship in the face of adversity in “Gilligan’s Island,” and offered glimpses of a future where technology and humanity could coexist harmoniously in “Knight Rider.”
Thus, as these children stepped into the burgeoning light of the new century, they carried with them more than just fond memories of television shows. They bore the imprints of lessons learned in those formative years – ideals of justice, equality, environmental stewardship, and an unyielding belief in the power of human goodness. In the laughter, the adventures, the drama, and the simplicity of 1970s television, there lay the foundational stones for living a life of moral rectitude in an ever-evolving world. As they navigated the complexities of the new millennium, the echoes of these shows whispered continuously, a gentle reminder of a time when television was not just a pastime, but a profound teacher of life’s greatest virtues.
Each of these shows were a chapter in the great American storybook of the 70s. They weren’t just killing time between commercials; they were shaping hearts and minds. They taught us about family, about acceptance, about dreaming big and laughing often. In a world that seemed to be spinning a bit too fast, these shows were like a comfy couch we could plop onto and find a moment’s peace. They were more than entertainment; they were companions in our journey, guiding us, in their own unique ways, towards a future filled with hope, understanding, and a generous sprinkle of laughter.
#1970 #bernardSlade #garryMarshall #gilligansIsland #glenALarson #happyDays #partridgeFamily #sherwoodSchwartz #television #theFallGuy
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The 1970s in the United States, as seen through the innocent, yet perceptive eyes of a child, was a period marked by profound cultural, political, and religious shifts. The 1970s were a decade where the vibrant promises of the 60s’ counterculture movements began to clash with the realities of ongoing political strife and societal change. The Vietnam War lingered in the background, its echoes felt in living rooms across the nation, while the Watergate scandal shook the foundations of public trust in government. Amidst this backdrop, the civil rights movement, women’s liberation, and a burgeoning environmental consciousness were reshaping the American social landscape.
In homes where conversations often revolved around these turbulent topics, children witnessed an era grappling with identity. The religious landscape was no less complex, with traditional beliefs beginning to be questioned or redefined, creating a toxic concoction of both spiritual seeking and skepticism. It was a time when the pillars of society — politics, culture, and religion — were under scrutiny and often in a state of flux.
For many children, television became a sanctuary from this overwhelming tidal mass of change and uncertainty. It offered an escape into worlds where laughter and simplicity reigned, a stark contrast to the often confusing and somber realities outside their windows. Television shows of the 70s, crafted by visionaries like Garry Marshall, Sherwood Schwartz, Glen A. Larson, and Bernard Slade, provided not just entertainment but a respite, a place where young minds could find solace and distraction from the pressing issues of the day.
These shows were more than mere diversions; they were windows into alternate realities where problems could be solved in thirty-minute increments, where families, though sometimes unconventional, were places of unconditional love and support, and where adventures and mysteries offered a sense of wonder and excitement. In a world that seemed increasingly complex and at times, repressive, television became a realm of liberation and imaginative freedom for the children of the 1970s, subtly shaping their perceptions, values, and dreams in an era of relentless transformation.
The 1970s were a decade vividly etched in cultural memory, not just for its seismic social shifts but for its indelible imprint on the landscape of television. In this crucible of creativity, four maestros — Garry Marshall, Sherwood Schwartz, Glen A. Larson, and Bernard Slade — wove narratives that shaped not only entertainment but the moral fabric of a generation.
Garry Marshall
Garry Marshall, born in the Bronx, New York, as Garry Kent Maschiarelli, emerged as an important figure in television and film. His journey in entertainment began in the 1960s as a joke writer for comedians and a writer for shows like “The Dick Van Dyke Show.” Marshall’s major breakthrough came with the creation of “The Odd Couple,” followed by iconic 70s sitcoms such as “Happy Days,” “Laverne & Shirley,” and “Mork & Mindy,” blending humor with relatable, character-driven stories. He transitioned into film directing with hits like “Pretty Woman” and “The Princess Diaries,” showcasing his knack for heartwarming narratives. Known for his mentorship and warm nature, Marshall passed away in 2016, leaving behind a legacy as a beloved storyteller and cultural influencer.
“Happy Days” (1974-1984)
The Heart of the Show: Ah, Garry Marshall’s “Happy Days,” a delightful time capsule to the 50s and 60s. With the Fonz and the Cunninghams, it felt like stepping into a world where problems could be solved over a milkshake at Arnold’s.What It Gave Us: More than nostalgia, “Happy Days” gave us a sense of continuity during the ever-changing 70s. It was a reminder of simpler times, sure, but also a beacon of enduring values like friendship, respect, and standing up for what’s right.
“Laverne & Shirley” (1976-1983)
The Lowdown: Spun off from “Happy Days,” this was Garry Marshall’s toast to female empowerment. Laverne and Shirley were not just characters; they were symbols of independence, resilience, and the enduring power of friendship.Why It Shone: In an era where women were finding their voice, this show was a rallying cry in sitcom form. It showed us that women could be funny, strong, and unapologetically themselves.
“Mork & Mindy” (1978-1982)
The Quirky Bits: Trust Garry Marshall to bring an alien into our living rooms and make us love him! “Mork & Mindy” was a masterstroke in using humor to talk about… well, everything! From human nature to social issues, all through the eyes of a lovable extraterrestrial.
The Impact: Robin Williams, as Mork, wasn’t just a comedian; he was a teacher of sorts. Through laughter, he made us think and, more importantly, made us feel. It was a show that celebrated differences and embraced the oddballs in all of us.Sherwood Schwartz
Sherwood Schwartz, born in Passaic, New Jersey, rose to prominence in television with a career that started as a radio writer in the 1940s. After serving in the U.S. Army during World War II and contributing to shows like “The Red Skelton Show” and “I Love Lucy,” Schwartz created two of the most iconic TV series of the 20th century: “Gilligan’s Island” and “The Brady Bunch.” These shows, known for their humor and unique characters, became cultural touchstones, reflecting and influencing American society’s changing dynamics. Schwartz’s simple yet impactful storytelling style left a lasting imprint on television, and his legacy continued until his passing in 2011.
“The Brady Bunch” (1969-1974)
What’s the Story?: Created by the ever-imaginative Sherwood Schwartz, “The Brady Bunch” was about as close as you could get to a patchwork quilt in sitcom form. A blended family with six kids! It was like watching a lovable circus act that somehow managed to get along under one roof.
Why It Mattered: This show was more than just fluff. It gently nudged the idea of what a ‘normal’ family could look like, weaving a narrative where love wasn’t limited by bloodlines. In a way, it whispered to us that change was okay, and family was what you made of it.“Gilligan’s Island” (1964-1967)
The Gist of It: Another gem from Schwartz’s treasure chest, “Gilligan’s Island” was the ultimate escape – seven castaways, each a caricature of society, stuck on an island. It was like a social experiment wrapped in coconut shells and slapstick comedy.
Its Echoes: Amidst its laughter, the show was a microcosm of society. It taught us, in its own goofy way, about the beauty of differences and the strength found in coming together. It was a lesson in teamwork, dressed up in tropical shirts and silly antics.Glen A. Larson
Glen A. Larson, born in Long Beach, California, was a defining figure in television, especially known for his work in the 1970s and 1980s. Larson’s career transitioned from music to television writing, where he contributed to shows like “The Fugitive.” He created several iconic series, including the cult classic “Battlestar Galactica” and the action-packed “Knight Rider,” blending science fiction with contemporary issues. His other works like “Magnum, P.I.” and “The Fall Guy” showcased his versatility across genres. Known for integrating cutting-edge technology and special effects in his storytelling, Larson’s influential work continued to inspire and entertain until his passing in 2014.
“Knight Rider” (1982-1986)
What Was It About?: Glen A. Larson’s “Knight Rider” was like a love letter to the future. A talking car, KITT, paired with a crime-fighting heartthrob. It was action-packed, sure, but there was something more…
Why It Stood Out: This show made technology cool and approachable. It whispered promises of a future where gadgets weren’t just tools but partners in making the world a better place. It was a heady mix of adventure and a glimpse into a future that seemed as exciting as it was possible.Bernard Slade
Bernard Slade, a Canadian-born writer and playwright, began his career in entertainment as an actor before shifting to television writing. He contributed to popular 1960s shows like “Bewitched” and “The Flying Nun” before creating the iconic “The Partridge Family” and the groundbreaking “Bridget Loves Bernie,” known for their humor and exploration of family dynamics and societal issues. Slade also achieved success on Broadway with plays like “Same Time, Next Year,” earning critical acclaim for his emotionally rich and humorous storytelling. His work, characterized by a focus on human relationships and family, left a lasting impact on both television and theater until his passing in 2019
“The Partridge Family” (1970-1974)
The Beat of the Show: Bernard Slade struck a chord with “The Partridge Family,” a show that was like a warm, melodic breeze. It followed the adventures of a widowed mother and her kids who form a pop band. Not your everyday family dynamic, but that was the charm!
Why It Sang to Us: This wasn’t just a show about catchy tunes and groovy outfits. It was about family sticking together through thick and thin, about chasing dreams and the power of music to bring people together. In a time of changing family values, “The Partridge Family” was like a reassuring pat on the back, telling us that families come in all shapes and tunes.“Bridget Loves Bernie” (1972-1973)
The Heart of the Matter: Now, “Bridget Loves Bernie” was a bit of a comet – bright, beautiful, and gone too soon. This show took on the bold theme of an interfaith marriage, a topic that was pretty daring for its time.
Its Lasting Whisper: Though it had a brief run, the impact of “Bridget Loves Bernie” was significant. It opened up conversations about religious tolerance, love, and understanding. It was like a gentle nudge to look beyond our differences and find common ground in love and respect. A true trailblazer, that show was.Bernard Slade, with his keen eye for the complexities of human relationships and a heart big enough to embrace them all, gave us shows that were not just entertaining but enlightening. They added depth to the colorful canvas of 70s television, offering stories that resonated with sincerity and warmth. In a decade known for its shifts and swings, Slade’s creations were like a comforting arm around the shoulder, reminding us of the enduring power of love, music, and understanding.
The Lasting Impact
These shows, in their varied hues, did more than entertain. They educated, enlightened, and shaped the moral expectations of their viewers. Through laughter, drama, and familial warmth, they offered a mirror to society, reflecting its complexities and simplicities alike.
