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938 results for “plod”
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Screwy Tuesday is plodding along.
#screwytuesday #cartooning #inking #brushinking #monsters #surlyhack -
@Starcross still plodding on doing the same. Kids are big teenagers now. Nearly 17 and 15. Still taking photos and my blog was voted no 1 recently in Molly’s #Top100SexBlogs but work still takes up most of my time and effort. Glad your dream job is going well. It’s been a few years now. I’m occasionally down south it would be nice to share a wine/coffee sometime x x
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Starting with @plod at midday GMT/7am EST, we are having a #Stream Day on #Ludic!
Hope you can pop by and say hello.
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Slow progress but plodding on…
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Note to one self: when going plodding take a nice sturdy bag with you.
That bag next to Paddy a quarter full of what is our garbage, the rest is what we picked up outside HQ and the 500m to the nearest bin. I could easily have filled two more with what was on the side of the road and the layby we parked in.
Yes, by all means come and enjoy this stunning corner of Scotland for a bit of camping or a picnic.
But, for <bleep> sake, people, take your litter home with you!
Or as I did walk up to the nearest bin, not that hard, well it is when you over fill a thin and flimsy plastic bag with your junk.
#TrailRunning #BarefootRunning #RunnersOfMastodon #RunningWithDogs #Running #Plodding #LeaveNoTrace #PackInPackOut #PickUpAfterYerself #TheGreenRunners
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Note to one self: when going plodding take a nice sturdy bag with you.
That bag next to Paddy a quarter full of what is our garbage, the rest is what we picked up outside HQ and the 500m to the nearest bin. I could easily have filled two more with what was on the side of the road and the layby we parked in.
Yes, by all means come and enjoy this stunning corner of Scotland for a bit of camping or a picnic.
But, for <bleep> sake, people, take your litter home with you!
Or as I did walk up to the nearest bin, not that hard, well it is when you over fill a thin and flimsy plastic bag with your junk.
#TrailRunning #BarefootRunning #RunnersOfMastodon #RunningWithDogs #Running #Plodding #LeaveNoTrace #PackInPackOut #PickUpAfterYerself #TheGreenRunners
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Note to one self: when going plodding take a nice sturdy bag with you.
That bag next to Paddy a quarter full of what is our garbage, the rest is what we picked up outside HQ and the 500m to the nearest bin. I could easily have filled two more with what was on the side of the road and the layby we parked in.
Yes, by all means come and enjoy this stunning corner of Scotland for a bit of camping or a picnic.
But, for <bleep> sake, people, take your litter home with you!
Or as I did walk up to the nearest bin, not that hard, well it is when you over fill a thin and flimsy plastic bag with your junk.
#TrailRunning #BarefootRunning #RunnersOfMastodon #RunningWithDogs #Running #Plodding #LeaveNoTrace #PackInPackOut #PickUpAfterYerself #TheGreenRunners
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Note to one self: when going plodding take a nice sturdy bag with you.
That bag next to Paddy a quarter full of what is our garbage, the rest is what we picked up outside HQ and the 500m to the nearest bin. I could easily have filled two more with what was on the side of the road and the layby we parked in.
Yes, by all means come and enjoy this stunning corner of Scotland for a bit of camping or a picnic.
But, for <bleep> sake, people, take your litter home with you!
Or as I did walk up to the nearest bin, not that hard, well it is when you over fill a thin and flimsy plastic bag with your junk.
#TrailRunning #BarefootRunning #RunnersOfMastodon #RunningWithDogs #Running #Plodding #LeaveNoTrace #PackInPackOut #PickUpAfterYerself #TheGreenRunners
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Note to one self: when going plodding take a nice sturdy bag with you.
That bag next to Paddy a quarter full of what is our garbage, the rest is what we picked up outside HQ and the 500m to the nearest bin. I could easily have filled two more with what was on the side of the road and the layby we parked in.
Yes, by all means come and enjoy this stunning corner of Scotland for a bit of camping or a picnic.
But, for <bleep> sake, people, take your litter home with you!
Or as I did walk up to the nearest bin, not that hard, well it is when you over fill a thin and flimsy plastic bag with your junk.
#TrailRunning #BarefootRunning #RunnersOfMastodon #RunningWithDogs #Running #Plodding #LeaveNoTrace #PackInPackOut #PickUpAfterYerself #TheGreenRunners
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Our #kickstarter for #TheBlood #TTRPG is plodding along but could use some help.
Check it out if you want to help back supplements for a game about vampires as creatures of magic in the modern world. We're going to make supplements about otherworldly realms and advanced systems/options for players/Narrators!
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/falconianproductions/the-blood-more-drops?ref=ela6p5
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Dnešná prechádzka sa zvrtla na kosenie lesných plodov. Rastú, a ešte ako.
#nizketatry #horalzmesta #sktwitter -
INSIDIOUS THE RED DOOR #Review
Plodding conclusion to the Lambert family lipstick demon drama will give you red eyes. Because you'll be bored.
Full Review #Link Below-- This Insidious The Red Door (2023) Review Has Patrick Wilson Endorsing His Brother Goldie Wilson For Mayor of Hill Valley!
#insidious #insidiousthereddoor #horror #horrorMovie #horrorCommunity #horrorFam #horrorFamily #film #films #filmmastodon #movies #movie #cinemastodon #cinema #reading #read #Children #funny #fun #listicle #writer #WritersOfMastodon #writingcommunity #WritersOfMastodon
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Massively on the Go: Jurassic World Alive plods on five years later, encumbered by over-monetization https://massivelyop.com/2023/05/25/massively-on-the-go-jurassic-world-alive-plods-on-five-years-later-encumbered-by-over-monetization #JurassicWorldAlive
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CW: The Very Last No. 9
That #InsideNo9 Series Finale will stay with me for a long, long time. Quite possibly, forever. This show has meant a lot to me.
#StevePemberton (putting his name first because he's a crybaby) and #ReeceShearsmith are absolute geniuses. I don't care that I've said it before. It can never be said enough.
I'm going to miss them dearly. I hope they do something (together) soon.
I didn't expect the very last No. 9 to have me in tears in that manner, but it did.
I'm so glad I discovered this dud of a show from a low-paying, nothing network such as #BBC.
I hope they do those specials they mentioned. I'll never say no to more No. 9.
For now, with sweet memories of Steve and Reece, I'm plodding on. -
CW: The Very Last No. 9
That #InsideNo9 Series Finale will stay with me for a long, long time. Quite possibly, forever. This show has meant a lot to me.
#StevePemberton (putting his name first because he's a crybaby) and #ReeceShearsmith are absolute geniuses. I don't care that I've said it before. It can never be said enough.
I'm going to miss them dearly. I hope they do something (together) soon.
I didn't expect the very last No. 9 to have me in tears in that manner, but it did.
I'm so glad I discovered this dud of a show from a low-paying, nothing network such as #BBC.
I hope they do those specials they mentioned. I'll never say no to more No. 9.
For now, with sweet memories of Steve and Reece, I'm plodding on. -
CW: The Very Last No. 9
That #InsideNo9 Series Finale will stay with me for a long, long time. Quite possibly, forever. This show has meant a lot to me.
#StevePemberton (putting his name first because he's a crybaby) and #ReeceShearsmith are absolute geniuses. I don't care that I've said it before. It can never be said enough.
I'm going to miss them dearly. I hope they do something (together) soon.
I didn't expect the very last No. 9 to have me in tears in that manner, but it did.
I'm so glad I discovered this dud of a show from a low-paying, nothing network such as #BBC.
I hope they do those specials they mentioned. I'll never say no to more No. 9.
