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151 results for “acerbicX2”
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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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Perhaps the Most Important Art Exhibit in NE Wisconsin’s History, Maybe
If you live in NE Wisconsin, don’t miss A Creative Place, currently on at the Trout Museum of Art in Appleton through May 18th.
I’ve often said that one of the issues we have as a community is that we lack self-awareness. As cultural agents, so to speak, we know the stories we know. We know what we’ve done, what our friends and teachers have done, and what we’ve seen and heard about. But awareness doesn’t extend much further. Places like Green Bay, Appleton, Oshkosh, etc. don’t have the benefit of seeing themselves reflected by the larger cultural awareness. Things that happened, even in the not so distant past, just disappear into memory for lack of recognition and documentation. You can’t easily look things up. In some respects, it’s easier to know what was happening here in the 19th century than in the 1990s or even 2000s. The same is probably true of many peripheral places on the map.
Consider that the population of NE Wisconsin is somewhere between that of Estonia and Luxembourg. If this place had a sense of identity as strong as either of those, we would have museums dedicated to our cultural production and the streets would be lined with the busts of our poets and painters. Indeed, here are the museums: Luxembourg, Estonia; and here is a bust of F.R. Kreutzwald, physician and creator or Estonia’s national literature. I’m sure there are many more.
So, how about Edna Ferber, perhaps the most famous non-living writer to emerge from the Fox Valley? In her day, she was a popular writer of short stories. Her work is best known now for having been adapted to film. She wrote the stories that Giant—starring James Dean—and Showboat were based on. Where is her bust? Is there a park named after her? A square? A street? The only thing named for her in Appleton is a sad, little, suburban alley. In Green Bay, the sole point on the map I could find named for a local cultural figure is Red Smith K-8 School, after the famed sportswriter.
Imagine my surprise when I moved to New York City in 1999, picked up “The New York Press” to read on the subway, and found a column that frequently referenced Allouez, Wisconsin—the village nestled between Green Bay and De Pere that I’d grown up in. This was Slackjaw by Jim Knipfel, an acerbic, depressive writer who’d felt out of place in all the same places I had. (The New York Press was a fascinating read for me, it had this almost baroque sense of itself and its politics ranged from the radical left to just to the right of Louis XVI. It also ran Ben Katchor’s cartoons, which were wonderful.) I doubt many in Green Bay are aware of Jim Knipfel’s writing, which is a shame because it’s honest, alarming, entertaining, and always worth reading. But I don’t think his name has ever come up in conversation in my presence. As far as I know, no one’s thought to claim him as a local cultural figure, or to welcome him back. I suspect he would have to be invited or cajoled into returning. Another, even more nationally celebrated author is Mona Simpson, who wrote Anywhere, But Here, (“here” being a thinly veiled Green Bay) and five other novels. Maybe if we celebrated our cultural figures, they wouldn’t feel the need to run away.
That’d be nice. But when our people make a name for themselves out in the world, word seldom reaches us.
Changing this, by which I mean becoming more self-aware, means we need to do all of the stuff we haven’t done successfully in the past. We need curators, documentarians, historians, and an engaged audience. We have to make our past available so that we can understand our present. These are difficult things to do. Personally, I’ve often failed to be being a part of the audience. I forget to attend things, I like my home. I’m somehow more comfortable making things happen than just enjoying things. But without a platform for promoting my own events, I’m not doing much of either.
That’s why I got very excited about A Creative Place; Art from Northeastern Wisconsin 1940 to Present, the final exhibit at what will be the original Trout Museum of Art in Appleton once the new one is built. Someone finally took the first stab at curating a historical overview of the art of NE Wisconsin. I’m grateful to Annemarie Sawkins and the institutions that supported the work. It was a revelation to me. I saw art by people I knew, of people I knew, and featuring places I know, all put into a context that extends back to before I was born. I even saw art that I’ve personally exhibited, which made me feel I’ve played a small role in this history too.
The exhibit runs through May 18, click here for more info. If you do go, be aware that the restrooms are part of the exhibit. I didn’t find out until afterwards. There is a printed catalog available compiled by the curator in collaboration with UWGB professor and printmaker Christine Style.
Pardon reflections, the general askewness, and the shadows, etc. Here are a few that I particularly enjoyed.
Dennis Bueler, Eye Was Watching You Out of the Corner of My Eye. 1980s.Joann Kindt, Grand Bar, 1968This was one of my favorite pieces. Joann Kindt, whom I’d never heard of, was well represented by three paintings. This one was my favorite.
Albert Frank Quinlan, Reed Mace, 1973Meg Lionel Murphy, Make Room, 2023Naturally, one of the best things about the exhibit was encountering a few, contemporary local artists I hadn’t seen before.
Lori Jae Ricci, Defixiones, 1996 (We exhibited this at Kavarna around ’08 or so).Thomas Dietrich, Merry Go Round, 1939I spotted that this one’s for sale at an online gallery… I would 100% drop $2,000 on this if I could afford it. This is an entrancing picture.
Norbert Kox, Flesh Eaters, 1992Norbert Kox is probably the best known visual artist from the area. Though a religious man, he had, shall we say, an idiosyncratic take on Christian iconography. Enough to get him into hot water with the Catholic League. His exhibit at the Neville Museum in the early 2000s was probably the most ‘controversial’ cultural event in Green Bay in recent decades. It was played up on Fox News, there were protests, etc. Several years later, we showed a lot of the same work at my coffeehouse, and no-one cared. I liked Norb and his work. I felt that he wasn’t represent well at the exhibit. Maybe his better work wasn’t available.
Theresa Abel, The Stone Path, 2018-2023This one gave me goosebumps. This photo does not do this work justice.
Lester Schwartz, Riding Horses, 1945Anyway, I encourage you to go! If you can’t, or if you are reading this after May 18th, 2025, perhaps you’ll be able to order the print catalog from the gift shop.
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Cave Sermon – Divine Laughter [Things You Might Have Missed 2024]
By Thus Spoke
When I finally heard Divine Laughter, it was closer to January 2025 than it was January this year, when Cave Sermon released it. This temporal technicality turned out to be trivial because its brilliance was immediately obvious. Divine Laughter traverses death, black, sludge, post, ambient, and more, exploring further, and committing harder to mania—as I later discovered—than debut Memory Spear, which I also devoured eagerly. There is primarily just one person behind Cave Sermon, Aussie musician Charlie Park, and until now, the project was instrumental. Miguel Méndez’ vocals—with an impressively versatile, unhinged, and savage performance—are a perfect accompaniment to what appears to be Cave Sermon’s signature abstract and interpretive compositional style, channeling a kind of musical stream of consciousness that must be experienced to be understood.
To say that Divine Laughter is affecting would be criminal understatement. The lyrics alone are touching in a sense totally devoid of sentimentality, reflecting a singularly modern capitalist loneliness, a hatred of human apathy, and a guilt in one’s complicity. But it is the truly magnificent way in which Parks tells (and Méndez narrates) this story musically which makes it so arresting. It feels, at its core, refreshingly and exhilaratingly organic; vibrant and smart and true. Reprises feel like the returning edges of a persistent thought, percussion is as often a tech-death texture as a sludgy battering ram (“Crystallised”), or a vague tap in a noisy void (“Birds and Machines in Brunswick,” “Divine Laughter”); barks pitch upwards into howls in sudden gasps of the realization of some depressing, mundane, and fearful reality (“Liquid Gold”). Quieter moments of almost folky naïveté brush up against acerbic sludginess, alien synth, and the pseudo-chaotically mixed nuts and bolts of razor-sharp death and black metal with a facile deftness I’ve not heard outside of Vicotnik’s work.1
With so few words, how can I convey Divine Laughter’s mania? Comparisons feel stale. The through lines, like paint in abstract art,2 play with and subvert the expected course of a given genre’s template. Energetic black(ened death)3 (“Beyond Recognition,” “The Paint of An Invader”) comes as a thrillingly uneven rain of vitriol. Angular, dissonant extremity tumbles into echoing industrialism, or dizzy ambience (“Beyond Recognition,” “Divine Laughter”); sludgy death remains off-kilter and wild, while charging prog-death rhythms stumble suddenly, (“Crystallised”) and spiraling solos precipitate turns to gazey post (“Liquid Gold”), and every other influence on display. Though there’s a rawness and frightfulness about the relentless transformations of guitar, vocals, and tempo, the use of synths and atmosphere, they remain surprisingly alluring thanks to the powerful emotions bubbling up in subtle resurgences of themes. A lot of this has to do with Méndez’ incredible vocal performance, another lot are these tangled, gorgeous compositions. There are so many of these beautiful, cathartic rises of yearning, urgent melody, and many of them come with the unforeseen force of involuntary emotional reaction (“Beyond Recognition,” “Liquid Gold,” “The Paint of An Invader”), though multiple listens show their edges were presaged.
The only potential stumbling block for Divine Laughter I can concede, is the noisy, sample-spliced “Birds and Machines in Brunswick.” Transitioning into the rather terrifying opening to “Divine Laughter” with its almost Portal-esque bellows, its five minutes stick out perhaps a little too much from the rest. It’s clear that this is an experiment, taking place in a transition period for Cave Sermon. Given the excellence of everything else about Divine Laughter, it is very easy to forgive this trifle. I can truly say that no album—at least in recent years—has so instantaneously affected me, smashing down the doors of my musical perception, and settling deep in my soul. Cave Sermon may have received shockingly little recognition so far,4 but they will no doubt soon be a name on the lips of many in whatever strange sphere of metal we find ourselves in.
Tracks to Check Out: Every one except “Birds and Machines in Brunswick” is mandatory listening.
#2024 #AustralianMetal #BlackMetal #BlackenedDeath #CaveSermon #DeathMetal #DivineLaughter #ExperimentalMetal #PostMetal #SelfReleases #Sludge #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed2024 #TYMHM
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Cave Sermon – Divine Laughter [Things You Might Have Missed 2024]
By Thus Spoke
When I finally heard Divine Laughter, it was closer to January 2025 than it was January this year, when Cave Sermon released it. This temporal technicality turned out to be trivial because its brilliance was immediately obvious. Divine Laughter traverses death, black, sludge, post, ambient, and more, exploring further, and committing harder to mania—as I later discovered—than debut Memory Spear, which I also devoured eagerly. There is primarily just one person behind Cave Sermon, Aussie musician Charlie Park, and until now, the project was instrumental. Miguel Méndez’ vocals—with an impressively versatile, unhinged, and savage performance—are a perfect accompaniment to what appears to be Cave Sermon’s signature abstract and interpretive compositional style, channeling a kind of musical stream of consciousness that must be experienced to be understood.
To say that Divine Laughter is affecting would be criminal understatement. The lyrics alone are touching in a sense totally devoid of sentimentality, reflecting a singularly modern capitalist loneliness, a hatred of human apathy, and a guilt in one’s complicity. But it is the truly magnificent way in which Parks tells (and Méndez narrates) this story musically which makes it so arresting. It feels, at its core, refreshingly and exhilaratingly organic; vibrant and smart and true. Reprises feel like the returning edges of a persistent thought, percussion is as often a tech-death texture as a sludgy battering ram (“Crystallised”), or a vague tap in a noisy void (“Birds and Machines in Brunswick,” “Divine Laughter”); barks pitch upwards into howls in sudden gasps of the realization of some depressing, mundane, and fearful reality (“Liquid Gold”). Quieter moments of almost folky naïveté brush up against acerbic sludginess, alien synth, and the pseudo-chaotically mixed nuts and bolts of razor-sharp death and black metal with a facile deftness I’ve not heard outside of Vicotnik’s work.1
With so few words, how can I convey Divine Laughter’s mania? Comparisons feel stale. The through lines, like paint in abstract art,2 play with and subvert the expected course of a given genre’s template. Energetic black(ened death)3 (“Beyond Recognition,” “The Paint of An Invader”) comes as a thrillingly uneven rain of vitriol. Angular, dissonant extremity tumbles into echoing industrialism, or dizzy ambience (“Beyond Recognition,” “Divine Laughter”); sludgy death remains off-kilter and wild, while charging prog-death rhythms stumble suddenly, (“Crystallised”) and spiraling solos precipitate turns to gazey post (“Liquid Gold”), and every other influence on display. Though there’s a rawness and frightfulness about the relentless transformations of guitar, vocals, and tempo, the use of synths and atmosphere, they remain surprisingly alluring thanks to the powerful emotions bubbling up in subtle resurgences of themes. A lot of this has to do with Méndez’ incredible vocal performance, another lot are these tangled, gorgeous compositions. There are so many of these beautiful, cathartic rises of yearning, urgent melody, and many of them come with the unforeseen force of involuntary emotional reaction (“Beyond Recognition,” “Liquid Gold,” “The Paint of An Invader”), though multiple listens show their edges were presaged.