This was television not just as a pastime, but as a potent medium of social commentary and moral shaping. As someone who grew up basking in the glow of their stories, I can attest to their profound impact. They weren’t just shows; they were the moral compasses of a generation, guiding, challenging, and nurturing us into a future that they had, in part, helped to mold.
This was television as a compass for the soul, guiding a child through the perplexing labyrinth of their era and equipping them with the moral fortitude for the century ahead. In a time when the world outside seemed embroiled in conflict and contradiction, these shows illuminated paths of understanding, empathy, and resilience. They taught lessons of love transcending familial norms in “The Brady Bunch,” championed the spirit of perseverance and friendship in the face of adversity in “Gilligan’s Island,” and offered glimpses of a future where technology and humanity could coexist harmoniously in “Knight Rider.”
Thus, as these children stepped into the burgeoning light of the new century, they carried with them more than just fond memories of television shows. They bore the imprints of lessons learned in those formative years – ideals of justice, equality, environmental stewardship, and an unyielding belief in the power of human goodness. In the laughter, the adventures, the drama, and the simplicity of 1970s television, there lay the foundational stones for living a life of moral rectitude in an ever-evolving world. As they navigated the complexities of the new millennium, the echoes of these shows whispered continuously, a gentle reminder of a time when television was not just a pastime, but a profound teacher of life’s greatest virtues.
Each of these shows were a chapter in the great American storybook of the 70s. They weren’t just killing time between commercials; they were shaping hearts and minds. They taught us about family, about acceptance, about dreaming big and laughing often. In a world that seemed to be spinning a bit too fast, these shows were like a comfy couch we could plop onto and find a moment’s peace. They were more than entertainment; they were companions in our journey, guiding us, in their own unique ways, towards a future filled with hope, understanding, and a generous sprinkle of laughter.
#1970 #bernardSlade #garryMarshall #gilligansIsland #glenALarson #happyDays #partridgeFamily #sherwoodSchwartz #television #theFallGuy
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The 1970s in the United States, as seen through the innocent, yet perceptive eyes of a child, was a period marked by profound cultural, political, and religious shifts. The 1970s were a decade where the vibrant promises of the 60s’ counterculture movements began to clash with the realities of ongoing political strife and societal change. The Vietnam War lingered in the background, its echoes felt in living rooms across the nation, while the Watergate scandal shook the foundations of public trust in government. Amidst this backdrop, the civil rights movement, women’s liberation, and a burgeoning environmental consciousness were reshaping the American social landscape.
In homes where conversations often revolved around these turbulent topics, children witnessed an era grappling with identity. The religious landscape was no less complex, with traditional beliefs beginning to be questioned or redefined, creating a toxic concoction of both spiritual seeking and skepticism. It was a time when the pillars of society — politics, culture, and religion — were under scrutiny and often in a state of flux.
For many children, television became a sanctuary from this overwhelming tidal mass of change and uncertainty. It offered an escape into worlds where laughter and simplicity reigned, a stark contrast to the often confusing and somber realities outside their windows. Television shows of the 70s, crafted by visionaries like Garry Marshall, Sherwood Schwartz, Glen A. Larson, and Bernard Slade, provided not just entertainment but a respite, a place where young minds could find solace and distraction from the pressing issues of the day.
These shows were more than mere diversions; they were windows into alternate realities where problems could be solved in thirty-minute increments, where families, though sometimes unconventional, were places of unconditional love and support, and where adventures and mysteries offered a sense of wonder and excitement. In a world that seemed increasingly complex and at times, repressive, television became a realm of liberation and imaginative freedom for the children of the 1970s, subtly shaping their perceptions, values, and dreams in an era of relentless transformation.
The 1970s were a decade vividly etched in cultural memory, not just for its seismic social shifts but for its indelible imprint on the landscape of television. In this crucible of creativity, four maestros — Garry Marshall, Sherwood Schwartz, Glen A. Larson, and Bernard Slade — wove narratives that shaped not only entertainment but the moral fabric of a generation.
Garry Marshall
Garry Marshall, born in the Bronx, New York, as Garry Kent Maschiarelli, emerged as an important figure in television and film. His journey in entertainment began in the 1960s as a joke writer for comedians and a writer for shows like “The Dick Van Dyke Show.” Marshall’s major breakthrough came with the creation of “The Odd Couple,” followed by iconic 70s sitcoms such as “Happy Days,” “Laverne & Shirley,” and “Mork & Mindy,” blending humor with relatable, character-driven stories. He transitioned into film directing with hits like “Pretty Woman” and “The Princess Diaries,” showcasing his knack for heartwarming narratives. Known for his mentorship and warm nature, Marshall passed away in 2016, leaving behind a legacy as a beloved storyteller and cultural influencer.
“Happy Days” (1974-1984)
The Heart of the Show: Ah, Garry Marshall’s “Happy Days,” a delightful time capsule to the 50s and 60s. With the Fonz and the Cunninghams, it felt like stepping into a world where problems could be solved over a milkshake at Arnold’s.What It Gave Us: More than nostalgia, “Happy Days” gave us a sense of continuity during the ever-changing 70s. It was a reminder of simpler times, sure, but also a beacon of enduring values like friendship, respect, and standing up for what’s right.
“Laverne & Shirley” (1976-1983)
The Lowdown: Spun off from “Happy Days,” this was Garry Marshall’s toast to female empowerment. Laverne and Shirley were not just characters; they were symbols of independence, resilience, and the enduring power of friendship.Why It Shone: In an era where women were finding their voice, this show was a rallying cry in sitcom form. It showed us that women could be funny, strong, and unapologetically themselves.
“Mork & Mindy” (1978-1982)
The Quirky Bits: Trust Garry Marshall to bring an alien into our living rooms and make us love him! “Mork & Mindy” was a masterstroke in using humor to talk about… well, everything! From human nature to social issues, all through the eyes of a lovable extraterrestrial.
The Impact: Robin Williams, as Mork, wasn’t just a comedian; he was a teacher of sorts. Through laughter, he made us think and, more importantly, made us feel. It was a show that celebrated differences and embraced the oddballs in all of us.Sherwood Schwartz
Sherwood Schwartz, born in Passaic, New Jersey, rose to prominence in television with a career that started as a radio writer in the 1940s. After serving in the U.S. Army during World War II and contributing to shows like “The Red Skelton Show” and “I Love Lucy,” Schwartz created two of the most iconic TV series of the 20th century: “Gilligan’s Island” and “The Brady Bunch.” These shows, known for their humor and unique characters, became cultural touchstones, reflecting and influencing American society’s changing dynamics. Schwartz’s simple yet impactful storytelling style left a lasting imprint on television, and his legacy continued until his passing in 2011.
“The Brady Bunch” (1969-1974)
What’s the Story?: Created by the ever-imaginative Sherwood Schwartz, “The Brady Bunch” was about as close as you could get to a patchwork quilt in sitcom form. A blended family with six kids! It was like watching a lovable circus act that somehow managed to get along under one roof.
Why It Mattered: This show was more than just fluff. It gently nudged the idea of what a ‘normal’ family could look like, weaving a narrative where love wasn’t limited by bloodlines. In a way, it whispered to us that change was okay, and family was what you made of it.“Gilligan’s Island” (1964-1967)
The Gist of It: Another gem from Schwartz’s treasure chest, “Gilligan’s Island” was the ultimate escape – seven castaways, each a caricature of society, stuck on an island. It was like a social experiment wrapped in coconut shells and slapstick comedy.
Its Echoes: Amidst its laughter, the show was a microcosm of society. It taught us, in its own goofy way, about the beauty of differences and the strength found in coming together. It was a lesson in teamwork, dressed up in tropical shirts and silly antics.Glen A. Larson
Glen A. Larson, born in Long Beach, California, was a defining figure in television, especially known for his work in the 1970s and 1980s. Larson’s career transitioned from music to television writing, where he contributed to shows like “The Fugitive.” He created several iconic series, including the cult classic “Battlestar Galactica” and the action-packed “Knight Rider,” blending science fiction with contemporary issues. His other works like “Magnum, P.I.” and “The Fall Guy” showcased his versatility across genres. Known for integrating cutting-edge technology and special effects in his storytelling, Larson’s influential work continued to inspire and entertain until his passing in 2014.
“Knight Rider” (1982-1986)
What Was It About?: Glen A. Larson’s “Knight Rider” was like a love letter to the future. A talking car, KITT, paired with a crime-fighting heartthrob. It was action-packed, sure, but there was something more…
Why It Stood Out: This show made technology cool and approachable. It whispered promises of a future where gadgets weren’t just tools but partners in making the world a better place. It was a heady mix of adventure and a glimpse into a future that seemed as exciting as it was possible.Bernard Slade
Bernard Slade, a Canadian-born writer and playwright, began his career in entertainment as an actor before shifting to television writing. He contributed to popular 1960s shows like “Bewitched” and “The Flying Nun” before creating the iconic “The Partridge Family” and the groundbreaking “Bridget Loves Bernie,” known for their humor and exploration of family dynamics and societal issues. Slade also achieved success on Broadway with plays like “Same Time, Next Year,” earning critical acclaim for his emotionally rich and humorous storytelling. His work, characterized by a focus on human relationships and family, left a lasting impact on both television and theater until his passing in 2019
“The Partridge Family” (1970-1974)
The Beat of the Show: Bernard Slade struck a chord with “The Partridge Family,” a show that was like a warm, melodic breeze. It followed the adventures of a widowed mother and her kids who form a pop band. Not your everyday family dynamic, but that was the charm!
Why It Sang to Us: This wasn’t just a show about catchy tunes and groovy outfits. It was about family sticking together through thick and thin, about chasing dreams and the power of music to bring people together. In a time of changing family values, “The Partridge Family” was like a reassuring pat on the back, telling us that families come in all shapes and tunes.“Bridget Loves Bernie” (1972-1973)
The Heart of the Matter: Now, “Bridget Loves Bernie” was a bit of a comet – bright, beautiful, and gone too soon. This show took on the bold theme of an interfaith marriage, a topic that was pretty daring for its time.