For now, with sweet memories of Steve and Reece, I'm plodding on. -
Off to #Venice #Venezia to do the #HalfMarathon. Ma chi me lo fa fare??? 😳🙄🤷🏻♀️
#running #plodding #Women'sRunning #IHateRunning #ILoveRunning -
Nine Inch Noize makes for good running music. Plenty bass beats go plod along too. #Running #RunningCommunity #RunningPunk #HardcoreRunning
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Dr. A.N. Grier’s Top Ten(ish) of 2025 By Dr. A.N. GrierTo anyone who actually found 2025 to be a solid-to-great year, I envy you. For me, 2025 was one of the absolute worst years of my life. And that counts divorce and suicidal years. With many of you, it began with working my ass off to keep my job in these trying times of financial uncertainty—especially with AI rearing its ugly fucking head. Well, that’s before that bubble bursts and causes more issues than it did before. Then, after returning from a NYC work trip, my 19-year-old black devil, King, collapsed from liver failure, resulting in having to put down a feline friend I’ve raised since a kitten and who I had as my companion for nearly half my life. Jump ahead a few months and, out of the fucking blue, my father collapses in the yard, never to regain consciousness again. With months of heartbreak and stress coming down on my heart like a rain shower of titanium dildos, some professionals were convinced I suffered a literal heart attack. After months of tests and medications, it’s clear that age and stress have crept up on me. The result of all this shit led to one of the worst years of productivity in the sacred halls of Angry Metal Guy. So, I apologize to everyone for the lack of output, especially when 2025 was a solid-to-great year of metal releases. Hopefully, this list will suffice and provide a few killer records that the rest of the crew idiotically withheld.
I’d be lying if I said listening to music and writing reviews came easily to me this year. Hell, writing in general has been difficult to do, and I do it for a living. But the fun, creative elements of AMG have been lost to me for months, which is sad as hell because I know I have way more curse-word combinations flowing through my veins. Thankfully, the support of this group and my family has been fundamental to getting me back on a path to mental and physical health so I can feel somewhat like a normal person. Thankfully, keeping busy with editing/deleting other writers’ lists1 and putting together my elite one has brought back a touch of spark. While I will always be the grumpy Grier that everyone knows and loves hates, I do appreciate the support from the entire gang—being a part of this monster that AMG built, being belittled by Steel, being filthy with Kenny and Grymm, trolling Dolph, hating on Doom, annoying the Shark, and getting provocative gifts from Ferox—because it’s a surprisingly therapeutic experience. Which is kinda fucked up, now that I think about it…2
So, let’s raise a glass to this coming year and let’s hope it’s a 3.5/5.0 compared to this 0.5/5.0 one. And enjoy these awesome picks you ignored because some of these idiots colluded for analytics.
#ish. The Haunted // Songs of Last Resort – This selection surprised even me. Though I fucked up and ran out of time to review The Haunted’s newest opus, Songs of Last Resort, it regularly surfaced on my playlists and, in classic Grier fashion, secured my “ish” selection. If you’re new to a Grier list, I reserve my “ish” pick for those records I can’t put down. Though in most cases, these selections can legitimately be considered my eleventh pick. Regardless, Songs of Last Resort is a welcoming return to form that reminds me a lot of the band’s output during the period of One Kill Wonder and RevolveR. Sure, it helps that One Kill Wonder’s Marco Aro is back in the band, but this album’s flow is similar to those others. The longest track on the record clocks in at four-plus minutes, while the others come and go like a phantom sucker punching each time you arrive at a new landing on a creepy-ass staircase. After being set up perfectly with the addictive opening track, “Warhead,” the short, punchy “Death to the Crown” swings a left hook before the chonky bass-kicking “Bleeding Out” has you belting the chorus at the sky. Then, the whole thing drops into the mid-paced back-to-backers, “Labyrinth of Lies” and “Letters of Last Resort.” Come all The Haunted enthusiasts and let us rejoice.
#10. Sexmag // Sexorcyzm – SEXXXXXXXMAG!!!!! You all knew this was going to happen. But really, it makes perfect sense when you consider the influences these crazy Poles incorporate into their music. Bands like Bathory, Darkthrone, Slayer, and Mercyful Fate, to name a few. After years of demos and EPs, Sexmag finally released their first full-length under the ever-sexy name, Sexorcyzm. Even sexier are track names like “Inkubus,” “Sex z diabłem,” and “Psalm I – Intronizacja Szatana.” I don’t know what any of them mean, but they either have “sex” in the title or just sound sexy. But, in all seriousness, the band’s wild blend of black, death, and thrash influences makes this one of the funnest records of the year. The skill is impressive, the vocals are outlandishly ugly, and the album’s dynamics bring everything to life in the most pleasing and gross way. If you skipped on this album because you thought Grier was doing one of his assinine trolling fests, you are wrong, and you need to correct your sexiness.
#9. Vintersorg // Vattenkrafternas spel – While not the band’s best output in a long line of great albums, Vattenkrafternas spel is still one of the best Viking/folk metal records of 2025. Infusing the Vintersorg of old with the new, Vattenkrafternas spel sets out to capture the hearts of its entire fanbase in this meaty, hour-long journey through the band’s signature Viking, folk, and progressive landscapes. The production does wonders for the album when compared to past offerings that are as compressed as hard tack. Be it the blackened beauty of “Efter dis kommer dimma,” incorporating gorgeous, male and female clean vocals, or the folky “Malströmsbrus” with its Vintersorg yodeling and addictiveness, Vattenkrafternas spel pushes and pulls on those strings of yore to bring you something comfortable yet refreshing. That said, no Vintersorg record is complete without the outrageous key atmospheres so prevalent and unique to their sound. Songs like “Ur älv och å” and “Ödsliga salar” fulfill that urge, ensuring erections for this kind of key play remain hard and girthy.
#8. Bear Mace // Slaves of the Wolf – As many of you know, I am not a big death metal guy. I was at one point, but the predictability of the style, as it became trapped on endless repeat as old masters tried to remain relevant into the 00s, began to turn me off. That’s not uncommon for any other genre that had a heyday at one point in metal’s existence. The acceptance that lovers of the genre might surface and borrow shamelessly from previous groundbreakers has allowed me to enjoy what I once did. Bear Mace is just such a band that, every time I spin one of their releases, I’m transported back in time when Massacre, Bolt Thrower, and the like were fresh to my pubescent self. And this year’s Slaves of the Wolf sees Bear Mace punching it up to a new level and delivering crushing riff after crushing riff. I cannot deny that the nasty, relentless attacks of “Slaves of the Wolf,” “The Iceman Cometh,” and the back-to-back “Prophecy” and “Cancerous Winds” keep me coming back time and again. While all Bear Mace is macy, Slaves of the Wolf stands above the others and delivers big bear slaps. Or something like that.
#7. Gaahls Wyrd // Braiding the Stories – Regardless of whether you interpret “wyrd” as “weird” or “word,” both can be applied to Gaahls Wyrd’s sophomore outing, Braiding the Stories. Whether Gaahl’s words hit you harder than the band’s weird approach to atmospheres and influences is completely up to you. Be it captivating, moody numbers like the title track or the balls-to-the-walls “Time and Timeless Timeline,” Braiding the Stories has all a Gaahl fan could ever want. From low whispers to Gaahl’s terrifying shrieks, the moods captured on this record are stronger and far superior to anything the band has ever put together. It’s an unsettling disc that fucks around with track lengths, moods, and everything in between. At one point, you are cruising through a nearly nine-minute-long, atmoblack piece before being pummeled to death for three new minutes. Then, you’re chilling in two minutes of an ethereal nightmare before the hammering of drums comes down on your head like that of Mephorash. It’s a bewildering, disorienting experience that is so pleasing it should be illegal. Gaahl’s days atop the mighty Gorgoroth might be over, but Gaahl ain’t going anywhere yet.
#6. Mors Principium Est // Darkness Invisible – This one might be a surprise to many because Mors Principium Est’s last record, Liberate the Unborn Inhumanity, was not good. This was probably in part because Andy Gillion, the staple of the band since 2011, and the wizard that brought us the impressive guitar work of …And Death Said Live and Dawn of the 5th Era, left the fold. To make matters worse, Gillion dropped one hell of a killer record last year in the form of Exilium. Regardless of whether anyone agrees that Darkness Invisible is a return to form for MPE, it’s indeed far superior to its predecessor, and a record that has been haunting me since its release. Perhaps it’s the mood I’ve been in for the last few months that dragged Darkness Invisible, scratching and screaming, into my year-end list. Or maybe it’s because no matter what MPE releases, I’ll find something to love. For those who skipped it, check out the gorgeous female vocals of “All Life Is Evil” and the heart-wrenching melodeath of tracks like “Of Death” and “Summoning the Dark.”