The only potential stumbling block for Divine Laughter I can concede, is the noisy, sample-spliced “Birds and Machines in Brunswick.” Transitioning into the rather terrifying opening to “Divine Laughter” with its almost Portal-esque bellows, its five minutes stick out perhaps a little too much from the rest. It’s clear that this is an experiment, taking place in a transition period for Cave Sermon. Given the excellence of everything else about Divine Laughter, it is very easy to forgive this trifle. I can truly say that no album—at least in recent years—has so instantaneously affected me, smashing down the doors of my musical perception, and settling deep in my soul. Cave Sermon may have received shockingly little recognition so far,4 but they will no doubt soon be a name on the lips of many in whatever strange sphere of metal we find ourselves in.
Tracks to Check Out: Every one except “Birds and Machines in Brunswick” is mandatory listening.
#2024 #AustralianMetal #BlackMetal #BlackenedDeath #CaveSermon #DeathMetal #DivineLaughter #ExperimentalMetal #PostMetal #SelfReleases #Sludge #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed2024 #TYMHM
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Cave Sermon – Divine Laughter [Things You Might Have Missed 2024]
By Thus Spoke
When I finally heard Divine Laughter, it was closer to January 2025 than it was January this year, when Cave Sermon released it. This temporal technicality turned out to be trivial because its brilliance was immediately obvious. Divine Laughter traverses death, black, sludge, post, ambient, and more, exploring further, and committing harder to mania—as I later discovered—than debut Memory Spear, which I also devoured eagerly. There is primarily just one person behind Cave Sermon, Aussie musician Charlie Park, and until now, the project was instrumental. Miguel Méndez’ vocals—with an impressively versatile, unhinged, and savage performance—are a perfect accompaniment to what appears to be Cave Sermon’s signature abstract and interpretive compositional style, channeling a kind of musical stream of consciousness that must be experienced to be understood.
To say that Divine Laughter is affecting would be criminal understatement. The lyrics alone are touching in a sense totally devoid of sentimentality, reflecting a singularly modern capitalist loneliness, a hatred of human apathy, and a guilt in one’s complicity. But it is the truly magnificent way in which Parks tells (and Méndez narrates) this story musically which makes it so arresting. It feels, at its core, refreshingly and exhilaratingly organic; vibrant and smart and true. Reprises feel like the returning edges of a persistent thought, percussion is as often a tech-death texture as a sludgy battering ram (“Crystallised”), or a vague tap in a noisy void (“Birds and Machines in Brunswick,” “Divine Laughter”); barks pitch upwards into howls in sudden gasps of the realization of some depressing, mundane, and fearful reality (“Liquid Gold”). Quieter moments of almost folky naïveté brush up against acerbic sludginess, alien synth, and the pseudo-chaotically mixed nuts and bolts of razor-sharp death and black metal with a facile deftness I’ve not heard outside of Vicotnik’s work.1
With so few words, how can I convey Divine Laughter’s mania? Comparisons feel stale. The through lines, like paint in abstract art,2 play with and subvert the expected course of a given genre’s template. Energetic black(ened death)3 (“Beyond Recognition,” “The Paint of An Invader”) comes as a thrillingly uneven rain of vitriol. Angular, dissonant extremity tumbles into echoing industrialism, or dizzy ambience (“Beyond Recognition,” “Divine Laughter”); sludgy death remains off-kilter and wild, while charging prog-death rhythms stumble suddenly, (“Crystallised”) and spiraling solos precipitate turns to gazey post (“Liquid Gold”), and every other influence on display. Though there’s a rawness and frightfulness about the relentless transformations of guitar, vocals, and tempo, the use of synths and atmosphere, they remain surprisingly alluring thanks to the powerful emotions bubbling up in subtle resurgences of themes. A lot of this has to do with Méndez’ incredible vocal performance, another lot are these tangled, gorgeous compositions. There are so many of these beautiful, cathartic rises of yearning, urgent melody, and many of them come with the unforeseen force of involuntary emotional reaction (“Beyond Recognition,” “Liquid Gold,” “The Paint of An Invader”), though multiple listens show their edges were presaged.
The only potential stumbling block for Divine Laughter I can concede, is the noisy, sample-spliced “Birds and Machines in Brunswick.” Transitioning into the rather terrifying opening to “Divine Laughter” with its almost Portal-esque bellows, its five minutes stick out perhaps a little too much from the rest. It’s clear that this is an experiment, taking place in a transition period for Cave Sermon. Given the excellence of everything else about Divine Laughter, it is very easy to forgive this trifle. I can truly say that no album—at least in recent years—has so instantaneously affected me, smashing down the doors of my musical perception, and settling deep in my soul. Cave Sermon may have received shockingly little recognition so far,4 but they will no doubt soon be a name on the lips of many in whatever strange sphere of metal we find ourselves in.
Tracks to Check Out: Every one except “Birds and Machines in Brunswick” is mandatory listening.
#2024 #AustralianMetal #BlackMetal #BlackenedDeath #CaveSermon #DeathMetal #DivineLaughter #ExperimentalMetal #PostMetal #SelfReleases #Sludge #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed2024 #TYMHM
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!!Moderation request!!
I come home to find my feeds/streams flooded with vitriolic politicial drivel emanating from a group to which I belong that states emphatically that it doesn't tolerate off-topic traffic.
The stated purpose of this Fediverse group on my home Friendica server is stated as follows:
This is a Friendica group dedicated to #Fediverse news. What are the advantages of a group over a hashtag?
Groups can do things that hashtags can't. For example, groups:
- are moderated
- can re-share content
- can speak as a group
Joining and contributing to a Friendica group is easy. To share your posts to @Fediverse News, follow these steps:
- Follow @Fediverse News
- When sharing Fediverse news, tag @Fediverse News
- The @Fediverse News group will then re-share your post
This is an actively moderated group. Be sure to stay on topic, or your posts will be removed.
As per the instructions for this Friendica / Fediverse group, I'm notifying the moderation team by CC'ing the following address with this complaint and request to remove the vicious hate that's been spewing into the group here all day long while I've been away working:
People who sign up for a Fediverse News site should not be subjected to hatred being fomented, propagated, and bantered about with respect to unrelated matters, such as (abominable) off-topic, political vitriol.
- ) Posting announcements concerning the onboarding and subesquent federating nature of a public figure's account on threads.net is a relevant matter to the Fediverse, Fediverse Technology, and Fediverse News.
- ) acerbic comentary, name calling, ad hominem, and libel, as has consumed the group today, is not - those posts are a cause of severe harm and should most certainly, IMO be removed as per the terms/rules quoted above.
- ) The level of cacophony and pejorative hate speech permitted to continue throughout the day today is shameful. This is not the place to engage or encourage such juvenile behavior, let alone permit it to foment and spread across the Fediverse as it has today!
Moderation Team: Thank you, in advance, for taking your time to address and resolve this matter, returning this group to the decorum it usually enjoys with people conversing and observing the principles of civil discourse.
#tallship #moderation #Civil Discourse #ad-hominem #vitriol #hate speech #harm
⛵
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Unmother – State Dependent Memory Review By Tyme
Independent U.K. undergrounder’s, Unmother, have been holding a mirror up to urban dystopian dehumanization since forming in 2019. Their 2021 debut, Lay Down the Sun, garnered significant underground acclaim that, according to the promo kit, established Unmother “as a restless and forward-thinking presence within the scene.” Foregoing the nature-scapes and mythological motifs of other post-black metal outfits, Unmother draws inspiration from the streets and, with their sophomore effort, State Dependent Memory,1 examines “urban isolation, inner dislocation, and moral decline, reflecting a world formed by concrete environments and social erosion.”2 After swapping their first “V” vocalist, Venla,3 for their second, V. (VOAK), Unmother prepares to take the next step on their evolving musical journey. Does State Dependent Memory offer a solution that might save our base, dehumanized society, from itself, or will it amount to so much piss in the wind?
State Dependent Memory crackles with gritty, asphaltic energy, casting Unmother as conscientious agitators, decrying societal urban decay in veins similar to acts like Chat Pile or Ashenspire, even if avoiding any direct auricular comparison. Departing from the rawer, denser claustrophobia of Lay Down the Sun, Unmother sought slightly warmer sonic climes on State Dependent Memory, weaving undulating post-metal textures into its mostly traditional black-metal framework. Sure, plenty of blast beats and tremolos (“My Armor,” “Bear Hug”) remain, courtesy of drummer B. and guitarists Azoso and Declwa (who also handles bass). Still, it’s what Unmother does with the spaces between that adds the most character, which begins with the varied vocal approach of V., who, like Attila Csihar, possesses a wider range of barks, croaks, shouts, and screams than his more one-dimensional predecessor, whose hissier, raw-blackened rasp overpowered much of Lay Down the Sun for me. Without dulling any of the sharp edges that, well, make them edgy, Unmother benefits from their take on “post” as a counterpoint to tradition.
State Dependent Memory tips the scales of orthodoxy with atmospheres that are as hypnotizing as they are abrasive. Pensive and creepy, the leads that skulk through the shadowed alleys of “Modern Dystopia” are effective and shroud the track with an almost Marilyn Manson-like pall, while Declwa’s bass notes thrum and throb like slow-strobing traffic lights on a dark, misty night. Venla makes a guest appearance here as well; his croaking rasp at this dose ups the fear factor and complements V.’s tortured delivery. Satisfying, too, is the eerie, haunted-jewelry-box melody and desperate howling of V., which make up the slower-paced interlude within the trad-black assault of “Bear Hug,” offering a sprinkling of Shining-like glitter. Ironically, the most black metal track on State Dependent Memory is Unmother’s cover of “Αττική – Βικτώρια” (“Attiki Victoria”) by Greek synthwave outfit ΟΔΟΣ 55, which distills the eight-minute-long original’s main melody down to a viscerally efficient, tremolo-forward beast. It’s poppy, new-wave-esque movements, filled with an almost hopeful melodicism, are set effectively against V.’s pleading screams and shouts.
Angeliki Mourgela’s mix and Roland Rodas’ master capture the essence of Unmother’s talents. With a foggy production that reminded me of Mayhem’s Ordo ad Chao, I enjoyed Lay Down the Sun but had to strain to pick out much of its instrumental intricacy. State Dependent Memory doesn’t suffer the same issue, as each instrument glows brightly in its own space, with B.’s varied drum performance and Declwa’s excellent bass work being the biggest beneficiaries. And while I can’t say Unmother wasted any of State Dependent Memory’s thirty-eight-minute runtime, closing the album with the no-burn instrumental “Magda” was a miss. The track fades in with some reflective, organ-like synths, foreign-spoke voice samples,4 and gently plucked guitar lines bolstered with tension-building but delicately strummed chords, which all continue to build slightly over the next four minutes and twenty seconds only to fade out again. No satisfying payoff, just a segue to silence. Whether this move was intentional or not, the addition of another well-executed track proper could have avoided such a deflating ending.Acerbically moody, Unmother possesses a maturity that belies their short existence. This quartet of relative unknowns continues to carve their mark into the U.K.’s underground metal scene, and if State Dependent Memory is any indication, they may not be toiling down there for long.
