Search
1000 results for “histrio”
-
Maud the Moth – The Distaff Review
By Dolphin Whisperer
We all take shape in the form that others prescribe—an embodiment that may run counter to how we see ourselves. Yet, in this world of heavy artistry whose inception rests in the bravery and drama and drive against the on-the-tracks trajectory of rock music—often too in sneer at traditional thought patterns—we search for freedom in amplified wisdom, reckless rhythms, and voices that soar above it all. Maud the Moth, in piano and vocal-based lamentations, appears to us not in the rev and leather that symbolize the traditional call of heavy metal. The Distaff, in its curious spindle, instead possesses strands of a familiar and ferocious hue—vibrant and unmistakable despite its differences.
Spanish-born and Scotland-residing, Amaya López-Carromero (also of healthyliving) uses Maud the Moth to flutter her most personal and growth-seeking articulations. Whipping between the alternative bend of a young Tori Amos to a classically-trained operatic wail fit for a sobbing rendition of Bizet’s Carmen as it is for The Distaff’s own wrestled narrative, López-Carromero orates at the center, the thumping heart, of each composition. And about her bled-out words that spell feelings of futility against assumed roles (“A Temple by the River,” “Despeñaperros”) and inherited success metrics (“Burial of the Patriarchs,” “Fiat Lux”), hands, steadied in necessary expression, find a home in rhythmic and romantic piano-led marches. In lyric-driven, macabre-in-nature music, the ivories tend to rest as an accent. But imbued by the impressionist spirit of Debussy and Ravel1 ravaging through a unique and wild attitude that rests adjacent to extreme, modern sounds, Maud the Moth and The Distaff live a sonic statement all their own.
An elaborate and elegant rhythmic framework—slow, percussive dances of tempered and swelling chords (“Exuviae,” “Fiat Lux”) and masking, playful triplets (“Siphonophores”)—coax a sneaking hypnosis throughout The Distaff. Surrounding these bases, the accompanying cast2 finds haunting accents—hissing Moog underlays, bowed cymbal screeches, thundering snare rolls, bellowing guitar crashes—that cut brooding horror across the melody to which López-Carromero maintains steadfast in swaying histrionics and shouting defiance. And in support of this continued desire to find solace in reflective silence and minimal structures, chamber strings3 pair to escalating verses and grand crescendos to make way for peace to come. The gentle sounds of nature (“Exuviae,” “Despeñaperros”) and the calm of a lingering voice (“Burial…,” “O Rubor”)—harmony builds a nest amongst ripples and waves of discord.
In this friction, The Distaff forges a journey of disillusion, awakening, and plaintive realization. Sprouting to life in a hazy, layered fluster (“Cando de Enramada”) and closing with a further (shoe)gazed and drowned recapitulation of a day spent in contest (“Kwisatz Haderach”), its book-ended daze reads as equal parts confessional and hallucinatory. And in this state of fizzling consciousness, Maud the Moth weaves tales of transformation, with the guitar character swinging from crushing and startling in impact (“A Temple…,” “Despeñaperros”) to gentle, fuzzed signals (“Burial…”) and glassy, harmonic companionship (“Fiat Lux”) as The Distaff oscillates between its tragic peaks and sullen lows. Violent vocal colors live in leather-bound creases—cries and wretches buried in hammering chords cracked notes in shivering sustain, piercing lyrics that splinter ethereal leanings like a wound freshly unbandaged. In fitting languid union words read on paper just as intense as their vibrational presence—”The sky wakes to an untouched meal.” (“Exuviae”), “Skin breaks like lace, so bleached, in shreds” (“Siphonophores”), “Blood of the father / Flows through the son / Drips through the fingers, viscous and warm” (“Fiat Lux”)—scenes of progressive and recurring ruminations staining eyes and ears with fragile and tangible tragedy.
As natural as breath to a body gasping, and as natural as my own breath leaving mine with every passing moment, The Distaff rises and falls with a lurch and solemn acceptance of life unfolding. From roots as a rawer singer-songwriter to this full and modern incarnation, Amaya López-Carromero has harnessed Maud the Moth as an effortless yet meticulous extension of her writhing inner existence. And in leaps, The Distaff twists from the play of 2020’s Orphnē to full theater. Whether Maud the Moth’s continued shed and growth will crystalize into an even more brilliant form matters little as The Distaff wears in bold and uncharted tapestry its heart-wrenching endeavors. Without a peer, Maud the Moth threatens to fly freely at the top of its own constructed throne.