Its Lasting Whisper: Though it had a brief run, the impact of “Bridget Loves Bernie” was significant. It opened up conversations about religious tolerance, love, and understanding. It was like a gentle nudge to look beyond our differences and find common ground in love and respect. A true trailblazer, that show was.Bernard Slade, with his keen eye for the complexities of human relationships and a heart big enough to embrace them all, gave us shows that were not just entertaining but enlightening. They added depth to the colorful canvas of 70s television, offering stories that resonated with sincerity and warmth. In a decade known for its shifts and swings, Slade’s creations were like a comforting arm around the shoulder, reminding us of the enduring power of love, music, and understanding.
The Lasting Impact
These shows, in their varied hues, did more than entertain. They educated, enlightened, and shaped the moral expectations of their viewers. Through laughter, drama, and familial warmth, they offered a mirror to society, reflecting its complexities and simplicities alike.
This was television not just as a pastime, but as a potent medium of social commentary and moral shaping. As someone who grew up basking in the glow of their stories, I can attest to their profound impact. They weren’t just shows; they were the moral compasses of a generation, guiding, challenging, and nurturing us into a future that they had, in part, helped to mold.
This was television as a compass for the soul, guiding a child through the perplexing labyrinth of their era and equipping them with the moral fortitude for the century ahead. In a time when the world outside seemed embroiled in conflict and contradiction, these shows illuminated paths of understanding, empathy, and resilience. They taught lessons of love transcending familial norms in “The Brady Bunch,” championed the spirit of perseverance and friendship in the face of adversity in “Gilligan’s Island,” and offered glimpses of a future where technology and humanity could coexist harmoniously in “Knight Rider.”
Thus, as these children stepped into the burgeoning light of the new century, they carried with them more than just fond memories of television shows. They bore the imprints of lessons learned in those formative years – ideals of justice, equality, environmental stewardship, and an unyielding belief in the power of human goodness. In the laughter, the adventures, the drama, and the simplicity of 1970s television, there lay the foundational stones for living a life of moral rectitude in an ever-evolving world. As they navigated the complexities of the new millennium, the echoes of these shows whispered continuously, a gentle reminder of a time when television was not just a pastime, but a profound teacher of life’s greatest virtues.
Each of these shows were a chapter in the great American storybook of the 70s. They weren’t just killing time between commercials; they were shaping hearts and minds. They taught us about family, about acceptance, about dreaming big and laughing often. In a world that seemed to be spinning a bit too fast, these shows were like a comfy couch we could plop onto and find a moment’s peace. They were more than entertainment; they were companions in our journey, guiding us, in their own unique ways, towards a future filled with hope, understanding, and a generous sprinkle of laughter.
#1970 #bernardSlade #garryMarshall #gilligansIsland #glenALarson #happyDays #partridgeFamily #sherwoodSchwartz #television #theFallGuy
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The 1970s in the United States, as seen through the innocent, yet perceptive eyes of a child, was a period marked by profound cultural, political, and religious shifts. The 1970s were a decade where the vibrant promises of the 60s’ counterculture movements began to clash with the realities of ongoing political strife and societal change. The Vietnam War lingered in the background, its echoes felt in living rooms across the nation, while the Watergate scandal shook the foundations of public trust in government. Amidst this backdrop, the civil rights movement, women’s liberation, and a burgeoning environmental consciousness were reshaping the American social landscape.
In homes where conversations often revolved around these turbulent topics, children witnessed an era grappling with identity. The religious landscape was no less complex, with traditional beliefs beginning to be questioned or redefined, creating a toxic concoction of both spiritual seeking and skepticism. It was a time when the pillars of society — politics, culture, and religion — were under scrutiny and often in a state of flux.
For many children, television became a sanctuary from this overwhelming tidal mass of change and uncertainty. It offered an escape into worlds where laughter and simplicity reigned, a stark contrast to the often confusing and somber realities outside their windows. Television shows of the 70s, crafted by visionaries like Garry Marshall, Sherwood Schwartz, Glen A. Larson, and Bernard Slade, provided not just entertainment but a respite, a place where young minds could find solace and distraction from the pressing issues of the day.
These shows were more than mere diversions; they were windows into alternate realities where problems could be solved in thirty-minute increments, where families, though sometimes unconventional, were places of unconditional love and support, and where adventures and mysteries offered a sense of wonder and excitement. In a world that seemed increasingly complex and at times, repressive, television became a realm of liberation and imaginative freedom for the children of the 1970s, subtly shaping their perceptions, values, and dreams in an era of relentless transformation.
The 1970s were a decade vividly etched in cultural memory, not just for its seismic social shifts but for its indelible imprint on the landscape of television. In this crucible of creativity, four maestros — Garry Marshall, Sherwood Schwartz, Glen A. Larson, and Bernard Slade — wove narratives that shaped not only entertainment but the moral fabric of a generation.
Garry Marshall
Garry Marshall, born in the Bronx, New York, as Garry Kent Maschiarelli, emerged as an important figure in television and film. His journey in entertainment began in the 1960s as a joke writer for comedians and a writer for shows like “The Dick Van Dyke Show.” Marshall’s major breakthrough came with the creation of “The Odd Couple,” followed by iconic 70s sitcoms such as “Happy Days,” “Laverne & Shirley,” and “Mork & Mindy,” blending humor with relatable, character-driven stories. He transitioned into film directing with hits like “Pretty Woman” and “The Princess Diaries,” showcasing his knack for heartwarming narratives. Known for his mentorship and warm nature, Marshall passed away in 2016, leaving behind a legacy as a beloved storyteller and cultural influencer.
“Happy Days” (1974-1984)
The Heart of the Show: Ah, Garry Marshall’s “Happy Days,” a delightful time capsule to the 50s and 60s. With the Fonz and the Cunninghams, it felt like stepping into a world where problems could be solved over a milkshake at Arnold’s.What It Gave Us: More than nostalgia, “Happy Days” gave us a sense of continuity during the ever-changing 70s. It was a reminder of simpler times, sure, but also a beacon of enduring values like friendship, respect, and standing up for what’s right.
“Laverne & Shirley” (1976-1983)
The Lowdown: Spun off from “Happy Days,” this was Garry Marshall’s toast to female empowerment. Laverne and Shirley were not just characters; they were symbols of independence, resilience, and the enduring power of friendship.Why It Shone: In an era where women were finding their voice, this show was a rallying cry in sitcom form. It showed us that women could be funny, strong, and unapologetically themselves.
“Mork & Mindy” (1978-1982)
The Quirky Bits: Trust Garry Marshall to bring an alien into our living rooms and make us love him! “Mork & Mindy” was a masterstroke in using humor to talk about… well, everything! From human nature to social issues, all through the eyes of a lovable extraterrestrial.
The Impact: Robin Williams, as Mork, wasn’t just a comedian; he was a teacher of sorts. Through laughter, he made us think and, more importantly, made us feel. It was a show that celebrated differences and embraced the oddballs in all of us.Sherwood Schwartz
Sherwood Schwartz, born in Passaic, New Jersey, rose to prominence in television with a career that started as a radio writer in the 1940s. After serving in the U.S. Army during World War II and contributing to shows like “The Red Skelton Show” and “I Love Lucy,” Schwartz created two of the most iconic TV series of the 20th century: “Gilligan’s Island” and “The Brady Bunch.” These shows, known for their humor and unique characters, became cultural touchstones, reflecting and influencing American society’s changing dynamics. Schwartz’s simple yet impactful storytelling style left a lasting imprint on television, and his legacy continued until his passing in 2011.
“The Brady Bunch” (1969-1974)
What’s the Story?: Created by the ever-imaginative Sherwood Schwartz, “The Brady Bunch” was about as close as you could get to a patchwork quilt in sitcom form. A blended family with six kids! It was like watching a lovable circus act that somehow managed to get along under one roof.
Why It Mattered: This show was more than just fluff. It gently nudged the idea of what a ‘normal’ family could look like, weaving a narrative where love wasn’t limited by bloodlines. In a way, it whispered to us that change was okay, and family was what you made of it.“Gilligan’s Island” (1964-1967)
The Gist of It: Another gem from Schwartz’s treasure chest, “Gilligan’s Island” was the ultimate escape – seven castaways, each a caricature of society, stuck on an island. It was like a social experiment wrapped in coconut shells and slapstick comedy.
Its Echoes: Amidst its laughter, the show was a microcosm of society. It taught us, in its own goofy way, about the beauty of differences and the strength found in coming together. It was a lesson in teamwork, dressed up in tropical shirts and silly antics.Glen A. Larson
Glen A. Larson, born in Long Beach, California, was a defining figure in television, especially known for his work in the 1970s and 1980s. Larson’s career transitioned from music to television writing, where he contributed to shows like “The Fugitive.” He created several iconic series, including the cult classic “Battlestar Galactica” and the action-packed “Knight Rider,” blending science fiction with contemporary issues. His other works like “Magnum, P.I.” and “The Fall Guy” showcased his versatility across genres. Known for integrating cutting-edge technology and special effects in his storytelling, Larson’s influential work continued to inspire and entertain until his passing in 2014.
“Knight Rider” (1982-1986)
What Was It About?: Glen A. Larson’s “Knight Rider” was like a love letter to the future. A talking car, KITT, paired with a crime-fighting heartthrob. It was action-packed, sure, but there was something more…
Why It Stood Out: This show made technology cool and approachable. It whispered promises of a future where gadgets weren’t just tools but partners in making the world a better place. It was a heady mix of adventure and a glimpse into a future that seemed as exciting as it was possible.Bernard Slade
Bernard Slade, a Canadian-born writer and playwright, began his career in entertainment as an actor before shifting to television writing. He contributed to popular 1960s shows like “Bewitched” and “The Flying Nun” before creating the iconic “The Partridge Family” and the groundbreaking “Bridget Loves Bernie,” known for their humor and exploration of family dynamics and societal issues. Slade also achieved success on Broadway with plays like “Same Time, Next Year,” earning critical acclaim for his emotionally rich and humorous storytelling. His work, characterized by a focus on human relationships and family, left a lasting impact on both television and theater until his passing in 2019
“The Partridge Family” (1970-1974)
The Beat of the Show: Bernard Slade struck a chord with “The Partridge Family,” a show that was like a warm, melodic breeze. It followed the adventures of a widowed mother and her kids who form a pop band. Not your everyday family dynamic, but that was the charm!