Rating: 3.0/5.0
#2026 #30 #Ashenspire #BlackMetal #ChatPile #Feb26 #Independent #MarilynManson #PostMetal #Review #Shining #StateDependentMemory #UKMetal #Unmother
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320kb/s mp3
Label: Independent
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026 -
Unmother – State Dependent Memory Review By TymeIndependent U.K. undergrounder’s, Unmother, have been holding a mirror up to urban dystopian dehumanization since forming in 2019. Their 2021 debut, Lay Down the Sun, garnered significant underground acclaim that, according to the promo kit, established Unmother “as a restless and forward-thinking presence within the scene.” Foregoing the nature-scapes and mythological motifs of other post-black metal outfits, Unmother draws inspiration from the streets and, with their sophomore effort, State Dependent Memory,1 examines “urban isolation, inner dislocation, and moral decline, reflecting a world formed by concrete environments and social erosion.”2 After swapping their first “V” vocalist, Venla,3 for their second, V. (VOAK), Unmother prepares to take the next step on their evolving musical journey. Does State Dependent Memory offer a solution that might save our base, dehumanized society, from itself, or will it amount to so much piss in the wind?
State Dependent Memory crackles with gritty, asphaltic energy, casting Unmother as conscientious agitators, decrying societal urban decay in veins similar to acts like Chat Pile or Ashenspire, even if avoiding any direct auricular comparison. Departing from the rawer, denser claustrophobia of Lay Down the Sun, Unmother sought slightly warmer sonic climes on State Dependent Memory, weaving undulating post-metal textures into its mostly traditional black-metal framework. Sure, plenty of blast beats and tremolos (“My Armor,” “Bear Hug”) remain, courtesy of drummer B. and guitarists Azoso and Declwa (who also handles bass). Still, it’s what Unmother does with the spaces between that adds the most character, which begins with the varied vocal approach of V., who, like Attila Csihar, possesses a wider range of barks, croaks, shouts, and screams than his more one-dimensional predecessor, whose hissier, raw-blackened rasp overpowered much of Lay Down the Sun for me. Without dulling any of the sharp edges that, well, make them edgy, Unmother benefits from their take on “post” as a counterpoint to tradition.
State Dependent Memory tips the scales of orthodoxy with atmospheres that are as hypnotizing as they are abrasive. Pensive and creepy, the leads that skulk through the shadowed alleys of “Modern Dystopia” are effective and shroud the track with an almost Marilyn Manson-like pall, while Declwa’s bass notes thrum and throb like slow-strobing traffic lights on a dark, misty night. Venla makes a guest appearance here as well; his croaking rasp at this dose ups the fear factor and complements V.’s tortured delivery. Satisfying, too, is the eerie, haunted-jewelry-box melody and desperate howling of V., which make up the slower-paced interlude within the trad-black assault of “Bear Hug,” offering a sprinkling of Shining-like glitter. Ironically, the most black metal track on State Dependent Memory is Unmother’s cover of “Αττική – Βικτώρια” (“Attiki Victoria”) by Greek synthwave outfit ΟΔΟΣ 55, which distills the eight-minute-long original’s main melody down to a viscerally efficient, tremolo-forward beast. It’s poppy, new-wave-esque movements, filled with an almost hopeful melodicism, are set effectively against V.’s pleading screams and shouts.
Angeliki Mourgela’s mix and Roland Rodas’ master capture the essence of Unmother’s talents. With a foggy production that reminded me of Mayhem’s Ordo ad Chao, I enjoyed Lay Down the Sun but had to strain to pick out much of its instrumental intricacy. State Dependent Memory doesn’t suffer the same issue, as each instrument glows brightly in its own space, with B.’s varied drum performance and Declwa’s excellent bass work being the biggest beneficiaries. And while I can’t say Unmother wasted any of State Dependent Memory’s thirty-eight-minute runtime, closing the album with the no-burn instrumental “Magda” was a miss. The track fades in with some reflective, organ-like synths, foreign-spoke voice samples,4 and gently plucked guitar lines bolstered with tension-building but delicately strummed chords, which all continue to build slightly over the next four minutes and twenty seconds only to fade out again. No satisfying payoff, just a segue to silence. Whether this move was intentional or not, the addition of another well-executed track proper could have avoided such a deflating ending.Acerbically moody, Unmother possesses a maturity that belies their short existence. This quartet of relative unknowns continues to carve their mark into the U.K.’s underground metal scene, and if State Dependent Memory is any indication, they may not be toiling down there for long.
Rating: 3.0/5.0
#2026 #30 #Ashenspire #BlackMetal #ChatPile #Feb26 #Independent #MarilynManson #PostMetal #Review #Shining #StateDependentMemory #UKMetal #Unmother
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320kb/s mp3
Label: Independent
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026 -
Unmother – State Dependent Memory Review By Tyme
Independent U.K. undergrounder’s, Unmother, have been holding a mirror up to urban dystopian dehumanization since forming in 2019. Their 2021 debut, Lay Down the Sun, garnered significant underground acclaim that, according to the promo kit, established Unmother “as a restless and forward-thinking presence within the scene.” Foregoing the nature-scapes and mythological motifs of other post-black metal outfits, Unmother draws inspiration from the streets and, with their sophomore effort, State Dependent Memory,1 examines “urban isolation, inner dislocation, and moral decline, reflecting a world formed by concrete environments and social erosion.”2 After swapping their first “V” vocalist, Venla,3 for their second, V. (VOAK), Unmother prepares to take the next step on their evolving musical journey. Does State Dependent Memory offer a solution that might save our base, dehumanized society, from itself, or will it amount to so much piss in the wind?
State Dependent Memory crackles with gritty, asphaltic energy, casting Unmother as conscientious agitators, decrying societal urban decay in veins similar to acts like Chat Pile or Ashenspire, even if avoiding any direct auricular comparison. Departing from the rawer, denser claustrophobia of Lay Down the Sun, Unmother sought slightly warmer sonic climes on State Dependent Memory, weaving undulating post-metal textures into its mostly traditional black-metal framework. Sure, plenty of blast beats and tremolos (“My Armor,” “Bear Hug”) remain, courtesy of drummer B. and guitarists Azoso and Declwa (who also handles bass). Still, it’s what Unmother does with the spaces between that adds the most character, which begins with the varied vocal approach of V., who, like Attila Csihar, possesses a wider range of barks, croaks, shouts, and screams than his more one-dimensional predecessor, whose hissier, raw-blackened rasp overpowered much of Lay Down the Sun for me. Without dulling any of the sharp edges that, well, make them edgy, Unmother benefits from their take on “post” as a counterpoint to tradition.
State Dependent Memory tips the scales of orthodoxy with atmospheres that are as hypnotizing as they are abrasive. Pensive and creepy, the leads that skulk through the shadowed alleys of “Modern Dystopia” are effective and shroud the track with an almost Marilyn Manson-like pall, while Declwa’s bass notes thrum and throb like slow-strobing traffic lights on a dark, misty night. Venla makes a guest appearance here as well; his croaking rasp at this dose ups the fear factor and complements V.’s tortured delivery. Satisfying, too, is the eerie, haunted-jewelry-box melody and desperate howling of V., which make up the slower-paced interlude within the trad-black assault of “Bear Hug,” offering a sprinkling of Shining-like glitter. Ironically, the most black metal track on State Dependent Memory is Unmother’s cover of “Αττική – Βικτώρια” (“Attiki Victoria”) by Greek synthwave outfit ΟΔΟΣ 55, which distills the eight-minute-long original’s main melody down to a viscerally efficient, tremolo-forward beast. It’s poppy, new-wave-esque movements, filled with an almost hopeful melodicism, are set effectively against V.’s pleading screams and shouts.
Angeliki Mourgela’s mix and Roland Rodas’ master capture the essence of Unmother’s talents. With a foggy production that reminded me of Mayhem’s Ordo ad Chao, I enjoyed Lay Down the Sun but had to strain to pick out much of its instrumental intricacy. State Dependent Memory doesn’t suffer the same issue, as each instrument glows brightly in its own space, with B.’s varied drum performance and Declwa’s excellent bass work being the biggest beneficiaries. And while I can’t say Unmother wasted any of State Dependent Memory’s thirty-eight-minute runtime, closing the album with the no-burn instrumental “Magda” was a miss. The track fades in with some reflective, organ-like synths, foreign-spoke voice samples,4 and gently plucked guitar lines bolstered with tension-building but delicately strummed chords, which all continue to build slightly over the next four minutes and twenty seconds only to fade out again. No satisfying payoff, just a segue to silence. Whether this move was intentional or not, the addition of another well-executed track proper could have avoided such a deflating ending.Acerbically moody, Unmother possesses a maturity that belies their short existence. This quartet of relative unknowns continues to carve their mark into the U.K.’s underground metal scene, and if State Dependent Memory is any indication, they may not be toiling down there for long.
Rating: 3.0/5.0
#2026 #30 #Ashenspire #BlackMetal #ChatPile #Feb26 #Independent #MarilynManson #PostMetal #Review #Shining #StateDependentMemory #UKMetal #Unmother
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320kb/s mp3
Label: Independent
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026 -
Unmother – State Dependent Memory Review By Tyme
Independent U.K. undergrounder’s, Unmother, have been holding a mirror up to urban dystopian dehumanization since forming in 2019. Their 2021 debut, Lay Down the Sun, garnered significant underground acclaim that, according to the promo kit, established Unmother “as a restless and forward-thinking presence within the scene.” Foregoing the nature-scapes and mythological motifs of other post-black metal outfits, Unmother draws inspiration from the streets and, with their sophomore effort, State Dependent Memory,1 examines “urban isolation, inner dislocation, and moral decline, reflecting a world formed by concrete environments and social erosion.”2 After swapping their first “V” vocalist, Venla,3 for their second, V. (VOAK), Unmother prepares to take the next step on their evolving musical journey. Does State Dependent Memory offer a solution that might save our base, dehumanized society, from itself, or will it amount to so much piss in the wind?
State Dependent Memory crackles with gritty, asphaltic energy, casting Unmother as conscientious agitators, decrying societal urban decay in veins similar to acts like Chat Pile or Ashenspire, even if avoiding any direct auricular comparison. Departing from the rawer, denser claustrophobia of Lay Down the Sun, Unmother sought slightly warmer sonic climes on State Dependent Memory, weaving undulating post-metal textures into its mostly traditional black-metal framework. Sure, plenty of blast beats and tremolos (“My Armor,” “Bear Hug”) remain, courtesy of drummer B. and guitarists Azoso and Declwa (who also handles bass). Still, it’s what Unmother does with the spaces between that adds the most character, which begins with the varied vocal approach of V., who, like Attila Csihar, possesses a wider range of barks, croaks, shouts, and screams than his more one-dimensional predecessor, whose hissier, raw-blackened rasp overpowered much of Lay Down the Sun for me. Without dulling any of the sharp edges that, well, make them edgy, Unmother benefits from their take on “post” as a counterpoint to tradition.
State Dependent Memory tips the scales of orthodoxy with atmospheres that are as hypnotizing as they are abrasive. Pensive and creepy, the leads that skulk through the shadowed alleys of “Modern Dystopia” are effective and shroud the track with an almost Marilyn Manson-like pall, while Declwa’s bass notes thrum and throb like slow-strobing traffic lights on a dark, misty night. Venla makes a guest appearance here as well; his croaking rasp at this dose ups the fear factor and complements V.’s tortured delivery. Satisfying, too, is the eerie, haunted-jewelry-box melody and desperate howling of V., which make up the slower-paced interlude within the trad-black assault of “Bear Hug,” offering a sprinkling of Shining-like glitter. Ironically, the most black metal track on State Dependent Memory is Unmother’s cover of “Αττική – Βικτώρια” (“Attiki Victoria”) by Greek synthwave outfit ΟΔΟΣ 55, which distills the eight-minute-long original’s main melody down to a viscerally efficient, tremolo-forward beast. It’s poppy, new-wave-esque movements, filled with an almost hopeful melodicism, are set effectively against V.’s pleading screams and shouts.