#5. In the Woods… // Otra – In the Woods… have been around a long time in a lot of different iterations. Be it the coming and going of founders and bandmates, or the careless attitude of genre and sub-genre fuckery, this Norwegian outfit has worked tirelessly to cement both the lineup and the direction the band wants to be identified as in this new era. While 2022’s Diversum began the exploration of blending styles, this year’s Otra did far more to ensure the concrete begins to settle and cure. Tapping into their wide variation of influences, you can capture everything from Borknagar-esque progressions to the black ‘n’ roll character of Carpathian Forest and the low, doomy patterns of Type O Negative and A Vision Bleak. And, somehow, it all works—each song biting on the ass-end of its successor, forcing the music to flow in a pleasing, yet unlikely recordpede. It’s been a while since I felt that In the Woods… might have something worth getting excited about, but this new direction creates palpitations in my olde, black heart.
#4. Green Carnation // A Dark Poem, Part I: The Shores of Melancholia – Green Carnation has been a literal staple in my life for fuck knows how long. And each record has a place, mood, and time that work—regardless if it’s the wild choirs and orchestrations of Journey to the End of the Night, the one-track Light of Day, Day of Darkness, the goth-rock of A Blessing in Disguise, or the acoustic bliss of The Acoustic Verses. This Norwegian outfit has damn-near tried it all, and it works each time. But 2020’s Leaves of Yesteryear was a goddamn epic, and it’s hard to consider anything would be anywhere as strong. Sadly, A Dark Poem, Part I: The Shores of Melancholia is not as strong. Does that make it a bad album? Fuck no. That’s why it’s on my list. Like its predecessor, it’s engulfed in moods and textures that only Green Carnation can do. And with two more parts in sight for what can clearly be described as the beginning of something new, there’s a good chance these gents will be on even more Grier lists.
#3. Ars Moriendi // Leur esprit marche dans les ténèbres – No Grier list is complete without mention of the mighty Ars Moriendi. Though I dropped the ball when it came around for review, that didn’t stop me from spinning this record since its release in June. As with all Ars Moriendi releases, Arsonist continues to push his limits in everything from performances to songwriting and production. And Leur esprit marche dans les ténèbres is no different. Be it the engulfing atmospheres of the two-part “L’abbé de Monte-à-Regret,” the impressive bass work of the powerful “Trouver la fontaine,” or the heart-wrenching piano and clean vocals of “Puisqu’elle est éternelle,” this new record is a captivating display of progressive black metal prowess. Sprinkled throughout with electronic effects and hypnotizing sound bytes, Leur esprit marche dans les ténèbres is a full experience that cannot be disconnected or Spotified. To truly understand it, you must get lost in it.
#2. Abigail Williams // A Void Within Existence – I’ve been an Abigail Williams fan for a long time, but never has one of their albums hit me as hard as A Void Within Existence does. Combining elements of second-wave assaults, atmospheric black metal, and crushing sadness, this new record is perhaps the band’s best. While a couple of songs reach the heights of Song o’ the Year, not a single one is out of place. After the black metal pummeling that is “Life, Disconnected” and “Void Within,” “Talk to Your Sleep” stomps your ass straight into the ground, developing a nice interlude from the norm, and a headbangability that is unique to the band’s songwriting. When the album closes with “No Less than Death,” a clean-vocal performance sends me in a depressive spiral that I still haven’t recovered from. Ken Sorceron and co. have done it again, alternating between peaks and valleys of emotion that disrupt basic brain functions and leave me in an absolute pit of despair.
#1. Havukruunu // Tavastland – I don’t think there’s much more that I can say about Havukruunu that hasn’t been said before. For years, these fantastic Finns have been scratching that itch for old-school Bathory-core that is almost as good as the real fucking thing. And, for years, they’ve nestled gently into my year-end lists but never quite climbed over other incredible albums at the time. This year, things have changed. Tavastland is not only the best album of the year but arguably Havukruunu’s masterpiece. Incorporating every element of their sound into this near-perfect track list, you’ll experience everything from bludgeoning Bathory-meets-Immortal riffs, feel-good Viking plods, melodic passages, and seamless transitions that make repeat listens oh-so soothing. Not to mention, the tight performances and open production will have you gushing over Humö’s fantastic bass work. It’s a monstrous, lively, and energetic album that’s difficult to put down and never disappoints, regardless of whether you’re in the mood for pillaging unsuspecting villages or sitting on the beach with a daquery.
Honorable Mentions
- Lychgate // Precipice – I wish I had given this record more time. Instead, it had to be released in fucking December. Stop doing that! Regardless, this is a weird fucking record with a lot of balls and a lot of aggression that you plebs should listen to.
- Hazzerd // The 3rd Dimension – OK, hear me out. The 3rd Dimension is one of the best thrash records of the year, and you’re a poser if you disagree. With Death Angel-like vocals and Exodus-meets-Slayer riffage, all wrapped up in some impressive technicality, ya can’t go wrong with Hazzerd’s newest outing.
- Cradle of Filth // The Screaming of the Valkyries – I can’t deny it, The Screaming of the Valkyries is fucking good. So good that I can’t stop spinning it. With the help of new female vocal support, a new guitarist, and some killer, punchy tunes, this new record is an embedded thorn in my ass that I can’t locate or remove, no matter how I try.
- Them // Psychedelic Enigma – The story goes on, even when we all thought it was over after the NYC debacle known as Fear City. Looking to milk their characters and lyrical directions to death, Them is back with a new chapter in Psychedelic Enigma. Though it’s not as good as recent releases, it still helps my longing heart continue to beat in hopes of a new King Diamond record.
- Blood Red Throne // Siltskin – This was yet another release I fooked and never wrote up. If you’re a fan, Siltskin is more than worth it, but don’t get your hopes up if it doesn’t meet all your expectations.
Disappointments o’ the Year
- Machine Head – UnatØNed – I dØN’t really knØW what to say abØUt UnatØNed that I haven’t said already. It’s a directiØNless collectiØN ØF “best hits”—that dØN’t hit at all—instead ØF a full-length release. Even if mØSt people have issues with the band’s entire discØG, yØU can’t deny that, at ØNe point, there was passion in Machine Head’s music. NØW, it’s all abØUt thØSe hit pieces that make it ØN year-end lists pulled by iTunes, SpØTify, and yØUr lØCal rØCk radiØ. Which makes me sad because I ØNce held sØMe respect for Flynn, but there are ØNly sØ many disappØIntments ØNe can take befØRe they have nØ chØIce but tØ mØVe ØN.
Songs o’ the Year
- Abigail Williams – “Talk to Your Sleep”
A Void Within Existence by Abigail Williams
Abigail Williams – “No Less than Death”
A Void Within Existence by Abigail Williams
- In the Woods… – “Let Me Sing”
- Gaahls Wyrd – “Time and Timeless Timeline”
Braiding The Stories by Gaahls WYRD
#2025 #AbigailWilliams #ArsMoriendi #BearMace #BlogPosts #BloodRedThrone #CradleOfFilth #DrANGrierSTopTenIshOf2025 #GaahlsWYRD #GreenCarnation #Havukruunu #Hazzerd #InTheWoods #Lists #Lychgate #MachineHead #MorsPrincipiumEst #Sexmag #TheHaunted #Them #Vintersorg -
Weeping Sores – The Convalescence Agonies [Things You Might Have Missed 2025]
By Creeping Ivy
Pleasure—as Judas Priest, sadomasochists, and Flagellants teach us—can be found in pain. Doug Moore and Stephen Schwegler, the guitar/drum duo behind Weeping Sores, also teach this lesson with The Convalescence Agonies. As its title suggests, the sophomore Weeping Sores album chronicles Moore’s recovery from a shoulder injury that, quite unfortunately, prevented him from playing guitar.1 Quite fortunately for us, Moore sublimates his agony into the listener’s ecstasy with The Convalescence Agonies. Debut False Confession received high praise here, making the 2019 lists of Saunders (Honorable Mention), Cherd of Doom (#8), and Ferrous Beuller (#4). On its follow-up, Weeping Sores deliver a leaner, lusher, and eminently listable slab of death-doom.