Why It Sang to Us: This wasn’t just a show about catchy tunes and groovy outfits. It was about family sticking together through thick and thin, about chasing dreams and the power of music to bring people together. In a time of changing family values, “The Partridge Family” was like a reassuring pat on the back, telling us that families come in all shapes and tunes.“Bridget Loves Bernie” (1972-1973)
The Heart of the Matter: Now, “Bridget Loves Bernie” was a bit of a comet – bright, beautiful, and gone too soon. This show took on the bold theme of an interfaith marriage, a topic that was pretty daring for its time.
Its Lasting Whisper: Though it had a brief run, the impact of “Bridget Loves Bernie” was significant. It opened up conversations about religious tolerance, love, and understanding. It was like a gentle nudge to look beyond our differences and find common ground in love and respect. A true trailblazer, that show was.Bernard Slade, with his keen eye for the complexities of human relationships and a heart big enough to embrace them all, gave us shows that were not just entertaining but enlightening. They added depth to the colorful canvas of 70s television, offering stories that resonated with sincerity and warmth. In a decade known for its shifts and swings, Slade’s creations were like a comforting arm around the shoulder, reminding us of the enduring power of love, music, and understanding.
The Lasting Impact
These shows, in their varied hues, did more than entertain. They educated, enlightened, and shaped the moral expectations of their viewers. Through laughter, drama, and familial warmth, they offered a mirror to society, reflecting its complexities and simplicities alike.
This was television not just as a pastime, but as a potent medium of social commentary and moral shaping. As someone who grew up basking in the glow of their stories, I can attest to their profound impact. They weren’t just shows; they were the moral compasses of a generation, guiding, challenging, and nurturing us into a future that they had, in part, helped to mold.
This was television as a compass for the soul, guiding a child through the perplexing labyrinth of their era and equipping them with the moral fortitude for the century ahead. In a time when the world outside seemed embroiled in conflict and contradiction, these shows illuminated paths of understanding, empathy, and resilience. They taught lessons of love transcending familial norms in “The Brady Bunch,” championed the spirit of perseverance and friendship in the face of adversity in “Gilligan’s Island,” and offered glimpses of a future where technology and humanity could coexist harmoniously in “Knight Rider.”
Thus, as these children stepped into the burgeoning light of the new century, they carried with them more than just fond memories of television shows. They bore the imprints of lessons learned in those formative years – ideals of justice, equality, environmental stewardship, and an unyielding belief in the power of human goodness. In the laughter, the adventures, the drama, and the simplicity of 1970s television, there lay the foundational stones for living a life of moral rectitude in an ever-evolving world. As they navigated the complexities of the new millennium, the echoes of these shows whispered continuously, a gentle reminder of a time when television was not just a pastime, but a profound teacher of life’s greatest virtues.
Each of these shows were a chapter in the great American storybook of the 70s. They weren’t just killing time between commercials; they were shaping hearts and minds. They taught us about family, about acceptance, about dreaming big and laughing often. In a world that seemed to be spinning a bit too fast, these shows were like a comfy couch we could plop onto and find a moment’s peace. They were more than entertainment; they were companions in our journey, guiding us, in their own unique ways, towards a future filled with hope, understanding, and a generous sprinkle of laughter.
#1970 #bernardSlade #garryMarshall #gilligansIsland #glenALarson #happyDays #partridgeFamily #sherwoodSchwartz #television #theFallGuy
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Piano Quintet Amy Beach streamed with a view of Scheveningen beach
Amy Beach (c) George Grantham Bain Collection (Library of Congress)
Hooray, since the beginning of this month we can finally visit the theatre, the movies or a concert again! – Oops, I cheered too early. No hall can make a living from a maximum of 30 visitors, so a lot of events are still only offered online.
The young Dutch Ensemble de Formule will give a concert in Zuiderstrandtheater in The Hague on 10 June. Since they’re playing in the Harbour foyer, the live stream will offer a view of Scheveningen beach.
According to their website, the five musicians will dive ‘into the magic of surrealism’. To this end they play piano quintets by César Franck and Amy Beach. – And here they’ve got me: Beach is a great composer, whose work is far too rarely performed. However I would contest that her music is ‘surrealistic’ and expresses both ‘raw beauty and madness’. But since the quintet are young and eager, I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt: I’m tuning in on June 10th!
Child prodigy
Amy Beach (1867-1944) was born on September 5, 1876 as Amy Cheney in the state of New Hampshire. Her father was a manufacturer and importer of paper, her mother had a modest concert career as a singer and pianist. Amy turned out to be the proverbial child prodigy. Already as a one year old she sang forty songs by heart, at two she made up counter-melodies to her mother’s singing, at three she taught herself to read and at four she could play any piece of music by ear.
She took piano lessons from her mother and gave her first recital at the age of seven. Here she played some of her own works along compositions by Handel, Chopin and Beethoven. Contrary to what was customary at the time, her parents did not send her to a European conservatory but to a private school in Boston. Her talent did not go unnoticed and at the age of sixteen she made her debut with the Boston Symphony Orchestra, with an acclaimed performance of the Piano Concerto in F by Frederic Chopin.
This boosted her career enormously and that same year she published the song The Rainy Day, her first composition to appear in print. She knew very well how to promote her music and managed to publicize all her consecutive pieces as well. This eventually led to an oeuvre comprising over 300 works. It was performed by renowned singers such as Emma Eames and ensembles such as the Boston Handel & Haydn Society. Her progress was closely monitored by a group of passionate fans. – Among them the surgeon Henry Beach, whom Amy married in 1885.
Concert practice curbed
Amy was only 18 years old at the time, Beach was twenty-four years her senior. And, it sounds familiar: he immediately curbed the stormy career of his brand-new wife. Luckily he was somewhat less rigorous than Gustav Mahler, who forbade Alma to continue composing once they would have entered in wedlock. Henry ‘merely’ demanded Amy to drastically restrict her concert practice and donate her income to charity. Nor was she allowed to take on piano students, for it was considered uncouth for a woman to earn an independent income.
However, Henry did encourage her to continue composing. After all, his infatuation originated in his admiration for her talent. When he came home from work in the evening he asked what she had composed that day. If this was a song, he would sing it out loud while she accompanied him at the piano, and then voice his opinion.
Giving public performances only once or twice a year, Amy was able to dedicate most of her time to her creative work. Her husband helped her publish her scores and collect royalties. – Since this didn’t involve public appearances this was apparently ok.
Moreover, Henry stimulated his wife to broaden her horizon and venture beyond chamber music into large-scale compositions. In 1892 she broke through with her Mass in E flat for choir, soloists and orchestra. Four years later she composed her Symphony in e minor opus 32, which is still occasionally performed today.
Classical and Irish inspiration
With her symphony Amy Beach responded to Antonín Dvorák, who had been director of the New York Conservatory from 1892-1895. Dvorák had encouraged American composers to seek inspiration in the music of the black community and the Indians, the original inhabitants of their country.
Beach, however, disagreed with him. ‘It is much more likely that we of the North are influenced by old English, Scottish and Irish melodies’, she declared self-assured. She put her money where her mouth was and based her Symphony on themes from a collection of Irish folk music. The subtitle ‘Gaelic’ refers to this Irish inspiration.
Gradually she became one of America’s leading composers, and thus functioned as a role model for budding female composers. Together with renowned masters such as Arthur Foote and Horatio Parker, she belonged to the so-called ‘New England School of Composers’. They pursued a classical sound ideal and in her early music we can hear echoes of Brahms.
In the last movement of her 1908 Piano Quintet, Beach even quotes a theme from Brahms’s Piano Quintet. On 10 June, Ensemble de Formule will play the second movement of her own quintet. This is a gripping lament full of languorous lines of the strings, supported by dreamy runs of the piano. As the argument becomes more intense and poignant, the dynamics increase and the piano plays stronger and brighter counterparts. Shame that De Formule will only perform this one movement.
I look forward to hearing Amy Beach performed against the backdrop of Scheveningen beach. Furthermore I am really curious as to how ‘surrealistic’, ‘raw’ and ‘crazy’ the five young musicians will make her wonderful music sound!
Watch the livestream of Ensemble de Formule from Zuiderstrandtheater on Vimeo.
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#AmyBeach #EnsembleDeFormule #HoratioParker #Zuiderstrandtheater
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By Thus Spoke
I’m sure most people reading have experienced that exchange where a friend, colleague, or family member, having caught wind of one’s enjoyment of heavy music asks incredulously, “how do you listen to that?!” It’s an interesting insight into the strange phenomenon of artistic taste,1 how a complex and disharmonic combination of notes and time signatures can be “just noise” to one pair of ears and a thrilling musical experience to another. It therefore amuses me that I can sit here and talk about Burning Palace, who craft progressive, technical, dissonant death metal that’s brutal, loud and restlessly dynamic. But, who pitch it perfectly in that golden zone of melodicism and lethality. Because—as is no surprise to us here, but likely baffles outside observers—there is a great deal of nuance between ineffectual disorganization and potent convolution.
Elegy falls into that specifically American brand of techy, dissonant death metal whose brutality is more corollary than intention. That which is thoughtful, and unexplainably “happy”-sounding despite its surface-level hostility. Jaunty, acerbic, riffs, imagined by an Artificial Brain, clamber to the fore out of formations where the same guitar lines melt into an indistinct yet driving ebb and flow. Sunless, paradoxically major scales spring up out of dissonance and the Afterbirth of inter-assault meandering, to which the occasional lapses into resonant, mournful melodies create gorgeous contrasts. But Burning Palace aren’t copycats, and Elegy actually demonstrates a transition from the grindier brutal death metal of Hollow into this more precise—but absolutely no less heavy—interpretation. As an example of technical sophistication meeting simple enjoyability, the record stands as perfect proof of the aesthetic value of supposedly impenetrable music.