Rating: 5.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Labels: The Larvarium | La Rubia Producciones | Woodford Halse
Websites: maudthemoth.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/maudthemoth
Releases Worldwide: February 21st, 2025#2025 #50 #Ashenspire #Darkwave #Feb25 #healthyliving #MaudTheMoth #ModernClassical #PostRock #ProgressiveRock #Review #Reviews #SoundCollage #TheDistaff #ToriAmos
-
Maud the Moth – The Distaff Review
By Dolphin Whisperer
We all take shape in the form that others prescribe—an embodiment that may run counter to how we see ourselves. Yet, in this world of heavy artistry whose inception rests in the bravery and drama and drive against the on-the-tracks trajectory of rock music—often too in sneer at traditional thought patterns—we search for freedom in amplified wisdom, reckless rhythms, and voices that soar above it all. Maud the Moth, in piano and vocal-based lamentations, appears to us not in the rev and leather that symbolize the traditional call of heavy metal. The Distaff, in its curious spindle, instead possesses strands of a familiar and ferocious hue—vibrant and unmistakable despite its differences.
Spanish-born and Scotland-residing, Amaya López-Carromero (also of healthyliving) uses Maud the Moth to flutter her most personal and growth-seeking articulations. Whipping between the alternative bend of a young Tori Amos to a classically-trained operatic wail fit for a sobbing rendition of Bizet’s Carmen as it is for The Distaff’s own wrestled narrative, López-Carromero orates at the center, the thumping heart, of each composition. And about her bled-out words that spell feelings of futility against assumed roles (“A Temple by the River,” “Despeñaperros”) and inherited success metrics (“Burial of the Patriarchs,” “Fiat Lux”), hands, steadied in necessary expression, find a home in rhythmic and romantic piano-led marches. In lyric-driven, macabre-in-nature music, the ivories tend to rest as an accent. But imbued by the impressionist spirit of Debussy and Ravel1 ravaging through a unique and wild attitude that rests adjacent to extreme, modern sounds, Maud the Moth and The Distaff live a sonic statement all their own.
An elaborate and elegant rhythmic framework—slow, percussive dances of tempered and swelling chords (“Exuviae,” “Fiat Lux”) and masking, playful triplets (“Siphonophores”)—coax a sneaking hypnosis throughout The Distaff. Surrounding these bases, the accompanying cast2 finds haunting accents—hissing Moog underlays, bowed cymbal screeches, thundering snare rolls, bellowing guitar crashes—that cut brooding horror across the melody to which López-Carromero maintains steadfast in swaying histrionics and shouting defiance. And in support of this continued desire to find solace in reflective silence and minimal structures, chamber strings3 pair to escalating verses and grand crescendos to make way for peace to come. The gentle sounds of nature (“Exuviae,” “Despeñaperros”) and the calm of a lingering voice (“Burial…,” “O Rubor”)—harmony builds a nest amongst ripples and waves of discord.
In this friction, The Distaff forges a journey of disillusion, awakening, and plaintive realization. Sprouting to life in a hazy, layered fluster (“Cando de Enramada”) and closing with a further (shoe)gazed and drowned recapitulation of a day spent in contest (“Kwisatz Haderach”), its book-ended daze reads as equal parts confessional and hallucinatory. And in this state of fizzling consciousness, Maud the Moth weaves tales of transformation, with the guitar character swinging from crushing and startling in impact (“A Temple…,” “Despeñaperros”) to gentle, fuzzed signals (“Burial…”) and glassy, harmonic companionship (“Fiat Lux”) as The Distaff oscillates between its tragic peaks and sullen lows. Violent vocal colors live in leather-bound creases—cries and wretches buried in hammering chords cracked notes in shivering sustain, piercing lyrics that splinter ethereal leanings like a wound freshly unbandaged. In fitting languid union words read on paper just as intense as their vibrational presence—”The sky wakes to an untouched meal.” (“Exuviae”), “Skin breaks like lace, so bleached, in shreds” (“Siphonophores”), “Blood of the father / Flows through the son / Drips through the fingers, viscous and warm” (“Fiat Lux”)—scenes of progressive and recurring ruminations staining eyes and ears with fragile and tangible tragedy.
As natural as breath to a body gasping, and as natural as my own breath leaving mine with every passing moment, The Distaff rises and falls with a lurch and solemn acceptance of life unfolding. From roots as a rawer singer-songwriter to this full and modern incarnation, Amaya López-Carromero has harnessed Maud the Moth as an effortless yet meticulous extension of her writhing inner existence. And in leaps, The Distaff twists from the play of 2020’s Orphnē to full theater. Whether Maud the Moth’s continued shed and growth will crystalize into an even more brilliant form matters little as The Distaff wears in bold and uncharted tapestry its heart-wrenching endeavors. Without a peer, Maud the Moth threatens to fly freely at the top of its own constructed throne.
Rating: 5.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Labels: The Larvarium | La Rubia Producciones | Woodford Halse
Websites: maudthemoth.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/maudthemoth
Releases Worldwide: February 21st, 2025#2025 #50 #Ashenspire #Darkwave #Feb25 #healthyliving #MaudTheMoth #ModernClassical #PostRock #ProgressiveRock #Review #Reviews #SoundCollage #TheDistaff #ToriAmos
-
Maud the Moth – The Distaff Review
By Dolphin Whisperer
We all take shape in the form that others prescribe—an embodiment that may run counter to how we see ourselves. Yet, in this world of heavy artistry whose inception rests in the bravery and drama and drive against the on-the-tracks trajectory of rock music—often too in sneer at traditional thought patterns—we search for freedom in amplified wisdom, reckless rhythms, and voices that soar above it all. Maud the Moth, in piano and vocal-based lamentations, appears to us not in the rev and leather that symbolize the traditional call of heavy metal. The Distaff, in its curious spindle, instead possesses strands of a familiar and ferocious hue—vibrant and unmistakable despite its differences.