On The Convalescence Agonies, Weeping Sores level up by scaling back. False Confession established that Moore and Schwegler of Pyrrhon fame could successfully craft a more plodding, brooding death metal, sounding like Morbid Angel making proclamations to My Dying Bride. At 56 minutes with multiple 9- and 10-minute songs, however, the album definitely fatigues. In comparison, The Convalescence Agonies clocks in at 43 minutes, energizing the listener by lurking towards its epic compositions. Moore’s climbing guitar and anguished screams in “Arctic Summer” segue into “Empty Vessel Hymn,” a heater showcasing Schwegler’s jazzy hands. The mid-album climax, “Sprawl in the City of Sorrow,” spreads chunky, blasty, and militaristic riffs across 9 breezy minutes. “Pleading for the Scythe” mixes delicate chords, lumbering beatdowns, and off-kilter shredding, setting the stage for the title track. “The Convalescence Agonies,” a 14-minute monster, boasts the stankiest, dumpiest chuggery on the entire album. Without compromising the scope of its songwriting, Weeping Sores have crafted a tighter, better-paced album than the debut.
False Confession stans might weep when learning that the violin of Gina Hendrika Eygenhuysen does not appear on The Convalescence Agonies. In its place is the cello of Annie Blythe, which directs a broader ensemble of ancillary instrumentation. Like Eygenhuysen’s violin, Blythe’s cello often occupies center stage, dramatizing sparse verses (“Arctic Summer”) and blasty tremolos (“The Convalescence Agonies”). Arguably, the deeper tone of the cello better suits the music, feeling like an extension of the scooped guitar tone. Weeping Sores also incorporate keyboards from Brendon Randall-Myers (Scarcity), which add a refined, almost proggy aura to caveman breakdowns and hyperspeed chugging (“Pleading for the Scythe”). There’s even banjo in “Sprawl…,” commingling with Blythe’s percussive cello to make a demented guitar lead far more unsettling.2 Some listeners will miss the brighter, more melodically commanding presence of the violin. The Convalescence Agonies more than makes up for Eygenhuysen’s absence, however, with its wider array of sonic textures.
As Moore howls on the title track, the body’s pain ‘teaches nothing…no gift / But the passion of transfiguration.’3 Pain may not teach anything to the suffering speaker or Moore himself, but The Convalescence Agonies teaches us that Weepings Sores is one of the most promising contemporary death-doom projects. Moore and Schwegler have transfigured False Confession into something more beautiful without sacrificing their disgustingly awesome death metal core. Sadly, this TYMHM treatment may not arrive in time to register during Listurnalia. Consider, then, The Convalescence Agonies an honorary Honorable Mention for me (and several others around here, I suspect).
Tracks to Check Out: “Arctic Summer,” “Sprawl in the City of Sorrow,” “The Convalescence Agonies”
#2025 #DeathDoom #DeathMetal #DoomMetal #IVoidhangerRecords #MorbidAngel #MyDyingBride #Pyrrhon #Scarcity #TheConvalescenceAgonies #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed2025 #TYMHM #USMetal #WeepingSores
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Grant them removed, and grant that this your noise
Hath chid down all the majesty of England;
Imagine that you see the wretched strangers,
Their babies at their backs and their poor luggage,
Plodding tooth ports and costs for transportation,
And that you sit as kings in your desires,
Authority quite silent by your brawl,
And you in ruff of your opinions clothed;
What had you got? I’ll tell you. You had taught
How insolence and strong hand should prevail,
How order should be quelled; and by this pattern
Not one of you should live an aged man,
For other ruffians, as their fancies wrought,
With self same hand, self reasons, and self right,
Would shark on you, and men like ravenous fishes
Would feed on one another.William Shakespeare (1564-1616) English dramatist and poet
Sir Thomas More, Act 2, sc. 4, l. 55ff (c. 1592)More about this quote: wist.info/shakespeare-william/…
#quote #quotes #quotation #qotd #shakespeare #williamshakespeare #anarchy #breakingthelaw #conflict #foreigners #immigration #insecurity #lawbreaking #lawlessness #mob #mobrule #mobviolence #riot #socialcontract #violence #xenophobia
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Still, #starmer and #lammy plod on, no apology. #genocide continues in #gaza, lobbying bribes probably still arrive.
Compensation is due, mistreatment in prison was unnecessary, bail should have been allowed.
The evidence, very very likely, was fabricated by the company, possibly in collusion with police.
An investigation should be forthcoming, it won't happen, there are still contracts, people still to be murdered. It would last fifty years anyway.
#ukgovernment EVIL
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Crotaline – The Embrace of Cloacal Desire Review By Grin Reaper
When it comes to snakes and music, I’m a simple man. I think of Testament’s Brotherhood of the Snake, High on Fire’s Snakes for the Divine, Deicide’s Serpents of the Light, and Sir Mix-a-Lot. And now Philadelphia’s Crotaline1 slithers in flaunting first-wave-of-black-metal ballads rife with references to snake genitalia. Black metal’s second wave garners most of the attention, having shaped what most consider to be the genre’s trve north, but Mayhem, Darkthrone, Immortal, and Emperor never would have become what they are without Bathory’s lo-fi virulence, Venom’s proto-thrashed, punk-informed edgelording, and Celtic Frost’s sinister atmospheres and doomy trudges. First-wave black metal fairly characterizes what Crotaline provides on debut The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, as it’s ridden with direct, unadorned riffing, torturous plods, and a classically DIY aesthetic. Crotaline’s debut sounds like a blast, and I hope it is—my anaconda don’t want none unless it’s got fun, hun.
In many senses, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire is a primitive album. Crotaline relates carnal tales of ophidian lust in straightforward spurts of stripped-down metal, preferring uncomplicated riffs and instrumentation to deliver their herpetological gospel. In this way, Crotaline reminds me more of Hellhammer than Bathory or Celtic Frost. Tom G. Warrior’s (Triptykon) first project,2 Hellhammer distinguished itself more for its chaos and enthusiasm than its execution. Similarly, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire attacks with zealous verve, flitting through nine tracks of intermittently thrashy and doom-laden black metal. Despite the bold mashup of genres, though, Crotaline never quite brings their fangs within striking distance.
The Embrace of Cloacal Desire by Crotaline
Two primary issues plague The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, and each boils down to the same root cause—simplicity. While the drums supply a commendable rhythmic thunder, mostly Crotaline’s performance either plays too safe or lacks the technical firepower to achieve big moments. After a protracted minute-and-a-half intro, opener “Breeding the End” gets properly started. Unleashing a classic thrash riff recalling Bonded by Blood-era Exodus, a peppy bass groove joins in to underpin the melody. The pace slows at the chorus, cutting to a second riff before wending back to the main one. “Widow’s Web” kicks in next, treating listeners to a Venom-meets-Bathory hook that, just like the preceding song, tamps the brakes for vocals and a bridge. The pattern wears thin quickly, and The Embrace of Cloacal Desire suffers from this constricted songwriting—particularly in the back half. Too many half-formed ideas reach for big moments, only to topple into funereal crawls. For an album dedicated to dangerous snakes and sex organs, too often I’m left unthrilled and unfulfilled.
Ultimately, the lack of memorable passages and songs leaves The Embrace of Cloacal Desire as drab and listless as a shed snakeskin. Solid building blocks reside in Crotaline’s DNA, but the shapes of their assembled structures never coalesce into more than their constituent components. Where varying tempos can effectively lead to dynamic pacing and musical climaxes, Crotaline’s overuse of the fast-to-slow momentum shifts undercuts their songwriting. “As the Serpents Feast” exits the chorus and launches into a punky bridge begging for a wailing solo, but instead delivers an understated, unconvincing lead lacking excitement and dexterity. “Red Moon of Despair” starts promisingly enough, yet drops to a two-minute slog of glacial pacing. The same framework repeats on “Beneath the Reeds,” and yet again on “Hemipenes; The Embrace of Cloacal Desire.” Rather than mirroring a narrative or cleverly subverting expectations, these pivots can seem haphazard or lazy, leading to either frustration or boredom.