Angeliki Mourgela’s mix and Roland Rodas’ master capture the essence of Unmother’s talents. With a foggy production that reminded me of Mayhem’s Ordo ad Chao, I enjoyed Lay Down the Sun but had to strain to pick out much of its instrumental intricacy. State Dependent Memory doesn’t suffer the same issue, as each instrument glows brightly in its own space, with B.’s varied drum performance and Declwa’s excellent bass work being the biggest beneficiaries. And while I can’t say Unmother wasted any of State Dependent Memory’s thirty-eight-minute runtime, closing the album with the no-burn instrumental “Magda” was a miss. The track fades in with some reflective, organ-like synths, foreign-spoke voice samples,4 and gently plucked guitar lines bolstered with tension-building but delicately strummed chords, which all continue to build slightly over the next four minutes and twenty seconds only to fade out again. No satisfying payoff, just a segue to silence. Whether this move was intentional or not, the addition of another well-executed track proper could have avoided such a deflating ending.Acerbically moody, Unmother possesses a maturity that belies their short existence. This quartet of relative unknowns continues to carve their mark into the U.K.’s underground metal scene, and if State Dependent Memory is any indication, they may not be toiling down there for long.
Rating: 3.0/5.0
#2026 #30 #Ashenspire #BlackMetal #ChatPile #Feb26 #Independent #MarilynManson #PostMetal #Review #Shining #StateDependentMemory #UKMetal #Unmother
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320kb/s mp3
Label: Independent
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026 -
Unmother – State Dependent Memory Review By Tyme
Independent U.K. undergrounder’s, Unmother, have been holding a mirror up to urban dystopian dehumanization since forming in 2019. Their 2021 debut, Lay Down the Sun, garnered significant underground acclaim that, according to the promo kit, established Unmother “as a restless and forward-thinking presence within the scene.” Foregoing the nature-scapes and mythological motifs of other post-black metal outfits, Unmother draws inspiration from the streets and, with their sophomore effort, State Dependent Memory,1 examines “urban isolation, inner dislocation, and moral decline, reflecting a world formed by concrete environments and social erosion.”2 After swapping their first “V” vocalist, Venla,3 for their second, V. (VOAK), Unmother prepares to take the next step on their evolving musical journey. Does State Dependent Memory offer a solution that might save our base, dehumanized society, from itself, or will it amount to so much piss in the wind?
State Dependent Memory crackles with gritty, asphaltic energy, casting Unmother as conscientious agitators, decrying societal urban decay in veins similar to acts like Chat Pile or Ashenspire, even if avoiding any direct auricular comparison. Departing from the rawer, denser claustrophobia of Lay Down the Sun, Unmother sought slightly warmer sonic climes on State Dependent Memory, weaving undulating post-metal textures into its mostly traditional black-metal framework. Sure, plenty of blast beats and tremolos (“My Armor,” “Bear Hug”) remain, courtesy of drummer B. and guitarists Azoso and Declwa (who also handles bass). Still, it’s what Unmother does with the spaces between that adds the most character, which begins with the varied vocal approach of V., who, like Attila Csihar, possesses a wider range of barks, croaks, shouts, and screams than his more one-dimensional predecessor, whose hissier, raw-blackened rasp overpowered much of Lay Down the Sun for me. Without dulling any of the sharp edges that, well, make them edgy, Unmother benefits from their take on “post” as a counterpoint to tradition.
State Dependent Memory tips the scales of orthodoxy with atmospheres that are as hypnotizing as they are abrasive. Pensive and creepy, the leads that skulk through the shadowed alleys of “Modern Dystopia” are effective and shroud the track with an almost Marilyn Manson-like pall, while Declwa’s bass notes thrum and throb like slow-strobing traffic lights on a dark, misty night. Venla makes a guest appearance here as well; his croaking rasp at this dose ups the fear factor and complements V.’s tortured delivery. Satisfying, too, is the eerie, haunted-jewelry-box melody and desperate howling of V., which make up the slower-paced interlude within the trad-black assault of “Bear Hug,” offering a sprinkling of Shining-like glitter. Ironically, the most black metal track on State Dependent Memory is Unmother’s cover of “Αττική – Βικτώρια” (“Attiki Victoria”) by Greek synthwave outfit ΟΔΟΣ 55, which distills the eight-minute-long original’s main melody down to a viscerally efficient, tremolo-forward beast. It’s poppy, new-wave-esque movements, filled with an almost hopeful melodicism, are set effectively against V.’s pleading screams and shouts.
Angeliki Mourgela’s mix and Roland Rodas’ master capture the essence of Unmother’s talents. With a foggy production that reminded me of Mayhem’s Ordo ad Chao, I enjoyed Lay Down the Sun but had to strain to pick out much of its instrumental intricacy. State Dependent Memory doesn’t suffer the same issue, as each instrument glows brightly in its own space, with B.’s varied drum performance and Declwa’s excellent bass work being the biggest beneficiaries. And while I can’t say Unmother wasted any of State Dependent Memory’s thirty-eight-minute runtime, closing the album with the no-burn instrumental “Magda” was a miss. The track fades in with some reflective, organ-like synths, foreign-spoke voice samples,4 and gently plucked guitar lines bolstered with tension-building but delicately strummed chords, which all continue to build slightly over the next four minutes and twenty seconds only to fade out again. No satisfying payoff, just a segue to silence. Whether this move was intentional or not, the addition of another well-executed track proper could have avoided such a deflating ending.Acerbically moody, Unmother possesses a maturity that belies their short existence. This quartet of relative unknowns continues to carve their mark into the U.K.’s underground metal scene, and if State Dependent Memory is any indication, they may not be toiling down there for long.
Rating: 3.0/5.0
#2026 #30 #Ashenspire #BlackMetal #ChatPile #Feb26 #Independent #MarilynManson #PostMetal #Review #Shining #StateDependentMemory #UKMetal #Unmother
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320kb/s mp3
Label: Independent
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026 -
El Cuervo’s and GardensTale’s Top Ten(ish) of 2023
By El Cuervo
El Cuervo
This list represents business as usual in Casa Cuervo. Four albums by bands that have previously hit my Album o’ the Year list. Four albums more-or-less fall into my preferred progressive death metal sub-genre. And one 80s-worshiping retrowave release. Only the very top and very bottom of my list feature acts outside my bailiwick.
You might think this would result in a year that I rate highly for musical releases. Sadly the opposite is true. I found it surprisingly easy to narrow down my list and surprisingly difficult to pick a real number one—both because there too few outstanding options to choose from. It says a lot that I reviewed two of my top three albums but I ‘only’ awarded these a 4.0. I admire all that’s been achieved by the entrants here but I can’t help but feel a little disappointed as we reach the end of 2023. Granted, my 2022 list was topped by two records that would be multi-year winners so the comparison was rough.
And yet, hope springs eternal. While it’s unlikely that 2024 will boast a list fitting so comfortably in my wheelhouse, I remain optimistic for a year full of new musical discoveries. Between now and then, enjoy the holiday season!
#10. Grails // Anches en Maat – Anches en Maat was my favorite music of the year to disconnect from reality and lose myself in a weird and wonderful world. There’s little left from the comparatively direct instrumental rock of early Grails, but their cinematic spectacle makes their recent music all the more intriguing. This one can loosely be bundled into post-rock but its range of influences, from blues to electronica to ambient to TV soundtracks, establishes a sound you won’t hear anywhere else. High-octane, minute-to-minute, and bursting with energy it isn’t. But what you will find is something endlessly evocative and endlessly repeatable in its lilting, laid-back spirit. I’m not a big post-rock nerd but I find everything released by Grails utterly engrossing.
#9. Svalbard // The Weight of the Mask – Svalbard have become more expressive and more creative as their career has progressed. While still firmly rooted in post-hardcore, The Weight of the Mask toys with musical boundaries more than ever. It features more of everything that has previously been a part of the Svalbard sound; from post-metal to post-rock to black metal. But it’s not the musical compositions that make these Brits so good. The emotive weight of their music makes each listen a passion-fuelled journey and I find myself returning for the feels it invokes above anything else. I’m not sure if I like Weight of the Mask more than When I Die, Will I Get Better? But, for those on the fence, it’s at least as good.
#8. Lunar Chamber // Shambhallic Vibrations – Few records from 2023 seemed as custom-built for this Cuervo as Shambhallic Vibrations by Lunar Chamber. Progressive? Check. Death metal? Check. Short run-time? Check. Incredible dynamism? Check. Buddhism?1 Check. Shambhallic Vibrations forges a new path through progressive death metal, leaning heavily on contemplative synths, impressive technicality, and doomy passages, all of which counter-balance the pace and ferocity of its core deathly style. Though shockingly varied for a release just running for 30 minutes, the release is unfailingly cohesive. From the breathy interludes to the brutal blasting, Lunar Chamber harmonizes their sounds into a satisfying whole. It isn’t a prerequisite for progressive albums to run for an hour or more. Shambhallic Vibrations does so much more with so much less.
#7. fromjoy // fromjoy – If you want to hear the coolest thing released in 2023, look no further than the self-titled EP by Houston’s fromjoy. It bottles insanity; conjures madness; flips the musical table. They do this with a fusion of various types of -core (grind, math, break) but streak this with winding, vaporwave synths. If this sounds like an unholy aberration, it is. But this aberration delights and energizes in equal measure. I’ve extracted more joy this year from these 26 minutes than full albums over twice that length. Almost every one of these ten tracks has a unique quirk; from wretched grind to stomping breakdowns to dancing trip-hop to smooth saxophones. fromjoy is a testament to pure creative energy and doing a lot with a little.
#6. Ulthar // Anthronomicon – Though it forms one side of a coin completed by its sister album Helionomicon, it was Anthronomicon that impressed me most of the concurrent release by pan-US collective Ulthar. What strikes me most are the compelling contradictions that Ulthar creates. Anthronomicon’s music is crushingly heavy yet repeatably memorable, while the instrumentation is oppressively other-worldly yet somehow human-performed. Blackened death metal cannot count itself among metal’s most penetrable sub-genres, but something about these warped arrangements hooks me. Ulthar might make strange, atmospheric music but Anthronomicon’s laser focus on outstanding riffs leaves a release I haven’t stopped spinning in nearly a year. It’s one of 2023’s most challenging but most rewarding listens.
#5. Tomb Mold // The Enduring Spirit – Why, after a run of critically acclaimed old-school death metal albums, is The Enduring Spirit the first Tomb Mold record to touch my AotY list? In short, because its music is far more inventive now. Switching out a cavernous aesthetic and unrelenting pace for tidier production and grandiose solos, The Enduring Spirit scratches that prog-death itch better than any other release from 2023. Though Tomb Mold has always been smarter-than-you-first-realize, this record represents a significant leap forward and feels like the next era of the band. Above all, it harmonizes Tomb Mold’s savage roots with newer, cerebral tendencies. While the immaculate transitions go some way to achieving this, the spacious soundstage and perfect instrumental tones ensure the release hangs together to my great satisfaction.
#4. Shadowrunner // Ocean of Time – Rebirth and Oblivion – For the first time, the Ocean of Time duo made me want to dislike a Shadowrunner release. Making the listener buy the same four songs twice in order to access the unique eight ruffled my feathers. But the music here is just so damn captivating that I can’t help but love the two sides nonetheless. Rebirth is as effortless and enchanting as any retrowave act from the last decade, while Oblivion is pure nostalgia bait. Warm synths, driving rhythms, smooth saxophones, and pleasant vocals; all are present and correct. Shameless pleasure and rose-tinted spectacles compel me to consistently choose something synthy for my AotY list and Shadowrunner made the best synth music of 2023. Do not sleep on one of the best acts in the scene.
#3. Sylosis // A Sign of Things to Come – I couldn’t be happier at my rediscovery of Sylosis since 2020’s Cycle of Suffering, and A Sign of Things to Come returns to deliver the goods once again. Despite the flack I took for describing Sylosis as how modern thrash should sound, I stand by that comment. 1986 already exists so go fucking listen to that again if you like. What this album will give you instead is music that fuses thrashy, melodic, technical, and hardcore influences into 10 super-charged tunes. They will fill you with rage, then re-energize you to exorcize that rage. For raw riff-craft, no other record was the match of this one. A sign of more things to come in the future? I fucking hope so.