What strikes particularly strongly about Elegy is the expertly deft way Burning Palace poised violence, intricacy, and beauty to craft it. Though occupying a category that in many senses eschews the adjective “catchy,” it has led to some frustration in my time with it, due to the fact that I’m unable to adequately sing, hum, or otherwise externalize its songs that have lodged themselves in my brain, thanks to their emphasis on riffs and time signatures that my unschooled vocal chords cannot copy. Ludicrous and ludicrously fun scale ascents, tempo switches, and rhythmic interplays abound (“Traversing the Black Arc,” “Awakening Extinction (Eternal Eclipse),” and clever dynamism and selective ambience make certain riffs stand out dramatically (“Birthing Uncertainty,” “Sunken Veil”). Burning Palace take the broadly progressive approach to songwriting via tangents and explorations of themes, but always reprise the key elements of those themes through escalation (“Traversing the Black Arc”), or evolution (“Birthing Uncertainty”), or just a snappy, definitive conclusion (“Awakening Extinction…”). Melody is, importantly, never actually absent, and the genuine beauty of the explicit refrains that slink in as a lone guitar takes centre-stage (“Malignant Dogma,” “Suspended in Emptiness,” “Sunken Veil”) are just the pinnacle of the shifting interplay that undergirds them, arising naturally and not as mere contrast to some ugly, dissonant mass.
There is nothing specifically within Elegy that one could single out as lesser in quality; the record is remarkably consistent, and if anything, Burning Palace save some of the best for its latter end (“Sunken Veil” is probably my personal favorite, and it comes second-to-last). There is a vague sensation that tracks share a little too much in common, but I’ve found that the more time spent in their company, the more personality each of them shows. But even if they do tend to melt a little into the realm of indistinguishability, the quality is invariably high, so I, for one, don’t really care—what does it matter, when you’ll be spinning it repeatedly in full anyway? That inkling of indistinctness runs the opposite direction and speaks somewhat to Elegy’s flow, as many songs pick up a similar riff or percussive pattern to that which closed their predecessor (“Malignant Dogma”).
Burning Palace might not be the average person’s idea of a great musical time, but it’s mine, and likely many of yours too. Elegy demonstrates the breadth of dissonance and complexity in extreme metal in its thoughtful yet exuberant form. Not cerebral, but clever, and never neglecting to dazzle with superb musicianship as worthy of the adjective “gnarly” as “technical.” Burning Palace have made subtly complex and repeatedly rewarding compositions, full of energy and ardor, and that you actually want to listen to, not just because you feel smart doing so. Those who can’t appreciate the style truly are missing out.
Rating: Very Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: wav
Label: Total Dissonance Worship
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 14th, 2025#2025 #35 #Afterbirth #AmericanMetal #ArtificialBrain #BurningPalace #DeathMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #Elegy #Mar25 #ProgressiveTechnicalDeathMetal #Review #Reviews #Sunless #TechnicalDeathMetal #TotalDissonanceWorship
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By Thus Spoke
I’m sure most people reading have experienced that exchange where a friend, colleague, or family member, having caught wind of one’s enjoyment of heavy music asks incredulously, “how do you listen to that?!” It’s an interesting insight into the strange phenomenon of artistic taste,1 how a complex and disharmonic combination of notes and time signatures can be “just noise” to one pair of ears and a thrilling musical experience to another. It therefore amuses me that I can sit here and talk about Burning Palace, who craft progressive, technical, dissonant death metal that’s brutal, loud and restlessly dynamic. But, who pitch it perfectly in that golden zone of melodicism and lethality. Because—as is no surprise to us here, but likely baffles outside observers—there is a great deal of nuance between ineffectual disorganization and potent convolution.
Elegy falls into that specifically American brand of techy, dissonant death metal whose brutality is more corollary than intention. That which is thoughtful, and unexplainably “happy”-sounding despite its surface-level hostility. Jaunty, acerbic, riffs, imagined by an Artificial Brain, clamber to the fore out of formations where the same guitar lines melt into an indistinct yet driving ebb and flow. Sunless, paradoxically major scales spring up out of dissonance and the Afterbirth of inter-assault meandering, to which the occasional lapses into resonant, mournful melodies create gorgeous contrasts. But Burning Palace aren’t copycats, and Elegy actually demonstrates a transition from the grindier brutal death metal of Hollow into this more precise—but absolutely no less heavy—interpretation. As an example of technical sophistication meeting simple enjoyability, the record stands as perfect proof of the aesthetic value of supposedly impenetrable music.
What strikes particularly strongly about Elegy is the expertly deft way Burning Palace poised violence, intricacy, and beauty to craft it. Though occupying a category that in many senses eschews the adjective “catchy,” it has led to some frustration in my time with it, due to the fact that I’m unable to adequately sing, hum, or otherwise externalize its songs that have lodged themselves in my brain, thanks to their emphasis on riffs and time signatures that my unschooled vocal chords cannot copy. Ludicrous and ludicrously fun scale ascents, tempo switches, and rhythmic interplays abound (“Traversing the Black Arc,” “Awakening Extinction (Eternal Eclipse),” and clever dynamism and selective ambience make certain riffs stand out dramatically (“Birthing Uncertainty,” “Sunken Veil”). Burning Palace take the broadly progressive approach to songwriting via tangents and explorations of themes, but always reprise the key elements of those themes through escalation (“Traversing the Black Arc”), or evolution (“Birthing Uncertainty”), or just a snappy, definitive conclusion (“Awakening Extinction…”). Melody is, importantly, never actually absent, and the genuine beauty of the explicit refrains that slink in as a lone guitar takes centre-stage (“Malignant Dogma,” “Suspended in Emptiness,” “Sunken Veil”) are just the pinnacle of the shifting interplay that undergirds them, arising naturally and not as mere contrast to some ugly, dissonant mass.
There is nothing specifically within Elegy that one could single out as lesser in quality; the record is remarkably consistent, and if anything, Burning Palace save some of the best for its latter end (“Sunken Veil” is probably my personal favorite, and it comes second-to-last). There is a vague sensation that tracks share a little too much in common, but I’ve found that the more time spent in their company, the more personality each of them shows. But even if they do tend to melt a little into the realm of indistinguishability, the quality is invariably high, so I, for one, don’t really care—what does it matter, when you’ll be spinning it repeatedly in full anyway? That inkling of indistinctness runs the opposite direction and speaks somewhat to Elegy’s flow, as many songs pick up a similar riff or percussive pattern to that which closed their predecessor (“Malignant Dogma”).
Burning Palace might not be the average person’s idea of a great musical time, but it’s mine, and likely many of yours too. Elegy demonstrates the breadth of dissonance and complexity in extreme metal in its thoughtful yet exuberant form. Not cerebral, but clever, and never neglecting to dazzle with superb musicianship as worthy of the adjective “gnarly” as “technical.” Burning Palace have made subtly complex and repeatedly rewarding compositions, full of energy and ardor, and that you actually want to listen to, not just because you feel smart doing so. Those who can’t appreciate the style truly are missing out.
Rating: Very Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: wav
Label: Total Dissonance Worship
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 14th, 2025#2025 #35 #Afterbirth #AmericanMetal #ArtificialBrain #BurningPalace #DeathMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #Elegy #Mar25 #ProgressiveTechnicalDeathMetal #Review #Reviews #Sunless #TechnicalDeathMetal #TotalDissonanceWorship
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By Thus Spoke
I’m sure most people reading have experienced that exchange where a friend, colleague, or family member, having caught wind of one’s enjoyment of heavy music asks incredulously, “how do you listen to that?!” It’s an interesting insight into the strange phenomenon of artistic taste,1 how a complex and disharmonic combination of notes and time signatures can be “just noise” to one pair of ears and a thrilling musical experience to another. It therefore amuses me that I can sit here and talk about Burning Palace, who craft progressive, technical, dissonant death metal that’s brutal, loud and restlessly dynamic. But, who pitch it perfectly in that golden zone of melodicism and lethality. Because—as is no surprise to us here, but likely baffles outside observers—there is a great deal of nuance between ineffectual disorganization and potent convolution.
Elegy falls into that specifically American brand of techy, dissonant death metal whose brutality is more corollary than intention. That which is thoughtful, and unexplainably “happy”-sounding despite its surface-level hostility. Jaunty, acerbic, riffs, imagined by an Artificial Brain, clamber to the fore out of formations where the same guitar lines melt into an indistinct yet driving ebb and flow. Sunless, paradoxically major scales spring up out of dissonance and the Afterbirth of inter-assault meandering, to which the occasional lapses into resonant, mournful melodies create gorgeous contrasts. But Burning Palace aren’t copycats, and Elegy actually demonstrates a transition from the grindier brutal death metal of Hollow into this more precise—but absolutely no less heavy—interpretation. As an example of technical sophistication meeting simple enjoyability, the record stands as perfect proof of the aesthetic value of supposedly impenetrable music.
What strikes particularly strongly about Elegy is the expertly deft way Burning Palace poised violence, intricacy, and beauty to craft it. Though occupying a category that in many senses eschews the adjective “catchy,” it has led to some frustration in my time with it, due to the fact that I’m unable to adequately sing, hum, or otherwise externalize its songs that have lodged themselves in my brain, thanks to their emphasis on riffs and time signatures that my unschooled vocal chords cannot copy. Ludicrous and ludicrously fun scale ascents, tempo switches, and rhythmic interplays abound (“Traversing the Black Arc,” “Awakening Extinction (Eternal Eclipse),” and clever dynamism and selective ambience make certain riffs stand out dramatically (“Birthing Uncertainty,” “Sunken Veil”). Burning Palace take the broadly progressive approach to songwriting via tangents and explorations of themes, but always reprise the key elements of those themes through escalation (“Traversing the Black Arc”), or evolution (“Birthing Uncertainty”), or just a snappy, definitive conclusion (“Awakening Extinction…”). Melody is, importantly, never actually absent, and the genuine beauty of the explicit refrains that slink in as a lone guitar takes centre-stage (“Malignant Dogma,” “Suspended in Emptiness,” “Sunken Veil”) are just the pinnacle of the shifting interplay that undergirds them, arising naturally and not as mere contrast to some ugly, dissonant mass.
There is nothing specifically within Elegy that one could single out as lesser in quality; the record is remarkably consistent, and if anything, Burning Palace save some of the best for its latter end (“Sunken Veil” is probably my personal favorite, and it comes second-to-last). There is a vague sensation that tracks share a little too much in common, but I’ve found that the more time spent in their company, the more personality each of them shows. But even if they do tend to melt a little into the realm of indistinguishability, the quality is invariably high, so I, for one, don’t really care—what does it matter, when you’ll be spinning it repeatedly in full anyway? That inkling of indistinctness runs the opposite direction and speaks somewhat to Elegy’s flow, as many songs pick up a similar riff or percussive pattern to that which closed their predecessor (“Malignant Dogma”).