Spanish-born and Scotland-residing, Amaya López-Carromero (also of healthyliving) uses Maud the Moth to flutter her most personal and growth-seeking articulations. Whipping between the alternative bend of a young Tori Amos to a classically-trained operatic wail fit for a sobbing rendition of Bizet’s Carmen as it is for The Distaff’s own wrestled narrative, López-Carromero orates at the center, the thumping heart, of each composition. And about her bled-out words that spell feelings of futility against assumed roles (“A Temple by the River,” “Despeñaperros”) and inherited success metrics (“Burial of the Patriarchs,” “Fiat Lux”), hands, steadied in necessary expression, find a home in rhythmic and romantic piano-led marches. In lyric-driven, macabre-in-nature music, the ivories tend to rest as an accent. But imbued by the impressionist spirit of Debussy and Ravel1 ravaging through a unique and wild attitude that rests adjacent to extreme, modern sounds, Maud the Moth and The Distaff live a sonic statement all their own.
An elaborate and elegant rhythmic framework—slow, percussive dances of tempered and swelling chords (“Exuviae,” “Fiat Lux”) and masking, playful triplets (“Siphonophores”)—coax a sneaking hypnosis throughout The Distaff. Surrounding these bases, the accompanying cast2 finds haunting accents—hissing Moog underlays, bowed cymbal screeches, thundering snare rolls, bellowing guitar crashes—that cut brooding horror across the melody to which López-Carromero maintains steadfast in swaying histrionics and shouting defiance. And in support of this continued desire to find solace in reflective silence and minimal structures, chamber strings3 pair to escalating verses and grand crescendos to make way for peace to come. The gentle sounds of nature (“Exuviae,” “Despeñaperros”) and the calm of a lingering voice (“Burial…,” “O Rubor”)—harmony builds a nest amongst ripples and waves of discord.
In this friction, The Distaff forges a journey of disillusion, awakening, and plaintive realization. Sprouting to life in a hazy, layered fluster (“Cando de Enramada”) and closing with a further (shoe)gazed and drowned recapitulation of a day spent in contest (“Kwisatz Haderach”), its book-ended daze reads as equal parts confessional and hallucinatory. And in this state of fizzling consciousness, Maud the Moth weaves tales of transformation, with the guitar character swinging from crushing and startling in impact (“A Temple…,” “Despeñaperros”) to gentle, fuzzed signals (“Burial…”) and glassy, harmonic companionship (“Fiat Lux”) as The Distaff oscillates between its tragic peaks and sullen lows. Violent vocal colors live in leather-bound creases—cries and wretches buried in hammering chords cracked notes in shivering sustain, piercing lyrics that splinter ethereal leanings like a wound freshly unbandaged. In fitting languid union words read on paper just as intense as their vibrational presence—”The sky wakes to an untouched meal.” (“Exuviae”), “Skin breaks like lace, so bleached, in shreds” (“Siphonophores”), “Blood of the father / Flows through the son / Drips through the fingers, viscous and warm” (“Fiat Lux”)—scenes of progressive and recurring ruminations staining eyes and ears with fragile and tangible tragedy.
As natural as breath to a body gasping, and as natural as my own breath leaving mine with every passing moment, The Distaff rises and falls with a lurch and solemn acceptance of life unfolding. From roots as a rawer singer-songwriter to this full and modern incarnation, Amaya López-Carromero has harnessed Maud the Moth as an effortless yet meticulous extension of her writhing inner existence. And in leaps, The Distaff twists from the play of 2020’s Orphnē to full theater. Whether Maud the Moth’s continued shed and growth will crystalize into an even more brilliant form matters little as The Distaff wears in bold and uncharted tapestry its heart-wrenching endeavors. Without a peer, Maud the Moth threatens to fly freely at the top of its own constructed throne.
Rating: 5.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Labels: The Larvarium | La Rubia Producciones | Woodford Halse
Websites: maudthemoth.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/maudthemoth
Releases Worldwide: February 21st, 2025#2025 #50 #Ashenspire #Darkwave #Feb25 #healthyliving #MaudTheMoth #ModernClassical #PostRock #ProgressiveRock #Review #Reviews #SoundCollage #TheDistaff #ToriAmos
-
Maud the Moth – The Distaff Review
By Dolphin Whisperer
We all take shape in the form that others prescribe—an embodiment that may run counter to how we see ourselves. Yet, in this world of heavy artistry whose inception rests in the bravery and drama and drive against the on-the-tracks trajectory of rock music—often too in sneer at traditional thought patterns—we search for freedom in amplified wisdom, reckless rhythms, and voices that soar above it all. Maud the Moth, in piano and vocal-based lamentations, appears to us not in the rev and leather that symbolize the traditional call of heavy metal. The Distaff, in its curious spindle, instead possesses strands of a familiar and ferocious hue—vibrant and unmistakable despite its differences.