#2. Sermon // Of Golden Verse – Only one other record this year feels as complete as Of Golden Verse. It is a consummate album, expressing its music and thoughts in the exact amount of time it requires. Despite its poignance and emotive qualities, it feels incredibly precise; a work created by masters of their trade. Even with 4 tracks approaching or exceeding 7 minutes, there’s nary a wasted second. That’s a tough feat indeed in the world of prog, and Sermon exemplifies all that is great in the genre. Their undulating songwriting style results in music that ebbs from steely, tense atmospheres and flows to passionate, cathartic explosions. Dramatic, sure; maybe even melodramatic. But exciting and varied as Sermon dabbles in progressive, alternative, and doom metal. Of Golden Verse represents a huge step forward from their debut.
#1. Hasard // Hypnocentrisme – Though Hypnocentrisme wasn’t a clear winner, its complete singularity pushes it above everything else in 2023. Hasard paints stark, abstract images in shades of black; it’s an impenetrable, challenging release, obscuring its immense qualities behind oppressive heaviness and bewildering arrangements. Through the record’s black metal crust hides an accomplished orchestral core that’s just as disturbing—in some ways, more so—as its metal aspects. Purposefully deconstructing the screeching guitars, arhythmic drumming, ominous synths, and erratic counter-melodies delivers the year’s most thought-provoking music. Passively wallowing delivers the year’s most thought-crushing music. While it may not be the most enjoyable record of the year, it is certainly the most striking. No other 2023 record affected me like Hypnocentrisme.
Honorable Mentions
- Myrkur // Spine – Spine is just as sonically varied—arguably inconsistent—as any Myrkur release2 but this time it’s all high quality. From the poppy chorus on “Like Humans,” to the blast beats on “Valkyriernes Sang,” to the gentle folk on “Menneskebarn,” I’m emotionally invested throughout.
Ahab // The Coral Tombs – Ahab is an indomitable force of doom metal, and The Coral Tombs didn’t miss a step after eight years away. Judicious variety and grand arrangements ensure that this is the best doom of 2023.
Ne Obliviscaris // Exul – Balancing poignant string sections with crunchy death and black metal, NeO remains a stellar progressive metal band. Exul proves that even a NeO producing their weakest album is better than most others.
Songs o’ the Year
- Godthrymm – “As Titans”
- fromjoy – “Helios” / “Icarus”
- In Flames – “Meet Your Maker”
- Theocracy – “Return to Dust”
- Hasard – “Hypnocentrisme”
- Sermon – “Golden”
- Angus McSix – “Master of the Universe”
- Saturnus – “The Calling”
- Sylosis – “Poison for the Lost”
- ADMO – “Always”
GardensTale
In previous years, I wrote at least one paragraph about how the year went for me. But for the last 3 years, those have been pretty depressing, so I’m just going to skip that. Let’s talk about the good stuff instead. It’s strange to think that black metal is one of the last genres I seriously got into, around 5 years ago or so. Beforehand, I always thought all black metal was akin to lo-fi second-wave shit that sounds like someone sucked up a marble with the vacuum cleaner. Years before, Belgian unknowns Axamenta3 laid some groundwork to prove my misconception wrong, and Mistur hammered it home. Now the conversion is complete, thanks to a year that’s been absolutely stuffed with quality black metal. I could have made a very respectable list of only black metal records, HMs included. But I still like other genres, too, so it was inevitable a couple of other-minded rascals snuck in for color. At least Doom_et_Al won’t hate my list as much as usual. Probably.
I gotta add though, whilst I’ve heard a lot of praise for this year in metal, I still feel like I am missing a true winner. The order of my top 6 or so feels entirely arbitrary, and I’m not sure an extra month of listening would bring the necessary clarity. I’ve had plenty to love (my shortlist reached 10 albums by March or so, partially thanks to an unusually strong January) but the only albums I have been truly ecstatic about are discoveries that were released before the pandemic and barely metal-adjacent4 But so it goes! Every year is so different, in both life and music. I already had a sneak peek of a likely lister for next year, so I know we’ll be off to a good start in that regard.
I must thank my colleagues and editors for putting up with my slacking ass.5 You are a good bunch and half the reason I’m still pouring my heart and soul into this site. The other half is the free promos. And what’s an end-of-year projectile vomit of thank yous and love yous without addressing the readers? If you’re still here and didn’t just skip through to the list, you have my thanks. If you did skip to the list, you still have my thanks, you just won’t know about it. Even those of you who just check the winners and move on. You are still part of the weird and lovely conglomeration of readers we’ve developed, so thank you as well. And I must give a shout-out to the Discord folks. Though I don’t pop in too often, you’ve made it a lovely and welcoming server, and uncommonly well-behaved! Now, who’s ready for the other half of the worst takes in AMG?
#ish. Xoth // Exogalactic – Xoth is back and thus back in my list, because Xoth remains every bit the cool as hell bunch of motherfuckers it’s always been. It’s a little bit more technical and a little bit less memorable compared to its predecessor, missing a “Mountain Machines” level riff, but I still have a really hard time sitting still in my chair when Exogalactic is playing. Too much bouncy fun and sick solos!
#10. Fires in the Distance // Air Not Meant for Us – I listened to an absolute ton of melodic death metal in my early metal years. I still have a soft spot for the genre, but it also needs to do something different to stand out for me these days. Fires in the Distance fully meets that criterium. The stern, strident tone, doom-adjacent pacing, and tasteful piano make Air an album of aching beauty. I’m reminded in part of Eternal Tears of Sorrow, but far more mature and with great emotional depth. The only reason it didn’t place higher is that it doesn’t keep me coming back somehow, and these lists are nothing if not places to go with my gut.
#9. Leiþa // Reue – Speaking of my gut, Reue was the first full-blown punch it received this year. It amuses me when people claim that all black metal screams sound the same because though the lyrics are as incomprehensible as ever, I feel every ounce of the bottomless pain and despair Noise conjures here. But on top of the throat-ripping gurgles of depression are some very sophisticated melodies and good use of dynamics between quiet passages and all-out raging desperation. Most one-man bands struggle to make one worthwhile project, meanwhile, this guy has Leiþa, Non Est Deus, and Kanonenfieber on his resume. I’d call it unfair if I didn’t love it so much.
#8. Megaton Sword // Might & Power – Traditional metal doesn’t often show up on my year-end list. Maybe Megaton Sword wouldn’t have either, although I do love me a batch of idiosyncratic vocals. But a medical situation in the family made the first half of the year an especially stressful affair, and Might & Power with its simple sense of fun was my main musical comfort in that time. But there’s more to it than that. So many strong melodies with few frills. So many fist-pumping horseback-riding sword-raising shield-carrying moments of triumph and awe. And all tied together by that uncommon voice, acerbically spraying dark heroism over the battlefield. The worst of the family situation is well behind us, but Might & Power still won’t leave my regular rotation.
#7. Carnosus // Visions of Infinihility – Is it unfair to say Xoth got out-Xoth’ed this year? It’s the obvious point of comparison, between the many-faceted vocals, high technical ability, tongue-in-cheek insanity, twisting multi-part riffs, and snaking bass. But if Xoth is the oblique unknowable architecture of cosmic horror, Carnosus is the fleshy depravity of body horror. It theatrically revels in its filth and cackles as the audience turns green around the cheeks. Most of the death metal highlights this year have been of the cavernous or slamarific variety, neither of which does much for me, but Carnosus has been an absolute delight that’s kept up my good cheers.
#6. Walg // III – The vast majority of my music recommendations originate here, but once in a blue moon, my partner will send me a link to something that popped up in her random music feeds and I just get blown away. That’s how I found this independent duo from Groningen, the Netherlands, who, without any black metal experience, started shitting out annual albums in the middle of the pandemic and manage to outdo most of their peers in the process. III is a furious album, with blast beats and histrionic screeching out the wazoo, but is tempered by a bevy of great melodic riffs and the occasional gothic chant. Because the lyrics are in Dutch, which really is not a good language for this kind of horrific imagery, there’s something endearing to the band as well. The combination makes for a very interesting, dark yet catchy experience and one I can well recommend.
#5. Wayfarer // American Gothic – Wayfarer was always one of those bands I kept hearing about and kept not hearing. No particular reason, either; I resolved to listen to them several times and it just didn’t happen. Then I finally heard them, by seeing them live at Roadburn. It was definitely a highlight of the festival, aside from an interlude that was far too long and not nearly interesting enough. Thankfully, American Gothic is more balanced, a perfectly tuned album that calls forth the man in black stalking the prairie on horseback. It’s an album redolent in atmosphere without forgoing a good hook, one that can carry tension on a single banjo string. In short, it has lived up to the hype and then some.
#4. Sermon // Of Golden Verse – Pure prog metal often gets a reputation for being wussy and weenie. Sermon does it differently. What attracts me to this album the most is the sense of threat. Sermon looms a great dark ominous wall that swallows the background and casts everything in shade. For an album to hold its breath even while beating you down takes some exquisite songwriting, and Of Golden Verse is jam-packed with it. Closer “Departure” really opens the floodgates, too, for a satisfying and bombastic finale.
#3. VAK // The Islands – I called The Islands one of the flat-out coolest albums of the year and I stand by it. If anything, my appreciation for VAK’s latest has only grown since then. When you’ve listened to a million albums, the ones that really stand out and stick with you are the ones with the strongest personality. If you’d send me an unlabeled song that didn’t make the cut on The Islands I would recognize it as VAK immediately, guaranteed. While so much sludge tries and fails to get under my skin with a hammer, VAK succeeds by taking a shortcut as it pries off my fingernails with a rusty screwdriver. It’s deliciously uncomfortable and I love it.
#2. The Circle // Of Awakening – This was surely the most heinous underrating of the year. The opener alone should earn the band its 4.0, a perfectly tuned piece of proggy black/death. One thing that strikes me is how good The Circle is at finding the right dosages. Every time it feels like one thing has run its course, something replaces or enhances it, from the versatile vocals to the use of symphonics and from blast beats to breathing room. I’ve revisited this one a lot since the summer, and for a while, I thought it was gonna top my list…
#1. Night Crowned // Tales – …until Night Crowned bum-rushed the stage. Whereas many of my listening habits this year have been decidedly un-brutal, in the metal sphere I have found myself drawn to the combination of melodic and intense music, particularly in the second half of the year. Tales is an exemplary album in this regard. The intense blasting and no-holds-barred shrieking always hold a melodic thread that makes it more than a wall of noise, whether it be from extra vocal layers, subtly interweaved symphonics, or a goddamn hurdy-gurdy that works way better than it should. The track where the latter features most prominently, “She Comes at Night,” is what drew me in, but every track has its own face; its deviations make it stand out from the others, like the clean vocals on melodic mid-pacer “Loviatar” or the Dimmu influence on the grandiose closer “Old Tales.” While I would not rank it as highly as the winners of previous years, you owe it to yourself to grab Tales if you haven’t already.
Honorable Mentions
- Aetherian // At Storm’s Edge – Contrary to my point with VAK, this album doesn’t do much particularly new but it’s the embodiment of Finnish style epic melodeath done really, really well.
- Somnuri // Desiderium – Who knew Mastodon-style sludge could be improved with grunge?
- Mutoid Man // Mutants – Wild, reckless fun with more depth than a first glance betrays.
- Genus Ordinis Dei // The Beginning – Narrative albums aren’t easy, but Genus Ordinis Dei has that shit in the bag. Easy to listen to, easy to love, and feels like a complete, well-rounded movie in the guise of an epic metal album.
- Laster // Andermans Mijne – It’s deeply strange and gets at all the bits of my brain that have been gathering dust for years, but I can’t deny its continuous pull.