Burning Palace might not be the average person’s idea of a great musical time, but it’s mine, and likely many of yours too. Elegy demonstrates the breadth of dissonance and complexity in extreme metal in its thoughtful yet exuberant form. Not cerebral, but clever, and never neglecting to dazzle with superb musicianship as worthy of the adjective “gnarly” as “technical.” Burning Palace have made subtly complex and repeatedly rewarding compositions, full of energy and ardor, and that you actually want to listen to, not just because you feel smart doing so. Those who can’t appreciate the style truly are missing out.
Rating: Very Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: wav
Label: Total Dissonance Worship
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 14th, 2025#2025 #35 #Afterbirth #AmericanMetal #ArtificialBrain #BurningPalace #DeathMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #Elegy #Mar25 #ProgressiveTechnicalDeathMetal #Review #Reviews #Sunless #TechnicalDeathMetal #TotalDissonanceWorship
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By Thus Spoke
I’m sure most people reading have experienced that exchange where a friend, colleague, or family member, having caught wind of one’s enjoyment of heavy music asks incredulously, “how do you listen to that?!” It’s an interesting insight into the strange phenomenon of artistic taste,1 how a complex and disharmonic combination of notes and time signatures can be “just noise” to one pair of ears and a thrilling musical experience to another. It therefore amuses me that I can sit here and talk about Burning Palace, who craft progressive, technical, dissonant death metal that’s brutal, loud and restlessly dynamic. But, who pitch it perfectly in that golden zone of melodicism and lethality. Because—as is no surprise to us here, but likely baffles outside observers—there is a great deal of nuance between ineffectual disorganization and potent convolution.
Elegy falls into that specifically American brand of techy, dissonant death metal whose brutality is more corollary than intention. That which is thoughtful, and unexplainably “happy”-sounding despite its surface-level hostility. Jaunty, acerbic, riffs, imagined by an Artificial Brain, clamber to the fore out of formations where the same guitar lines melt into an indistinct yet driving ebb and flow. Sunless, paradoxically major scales spring up out of dissonance and the Afterbirth of inter-assault meandering, to which the occasional lapses into resonant, mournful melodies create gorgeous contrasts. But Burning Palace aren’t copycats, and Elegy actually demonstrates a transition from the grindier brutal death metal of Hollow into this more precise—but absolutely no less heavy—interpretation. As an example of technical sophistication meeting simple enjoyability, the record stands as perfect proof of the aesthetic value of supposedly impenetrable music.
What strikes particularly strongly about Elegy is the expertly deft way Burning Palace poised violence, intricacy, and beauty to craft it. Though occupying a category that in many senses eschews the adjective “catchy,” it has led to some frustration in my time with it, due to the fact that I’m unable to adequately sing, hum, or otherwise externalize its songs that have lodged themselves in my brain, thanks to their emphasis on riffs and time signatures that my unschooled vocal chords cannot copy. Ludicrous and ludicrously fun scale ascents, tempo switches, and rhythmic interplays abound (“Traversing the Black Arc,” “Awakening Extinction (Eternal Eclipse),” and clever dynamism and selective ambience make certain riffs stand out dramatically (“Birthing Uncertainty,” “Sunken Veil”). Burning Palace take the broadly progressive approach to songwriting via tangents and explorations of themes, but always reprise the key elements of those themes through escalation (“Traversing the Black Arc”), or evolution (“Birthing Uncertainty”), or just a snappy, definitive conclusion (“Awakening Extinction…”). Melody is, importantly, never actually absent, and the genuine beauty of the explicit refrains that slink in as a lone guitar takes centre-stage (“Malignant Dogma,” “Suspended in Emptiness,” “Sunken Veil”) are just the pinnacle of the shifting interplay that undergirds them, arising naturally and not as mere contrast to some ugly, dissonant mass.
There is nothing specifically within Elegy that one could single out as lesser in quality; the record is remarkably consistent, and if anything, Burning Palace save some of the best for its latter end (“Sunken Veil” is probably my personal favorite, and it comes second-to-last). There is a vague sensation that tracks share a little too much in common, but I’ve found that the more time spent in their company, the more personality each of them shows. But even if they do tend to melt a little into the realm of indistinguishability, the quality is invariably high, so I, for one, don’t really care—what does it matter, when you’ll be spinning it repeatedly in full anyway? That inkling of indistinctness runs the opposite direction and speaks somewhat to Elegy’s flow, as many songs pick up a similar riff or percussive pattern to that which closed their predecessor (“Malignant Dogma”).
Burning Palace might not be the average person’s idea of a great musical time, but it’s mine, and likely many of yours too. Elegy demonstrates the breadth of dissonance and complexity in extreme metal in its thoughtful yet exuberant form. Not cerebral, but clever, and never neglecting to dazzle with superb musicianship as worthy of the adjective “gnarly” as “technical.” Burning Palace have made subtly complex and repeatedly rewarding compositions, full of energy and ardor, and that you actually want to listen to, not just because you feel smart doing so. Those who can’t appreciate the style truly are missing out.
Rating: Very Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: wav
Label: Total Dissonance Worship
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 14th, 2025#2025 #35 #Afterbirth #AmericanMetal #ArtificialBrain #BurningPalace #DeathMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #Elegy #Mar25 #ProgressiveTechnicalDeathMetal #Review #Reviews #Sunless #TechnicalDeathMetal #TotalDissonanceWorship
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By Carcharodon
We all slow down in our old age. Our own Steel Druhm is no exception. As he closes in on his third millennium, he finds himself overwhelmed more and more often.1 And so verily it came to pass that, to help out our tiring patriarch, Dolph and I agreed to double team his beloved Italian psych-doom weirdos, Messa.2 To be fair, this is no hardship. All three of Messa’s albums to date have been absolutely killer, from the drone-doom of debut Belfry (2016), through personal fav, the post-bluesy Feast for Water (2018) to progressive opus Close (2022). To say the band is enigmatic would be something of an understatement. The quartet, which has held together without any line-up changes for over a decade, seamlessly knit together a dizzying array of styles, modulating the focus on each release. Where will the dial land on fourth outing, The Spin?
If you’re looking to place The Spin in Messa’s discography, it’s probably closest in tone to Feast for Water. However, it’s a smoother experience. Rather like using a velvetiser to make your hot chocolate. It’s still hot chocolate. But it’s thicker, richer, and, well, velvet-ier. The Spin has been velvetised in two key ways. First, Sara’s smouldering, siren-like vocals have hit a whole new level, with the power on her sustains (“Fire on the Roof” and “Void Meridian,” in particular) imbuing The Spin with such a sense of power. Secondly, guitarist Alberto has leant harder into the progressive doom of Vanishing Kids, paired with the languid blues of his solo debut (Little Albert’s Swamp King), all buried in a guitar tone that Pink Floyd would be delighted by (“Reveal” and the gorgeous back end of “Immolation”). Where Feast had a slightly roughened, old-school Trouble or Pentagram edge to its haunting, crooning vibe, Messa are now operating in bigger, more expansive—and, frankly, more expensive-sounding—territories, recalling the likes of recent Green Lung (“At Races”) and Beth Hart (“Fire on the Roof” and “Immolation”).
And yet, Messa are still unmistakably Messa. From the yawing electronica that opens The Spin on “Void Meridian,” through The Gathering-meets-psychedelic-lounge-jazz of “The Dress” to the oppressive, brooding heaviness of closer “Thicker Blood,” the constantly shifting sonic palette draws on soundscapes that are familiar from each record in the band’s back catalogue. At the same time, The Spin is more anthemic than previous albums, with almost-nailed-on song o’ the year “Fire on the Roof” leading the way, its huge, trad doom chorus a thing of beauty, while the smoky, mesmerising verses find Sara almost chanting. In fact, “Fire…” is the start of a three-track run that, for me, is pretty well the best material Messa has written, as it leads into the fragile keys and bluesy, cathartic build of “Immolation” before “The Dress” hits. It is this that sets The Spin slightly apart from previous Messa albums, which have an organic flow to them, where this latest offering feels slightly more like a collection of songs.
While The Spin does feel less like a single, flowing composition than previous Messa records, it doesn’t lack cohesion, and the massive, standout highs offer plenty of compensation for that slight loss in flow. This may be explained by the fact that, unlike Close, the band chose to record this album separately, across several locations and periods, with (apparently) a lot of rearrangement of the material to get to the finished record. Messa also focused on simplifying and stripping back the song structures, which makes them more digestible. Although there are no weak songs on The Spin, opener “Void Meridian” lacks bite and never quite hits its stride, while penultimate cut “Reveal” feels like it belongs on an earlier Messa album, particularly in its chugging middle passage. I touched above on the beautiful guitar tone that Alberto and Mark Sade have found, so thick and meaty you can practically bite into it. Apparently, the band focused on using as much original 80s equipment as possible, which could have something to do with it.
At this point, it’s becoming apparent that Messa basically can’t miss. Whatever they turn their hand to, they manage to retain their identity, while writing diverse, interesting and, most importantly, absolutely banging albums. The Spin is no exception, from the bright, propulsive energy of “At Races” to the stark beauty of “Immolation,” Messa have done it again. At a tight 43 minutes, this album races by and, when it finishes, the only reason I don’t simply start it again is that I usually want to listen to “Fire on the Roof” a couple of times first. Less challenging and more immediate than previous records, but no less beautiful for it, The Spin perhaps shows the influence of bigger label Metal Blade on the band. I hope it earns them some deserved dollar bills.
Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade Records
Websites: messa.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/MESSAproject
Releases Worldwide: April 11th, 2025Dolphin Whisperer
My brother-in-law loves metal, and I don’t think he’d be offended if I were also to say that he’s not particularly invested in finding new metal to listen to in the modern scene. However, on one ride in the car, I had Messa’s 2022 opus Close on at a moderate volume, prompting him to investigate what exactly was enchanting his ears. After that outing, he and my sister returned to their home, another five-plus hour drive, and she sent me a text saying that they binged Messa’s discog a couple times on the way back; he was in love. You see, despite the quirks that give Messa their mystical air, the crafty Italians possess the secret to all great rock music: volume-scaling power, a unique and soaring vocal presence, and big, fat hooks. The Spin, of course, is no exception.