Spanish-born and Scotland-residing, Amaya López-Carromero (also of healthyliving) uses Maud the Moth to flutter her most personal and growth-seeking articulations. Whipping between the alternative bend of a young Tori Amos to a classically-trained operatic wail fit for a sobbing rendition of Bizet’s Carmen as it is for The Distaff’s own wrestled narrative, López-Carromero orates at the center, the thumping heart, of each composition. And about her bled-out words that spell feelings of futility against assumed roles (“A Temple by the River,” “Despeñaperros”) and inherited success metrics (“Burial of the Patriarchs,” “Fiat Lux”), hands, steadied in necessary expression, find a home in rhythmic and romantic piano-led marches. In lyric-driven, macabre-in-nature music, the ivories tend to rest as an accent. But imbued by the impressionist spirit of Debussy and Ravel1 ravaging through a unique and wild attitude that rests adjacent to extreme, modern sounds, Maud the Moth and The Distaff live a sonic statement all their own.
An elaborate and elegant rhythmic framework—slow, percussive dances of tempered and swelling chords (“Exuviae,” “Fiat Lux”) and masking, playful triplets (“Siphonophores”)—coax a sneaking hypnosis throughout The Distaff. Surrounding these bases, the accompanying cast2 finds haunting accents—hissing Moog underlays, bowed cymbal screeches, thundering snare rolls, bellowing guitar crashes—that cut brooding horror across the melody to which López-Carromero maintains steadfast in swaying histrionics and shouting defiance. And in support of this continued desire to find solace in reflective silence and minimal structures, chamber strings3 pair to escalating verses and grand crescendos to make way for peace to come. The gentle sounds of nature (“Exuviae,” “Despeñaperros”) and the calm of a lingering voice (“Burial…,” “O Rubor”)—harmony builds a nest amongst ripples and waves of discord.
In this friction, The Distaff forges a journey of disillusion, awakening, and plaintive realization. Sprouting to life in a hazy, layered fluster (“Cando de Enramada”) and closing with a further (shoe)gazed and drowned recapitulation of a day spent in contest (“Kwisatz Haderach”), its book-ended daze reads as equal parts confessional and hallucinatory. And in this state of fizzling consciousness, Maud the Moth weaves tales of transformation, with the guitar character swinging from crushing and startling in impact (“A Temple…,” “Despeñaperros”) to gentle, fuzzed signals (“Burial…”) and glassy, harmonic companionship (“Fiat Lux”) as The Distaff oscillates between its tragic peaks and sullen lows. Violent vocal colors live in leather-bound creases—cries and wretches buried in hammering chords cracked notes in shivering sustain, piercing lyrics that splinter ethereal leanings like a wound freshly unbandaged. In fitting languid union words read on paper just as intense as their vibrational presence—”The sky wakes to an untouched meal.” (“Exuviae”), “Skin breaks like lace, so bleached, in shreds” (“Siphonophores”), “Blood of the father / Flows through the son / Drips through the fingers, viscous and warm” (“Fiat Lux”)—scenes of progressive and recurring ruminations staining eyes and ears with fragile and tangible tragedy.
As natural as breath to a body gasping, and as natural as my own breath leaving mine with every passing moment, The Distaff rises and falls with a lurch and solemn acceptance of life unfolding. From roots as a rawer singer-songwriter to this full and modern incarnation, Amaya López-Carromero has harnessed Maud the Moth as an effortless yet meticulous extension of her writhing inner existence. And in leaps, The Distaff twists from the play of 2020’s Orphnē to full theater. Whether Maud the Moth’s continued shed and growth will crystalize into an even more brilliant form matters little as The Distaff wears in bold and uncharted tapestry its heart-wrenching endeavors. Without a peer, Maud the Moth threatens to fly freely at the top of its own constructed throne.
Rating: 5.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Labels: The Larvarium | La Rubia Producciones | Woodford Halse
Websites: maudthemoth.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/maudthemoth
Releases Worldwide: February 21st, 2025#2025 #50 #Ashenspire #Darkwave #Feb25 #healthyliving #MaudTheMoth #ModernClassical #PostRock #ProgressiveRock #Review #Reviews #SoundCollage #TheDistaff #ToriAmos
-
AMG’s Unsigned Band Rodeö: Zakula – White Forest Reign Lullabies
By Dolphin Whisperer
“AMG’s Unsigned Band Rodeö” is a time-honored tradition to showcase the most underground of the underground—the unsigned and unpromoted. This collective review treatment continues to exist to unite our writers in boot or bolster of the bands who remind us that, for better or worse, the metal underground exists as an important part of the global metal scene. The Rodeö rides on.”