Disappointment o’ the Year
This is the first paragraph I’m writing this year because it’s the easiest. I always used to like Soen. With Lotus, I even loved them. Imperial was a clear step-down, branching out in the wrong directions, but it was still enjoyable in its own right, just not approaching list material. They put on some good live shows this year, too. But Memorial goes off the deep end like Thelma & Louise. The remaining semblances of progressive rock and metal are gone, replaced by refried alternative rock. Even Joel Ekelöf sounds downright bad, his buttery smooth croon awkwardly squished into a grungy mold that doesn’t suit him. It’s like the band members collectively decided to challenge themselves by trying to make an album without doing any of the things they’re actually good at. The experiment failed, boys.
Song o’ the Year
Last year I discovered Norwegian artsy prog rock outfit Major Parkinson and fell deeply in love with their quirky, bombastic, gloomy aesthetic and thoughtful, varied songwriting. Not long into this year, I found out that enigmatic vocalist Jon Ivar Kollbotn had suffered a massive heart attack in the middle of a concert in October. Though he managed to finish the set, he flatlined backstage. By some miracle, police officers happened to be just outside the building and they managed to restart Kollbotn’s ticker. When he was sufficiently recovered, the band re-wrote and recorded an old live track named “Take the Prescription” to commemorate his survival. The result is as addictive as prescription drugs, an upbeat and offbeat artful piece of prog-pop with an infectious whistled tune, beautiful smooth bass usage, and the band’s signature dark undertone. Kollbotn sounds as coarse and moody as ever, and new permanent member Peri Winkle offers an outside perspective to the frontman’s near-death experience. And even if the track hadn’t been one of the sweetest things I’ve heard this year, it’d still be my favorite track of 2023. If only because he was still around to record it.
#2023 #Aetherian #Ahab #BlogPosts #Carnosus #ElCuervoSAndGardensTaleSTopTenIshOf2023 #FiresInTheDistance #fromjoy #GenusOrdinisDei #Grails #Hasard #Laster #Leitha #Lists #Listurnalia #LunarChamber #MegatonSword #MutoidMan #Myrkur #NeObliviscaris #NightCrowned #Sermon #Shadowrunner #Soen #Somnuri #Svalbard #Sylosis #TheCircle #TombMold #Ulthar #VAK #Walg #Wayfarer #Xoth
- Myrkur // Spine – Spine is just as sonically varied—arguably inconsistent—as any Myrkur release2 but this time it’s all high quality. From the poppy chorus on “Like Humans,” to the blast beats on “Valkyriernes Sang,” to the gentle folk on “Menneskebarn,” I’m emotionally invested throughout.
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El Cuervo’s and GardensTale’s Top Ten(ish) of 2023
By El Cuervo
El Cuervo
This list represents business as usual in Casa Cuervo. Four albums by bands that have previously hit my Album o’ the Year list. Four albums more-or-less fall into my preferred progressive death metal sub-genre. And one 80s-worshiping retrowave release. Only the very top and very bottom of my list feature acts outside my bailiwick.
You might think this would result in a year that I rate highly for musical releases. Sadly the opposite is true. I found it surprisingly easy to narrow down my list and surprisingly difficult to pick a real number one—both because there too few outstanding options to choose from. It says a lot that I reviewed two of my top three albums but I ‘only’ awarded these a 4.0. I admire all that’s been achieved by the entrants here but I can’t help but feel a little disappointed as we reach the end of 2023. Granted, my 2022 list was topped by two records that would be multi-year winners so the comparison was rough.
And yet, hope springs eternal. While it’s unlikely that 2024 will boast a list fitting so comfortably in my wheelhouse, I remain optimistic for a year full of new musical discoveries. Between now and then, enjoy the holiday season!
#10. Grails // Anches en Maat – Anches en Maat was my favorite music of the year to disconnect from reality and lose myself in a weird and wonderful world. There’s little left from the comparatively direct instrumental rock of early Grails, but their cinematic spectacle makes their recent music all the more intriguing. This one can loosely be bundled into post-rock but its range of influences, from blues to electronica to ambient to TV soundtracks, establishes a sound you won’t hear anywhere else. High-octane, minute-to-minute, and bursting with energy it isn’t. But what you will find is something endlessly evocative and endlessly repeatable in its lilting, laid-back spirit. I’m not a big post-rock nerd but I find everything released by Grails utterly engrossing.
#9. Svalbard // The Weight of the Mask – Svalbard have become more expressive and more creative as their career has progressed. While still firmly rooted in post-hardcore, The Weight of the Mask toys with musical boundaries more than ever. It features more of everything that has previously been a part of the Svalbard sound; from post-metal to post-rock to black metal. But it’s not the musical compositions that make these Brits so good. The emotive weight of their music makes each listen a passion-fuelled journey and I find myself returning for the feels it invokes above anything else. I’m not sure if I like Weight of the Mask more than When I Die, Will I Get Better? But, for those on the fence, it’s at least as good.
#8. Lunar Chamber // Shambhallic Vibrations – Few records from 2023 seemed as custom-built for this Cuervo as Shambhallic Vibrations by Lunar Chamber. Progressive? Check. Death metal? Check. Short run-time? Check. Incredible dynamism? Check. Buddhism?1 Check. Shambhallic Vibrations forges a new path through progressive death metal, leaning heavily on contemplative synths, impressive technicality, and doomy passages, all of which counter-balance the pace and ferocity of its core deathly style. Though shockingly varied for a release just running for 30 minutes, the release is unfailingly cohesive. From the breathy interludes to the brutal blasting, Lunar Chamber harmonizes their sounds into a satisfying whole. It isn’t a prerequisite for progressive albums to run for an hour or more. Shambhallic Vibrations does so much more with so much less.
#7. fromjoy // fromjoy – If you want to hear the coolest thing released in 2023, look no further than the self-titled EP by Houston’s fromjoy. It bottles insanity; conjures madness; flips the musical table. They do this with a fusion of various types of -core (grind, math, break) but streak this with winding, vaporwave synths. If this sounds like an unholy aberration, it is. But this aberration delights and energizes in equal measure. I’ve extracted more joy this year from these 26 minutes than full albums over twice that length. Almost every one of these ten tracks has a unique quirk; from wretched grind to stomping breakdowns to dancing trip-hop to smooth saxophones. fromjoy is a testament to pure creative energy and doing a lot with a little.
#6. Ulthar // Anthronomicon – Though it forms one side of a coin completed by its sister album Helionomicon, it was Anthronomicon that impressed me most of the concurrent release by pan-US collective Ulthar. What strikes me most are the compelling contradictions that Ulthar creates. Anthronomicon’s music is crushingly heavy yet repeatably memorable, while the instrumentation is oppressively other-worldly yet somehow human-performed. Blackened death metal cannot count itself among metal’s most penetrable sub-genres, but something about these warped arrangements hooks me. Ulthar might make strange, atmospheric music but Anthronomicon’s laser focus on outstanding riffs leaves a release I haven’t stopped spinning in nearly a year. It’s one of 2023’s most challenging but most rewarding listens.
#5. Tomb Mold // The Enduring Spirit – Why, after a run of critically acclaimed old-school death metal albums, is The Enduring Spirit the first Tomb Mold record to touch my AotY list? In short, because its music is far more inventive now. Switching out a cavernous aesthetic and unrelenting pace for tidier production and grandiose solos, The Enduring Spirit scratches that prog-death itch better than any other release from 2023. Though Tomb Mold has always been smarter-than-you-first-realize, this record represents a significant leap forward and feels like the next era of the band. Above all, it harmonizes Tomb Mold’s savage roots with newer, cerebral tendencies. While the immaculate transitions go some way to achieving this, the spacious soundstage and perfect instrumental tones ensure the release hangs together to my great satisfaction.
#4. Shadowrunner // Ocean of Time – Rebirth and Oblivion – For the first time, the Ocean of Time duo made me want to dislike a Shadowrunner release. Making the listener buy the same four songs twice in order to access the unique eight ruffled my feathers. But the music here is just so damn captivating that I can’t help but love the two sides nonetheless. Rebirth is as effortless and enchanting as any retrowave act from the last decade, while Oblivion is pure nostalgia bait. Warm synths, driving rhythms, smooth saxophones, and pleasant vocals; all are present and correct. Shameless pleasure and rose-tinted spectacles compel me to consistently choose something synthy for my AotY list and Shadowrunner made the best synth music of 2023. Do not sleep on one of the best acts in the scene.
#3. Sylosis // A Sign of Things to Come – I couldn’t be happier at my rediscovery of Sylosis since 2020’s Cycle of Suffering, and A Sign of Things to Come returns to deliver the goods once again. Despite the flack I took for describing Sylosis as how modern thrash should sound, I stand by that comment. 1986 already exists so go fucking listen to that again if you like. What this album will give you instead is music that fuses thrashy, melodic, technical, and hardcore influences into 10 super-charged tunes. They will fill you with rage, then re-energize you to exorcize that rage. For raw riff-craft, no other record was the match of this one. A sign of more things to come in the future? I fucking hope so.
#2. Sermon // Of Golden Verse – Only one other record this year feels as complete as Of Golden Verse. It is a consummate album, expressing its music and thoughts in the exact amount of time it requires. Despite its poignance and emotive qualities, it feels incredibly precise; a work created by masters of their trade. Even with 4 tracks approaching or exceeding 7 minutes, there’s nary a wasted second. That’s a tough feat indeed in the world of prog, and Sermon exemplifies all that is great in the genre. Their undulating songwriting style results in music that ebbs from steely, tense atmospheres and flows to passionate, cathartic explosions. Dramatic, sure; maybe even melodramatic. But exciting and varied as Sermon dabbles in progressive, alternative, and doom metal. Of Golden Verse represents a huge step forward from their debut.
#1. Hasard // Hypnocentrisme – Though Hypnocentrisme wasn’t a clear winner, its complete singularity pushes it above everything else in 2023. Hasard paints stark, abstract images in shades of black; it’s an impenetrable, challenging release, obscuring its immense qualities behind oppressive heaviness and bewildering arrangements. Through the record’s black metal crust hides an accomplished orchestral core that’s just as disturbing—in some ways, more so—as its metal aspects. Purposefully deconstructing the screeching guitars, arhythmic drumming, ominous synths, and erratic counter-melodies delivers the year’s most thought-provoking music. Passively wallowing delivers the year’s most thought-crushing music. While it may not be the most enjoyable record of the year, it is certainly the most striking. No other 2023 record affected me like Hypnocentrisme.
Honorable Mentions
- Myrkur // Spine – Spine is just as sonically varied—arguably inconsistent—as any Myrkur release2 but this time it’s all high quality. From the poppy chorus on “Like Humans,” to the blast beats on “Valkyriernes Sang,” to the gentle folk on “Menneskebarn,” I’m emotionally invested throughout.
Ahab // The Coral Tombs – Ahab is an indomitable force of doom metal, and The Coral Tombs didn’t miss a step after eight years away. Judicious variety and grand arrangements ensure that this is the best doom of 2023.
Ne Obliviscaris // Exul – Balancing poignant string sections with crunchy death and black metal, NeO remains a stellar progressive metal band. Exul proves that even a NeO producing their weakest album is better than most others.
Songs o’ the Year
- Godthrymm – “As Titans”
- fromjoy – “Helios” / “Icarus”
- In Flames – “Meet Your Maker”
- Theocracy – “Return to Dust”
- Hasard – “Hypnocentrisme”
- Sermon – “Golden”
- Angus McSix – “Master of the Universe”
- Saturnus – “The Calling”
- Sylosis – “Poison for the Lost”
- ADMO – “Always”
GardensTale
In previous years, I wrote at least one paragraph about how the year went for me. But for the last 3 years, those have been pretty depressing, so I’m just going to skip that. Let’s talk about the good stuff instead. It’s strange to think that black metal is one of the last genres I seriously got into, around 5 years ago or so. Beforehand, I always thought all black metal was akin to lo-fi second-wave shit that sounds like someone sucked up a marble with the vacuum cleaner. Years before, Belgian unknowns Axamenta3 laid some groundwork to prove my misconception wrong, and Mistur hammered it home. Now the conversion is complete, thanks to a year that’s been absolutely stuffed with quality black metal. I could have made a very respectable list of only black metal records, HMs included. But I still like other genres, too, so it was inevitable a couple of other-minded rascals snuck in for color. At least Doom_et_Al won’t hate my list as much as usual. Probably.