In that regard, Messa follows their own lineage by never delivering the same album twice. The journey from post/drone atmospherics of Belfry to the heavier occult/doom worn Feast for Water to the MENA jazz-loaded snake charming Close, each entry in their catalog serves as an ode to their inherent tendency to experiment while holding true to a base of doom weight and rock attitude. Vocalist Sara Bianchin has transformed alongside Messa’s journey too, with her earliest performances reflecting the youth of her experience in rawer mic reflections. But The Spin leans on sounds from the ’80s, and, in turn, Bianchin’s now studied attack runs recklessly through swirling and swelling layers of echo and shrill serenade. Elsewhere, chorus pedal abuse, gothy reverb, and low-end synth propulsions mark The Spin’s throwback dance in the Messa stride—Disintegration-echoing bass leads (“Void Meridian,” “At Races”) crashing against Tears for Fears brooding throbs (“The Dress,” “Thicker Blood”) running through call-and-response guitar lead explosions (every. song.). It’s easy to fall prey to the sense of nostalgia that such sounds stimulate.
However, in a sense of reverence for the past, not just a wistful longing, The Spin weaves its own home in familiar textures. Messa finds a comfort in dreamy textures indebted to foundational post-punk works—those of The Sound or Joy Division—while still injecting a metallic edge of heavyweight chord drives and aggressive rhythms (“Fire on the Roof,” “Thicker Blood”). Doom anchors the drama, as always, in slow builds and syllable stretches that crawl and lurch against Messa’s chosen palette of Roland-modulated simmers and proto-shoegaze dissonance (“Void Meridian,” “The Dress”). And, of course, Messa lives life in the fast lane switching and melding identities on a dime, with late album cut “Reveal” pairing a heavy blues twang, frantic bursts of blast beats, and Bianchin’s wailing narrative for an anachronistic detour that both upends and upholds The Spin’s playful historical lens.
As Messa’s shortest album to date, The Spin’s seven cuts go down smooth but lacking in the kind of wholeness that other works have held. On one hand, it’s easy to work in The Spin to whatever length of time allows—a quick hit or two of your favorites as you dress for the day ahead, a longer commute as the sun moves from straight in the eyes to waving from the side, a jog around the neighborhood with canine companions. Movement, or rather transience, sits at the core of Messa’s themes here after all: the chase for meaning in a strained world (“Void Meridian”), the weight of choice that can’t decide a push or pull (“Immolation”), and accepting what lurks around the corner (“Thicker Blood”). And so The Spin demands more as an encapsulation of wandering, but it’s a human quest that’s easy to indulge as you see fit.
Neither a slow-burn nor a peel out, The Spin saunters at a breathing, bustling pace that manages to hustle ahead of a growing movement gazey and hazey doom wielders. I, too find solace in genre cousins like the jazzy and equally textured Moths or the pleading missions of Slumbering Sun, but Messa continues to find ways to wield weaponized guitar heroism, fat-bottomed tones, and sultry synthesis in a way that feels true to their growing discography while reaching to new fans and new sounds. Music this powerful stands ready to inspire binge listening, tone envy, and, with any luck, another generation hopelessly addicted to six strings screaming at unadvisable volumes.
Rating: 4.0/5.0
#2025 #40 #Apr25 #BethHart #Blues #DoomJazz #DoomMetal #Eagles #GothicRock #GreenLung #HeavyMetal #ItalianMetal #JoyDivision #LittleAlbert #Messa #MetalBladeRecords #Pentagram #PinkFloyd #postPunk #PsychedelicRock #Review #Reviews #TearsForFears #TheCure #TheGathering #TheSound #TheSpin #Trouble #VanishingKids
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By Carcharodon
We all slow down in our old age. Our own Steel Druhm is no exception. As he closes in on his third millennium, he finds himself overwhelmed more and more often.1 And so verily it came to pass that, to help out our tiring patriarch, Dolph and I agreed to double team his beloved Italian psych-doom weirdos, Messa.2 To be fair, this is no hardship. All three of Messa’s albums to date have been absolutely killer, from the drone-doom of debut Belfry (2016), through personal fav, the post-bluesy Feast for Water (2018) to progressive opus Close (2022). To say the band is enigmatic would be something of an understatement. The quartet, which has held together without any line-up changes for over a decade, seamlessly knit together a dizzying array of styles, modulating the focus on each release. Where will the dial land on fourth outing, The Spin?
If you’re looking to place The Spin in Messa’s discography, it’s probably closest in tone to Feast for Water. However, it’s a smoother experience. Rather like using a velvetiser to make your hot chocolate. It’s still hot chocolate. But it’s thicker, richer, and, well, velvet-ier. The Spin has been velvetised in two key ways. First, Sara’s smouldering, siren-like vocals have hit a whole new level, with the power on her sustains (“Fire on the Roof” and “Void Meridian,” in particular) imbuing The Spin with such a sense of power. Secondly, guitarist Alberto has leant harder into the progressive doom of Vanishing Kids, paired with the languid blues of his solo debut (Little Albert’s Swamp King), all buried in a guitar tone that Pink Floyd would be delighted by (“Reveal” and the gorgeous back end of “Immolation”). Where Feast had a slightly roughened, old-school Trouble or Pentagram edge to its haunting, crooning vibe, Messa are now operating in bigger, more expansive—and, frankly, more expensive-sounding—territories, recalling the likes of recent Green Lung (“At Races”) and Beth Hart (“Fire on the Roof” and “Immolation”).
And yet, Messa are still unmistakably Messa. From the yawing electronica that opens The Spin on “Void Meridian,” through The Gathering-meets-psychedelic-lounge-jazz of “The Dress” to the oppressive, brooding heaviness of closer “Thicker Blood,” the constantly shifting sonic palette draws on soundscapes that are familiar from each record in the band’s back catalogue. At the same time, The Spin is more anthemic than previous albums, with almost-nailed-on song o’ the year “Fire on the Roof” leading the way, its huge, trad doom chorus a thing of beauty, while the smoky, mesmerising verses find Sara almost chanting. In fact, “Fire…” is the start of a three-track run that, for me, is pretty well the best material Messa has written, as it leads into the fragile keys and bluesy, cathartic build of “Immolation” before “The Dress” hits. It is this that sets The Spin slightly apart from previous Messa albums, which have an organic flow to them, where this latest offering feels slightly more like a collection of songs.
While The Spin does feel less like a single, flowing composition than previous Messa records, it doesn’t lack cohesion, and the massive, standout highs offer plenty of compensation for that slight loss in flow. This may be explained by the fact that, unlike Close, the band chose to record this album separately, across several locations and periods, with (apparently) a lot of rearrangement of the material to get to the finished record. Messa also focused on simplifying and stripping back the song structures, which makes them more digestible. Although there are no weak songs on The Spin, opener “Void Meridian” lacks bite and never quite hits its stride, while penultimate cut “Reveal” feels like it belongs on an earlier Messa album, particularly in its chugging middle passage. I touched above on the beautiful guitar tone that Alberto and Mark Sade have found, so thick and meaty you can practically bite into it. Apparently, the band focused on using as much original 80s equipment as possible, which could have something to do with it.
At this point, it’s becoming apparent that Messa basically can’t miss. Whatever they turn their hand to, they manage to retain their identity, while writing diverse, interesting and, most importantly, absolutely banging albums. The Spin is no exception, from the bright, propulsive energy of “At Races” to the stark beauty of “Immolation,” Messa have done it again. At a tight 43 minutes, this album races by and, when it finishes, the only reason I don’t simply start it again is that I usually want to listen to “Fire on the Roof” a couple of times first. Less challenging and more immediate than previous records, but no less beautiful for it, The Spin perhaps shows the influence of bigger label Metal Blade on the band. I hope it earns them some deserved dollar bills.
Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade Records
Websites: messa.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/MESSAproject
Releases Worldwide: April 11th, 2025Dolphin Whisperer
My brother-in-law loves metal, and I don’t think he’d be offended if I were also to say that he’s not particularly invested in finding new metal to listen to in the modern scene. However, on one ride in the car, I had Messa’s 2022 opus Close on at a moderate volume, prompting him to investigate what exactly was enchanting his ears. After that outing, he and my sister returned to their home, another five-plus hour drive, and she sent me a text saying that they binged Messa’s discog a couple times on the way back; he was in love. You see, despite the quirks that give Messa their mystical air, the crafty Italians possess the secret to all great rock music: volume-scaling power, a unique and soaring vocal presence, and big, fat hooks. The Spin, of course, is no exception.
In that regard, Messa follows their own lineage by never delivering the same album twice. The journey from post/drone atmospherics of Belfry to the heavier occult/doom worn Feast for Water to the MENA jazz-loaded snake charming Close, each entry in their catalog serves as an ode to their inherent tendency to experiment while holding true to a base of doom weight and rock attitude. Vocalist Sara Bianchin has transformed alongside Messa’s journey too, with her earliest performances reflecting the youth of her experience in rawer mic reflections. But The Spin leans on sounds from the ’80s, and, in turn, Bianchin’s now studied attack runs recklessly through swirling and swelling layers of echo and shrill serenade. Elsewhere, chorus pedal abuse, gothy reverb, and low-end synth propulsions mark The Spin’s throwback dance in the Messa stride—Disintegration-echoing bass leads (“Void Meridian,” “At Races”) crashing against Tears for Fears brooding throbs (“The Dress,” “Thicker Blood”) running through call-and-response guitar lead explosions (every. song.). It’s easy to fall prey to the sense of nostalgia that such sounds stimulate.
However, in a sense of reverence for the past, not just a wistful longing, The Spin weaves its own home in familiar textures. Messa finds a comfort in dreamy textures indebted to foundational post-punk works—those of The Sound or Joy Division—while still injecting a metallic edge of heavyweight chord drives and aggressive rhythms (“Fire on the Roof,” “Thicker Blood”). Doom anchors the drama, as always, in slow builds and syllable stretches that crawl and lurch against Messa’s chosen palette of Roland-modulated simmers and proto-shoegaze dissonance (“Void Meridian,” “The Dress”). And, of course, Messa lives life in the fast lane switching and melding identities on a dime, with late album cut “Reveal” pairing a heavy blues twang, frantic bursts of blast beats, and Bianchin’s wailing narrative for an anachronistic detour that both upends and upholds The Spin’s playful historical lens.