It takes a bit of effort to assemble the fickle tastes of the Rodeö gang, as distinguished and willing as they may be. Now, I won’t say that the lure of a unsigned gem requires trickery, but with a band like Zakula, explaining their style straight doesn’t stand as an option. These Athenian speed demons slap the simplest of tags across their Bandcamp page: death metal, black metal, thrash metal. And frustratingly, that’s the truth too! But what does it mean? Chunky riffs that dance about flailing tempos with a dramatic vocal character? Kind of. How about sneaky lead melodies that tumble against bright synth crashes into whiplash thrash and manic shrieks? White Forest Reign Lullabies doesn’t make explanation easy, but Zakula does play metal with lots of twists. This is the kind of challenge for which the Rodeö crew—now with the recently demoted n00b Tyme in the mix—lives! And, also proof that they too are capable of enjoyment. – Dolphin Whisperer
Zakula // White Forest Reign Lullabies [October 25th, 2024]
GardensTale: Zakula was initially sold to me as weirdo black metal. Foul! This is clearly weirdo tech thrash, a niche I seldom dabble in. As such, I find myself more unmoored than usual, with my frame of reference limited to Stam1na and my meager exposure to Vektor, whose frontman I disliked for his vocals and dislike more for his abuse. But while a few comparisons can be drawn from Zakula to either, this is a different beast altogether. White Forest Reign Lullabies is fast as hell, frequently discordant, and seems designed to keep you off-balance. The guitars throw me off the least, somehow, though their rapid tremolos and triplets and trips up and down the scales require close attention. More unsettling are the hoarse histrionics that make up the vocals, which sound ragged and desperate and are played backward on at least one occasion, and the erratic drums that go from maddeningly consistent to plain mad. But it’s the electronics that send me over the edge. The dissonant slides and squeaks and blips have a panic-inducing effect that reminds me of VAK at about nine times the speed. Somehow, though, the Greeks pull it all together with some excellent songwriting, mixing manic melodic riffs and staccato drums in opposition without letting it all descend into nonsensical noise. Some of the tracks do swerve a bit much from one extreme to another and lose the cohesion, but more often than not this one’s one heck of a ride, full of surprises, technical wizardry, and all the drugs that are not good for you. 3.5/5.0
Felagund: I enjoy the Rodeö feature much more when I have something positive to say about the album we’re reviewing. And truly, how could I hate on the off-kilter package that Zakula has delivered? White Forest Rain Lullabies is the band’s sophomore outing, and they’ve embraced the well-trod kitchen sink approach. Sure, Zakula might arrive on a wave of thrash, but stick around and you’ll be accosted by an undertow of industrial, prog, black metal, and noise. As you struggle against the deluge, you may hear dashes of Coroner, Voivod, and even Oingo Boingo. There’s plenty of synths, light orchestration, squealing guitars, and highly augmented, blackened vocals that’ll pull you even further out past the breakers. Yet somehow, these zany Greeks pull it off. Whether you’re looking for crunchy thrash riffs (“Olethros,” “Children of Haze,”) frenzied, cacophonous noise (“Melancholy,” “White Forest Rain Lullabies”) or spacy synths (“Remains,” “Children of Haze”) Zakula delivers the goods both cohesively and effectively, something even well-seasoned musicians struggle to do. Unfortunately, in their zeal to cram more genres, instrumentation, and ideas into each song, Zakula has inadvertently delivered a record in dire need of some editing. On a six-song album, there are three tracks that clock in at or over eight minutes, and each would have been leaner, meaner, and more impactful with just two to three minutes shaved off. This certainly isn’t a deal breaker, but it does stifle the momentum of an otherwise promising album. Still, I’d recommend White Forest Rain Lullabies, especially to all you little freaks out there. 3.0/5.0