I gotta add though, whilst I’ve heard a lot of praise for this year in metal, I still feel like I am missing a true winner. The order of my top 6 or so feels entirely arbitrary, and I’m not sure an extra month of listening would bring the necessary clarity. I’ve had plenty to love (my shortlist reached 10 albums by March or so, partially thanks to an unusually strong January) but the only albums I have been truly ecstatic about are discoveries that were released before the pandemic and barely metal-adjacent4 But so it goes! Every year is so different, in both life and music. I already had a sneak peek of a likely lister for next year, so I know we’ll be off to a good start in that regard.
I must thank my colleagues and editors for putting up with my slacking ass.5 You are a good bunch and half the reason I’m still pouring my heart and soul into this site. The other half is the free promos. And what’s an end-of-year projectile vomit of thank yous and love yous without addressing the readers? If you’re still here and didn’t just skip through to the list, you have my thanks. If you did skip to the list, you still have my thanks, you just won’t know about it. Even those of you who just check the winners and move on. You are still part of the weird and lovely conglomeration of readers we’ve developed, so thank you as well. And I must give a shout-out to the Discord folks. Though I don’t pop in too often, you’ve made it a lovely and welcoming server, and uncommonly well-behaved! Now, who’s ready for the other half of the worst takes in AMG?
#ish. Xoth // Exogalactic – Xoth is back and thus back in my list, because Xoth remains every bit the cool as hell bunch of motherfuckers it’s always been. It’s a little bit more technical and a little bit less memorable compared to its predecessor, missing a “Mountain Machines” level riff, but I still have a really hard time sitting still in my chair when Exogalactic is playing. Too much bouncy fun and sick solos!
#10. Fires in the Distance // Air Not Meant for Us – I listened to an absolute ton of melodic death metal in my early metal years. I still have a soft spot for the genre, but it also needs to do something different to stand out for me these days. Fires in the Distance fully meets that criterium. The stern, strident tone, doom-adjacent pacing, and tasteful piano make Air an album of aching beauty. I’m reminded in part of Eternal Tears of Sorrow, but far more mature and with great emotional depth. The only reason it didn’t place higher is that it doesn’t keep me coming back somehow, and these lists are nothing if not places to go with my gut.
#9. Leiþa // Reue – Speaking of my gut, Reue was the first full-blown punch it received this year. It amuses me when people claim that all black metal screams sound the same because though the lyrics are as incomprehensible as ever, I feel every ounce of the bottomless pain and despair Noise conjures here. But on top of the throat-ripping gurgles of depression are some very sophisticated melodies and good use of dynamics between quiet passages and all-out raging desperation. Most one-man bands struggle to make one worthwhile project, meanwhile, this guy has Leiþa, Non Est Deus, and Kanonenfieber on his resume. I’d call it unfair if I didn’t love it so much.
#8. Megaton Sword // Might & Power – Traditional metal doesn’t often show up on my year-end list. Maybe Megaton Sword wouldn’t have either, although I do love me a batch of idiosyncratic vocals. But a medical situation in the family made the first half of the year an especially stressful affair, and Might & Power with its simple sense of fun was my main musical comfort in that time. But there’s more to it than that. So many strong melodies with few frills. So many fist-pumping horseback-riding sword-raising shield-carrying moments of triumph and awe. And all tied together by that uncommon voice, acerbically spraying dark heroism over the battlefield. The worst of the family situation is well behind us, but Might & Power still won’t leave my regular rotation.
#7. Carnosus // Visions of Infinihility – Is it unfair to say Xoth got out-Xoth’ed this year? It’s the obvious point of comparison, between the many-faceted vocals, high technical ability, tongue-in-cheek insanity, twisting multi-part riffs, and snaking bass. But if Xoth is the oblique unknowable architecture of cosmic horror, Carnosus is the fleshy depravity of body horror. It theatrically revels in its filth and cackles as the audience turns green around the cheeks. Most of the death metal highlights this year have been of the cavernous or slamarific variety, neither of which does much for me, but Carnosus has been an absolute delight that’s kept up my good cheers.
#6. Walg // III – The vast majority of my music recommendations originate here, but once in a blue moon, my partner will send me a link to something that popped up in her random music feeds and I just get blown away. That’s how I found this independent duo from Groningen, the Netherlands, who, without any black metal experience, started shitting out annual albums in the middle of the pandemic and manage to outdo most of their peers in the process. III is a furious album, with blast beats and histrionic screeching out the wazoo, but is tempered by a bevy of great melodic riffs and the occasional gothic chant. Because the lyrics are in Dutch, which really is not a good language for this kind of horrific imagery, there’s something endearing to the band as well. The combination makes for a very interesting, dark yet catchy experience and one I can well recommend.
#5. Wayfarer // American Gothic – Wayfarer was always one of those bands I kept hearing about and kept not hearing. No particular reason, either; I resolved to listen to them several times and it just didn’t happen. Then I finally heard them, by seeing them live at Roadburn. It was definitely a highlight of the festival, aside from an interlude that was far too long and not nearly interesting enough. Thankfully, American Gothic is more balanced, a perfectly tuned album that calls forth the man in black stalking the prairie on horseback. It’s an album redolent in atmosphere without forgoing a good hook, one that can carry tension on a single banjo string. In short, it has lived up to the hype and then some.
#4. Sermon // Of Golden Verse – Pure prog metal often gets a reputation for being wussy and weenie. Sermon does it differently. What attracts me to this album the most is the sense of threat. Sermon looms a great dark ominous wall that swallows the background and casts everything in shade. For an album to hold its breath even while beating you down takes some exquisite songwriting, and Of Golden Verse is jam-packed with it. Closer “Departure” really opens the floodgates, too, for a satisfying and bombastic finale.
#3. VAK // The Islands – I called The Islands one of the flat-out coolest albums of the year and I stand by it. If anything, my appreciation for VAK’s latest has only grown since then. When you’ve listened to a million albums, the ones that really stand out and stick with you are the ones with the strongest personality. If you’d send me an unlabeled song that didn’t make the cut on The Islands I would recognize it as VAK immediately, guaranteed. While so much sludge tries and fails to get under my skin with a hammer, VAK succeeds by taking a shortcut as it pries off my fingernails with a rusty screwdriver. It’s deliciously uncomfortable and I love it.
#2. The Circle // Of Awakening – This was surely the most heinous underrating of the year. The opener alone should earn the band its 4.0, a perfectly tuned piece of proggy black/death. One thing that strikes me is how good The Circle is at finding the right dosages. Every time it feels like one thing has run its course, something replaces or enhances it, from the versatile vocals to the use of symphonics and from blast beats to breathing room. I’ve revisited this one a lot since the summer, and for a while, I thought it was gonna top my list…
#1. Night Crowned // Tales – …until Night Crowned bum-rushed the stage. Whereas many of my listening habits this year have been decidedly un-brutal, in the metal sphere I have found myself drawn to the combination of melodic and intense music, particularly in the second half of the year. Tales is an exemplary album in this regard. The intense blasting and no-holds-barred shrieking always hold a melodic thread that makes it more than a wall of noise, whether it be from extra vocal layers, subtly interweaved symphonics, or a goddamn hurdy-gurdy that works way better than it should. The track where the latter features most prominently, “She Comes at Night,” is what drew me in, but every track has its own face; its deviations make it stand out from the others, like the clean vocals on melodic mid-pacer “Loviatar” or the Dimmu influence on the grandiose closer “Old Tales.” While I would not rank it as highly as the winners of previous years, you owe it to yourself to grab Tales if you haven’t already.
Honorable Mentions
- Aetherian // At Storm’s Edge – Contrary to my point with VAK, this album doesn’t do much particularly new but it’s the embodiment of Finnish style epic melodeath done really, really well.
- Somnuri // Desiderium – Who knew Mastodon-style sludge could be improved with grunge?
- Mutoid Man // Mutants – Wild, reckless fun with more depth than a first glance betrays.
- Genus Ordinis Dei // The Beginning – Narrative albums aren’t easy, but Genus Ordinis Dei has that shit in the bag. Easy to listen to, easy to love, and feels like a complete, well-rounded movie in the guise of an epic metal album.
- Laster // Andermans Mijne – It’s deeply strange and gets at all the bits of my brain that have been gathering dust for years, but I can’t deny its continuous pull.
Disappointment o’ the Year
This is the first paragraph I’m writing this year because it’s the easiest. I always used to like Soen. With Lotus, I even loved them. Imperial was a clear step-down, branching out in the wrong directions, but it was still enjoyable in its own right, just not approaching list material. They put on some good live shows this year, too. But Memorial goes off the deep end like Thelma & Louise. The remaining semblances of progressive rock and metal are gone, replaced by refried alternative rock. Even Joel Ekelöf sounds downright bad, his buttery smooth croon awkwardly squished into a grungy mold that doesn’t suit him. It’s like the band members collectively decided to challenge themselves by trying to make an album without doing any of the things they’re actually good at. The experiment failed, boys.
Song o’ the Year
Last year I discovered Norwegian artsy prog rock outfit Major Parkinson and fell deeply in love with their quirky, bombastic, gloomy aesthetic and thoughtful, varied songwriting. Not long into this year, I found out that enigmatic vocalist Jon Ivar Kollbotn had suffered a massive heart attack in the middle of a concert in October. Though he managed to finish the set, he flatlined backstage. By some miracle, police officers happened to be just outside the building and they managed to restart Kollbotn’s ticker. When he was sufficiently recovered, the band re-wrote and recorded an old live track named “Take the Prescription” to commemorate his survival. The result is as addictive as prescription drugs, an upbeat and offbeat artful piece of prog-pop with an infectious whistled tune, beautiful smooth bass usage, and the band’s signature dark undertone. Kollbotn sounds as coarse and moody as ever, and new permanent member Peri Winkle offers an outside perspective to the frontman’s near-death experience. And even if the track hadn’t been one of the sweetest things I’ve heard this year, it’d still be my favorite track of 2023. If only because he was still around to record it.
#2023 #Aetherian #Ahab #BlogPosts #Carnosus #ElCuervoSAndGardensTaleSTopTenIshOf2023 #FiresInTheDistance #fromjoy #GenusOrdinisDei #Grails #Hasard #Laster #Leitha #Lists #Listurnalia #LunarChamber #MegatonSword #MutoidMan #Myrkur #NeObliviscaris #NightCrowned #Sermon #Shadowrunner #Soen #Somnuri #Svalbard #Sylosis #TheCircle #TombMold #Ulthar #VAK #Walg #Wayfarer #Xoth
- Myrkur // Spine – Spine is just as sonically varied—arguably inconsistent—as any Myrkur release2 but this time it’s all high quality. From the poppy chorus on “Like Humans,” to the blast beats on “Valkyriernes Sang,” to the gentle folk on “Menneskebarn,” I’m emotionally invested throughout.
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The town that bricks built: the thread about some history of Portobello and why it has a road for a king
This thread was originally written and published in February 2021.
If you go down to the beach today, you’ll be in for a big surprise… No, the teddy bears are not having a picnic, but the sea and/or Figgate burn have performed one of their semi-irregular uncoverings of the old Portobello Harbour from the sand.
Edge of the pier revealed © SelfEdge of the pier revealed © SelfThe harbour was built in 1787 for local “brick baron” William Jameson, who had hit the big time when he fued land to the east of the Figgate Burn on which to build a house and instead hit clay, kicking off the town’s brick (and later, pottery) industry.
William Jameson (centre), with Orlando Hart (left) and Archibald McDowall (right). Sir James Hay and Sir James Hunter Blair are labouring in the background. From a caricature by John Kay, 1785. CC-by-NC-ND, © National Portrait Gallery, LondonThe other thing needed for brick and pottery kilns – coal – was readily available in the vicinity at Niddrie, around Musselburgh and along the coast at Prestonpans and beyond. Here is the harbour on Wood’s 1824 town plan of Portobello; it lies just east of the Figgate Burn, on the shore, in front of the new flats by the bottle kilns.