In spite of a great album concept and comparisons to bands I enjoy, Crotaline’s debut fails to charm my snake. Predictable songwriting and uninspired performances make The Embrace of Cloacal Desire’s thirty-five minutes feel longer than they are, and no song manages to entirely sidestep these issues. Even so, it takes guts to write this wild shit, and even more so to memorialize these ideas in song. Venom lurks within Crotaline, but the band needs to retool their bite. Hopefully they can figure it out and give us a rousing sophomore resurgence. Until then, I’m left to wonder if maybe I’m bored with it, or maybe it’s Crotaline.
Rating: Bad
#15 #2026 #AmericanMetal #Apr26 #Bathory #BlackMetal #CelticFrost #Crotaline #Darkthrone #Deicide #Emperor #Hellhammer #HighOnFire #Immortal #LiminalDreadProductions #Mayhem #Review #Reviews #SirMixALot #Testament #TheEmbraceOfCloacalDesire #Triptykon #Venom
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Liminal Dread Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026 -
By Grin Reaper
Known for cultivating legendary acts such as Cult of Luna, Meshuggah, and Refused, Umeå, Sweden, sows fertile ground for seminal rock and metal bands.1 Formed in 2022, Skogskult joins their compatriots with a self-titled debut of grimy stoner doom in hand. From Swedish, Skogskult translates to ‘forest cult,’ and with roots firmly planted in scuzzy soil, this fey foursome drinks deeply from the wells of Acid King, Monolord, and Black Sabbath. Skogskult conjures six tracks that pull from Scandinavian mythology and the arcane to warn of dark days getting darker,2 setting a grim and eldritch tone from the outset. So come, friend, and take my hand. Let us walk into these woods together and uncover what mysteries lurk within.
Skogskult studied their forebears closely, as anyone who blindly tangles with Skogskult won’t need long to guess its genre. Many moments are saturated with indica atmospherics thick enough to induce contact highs. Hypnotic plods (“Lyktans Låga”), mid-paced gallops (“Pakten”), and the occasional stirring solo (“Snöblind”) furnish an assortment of backdrops and give individual songs enough character to prevent them from blurring together despite the pervasive gloomy fuzz. Cutting through said fuzz is vocalist Simon Rosengrim, who pierces the dense haze with tempestuous conviction, antithetical to the indolent trappings of stereotypical stoner doom. All told, Skogskult begets a familiar soundscape even casual fans of the genre will at once recognize, molding a unique personality alongside influences and reference points.
Skogskult’s merger of buzzing heft and raw emotion concocts powerful moments across their debut. Opening duo “Lyktans Låga” and “Turs” conform to genre conventions, grooving with ponderous mass as Samuel Nordström and Albin Kroon lumber along on guitar and bass. In fact, most of Skogskult is blanketed in wool, though “Sol” acts as a crucial change-of-pace, offering reverb-drenched strums and echoey vox that recall Sabbath’s “Planet Caravan.” Central tracks “Jag Ger Mig Av” and “Pakten” embolden Skogskult with lively frills, such as the stark baritone vocals midway through the former and the catchy-as-hell 90s post-grunge lilt of the latter. Pulling away from direct inspirations allows Skogskult to forge an identity all their own. In a genre where bands closely adhere to stoner doom’s core sound, it’s not a coincidence that Skogskult’s best moments occur when the album extends past them. In particular, Rosengrim’s performance electrifies when grit and pathos dial to eleven. His singing forgoes the comparatively mellow rhythms and measured deliveries associated with Sleep, Dopelord, and others, instead penetrating stoner doom’s miasma with immediate and undeniable passion. While this ingredient sets Skogskult apart from other outfits, it’s not quite enough to overcome Skogskult’s deficiencies.
Though many of Skogskult’s songwriting tendrils take root, some flounder for purchase. The juxtaposition of urgent vocals and hypnotizing grooves spellbind in a broad sense, but focusing just on the instrumentation reveals a lack of consistency over the entire album. Though flush with talent, Skogskult’s penchant for repeating riffs too often over six to seven minutes erodes some of its charm, which is further exacerbated over repeated listens. Bluesy solos and accelerated tempos afford welcome breaks, but more variety through the refrains would invigorate Skogskult’s musical backbone; without more riff diversity, shrinking song lengths could help remedy the repetition. Still, Skogskult boasts plenty of successes, as well. The production is a triumph, with each instrument (and vocals) afforded ample space in the mix. The only understated element is drummer Alexander Söderlund, who supports the band ably within a restrained pocket. Also, Skogskult deftly constructs tension throughout entire songs. Even if each track could lose thirty to sixty seconds, every payoff satisfies through unhurried climaxes and hints at a higher ceiling for the band’s songcraft.
Skogskult is a young band brimming with potential. They guide listeners through the murky fog of stoner doom that cloaks the forest they inhabit, shining a light on the path while allowing listeners to glimpse the dangers just off of it. Skogskult isn’t perfect, but Skogskult impresses with accessible retrofuzz, standout highlights, and a powerhouse vocalist. If they can refine the songwriting approach for their sophomore album while preserving what makes this one special, our next trip through the cult’s forest might just convert us.
Rating: Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Bonebag Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 5th, 2025#2025 #30 #AcidKing #BlackSabbath #BonebagRecords #CultOfLuna #Dec25 #DoomMetal #Dopelord #Meshuggah #Monolord #Naglfar #NocturnalRites #Persuader #Refused #Review #Reviews #SelfTitled #Skogskult #Sleep #StonerDoom #StonerDoomMetal #StonerMetal #SwedishMetal
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By Grin Reaper
Known for cultivating legendary acts such as Cult of Luna, Meshuggah, and Refused, Umeå, Sweden, sows fertile ground for seminal rock and metal bands.1 Formed in 2022, Skogskult joins their compatriots with a self-titled debut of grimy stoner doom in hand. From Swedish, Skogskult translates to ‘forest cult,’ and with roots firmly planted in scuzzy soil, this fey foursome drinks deeply from the wells of Acid King, Monolord, and Black Sabbath. Skogskult conjures six tracks that pull from Scandinavian mythology and the arcane to warn of dark days getting darker,2 setting a grim and eldritch tone from the outset. So come, friend, and take my hand. Let us walk into these woods together and uncover what mysteries lurk within.
Skogskult studied their forebears closely, as anyone who blindly tangles with Skogskult won’t need long to guess its genre. Many moments are saturated with indica atmospherics thick enough to induce contact highs. Hypnotic plods (“Lyktans Låga”), mid-paced gallops (“Pakten”), and the occasional stirring solo (“Snöblind”) furnish an assortment of backdrops and give individual songs enough character to prevent them from blurring together despite the pervasive gloomy fuzz. Cutting through said fuzz is vocalist Simon Rosengrim, who pierces the dense haze with tempestuous conviction, antithetical to the indolent trappings of stereotypical stoner doom. All told, Skogskult begets a familiar soundscape even casual fans of the genre will at once recognize, molding a unique personality alongside influences and reference points.
Skogskult’s merger of buzzing heft and raw emotion concocts powerful moments across their debut. Opening duo “Lyktans Låga” and “Turs” conform to genre conventions, grooving with ponderous mass as Samuel Nordström and Albin Kroon lumber along on guitar and bass. In fact, most of Skogskult is blanketed in wool, though “Sol” acts as a crucial change-of-pace, offering reverb-drenched strums and echoey vox that recall Sabbath’s “Planet Caravan.” Central tracks “Jag Ger Mig Av” and “Pakten” embolden Skogskult with lively frills, such as the stark baritone vocals midway through the former and the catchy-as-hell 90s post-grunge lilt of the latter. Pulling away from direct inspirations allows Skogskult to forge an identity all their own. In a genre where bands closely adhere to stoner doom’s core sound, it’s not a coincidence that Skogskult’s best moments occur when the album extends past them. In particular, Rosengrim’s performance electrifies when grit and pathos dial to eleven. His singing forgoes the comparatively mellow rhythms and measured deliveries associated with Sleep, Dopelord, and others, instead penetrating stoner doom’s miasma with immediate and undeniable passion. While this ingredient sets Skogskult apart from other outfits, it’s not quite enough to overcome Skogskult’s deficiencies.