Iceberg: While I tend to follow the Germanic school of thought that order and structure rule supreme, I have a soft spot for unpredictable, chaotic music. Dolph has zeroed in on this personal weakness, and continues to poke and prod me with insanity I can’t help but love. Zakula barely manages to control their chaos across an impressive forty minutes of music with White Forest Reign Lullabies, throwing so many genres against the wall that I’d waste word count listing them here. From the deliriously quick, heaving chromatic leads of “Όλεθρος” to the relentless, across-the-bar ostinati of “Remains,” Zakula sinks their hooks into the listener and refuses to let go. Mid-album heavyweight “Melancholy” is a twisting nine minutes that feels much shorter than that, and it’s middle section is straight from a Twilight Zone soundtrack, successfully blended with speed metal bookends. Every time I’ve come back to this record I’ve found a new corner to explore, a new chromatic tremolo, a new electronic underpinning. The title track and “Ton 618” don’t hit quite as hard as their album-mates, and there could be a case for some more editing, but the amount of fat amongst these tracks is pretty minimal. White Forest Reign Lullabies marks a triumph for the Athenians, and I can easily see it increasing in score as it continues to worm its way into my brainstem. An absolute must for fans of extreme music that blows right past anything resembling a boundary. 3.5/5.0
Alekhines Gun: If metal were a snack, White Forest Reign Lullabies would be the chunkiest of trail mix. Zakula assembles a brand of blackened thrash, piano, clean vocals, interludes, and electronica in an absurd, bizarrely effective middle finger to our stance at AMG Inc. that less is more. Do you love synth shreddage? Zakula pack in enough to make His Statue Falls blush and Fail Emotions suggest toning it down a bit. Do you love blackened thrash? White Forest Reign Lullabies pack in the spirit of Urn with pained vocals pulled straight from modern Asphyx, seeking to kick arse with beer and steel-toed boot. The sincerity behind the more metal riffs serves as a surprising counterpart to the instrumental excess on display here, keeping Zakula from being mistaken for a mere gimmick band. Look no further than the opening minute of “Melancholy” to realize this band is in no way here to mess around, even if it seems like they can’t commit to a style for long enough to do anything but. Some people will cry that this album lacks cohesion, identity, and focus, and those are people who don’t like fun. Your tolerance for this album will certainly depend on your joy for madcap zany ADHD (positive) song structures. But for those looking for a walk on the wild side, come enjoy some sweet Lullabies. Or as Zakula would ask, “How can less be more? That’s impossible!” 3.0/5.0
Thyme: Three years after their 2021 eponymous debut, Greek thrashers Zakula return with White Forest Reign Lullabies. From the first swift, surgically precise riff and chaotic keyboard run of opener, “Όλεθρος,” it’s clear Zakula is no straight-line descendant of the (some say tragically Overkill-less) Big Four — no sir. Zakula’s brand of blackened thrash has an everything-and-the-kitchen-sink quality to it that not only belies its genre tags but makes drawing valid comparisons difficult. If Mr. Bungle and Xoth paid Titan to Tachyons for a threesome, you’d at least be in the ballpark, as every second of this six-song, forty-minute tornado is engaging as fook. The songwriting, especially on the lengthier tracks (“Melancholy,” “Children of Haze”), showcases what Zakula does best. And that’s providing a wealth of melt-in-your-mouth goodness chock full of visceral riffs, Xothically spacy synths, and Schuldiner by way of Van Drunen1 vocals that imbue a particular deathly black menace to each of these thrashtastically jazzy (thrazzy? thrazztastic?)2 compositions. Full of twists, turns, and surprises designed to keep the listener guessing but never letting them get lost in the woods, White Forest Reign Lullabies is an album I strongly suggest you check out. At this rate, Zakula won’t stay Rodeö bait for much longer. 3.5/5.0
#AngryMetalGuySUnsignedBandRodeo #AngryMetalGuySUnsignedBandRodeo2024 #Asphyx #BlackMetal #Coroner #Death #GreekMetal #IndependentRelease #MrBungle #OingoBoingo #Review #Reviews #SelfRelease #Stam1na #TechnicalThrashMetal #ThrashMetal #TitanToTachyons #Vektor #Voivod #WhiteForestReignLullabies #Xoth #Zakula
-
AMG’s Unsigned Band Rodeö: Zakula – White Forest Reign Lullabies
By Dolphin Whisperer
“AMG’s Unsigned Band Rodeö” is a time-honored tradition to showcase the most underground of the underground—the unsigned and unpromoted. This collective review treatment continues to exist to unite our writers in boot or bolster of the bands who remind us that, for better or worse, the metal underground exists as an important part of the global metal scene. The Rodeö rides on.”