Plan of the Town of Portobello by John Wood, 1824. Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of ScotlandThe stone pier extended some 100 feet, and a basin was excavated out of the beach between the burn and the wall; but it was doomed to fail thanks to the effects of sand transport along the beach consistently silting it up. Portobello really owes its existence to Jameson and the clay. Before that, there wasn’t much except a few small cottages and hostelries strung along the road from Edinburgh to Berwick. The brickworks drew in workers and a village began to form.
Taylor & Skinner Road Strip Map, 1776. Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of ScotlandThe nascent workers village was known as the Figgate Village.
Figgate Village; the remains of Georgian workers housing as late as 1934, when the site was cleared to make way for the open air bathing pool. this courtyard of cottages and houses were associated with a brickworks at Rosebank opened by a Mr. McEwan in the early 19th century. The works seen behind them are the Rosebank Potteries, with the Portobello Paper Mill on the right. © Edinburgh City LibrariesLong before it was Portobello, the area was know as the Figgate Muir; an expanse of muirland (Scots for moor) along the Figgate Burn which ran down to the sea. The Figgate Whins (whins in Scots are gorse) bordered the old road above the beach from Leith and Edinburgh to Musselburgh. “Figgate” is referenced as early as 1466 as “Fegot”, part of Duddingston Kirk parish. Fegot possibly comes from the norse Fé (cattle or sheep) and Gata (a “way”, as in the Scots Gait, but also pasture). You can also see it spelled Freegate, Frigate, Figate, Figgot, Thicket, etc. on older maps.
John Adair’s map of the area in 1682 shows it to be nameless and uninhabited, the Figgate Burn being the sole feature to help us orientate where Portobello is today. There is a vague suggestion of a track and stippling indicating the muir and whins. E. Didstoun is Easter Duddingston farm, where the King’s Manor Hotel is now.
Adair’s Map of 1682 showing nothing where Portobello now is, beyond the Figgate Burn. Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of ScotlandRoy’s Lowland map of c. 1750 shows the area clearer, but it still appears uninhabited; nothing more than a road, muir and whins. The road was notorious for banditry; in 1762, the Scots Magazine records that the master of a fishing boat, Alexander Henderson, was attacked on the road across the Figgate Whins when making his way between Musselburgh to Leith and relieved of 12s 6d in money, hit on the head with a broadsword and left for dead. Travellers apparently preferred the open beach rather than the track through the whins, or took the longer route more inland from Jock’s Lodge to Duddingston to Musselburgh (via what is now Willowbrae).
A cottage on this road between Leith, Edinburgh and Musselnurgh (now the High Street) built in 1742 was named Portobello, in honour of the victory of Admiral Vernon at Porto Bello in 1739 (its builder, George Hamilton, by legend having served there.) A Court of Session record of has testimony that Portobello House or Hut was built by one Peter Scott. Adverts in 1753 record it as a tavern, proprietor George Hamilton, from where he ran a cobbler’s shop and also horse racing on the shore. Stuart Harris thinks the direct link to Admiral Vernon at the Battle of Porto Bello may just be a “sailor’s yarn”, and the name may just be fanciful, as was the trend at the time. The house was cleared around 1862 when the town hall was built.
Portobello near Edinburgh, c. 1834, unknown artist, possibly James Skene. Could this be the original “Portobello Hut?” © Edinburgh City LibrariesIn 1814, what was by now being referred to as the area of “Portobello” was detached from the parish of Duddingston to form a parish in its own right, the “chapel of ease” being raised to parish kirk. By the time the town became a burgh in 1833, it had adopted the name formally.
Portobello by Robert Scott, 1838. CC-BY-NC National Galleries ScotlandBack to William Jameson. He built himself a mansion to the south of Portobello on his land called Rosefield in the 1760s. You can still see some of the garden walls (built, of course, in Portobello brick) and a few lumps of dressed stone from it in Rosefield Park.
The Portobello brick of the Rosefield House walled garden can be seen in Rosefield Park. © SelfJameson took on the feu of what would become a significant part of Portobello in 1763, from Baron Muir of the Exchequer. Jameson’s brickworks developed in 1765, and contemporary accounts refer to the area as “Brickfield or Portobello“. There was a Brickfield on Leith Links too where there was an earlier brickworks. Jameson’s clay pit provided the feedstock for the local brick and pottery industry. Part of it would later be filled in and flattened to form the Craigentinny sidings and depot, another part was flooded and landscape to become the Figgate Pond.
The “brickfield”; the land were clay was excavated for brick making. This photo was taken as late as 1922 when the Abercorn Brickworks was still in operation. The top of the Ramsay Technical Colelge can be seen peeking out in the top right. © Edinburgh City LibrariesAround 1785, a lawyer from Edinburgh by the name of John Cunningham feud a parcel of ground near the beach from Jameson and had built for himself a most curious villa upon it. Portobello Tower was built in red Portobello bricks, but to the beach side of it was attached a great folly tower; a battlemented octagon with a square stair tower adjoining.
The Tower, Portobello by Thomas Bebgie, 1887. © Edinburgh City LibrariesIt is in-filled with all kinds of curious bits of masonry tracework that were collected by Cunningham from old Edinburgh churches and houses (including parts of the original Mercat Cross and allegedly from the Cathedral of St. Andrews). An 1864 rebuild of the structure consolidated it somewhat from its more ruinous original form as a belvedere into accommodation.
“The Village of Figget” or Portobello in 1783, from the Annals of Portobello. Cunningham’s property has a “summer house” at the end, possibly the Tower, and Porto Bello and Rosefield are marked.The draw of the sea and the sand of Portobello has long been a draw for Edinburgh residents. Writing in 1806, Sir John Carr in Caledonian Sketches says “Portobello is a beautiful village, embellished with many genteel houses, and stands close to the sea shore… It is much frequented in the season by fashionable families and by respectable citizens of the capital, from which it is but a very short distance, as a delightful sea-bathing place“. In that year, a bath house was built with hot and cold salt water baths at what is the foot of the appropriately named Bath Street.
Portobello from the beach, showing the tower and in the distance the smoking chimneys of Joppa Pans 1845 by J. Greenwood. © Edinburgh City LibrariesBy the middle of the 19th century, Portobello was a fashionable suburb of large villas that were being built along the High Street in the direction of Joppa. We can get an idea of what it looked like from the below print of 1845. Coillesdene House (where the tower block now is) is the large house on the right, the spire on the left is the old Parish Kirk. It can be seen that the land immediately to the south is still fields and hedgerows.
Portobello from the southeast, 1845 by J. Greenwood. © Edinburgh City LibrariesOn Portobello High Street stands the remains of one of the town’s Georgian villas; that of Shrubmount, the last residence of the geologist and evangelist Hugh Miller (1802-1856). The house has since been rebuilt into a Victorian row on the High Street – confusingly what we see of it from “the front” is actually the gable end of it, the pillars of the original portico entrance are buried within the back of a kebab shop now. (Thank you to Fraser Macdonald for correcting the location of Shrubmount, which is mispositioned in a couple of books). Miller had a geological museum in the house, but was tormented by mental illness and committed suicide when Victorian medicine failed him and he feared he might harm his family.
The remains of Shrubmount on Portobello High Street, the building faced east, what we are looking at is the original side.The gentlemen cavalry of the Royal Edinburgh Light Dragoon Volunteers, who counted Sir Walter Scott in their ranks, used to drill on the beach in the early 19th century. They were somewhat lampooned in the contemporary press in the manner of a well meaning Dad’s army that was more of a horseriding, dressing up and drinking club. John Kay caricatured the Edinburgh yeomanry in his typically acerbic style.
John Adams of the Royal Edinburgh Light Dragoons, 1797. © National Portrait Gallery, LondonIn 1822 on his state visit to Scotland, King George IV reviewed the Scottish yeomanry cavalry and a “picturesque force of Highland clans that had come to Edinburgh in honour of his visit.” On Friday, 23 August, the King reviewed 3,000 volunteer horse and “clansmen” on Portobello sands from his carriage, which had approached down a road that we now call the King’s Road for that reason. In the painting by Turner below, the King is on a silver horse dressed as a Field Marshall in the centre of the canvas. The crowds assembled on the sands include many men drinking from glasses and the east coast fishwives in their distinctive striped dresses and garb.
King George reviews the yeomanry at Portobello. Those on the left, behind the pavilion, are standing on Jameson’s short lived Portobello harbour pier. 1822, WIlliam Turner de Lond. CC-by-NC National Galleries Scotland.And if you are to wander around the modern housing that occupies the site of the former Buchan’s Pottery in Portobello, you can find all sorts of street names that relate to an earlier time: William Jameson Place, Brickfield, The Pottery, Harbour Place and Pipe Street and Lane.
William Jameson Place, PortobelloNote to readers: unfortunately in April 2026, a third-party plug-in more than exceeded its authority and broke many of the image links on this site. No images were lost but I will have to restore them page-by-page, which may take some time. In the meantime please bear with me while I go about rectifying this issue.
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#Lochend #Logan #Restalrig #StMargaret -
"Collector" by Hiro Yamagata
Commentary on the global art market? The eastern vs western laws of perspective? Surrealism, sarcasm, either way... I love it!
#painting #MastoArt #fediart #artshare #arte #pintura #oilpaints #oilpainting #artist
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When's the last time you used a stamp?
#MastoArt #fediart #irishart #ukart #britishart #stamps #stampcollection #vintage #art
#collage The Irish Mail leaflet, British Railways (1955) + 1964 stamp about stamps, Paris France
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When's the last time you used a stamp?
#MastoArt #fediart #irishart #ukart #britishart #stamps #stampcollection #vintage #art
#collage The Irish Mail leaflet, British Railways (1955) + 1964 stamp about stamps, Paris France
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When's the last time you used a stamp?
#MastoArt #fediart #irishart #ukart #britishart #stamps #stampcollection #vintage #art
#collage The Irish Mail leaflet, British Railways (1955) + 1964 stamp about stamps, Paris France
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When's the last time you used a stamp?
#MastoArt #fediart #irishart #ukart #britishart #stamps #stampcollection #vintage #art
#collage The Irish Mail leaflet, British Railways (1955) + 1964 stamp about stamps, Paris France
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#collage from my Instagram series
#art #arte #mastoart #collageart #jwlewin #austrailia #newsouthwales #pintura #RetroGaming #playstation #streetfighter #capcom #streetart #books
J.W. Lewin, The Gigantic Lyllie of New South Wales + Street Fighter Alpha Anthology cover art (PS2) + text from "Savage Dreams: A Journey into the Landscape Wars of the American West" by Rebecca Solnit
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Left: George Seurat
Right: Claude Monet#painting #arthistory #mastoart #artist #arte #fediart #seaside #pintura #monet #seurat #impressionism #landscape
"Dialogue with the works of admired artists always was central to Seurat's experiments. [..] the components of the composition are the same as Monet's: the edge of the cliff a calligraphic line making its irregular way across the canvas" (Christopher Riopelle, essay from Neo-Impressionism and the Dream of Realities: Painting, Poetry, Music)
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George Bain
"construction principles of Celtic art were re-discovered in the middle of the 20th century by George Bain. Until his writing, the intricate knots, interlacings, and spirals used in illuminating The Book of Kells and in decorating craftwork and jewelry seemed almost impossible, 'the work of angels.'"
Put a few slides in Dark Mode for social media. I never learned to do this, but the book was a huge part of my early #collage process.
#ukart #irishart
#illustration #arte #MastoArt -
George Bain
"construction principles of Celtic art were re-discovered in the middle of the 20th century by George Bain. Until his writing, the intricate knots, interlacings, and spirals used in illuminating The Book of Kells and in decorating craftwork and jewelry seemed almost impossible, 'the work of angels.'"
Put a few slides in Dark Mode for social media. I never learned to do this, but the book was a huge part of my early #collage process.
#ukart #irishart
#illustration #arte #MastoArt