Though many of Skogskult’s songwriting tendrils take root, some flounder for purchase. The juxtaposition of urgent vocals and hypnotizing grooves spellbind in a broad sense, but focusing just on the instrumentation reveals a lack of consistency over the entire album. Though flush with talent, Skogskult’s penchant for repeating riffs too often over six to seven minutes erodes some of its charm, which is further exacerbated over repeated listens. Bluesy solos and accelerated tempos afford welcome breaks, but more variety through the refrains would invigorate Skogskult’s musical backbone; without more riff diversity, shrinking song lengths could help remedy the repetition. Still, Skogskult boasts plenty of successes, as well. The production is a triumph, with each instrument (and vocals) afforded ample space in the mix. The only understated element is drummer Alexander Söderlund, who supports the band ably within a restrained pocket. Also, Skogskult deftly constructs tension throughout entire songs. Even if each track could lose thirty to sixty seconds, every payoff satisfies through unhurried climaxes and hints at a higher ceiling for the band’s songcraft.
Skogskult is a young band brimming with potential. They guide listeners through the murky fog of stoner doom that cloaks the forest they inhabit, shining a light on the path while allowing listeners to glimpse the dangers just off of it. Skogskult isn’t perfect, but Skogskult impresses with accessible retrofuzz, standout highlights, and a powerhouse vocalist. If they can refine the songwriting approach for their sophomore album while preserving what makes this one special, our next trip through the cult’s forest might just convert us.
Rating: Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Bonebag Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 5th, 2025#2025 #30 #AcidKing #BlackSabbath #BonebagRecords #CultOfLuna #Dec25 #DoomMetal #Dopelord #Meshuggah #Monolord #Naglfar #NocturnalRites #Persuader #Refused #Review #Reviews #SelfTitled #Skogskult #Sleep #StonerDoom #StonerDoomMetal #StonerMetal #SwedishMetal
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Scythe – Boiled Alive Review By Grin Reaper
In the midst of a recent metal deep-dive, Romania’s Scythe skulked out from a Bandcamp back alley and bludgeoned me with the flat side of their blade, knocking me senseless with scuzzy shenanigans. We weren’t graced with a promo for Scythe’s self-released debut, but Boiled Alive packs in so much grimy panache that after my first listen, I had it shortlisted as someThing You Might Have Missed. Rather than wait several months before bringing attention to Boiled Alive, though, I volunteered to burn some midnight oil and write about this quartet from Constanța. Why did Boiled Alive get me so hot and bothered? Scythe’s brand of death metal grips you by the throat and never relents, evoking many influences while creating something uniquely their own. After the dry spell I’ve had with death metal lately, I finally found something I unapologetically adore. So step right up, put your head on the chopping block, and let Scythe have a whack at your earhole.
Scythe doesn’t make grand statements about existentialism or introspection, nor do they redefine a genre. First and foremost, Scythe is here to serve up sickly, sticky licks with blithe recklessness. This fearsome foursome drops track titles that ooze with enough viscera (“Liquified Entrails,” “Of Pure Goriness”) to squelch onto a Cannibal Corpse setlist while harkening to soundscapes defined by Pestilence and Autopsy. Throughout Boiled Alive, the pace oscillates between frenzied paroxysms and plodding crawls, often within the same song (“Necrophilic Corpse Orgies”). Though it would be easy for these dynamics to jostle listeners, the savvy songwriting avoids clumsy transitions and affords an entrancing experience. Ultimately, Scythe guides listeners through a curated gallery of horror that’s as thrilling as it is fulfilling.
Interweaving Asphyxiating drudges with Mercilessly hectic eruptions, Scythe concocts a unique brew all their own. Boiled Alive simmers with ever-shifting tempos, imbuing the album with vivacity and a disarming blend of chops and accessibility.1 Where “Liquified Entrails” opens with a cannonade evoking an unholy union of Priest’s “Riding on the Wind” and Merciless’ “Souls of the Dead,” “Of Pure Goriness” flits between a mid-paced slink and rabid surges of hostility, and sounds like the crossbred bastard of Cannibal Corpse and Dismember. “Necrophilic Corpse Orgies” and “Tenebrous Decease” expose Scythe’s ability to nimbly jump between accelerated clips and more measured velocities, electrifying with their seamless agility as they navigate whipsawing tempo changes with a sophistication that is all the more impressive considering the band has no other projects or credits to their names.2
The musicianship on Boiled Alive is especially tight for a band formed just three years ago, and the mix highlights the band’s technical acumen. Rather than feature the glossy veneer popular with bigger labels, Boiled Alive sports a dry, natural texture that allows Scythe’s instrumentation to glisten. Reminiscent of the production on Invictus’s release last month, every whack on a tom and clang on the bass is afforded an organic timbre, imparting a raw aesthetic that lets Scythe sizzle. Whether rattling off meticulous snare rolls (“Necrophilic Corpse Orgies”), punky, snare-kick combos (“Plastered in Phlegm”), or playful cymbal splashes (“Of Pure Goriness”), David Rolea flays the skins on every track. Meanwhile, bassist and vocalist Andrei Constandache wields a gorgeously fat low-end tone3 as he assaults the mic with a menacing rasp. Not to be outdone, guitarists Mihai Panait and Andrei Oglan buzzsaw their way through Boiled Alive’s eight tracks, focusing on knotty riffs over wankfest solos. While the drums are the star of the show, Scythe suffers no weak links.
Part-thrashy, part-doomy, and all deathly, Scythe swings for the fences on Boiled Alive. And dammit, it’s Great. This beast writhes and squirms with purulent pizzazz, and I’m guilty many times over of restarting Boiled Alive as soon as the final track concludes. I wish solos were more prevalent across the album, and Constandache’s vocals, while effective, could use some variety, but these nitpicks should be taken as wishlist items for ol’ Grin rather than anything inherently off with Boiled Alive. Scythe discharges riffs and fun with an enviable effortlessness that should have death metal dealers and appreciators paying attention. In a genre with so much competition, Boiled Alive stands above the rabble, and I anxiously await the next time the Scythe comes down.
Rating: Great
#2026 #40 #Asphyx #Autopsy #BoiledAlive #CannibalCorpse #DeathMetal #Dismember #Feb26 #Invictus #JudasPriest #Merciless #OldSchoolDeathMetal #OSDM #Pestilence #Review #Reviews #RomanianMetal #Scythe #SelfReleased
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: February 1st, 2026 -
Crotaline – The Embrace of Cloacal Desire Review By Grin Reaper
When it comes to snakes and music, I’m a simple man. I think of Testament’s Brotherhood of the Snake, High on Fire’s Snakes for the Divine, Deicide’s Serpents of the Light, and Sir Mix-a-Lot. And now Philadelphia’s Crotaline1 slithers in flaunting first-wave-of-black-metal ballads rife with references to snake genitalia. Black metal’s second wave garners most of the attention, having shaped what most consider to be the genre’s trve north, but Mayhem, Darkthrone, Immortal, and Emperor never would have become what they are without Bathory’s lo-fi virulence, Venom’s proto-thrashed, punk-informed edgelording, and Celtic Frost’s sinister atmospheres and doomy trudges. First-wave black metal fairly characterizes what Crotaline provides on debut The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, as it’s ridden with direct, unadorned riffing, torturous plods, and a classically DIY aesthetic. Crotaline’s debut sounds like a blast, and I hope it is—my anaconda don’t want none unless it’s got fun, hun.
In many senses, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire is a primitive album. Crotaline relates carnal tales of ophidian lust in straightforward spurts of stripped-down metal, preferring uncomplicated riffs and instrumentation to deliver their herpetological gospel. In this way, Crotaline reminds me more of Hellhammer than Bathory or Celtic Frost. Tom G. Warrior’s (Triptykon) first project,2 Hellhammer distinguished itself more for its chaos and enthusiasm than its execution. Similarly, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire attacks with zealous verve, flitting through nine tracks of intermittently thrashy and doom-laden black metal. Despite the bold mashup of genres, though, Crotaline never quite brings their fangs within striking distance.