It takes a bit of effort to assemble the fickle tastes of the Rodeö gang, as distinguished and willing as they may be. Now, I won’t say that the lure of a unsigned gem requires trickery, but with a band like Zakula, explaining their style straight doesn’t stand as an option. These Athenian speed demons slap the simplest of tags across their Bandcamp page: death metal, black metal, thrash metal. And frustratingly, that’s the truth too! But what does it mean? Chunky riffs that dance about flailing tempos with a dramatic vocal character? Kind of. How about sneaky lead melodies that tumble against bright synth crashes into whiplash thrash and manic shrieks? White Forest Reign Lullabies doesn’t make explanation easy, but Zakula does play metal with lots of twists. This is the kind of challenge for which the Rodeö crew—now with the recently demoted n00b Tyme in the mix—lives! And, also proof that they too are capable of enjoyment. – Dolphin Whisperer
Zakula // White Forest Reign Lullabies [October 25th, 2024]
GardensTale: Zakula was initially sold to me as weirdo black metal. Foul! This is clearly weirdo tech thrash, a niche I seldom dabble in. As such, I find myself more unmoored than usual, with my frame of reference limited to Stam1na and my meager exposure to Vektor, whose frontman I disliked for his vocals and dislike more for his abuse. But while a few comparisons can be drawn from Zakula to either, this is a different beast altogether. White Forest Reign Lullabies is fast as hell, frequently discordant, and seems designed to keep you off-balance. The guitars throw me off the least, somehow, though their rapid tremolos and triplets and trips up and down the scales require close attention. More unsettling are the hoarse histrionics that make up the vocals, which sound ragged and desperate and are played backward on at least one occasion, and the erratic drums that go from maddeningly consistent to plain mad. But it’s the electronics that send me over the edge. The dissonant slides and squeaks and blips have a panic-inducing effect that reminds me of VAK at about nine times the speed. Somehow, though, the Greeks pull it all together with some excellent songwriting, mixing manic melodic riffs and staccato drums in opposition without letting it all descend into nonsensical noise. Some of the tracks do swerve a bit much from one extreme to another and lose the cohesion, but more often than not this one’s one heck of a ride, full of surprises, technical wizardry, and all the drugs that are not good for you. 3.5/5.0
Felagund: I enjoy the Rodeö feature much more when I have something positive to say about the album we’re reviewing. And truly, how could I hate on the off-kilter package that Zakula has delivered? White Forest Rain Lullabies is the band’s sophomore outing, and they’ve embraced the well-trod kitchen sink approach. Sure, Zakula might arrive on a wave of thrash, but stick around and you’ll be accosted by an undertow of industrial, prog, black metal, and noise. As you struggle against the deluge, you may hear dashes of Coroner, Voivod, and even Oingo Boingo. There’s plenty of synths, light orchestration, squealing guitars, and highly augmented, blackened vocals that’ll pull you even further out past the breakers. Yet somehow, these zany Greeks pull it off. Whether you’re looking for crunchy thrash riffs (“Olethros,” “Children of Haze,”) frenzied, cacophonous noise (“Melancholy,” “White Forest Rain Lullabies”) or spacy synths (“Remains,” “Children of Haze”) Zakula delivers the goods both cohesively and effectively, something even well-seasoned musicians struggle to do. Unfortunately, in their zeal to cram more genres, instrumentation, and ideas into each song, Zakula has inadvertently delivered a record in dire need of some editing. On a six-song album, there are three tracks that clock in at or over eight minutes, and each would have been leaner, meaner, and more impactful with just two to three minutes shaved off. This certainly isn’t a deal breaker, but it does stifle the momentum of an otherwise promising album. Still, I’d recommend White Forest Rain Lullabies, especially to all you little freaks out there. 3.0/5.0
Iceberg: While I tend to follow the Germanic school of thought that order and structure rule supreme, I have a soft spot for unpredictable, chaotic music. Dolph has zeroed in on this personal weakness, and continues to poke and prod me with insanity I can’t help but love. Zakula barely manages to control their chaos across an impressive forty minutes of music with White Forest Reign Lullabies, throwing so many genres against the wall that I’d waste word count listing them here. From the deliriously quick, heaving chromatic leads of “Όλεθρος” to the relentless, across-the-bar ostinati of “Remains,” Zakula sinks their hooks into the listener and refuses to let go. Mid-album heavyweight “Melancholy” is a twisting nine minutes that feels much shorter than that, and it’s middle section is straight from a Twilight Zone soundtrack, successfully blended with speed metal bookends. Every time I’ve come back to this record I’ve found a new corner to explore, a new chromatic tremolo, a new electronic underpinning. The title track and “Ton 618” don’t hit quite as hard as their album-mates, and there could be a case for some more editing, but the amount of fat amongst these tracks is pretty minimal. White Forest Reign Lullabies marks a triumph for the Athenians, and I can easily see it increasing in score as it continues to worm its way into my brainstem. An absolute must for fans of extreme music that blows right past anything resembling a boundary. 3.5/5.0