As Messa’s shortest album to date, The Spin’s seven cuts go down smooth but lacking in the kind of wholeness that other works have held. On one hand, it’s easy to work in The Spin to whatever length of time allows—a quick hit or two of your favorites as you dress for the day ahead, a longer commute as the sun moves from straight in the eyes to waving from the side, a jog around the neighborhood with canine companions. Movement, or rather transience, sits at the core of Messa’s themes here after all: the chase for meaning in a strained world (“Void Meridian”), the weight of choice that can’t decide a push or pull (“Immolation”), and accepting what lurks around the corner (“Thicker Blood”). And so The Spin demands more as an encapsulation of wandering, but it’s a human quest that’s easy to indulge as you see fit.
Neither a slow-burn nor a peel out, The Spin saunters at a breathing, bustling pace that manages to hustle ahead of a growing movement gazey and hazey doom wielders. I, too find solace in genre cousins like the jazzy and equally textured Moths or the pleading missions of Slumbering Sun, but Messa continues to find ways to wield weaponized guitar heroism, fat-bottomed tones, and sultry synthesis in a way that feels true to their growing discography while reaching to new fans and new sounds. Music this powerful stands ready to inspire binge listening, tone envy, and, with any luck, another generation hopelessly addicted to six strings screaming at unadvisable volumes.
Rating: 4.0/5.0
#2025 #40 #Apr25 #BethHart #Blues #DoomJazz #DoomMetal #Eagles #GothicRock #GreenLung #HeavyMetal #ItalianMetal #JoyDivision #LittleAlbert #Messa #MetalBladeRecords #Pentagram #PinkFloyd #postPunk #PsychedelicRock #Review #Reviews #TearsForFears #TheCure #TheGathering #TheSound #TheSpin #Trouble #VanishingKids
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By Carcharodon
We all slow down in our old age. Our own Steel Druhm is no exception. As he closes in on his third millennium, he finds himself overwhelmed more and more often.1 And so verily it came to pass that, to help out our tiring patriarch, Dolph and I agreed to double team his beloved Italian psych-doom weirdos, Messa.2 To be fair, this is no hardship. All three of Messa’s albums to date have been absolutely killer, from the drone-doom of debut Belfry (2016), through personal fav, the post-bluesy Feast for Water (2018) to progressive opus Close (2022). To say the band is enigmatic would be something of an understatement. The quartet, which has held together without any line-up changes for over a decade, seamlessly knit together a dizzying array of styles, modulating the focus on each release. Where will the dial land on fourth outing, The Spin?
If you’re looking to place The Spin in Messa’s discography, it’s probably closest in tone to Feast for Water. However, it’s a smoother experience. Rather like using a velvetiser to make your hot chocolate. It’s still hot chocolate. But it’s thicker, richer, and, well, velvet-ier. The Spin has been velvetised in two key ways. First, Sara’s smouldering, siren-like vocals have hit a whole new level, with the power on her sustains (“Fire on the Roof” and “Void Meridian,” in particular) imbuing The Spin with such a sense of power. Secondly, guitarist Alberto has leant harder into the progressive doom of Vanishing Kids, paired with the languid blues of his solo debut (Little Albert’s Swamp King), all buried in a guitar tone that Pink Floyd would be delighted by (“Reveal” and the gorgeous back end of “Immolation”). Where Feast had a slightly roughened, old-school Trouble or Pentagram edge to its haunting, crooning vibe, Messa are now operating in bigger, more expansive—and, frankly, more expensive-sounding—territories, recalling the likes of recent Green Lung (“At Races”) and Beth Hart (“Fire on the Roof” and “Immolation”).
And yet, Messa are still unmistakably Messa. From the yawing electronica that opens The Spin on “Void Meridian,” through The Gathering-meets-psychedelic-lounge-jazz of “The Dress” to the oppressive, brooding heaviness of closer “Thicker Blood,” the constantly shifting sonic palette draws on soundscapes that are familiar from each record in the band’s back catalogue. At the same time, The Spin is more anthemic than previous albums, with almost-nailed-on song o’ the year “Fire on the Roof” leading the way, its huge, trad doom chorus a thing of beauty, while the smoky, mesmerising verses find Sara almost chanting. In fact, “Fire…” is the start of a three-track run that, for me, is pretty well the best material Messa has written, as it leads into the fragile keys and bluesy, cathartic build of “Immolation” before “The Dress” hits. It is this that sets The Spin slightly apart from previous Messa albums, which have an organic flow to them, where this latest offering feels slightly more like a collection of songs.
While The Spin does feel less like a single, flowing composition than previous Messa records, it doesn’t lack cohesion, and the massive, standout highs offer plenty of compensation for that slight loss in flow. This may be explained by the fact that, unlike Close, the band chose to record this album separately, across several locations and periods, with (apparently) a lot of rearrangement of the material to get to the finished record. Messa also focused on simplifying and stripping back the song structures, which makes them more digestible. Although there are no weak songs on The Spin, opener “Void Meridian” lacks bite and never quite hits its stride, while penultimate cut “Reveal” feels like it belongs on an earlier Messa album, particularly in its chugging middle passage. I touched above on the beautiful guitar tone that Alberto and Mark Sade have found, so thick and meaty you can practically bite into it. Apparently, the band focused on using as much original 80s equipment as possible, which could have something to do with it.
At this point, it’s becoming apparent that Messa basically can’t miss. Whatever they turn their hand to, they manage to retain their identity, while writing diverse, interesting and, most importantly, absolutely banging albums. The Spin is no exception, from the bright, propulsive energy of “At Races” to the stark beauty of “Immolation,” Messa have done it again. At a tight 43 minutes, this album races by and, when it finishes, the only reason I don’t simply start it again is that I usually want to listen to “Fire on the Roof” a couple of times first. Less challenging and more immediate than previous records, but no less beautiful for it, The Spin perhaps shows the influence of bigger label Metal Blade on the band. I hope it earns them some deserved dollar bills.
Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade Records
Websites: messa.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/MESSAproject
Releases Worldwide: April 11th, 2025Dolphin Whisperer
My brother-in-law loves metal, and I don’t think he’d be offended if I were also to say that he’s not particularly invested in finding new metal to listen to in the modern scene. However, on one ride in the car, I had Messa’s 2022 opus Close on at a moderate volume, prompting him to investigate what exactly was enchanting his ears. After that outing, he and my sister returned to their home, another five-plus hour drive, and she sent me a text saying that they binged Messa’s discog a couple times on the way back; he was in love. You see, despite the quirks that give Messa their mystical air, the crafty Italians possess the secret to all great rock music: volume-scaling power, a unique and soaring vocal presence, and big, fat hooks. The Spin, of course, is no exception.
In that regard, Messa follows their own lineage by never delivering the same album twice. The journey from post/drone atmospherics of Belfry to the heavier occult/doom worn Feast for Water to the MENA jazz-loaded snake charming Close, each entry in their catalog serves as an ode to their inherent tendency to experiment while holding true to a base of doom weight and rock attitude. Vocalist Sara Bianchin has transformed alongside Messa’s journey too, with her earliest performances reflecting the youth of her experience in rawer mic reflections. But The Spin leans on sounds from the ’80s, and, in turn, Bianchin’s now studied attack runs recklessly through swirling and swelling layers of echo and shrill serenade. Elsewhere, chorus pedal abuse, gothy reverb, and low-end synth propulsions mark The Spin’s throwback dance in the Messa stride—Disintegration-echoing bass leads (“Void Meridian,” “At Races”) crashing against Tears for Fears brooding throbs (“The Dress,” “Thicker Blood”) running through call-and-response guitar lead explosions (every. song.). It’s easy to fall prey to the sense of nostalgia that such sounds stimulate.
However, in a sense of reverence for the past, not just a wistful longing, The Spin weaves its own home in familiar textures. Messa finds a comfort in dreamy textures indebted to foundational post-punk works—those of The Sound or Joy Division—while still injecting a metallic edge of heavyweight chord drives and aggressive rhythms (“Fire on the Roof,” “Thicker Blood”). Doom anchors the drama, as always, in slow builds and syllable stretches that crawl and lurch against Messa’s chosen palette of Roland-modulated simmers and proto-shoegaze dissonance (“Void Meridian,” “The Dress”). And, of course, Messa lives life in the fast lane switching and melding identities on a dime, with late album cut “Reveal” pairing a heavy blues twang, frantic bursts of blast beats, and Bianchin’s wailing narrative for an anachronistic detour that both upends and upholds The Spin’s playful historical lens.
As Messa’s shortest album to date, The Spin’s seven cuts go down smooth but lacking in the kind of wholeness that other works have held. On one hand, it’s easy to work in The Spin to whatever length of time allows—a quick hit or two of your favorites as you dress for the day ahead, a longer commute as the sun moves from straight in the eyes to waving from the side, a jog around the neighborhood with canine companions. Movement, or rather transience, sits at the core of Messa’s themes here after all: the chase for meaning in a strained world (“Void Meridian”), the weight of choice that can’t decide a push or pull (“Immolation”), and accepting what lurks around the corner (“Thicker Blood”). And so The Spin demands more as an encapsulation of wandering, but it’s a human quest that’s easy to indulge as you see fit.
Neither a slow-burn nor a peel out, The Spin saunters at a breathing, bustling pace that manages to hustle ahead of a growing movement gazey and hazey doom wielders. I, too find solace in genre cousins like the jazzy and equally textured Moths or the pleading missions of Slumbering Sun, but Messa continues to find ways to wield weaponized guitar heroism, fat-bottomed tones, and sultry synthesis in a way that feels true to their growing discography while reaching to new fans and new sounds. Music this powerful stands ready to inspire binge listening, tone envy, and, with any luck, another generation hopelessly addicted to six strings screaming at unadvisable volumes.
Rating: 4.0/5.0
#2025 #40 #Apr25 #BethHart #Blues #DoomJazz #DoomMetal #Eagles #GothicRock #GreenLung #HeavyMetal #ItalianMetal #JoyDivision #LittleAlbert #Messa #MetalBladeRecords #Pentagram #PinkFloyd #postPunk #PsychedelicRock #Review #Reviews #TearsForFears #TheCure #TheGathering #TheSound #TheSpin #Trouble #VanishingKids