The Embrace of Cloacal Desire by Crotaline
Two primary issues plague The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, and each boils down to the same root cause—simplicity. While the drums supply a commendable rhythmic thunder, mostly Crotaline’s performance either plays too safe or lacks the technical firepower to achieve big moments. After a protracted minute-and-a-half intro, opener “Breeding the End” gets properly started. Unleashing a classic thrash riff recalling Bonded by Blood-era Exodus, a peppy bass groove joins in to underpin the melody. The pace slows at the chorus, cutting to a second riff before wending back to the main one. “Widow’s Web” kicks in next, treating listeners to a Venom-meets-Bathory hook that, just like the preceding song, tamps the brakes for vocals and a bridge. The pattern wears thin quickly, and The Embrace of Cloacal Desire suffers from this constricted songwriting—particularly in the back half. Too many half-formed ideas reach for big moments, only to topple into funereal crawls. For an album dedicated to dangerous snakes and sex organs, too often I’m left unthrilled and unfulfilled.
Ultimately, the lack of memorable passages and songs leaves The Embrace of Cloacal Desire as drab and listless as a shed snakeskin. Solid building blocks reside in Crotaline’s DNA, but the shapes of their assembled structures never coalesce into more than their constituent components. Where varying tempos can effectively lead to dynamic pacing and musical climaxes, Crotaline’s overuse of the fast-to-slow momentum shifts undercuts their songwriting. “As the Serpents Feast” exits the chorus and launches into a punky bridge begging for a wailing solo, but instead delivers an understated, unconvincing lead lacking excitement and dexterity. “Red Moon of Despair” starts promisingly enough, yet drops to a two-minute slog of glacial pacing. The same framework repeats on “Beneath the Reeds,” and yet again on “Hemipenes; The Embrace of Cloacal Desire.” Rather than mirroring a narrative or cleverly subverting expectations, these pivots can seem haphazard or lazy, leading to either frustration or boredom.
In spite of a great album concept and comparisons to bands I enjoy, Crotaline’s debut fails to charm my snake. Predictable songwriting and uninspired performances make The Embrace of Cloacal Desire’s thirty-five minutes feel longer than they are, and no song manages to entirely sidestep these issues. Even so, it takes guts to write this wild shit, and even more so to memorialize these ideas in song. Venom lurks within Crotaline, but the band needs to retool their bite. Hopefully they can figure it out and give us a rousing sophomore resurgence. Until then, I’m left to wonder if maybe I’m bored with it, or maybe it’s Crotaline.
Rating: Bad
#15 #2026 #AmericanMetal #Apr26 #Bathory #BlackMetal #CelticFrost #Crotaline #Darkthrone #Deicide #Emperor #Hellhammer #HighOnFire #Immortal #LiminalDreadProductions #Mayhem #Review #Reviews #SirMixALot #Testament #TheEmbraceOfCloacalDesire #Triptykon #Venom
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Liminal Dread Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026 -
Crotaline – The Embrace of Cloacal Desire Review By Grin ReaperWhen it comes to snakes and music, I’m a simple man. I think of Testament’s Brotherhood of the Snake, High on Fire’s Snakes for the Divine, Deicide’s Serpents of the Light, and Sir Mix-a-Lot. And now Philadelphia’s Crotaline1 slithers in flaunting first-wave-of-black-metal ballads rife with references to snake genitalia. Black metal’s second wave garners most of the attention, having shaped what most consider to be the genre’s trve north, but Mayhem, Darkthrone, Immortal, and Emperor never would have become what they are without Bathory’s lo-fi virulence, Venom’s proto-thrashed, punk-informed edgelording, and Celtic Frost’s sinister atmospheres and doomy trudges. First-wave black metal fairly characterizes what Crotaline provides on debut The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, as it’s ridden with direct, unadorned riffing, torturous plods, and a classically DIY aesthetic. Crotaline’s debut sounds like a blast, and I hope it is—my anaconda don’t want none unless it’s got fun, hun.
In many senses, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire is a primitive album. Crotaline relates carnal tales of ophidian lust in straightforward spurts of stripped-down metal, preferring uncomplicated riffs and instrumentation to deliver their herpetological gospel. In this way, Crotaline reminds me more of Hellhammer than Bathory or Celtic Frost. Tom G. Warrior’s (Triptykon) first project,2 Hellhammer distinguished itself more for its chaos and enthusiasm than its execution. Similarly, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire attacks with zealous verve, flitting through nine tracks of intermittently thrashy and doom-laden black metal. Despite the bold mashup of genres, though, Crotaline never quite brings their fangs within striking distance.
The Embrace of Cloacal Desire by Crotaline
Two primary issues plague The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, and each boils down to the same root cause—simplicity. While the drums supply a commendable rhythmic thunder, mostly Crotaline’s performance either plays too safe or lacks the technical firepower to achieve big moments. After a protracted minute-and-a-half intro, opener “Breeding the End” gets properly started. Unleashing a classic thrash riff recalling Bonded by Blood-era Exodus, a peppy bass groove joins in to underpin the melody. The pace slows at the chorus, cutting to a second riff before wending back to the main one. “Widow’s Web” kicks in next, treating listeners to a Venom-meets-Bathory hook that, just like the preceding song, tamps the brakes for vocals and a bridge. The pattern wears thin quickly, and The Embrace of Cloacal Desire suffers from this constricted songwriting—particularly in the back half. Too many half-formed ideas reach for big moments, only to topple into funereal crawls. For an album dedicated to dangerous snakes and sex organs, too often I’m left unthrilled and unfulfilled.
Ultimately, the lack of memorable passages and songs leaves The Embrace of Cloacal Desire as drab and listless as a shed snakeskin. Solid building blocks reside in Crotaline’s DNA, but the shapes of their assembled structures never coalesce into more than their constituent components. Where varying tempos can effectively lead to dynamic pacing and musical climaxes, Crotaline’s overuse of the fast-to-slow momentum shifts undercuts their songwriting. “As the Serpents Feast” exits the chorus and launches into a punky bridge begging for a wailing solo, but instead delivers an understated, unconvincing lead lacking excitement and dexterity. “Red Moon of Despair” starts promisingly enough, yet drops to a two-minute slog of glacial pacing. The same framework repeats on “Beneath the Reeds,” and yet again on “Hemipenes; The Embrace of Cloacal Desire.” Rather than mirroring a narrative or cleverly subverting expectations, these pivots can seem haphazard or lazy, leading to either frustration or boredom.
In spite of a great album concept and comparisons to bands I enjoy, Crotaline’s debut fails to charm my snake. Predictable songwriting and uninspired performances make The Embrace of Cloacal Desire’s thirty-five minutes feel longer than they are, and no song manages to entirely sidestep these issues. Even so, it takes guts to write this wild shit, and even more so to memorialize these ideas in song. Venom lurks within Crotaline, but the band needs to retool their bite. Hopefully they can figure it out and give us a rousing sophomore resurgence. Until then, I’m left to wonder if maybe I’m bored with it, or maybe it’s Crotaline.
Rating: Bad
#15 #2026 #AmericanMetal #Apr26 #Bathory #BlackMetal #CelticFrost #Crotaline #Darkthrone #Deicide #Emperor #Hellhammer #HighOnFire #Immortal #LiminalDreadProductions #Mayhem #Review #Reviews #SirMixALot #Testament #TheEmbraceOfCloacalDesire #Triptykon #Venom
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Liminal Dread Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026 -
Crotaline – The Embrace of Cloacal Desire Review By Grin ReaperWhen it comes to snakes and music, I’m a simple man. I think of Testament’s Brotherhood of the Snake, High on Fire’s Snakes for the Divine, Deicide’s Serpents of the Light, and Sir Mix-a-Lot. And now Philadelphia’s Crotaline1 slithers in flaunting first-wave-of-black-metal ballads rife with references to snake genitalia. Black metal’s second wave garners most of the attention, having shaped what most consider to be the genre’s trve north, but Mayhem, Darkthrone, Immortal, and Emperor never would have become what they are without Bathory’s lo-fi virulence, Venom’s proto-thrashed, punk-informed edgelording, and Celtic Frost’s sinister atmospheres and doomy trudges. First-wave black metal fairly characterizes what Crotaline provides on debut The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, as it’s ridden with direct, unadorned riffing, torturous plods, and a classically DIY aesthetic. Crotaline’s debut sounds like a blast, and I hope it is—my anaconda don’t want none unless it’s got fun, hun.
In many senses, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire is a primitive album. Crotaline relates carnal tales of ophidian lust in straightforward spurts of stripped-down metal, preferring uncomplicated riffs and instrumentation to deliver their herpetological gospel. In this way, Crotaline reminds me more of Hellhammer than Bathory or Celtic Frost. Tom G. Warrior’s (Triptykon) first project,2 Hellhammer distinguished itself more for its chaos and enthusiasm than its execution. Similarly, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire attacks with zealous verve, flitting through nine tracks of intermittently thrashy and doom-laden black metal. Despite the bold mashup of genres, though, Crotaline never quite brings their fangs within striking distance.
The Embrace of Cloacal Desire by Crotaline
Two primary issues plague The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, and each boils down to the same root cause—simplicity. While the drums supply a commendable rhythmic thunder, mostly Crotaline’s performance either plays too safe or lacks the technical firepower to achieve big moments. After a protracted minute-and-a-half intro, opener “Breeding the End” gets properly started. Unleashing a classic thrash riff recalling Bonded by Blood-era Exodus, a peppy bass groove joins in to underpin the melody. The pace slows at the chorus, cutting to a second riff before wending back to the main one. “Widow’s Web” kicks in next, treating listeners to a Venom-meets-Bathory hook that, just like the preceding song, tamps the brakes for vocals and a bridge. The pattern wears thin quickly, and The Embrace of Cloacal Desire suffers from this constricted songwriting—particularly in the back half. Too many half-formed ideas reach for big moments, only to topple into funereal crawls. For an album dedicated to dangerous snakes and sex organs, too often I’m left unthrilled and unfulfilled.
Ultimately, the lack of memorable passages and songs leaves The Embrace of Cloacal Desire as drab and listless as a shed snakeskin. Solid building blocks reside in Crotaline’s DNA, but the shapes of their assembled structures never coalesce into more than their constituent components. Where varying tempos can effectively lead to dynamic pacing and musical climaxes, Crotaline’s overuse of the fast-to-slow momentum shifts undercuts their songwriting. “As the Serpents Feast” exits the chorus and launches into a punky bridge begging for a wailing solo, but instead delivers an understated, unconvincing lead lacking excitement and dexterity. “Red Moon of Despair” starts promisingly enough, yet drops to a two-minute slog of glacial pacing. The same framework repeats on “Beneath the Reeds,” and yet again on “Hemipenes; The Embrace of Cloacal Desire.” Rather than mirroring a narrative or cleverly subverting expectations, these pivots can seem haphazard or lazy, leading to either frustration or boredom.
In spite of a great album concept and comparisons to bands I enjoy, Crotaline’s debut fails to charm my snake. Predictable songwriting and uninspired performances make The Embrace of Cloacal Desire’s thirty-five minutes feel longer than they are, and no song manages to entirely sidestep these issues. Even so, it takes guts to write this wild shit, and even more so to memorialize these ideas in song. Venom lurks within Crotaline, but the band needs to retool their bite. Hopefully they can figure it out and give us a rousing sophomore resurgence. Until then, I’m left to wonder if maybe I’m bored with it, or maybe it’s Crotaline.
Rating: Bad
#15 #2026 #AmericanMetal #Apr26 #Bathory #BlackMetal #CelticFrost #Crotaline #Darkthrone #Deicide #Emperor #Hellhammer #HighOnFire #Immortal #LiminalDreadProductions #Mayhem #Review #Reviews #SirMixALot #Testament #TheEmbraceOfCloacalDesire #Triptykon #Venom
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Liminal Dread Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026 -
Crotaline – The Embrace of Cloacal Desire Review By Grin ReaperWhen it comes to snakes and music, I’m a simple man. I think of Testament’s Brotherhood of the Snake, High on Fire’s Snakes for the Divine, Deicide’s Serpents of the Light, and Sir Mix-a-Lot. And now Philadelphia’s Crotaline1 slithers in flaunting first-wave-of-black-metal ballads rife with references to snake genitalia. Black metal’s second wave garners most of the attention, having shaped what most consider to be the genre’s trve north, but Mayhem, Darkthrone, Immortal, and Emperor never would have become what they are without Bathory’s lo-fi virulence, Venom’s proto-thrashed, punk-informed edgelording, and Celtic Frost’s sinister atmospheres and doomy trudges. First-wave black metal fairly characterizes what Crotaline provides on debut The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, as it’s ridden with direct, unadorned riffing, torturous plods, and a classically DIY aesthetic. Crotaline’s debut sounds like a blast, and I hope it is—my anaconda don’t want none unless it’s got fun, hun.
In many senses, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire is a primitive album. Crotaline relates carnal tales of ophidian lust in straightforward spurts of stripped-down metal, preferring uncomplicated riffs and instrumentation to deliver their herpetological gospel. In this way, Crotaline reminds me more of Hellhammer than Bathory or Celtic Frost. Tom G. Warrior’s (Triptykon) first project,2 Hellhammer distinguished itself more for its chaos and enthusiasm than its execution. Similarly, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire attacks with zealous verve, flitting through nine tracks of intermittently thrashy and doom-laden black metal. Despite the bold mashup of genres, though, Crotaline never quite brings their fangs within striking distance.
The Embrace of Cloacal Desire by Crotaline
Two primary issues plague The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, and each boils down to the same root cause—simplicity. While the drums supply a commendable rhythmic thunder, mostly Crotaline’s performance either plays too safe or lacks the technical firepower to achieve big moments. After a protracted minute-and-a-half intro, opener “Breeding the End” gets properly started. Unleashing a classic thrash riff recalling Bonded by Blood-era Exodus, a peppy bass groove joins in to underpin the melody. The pace slows at the chorus, cutting to a second riff before wending back to the main one. “Widow’s Web” kicks in next, treating listeners to a Venom-meets-Bathory hook that, just like the preceding song, tamps the brakes for vocals and a bridge. The pattern wears thin quickly, and The Embrace of Cloacal Desire suffers from this constricted songwriting—particularly in the back half. Too many half-formed ideas reach for big moments, only to topple into funereal crawls. For an album dedicated to dangerous snakes and sex organs, too often I’m left unthrilled and unfulfilled.
Ultimately, the lack of memorable passages and songs leaves The Embrace of Cloacal Desire as drab and listless as a shed snakeskin. Solid building blocks reside in Crotaline’s DNA, but the shapes of their assembled structures never coalesce into more than their constituent components. Where varying tempos can effectively lead to dynamic pacing and musical climaxes, Crotaline’s overuse of the fast-to-slow momentum shifts undercuts their songwriting. “As the Serpents Feast” exits the chorus and launches into a punky bridge begging for a wailing solo, but instead delivers an understated, unconvincing lead lacking excitement and dexterity. “Red Moon of Despair” starts promisingly enough, yet drops to a two-minute slog of glacial pacing. The same framework repeats on “Beneath the Reeds,” and yet again on “Hemipenes; The Embrace of Cloacal Desire.” Rather than mirroring a narrative or cleverly subverting expectations, these pivots can seem haphazard or lazy, leading to either frustration or boredom.
In spite of a great album concept and comparisons to bands I enjoy, Crotaline’s debut fails to charm my snake. Predictable songwriting and uninspired performances make The Embrace of Cloacal Desire’s thirty-five minutes feel longer than they are, and no song manages to entirely sidestep these issues. Even so, it takes guts to write this wild shit, and even more so to memorialize these ideas in song. Venom lurks within Crotaline, but the band needs to retool their bite. Hopefully they can figure it out and give us a rousing sophomore resurgence. Until then, I’m left to wonder if maybe I’m bored with it, or maybe it’s Crotaline.
Rating: Bad
#15 #2026 #AmericanMetal #Apr26 #Bathory #BlackMetal #CelticFrost #Crotaline #Darkthrone #Deicide #Emperor #Hellhammer #HighOnFire #Immortal #LiminalDreadProductions #Mayhem #Review #Reviews #SirMixALot #Testament #TheEmbraceOfCloacalDesire #Triptykon #Venom
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Liminal Dread Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026