Alekhines Gun: If metal were a snack, White Forest Reign Lullabies would be the chunkiest of trail mix. Zakula assembles a brand of blackened thrash, piano, clean vocals, interludes, and electronica in an absurd, bizarrely effective middle finger to our stance at AMG Inc. that less is more. Do you love synth shreddage? Zakula pack in enough to make His Statue Falls blush and Fail Emotions suggest toning it down a bit. Do you love blackened thrash? White Forest Reign Lullabies pack in the spirit of Urn with pained vocals pulled straight from modern Asphyx, seeking to kick arse with beer and steel-toed boot. The sincerity behind the more metal riffs serves as a surprising counterpart to the instrumental excess on display here, keeping Zakula from being mistaken for a mere gimmick band. Look no further than the opening minute of “Melancholy” to realize this band is in no way here to mess around, even if it seems like they can’t commit to a style for long enough to do anything but. Some people will cry that this album lacks cohesion, identity, and focus, and those are people who don’t like fun. Your tolerance for this album will certainly depend on your joy for madcap zany ADHD (positive) song structures. But for those looking for a walk on the wild side, come enjoy some sweet Lullabies. Or as Zakula would ask, “How can less be more? That’s impossible!” 3.0/5.0
Thyme: Three years after their 2021 eponymous debut, Greek thrashers Zakula return with White Forest Reign Lullabies. From the first swift, surgically precise riff and chaotic keyboard run of opener, “Όλεθρος,” it’s clear Zakula is no straight-line descendant of the (some say tragically Overkill-less) Big Four — no sir. Zakula’s brand of blackened thrash has an everything-and-the-kitchen-sink quality to it that not only belies its genre tags but makes drawing valid comparisons difficult. If Mr. Bungle and Xoth paid Titan to Tachyons for a threesome, you’d at least be in the ballpark, as every second of this six-song, forty-minute tornado is engaging as fook. The songwriting, especially on the lengthier tracks (“Melancholy,” “Children of Haze”), showcases what Zakula does best. And that’s providing a wealth of melt-in-your-mouth goodness chock full of visceral riffs, Xothically spacy synths, and Schuldiner by way of Van Drunen1 vocals that imbue a particular deathly black menace to each of these thrashtastically jazzy (thrazzy? thrazztastic?)2 compositions. Full of twists, turns, and surprises designed to keep the listener guessing but never letting them get lost in the woods, White Forest Reign Lullabies is an album I strongly suggest you check out. At this rate, Zakula won’t stay Rodeö bait for much longer. 3.5/5.0
#AngryMetalGuySUnsignedBandRodeo #AngryMetalGuySUnsignedBandRodeo2024 #Asphyx #BlackMetal #Coroner #Death #GreekMetal #IndependentRelease #MrBungle #OingoBoingo #Review #Reviews #SelfRelease #Stam1na #TechnicalThrashMetal #ThrashMetal #TitanToTachyons #Vektor #Voivod #WhiteForestReignLullabies #Xoth #Zakula
-
AMG’s Unsigned Band Rodeö: Zakula – White Forest Reign Lullabies
By Dolphin Whisperer
“AMG’s Unsigned Band Rodeö” is a time-honored tradition to showcase the most underground of the underground—the unsigned and unpromoted. This collective review treatment continues to exist to unite our writers in boot or bolster of the bands who remind us that, for better or worse, the metal underground exists as an important part of the global metal scene. The Rodeö rides on.”
It takes a bit of effort to assemble the fickle tastes of the Rodeö gang, as distinguished and willing as they may be. Now, I won’t say that the lure of a unsigned gem requires trickery, but with a band like Zakula, explaining their style straight doesn’t stand as an option. These Athenian speed demons slap the simplest of tags across their Bandcamp page: death metal, black metal, thrash metal. And frustratingly, that’s the truth too! But what does it mean? Chunky riffs that dance about flailing tempos with a dramatic vocal character? Kind of. How about sneaky lead melodies that tumble against bright synth crashes into whiplash thrash and manic shrieks? White Forest Reign Lullabies doesn’t make explanation easy, but Zakula does play metal with lots of twists. This is the kind of challenge for which the Rodeö crew—now with the recently demoted n00b Tyme in the mix—lives! And, also proof that they too are capable of enjoyment. – Dolphin Whisperer
Zakula // White Forest Reign Lullabies [October 25th, 2024]
GardensTale: Zakula was initially sold to me as weirdo black metal. Foul! This is clearly weirdo tech thrash, a niche I seldom dabble in. As such, I find myself more unmoored than usual, with my frame of reference limited to Stam1na and my meager exposure to Vektor, whose frontman I disliked for his vocals and dislike more for his abuse. But while a few comparisons can be drawn from Zakula to either, this is a different beast altogether. White Forest Reign Lullabies is fast as hell, frequently discordant, and seems designed to keep you off-balance. The guitars throw me off the least, somehow, though their rapid tremolos and triplets and trips up and down the scales require close attention. More unsettling are the hoarse histrionics that make up the vocals, which sound ragged and desperate and are played backward on at least one occasion, and the erratic drums that go from maddeningly consistent to plain mad. But it’s the electronics that send me over the edge. The dissonant slides and squeaks and blips have a panic-inducing effect that reminds me of VAK at about nine times the speed. Somehow, though, the Greeks pull it all together with some excellent songwriting, mixing manic melodic riffs and staccato drums in opposition without letting it all descend into nonsensical noise. Some of the tracks do swerve a bit much from one extreme to another and lose the cohesion, but more often than not this one’s one heck of a ride, full of surprises, technical wizardry, and all the drugs that are not good for you. 3.5/5.0
Felagund: I enjoy the Rodeö feature much more when I have something positive to say about the album we’re reviewing. And truly, how could I hate on the off-kilter package that Zakula has delivered? White Forest Rain Lullabies is the band’s sophomore outing, and they’ve embraced the well-trod kitchen sink approach. Sure, Zakula might arrive on a wave of thrash, but stick around and you’ll be accosted by an undertow of industrial, prog, black metal, and noise. As you struggle against the deluge, you may hear dashes of Coroner, Voivod, and even Oingo Boingo. There’s plenty of synths, light orchestration, squealing guitars, and highly augmented, blackened vocals that’ll pull you even further out past the breakers. Yet somehow, these zany Greeks pull it off. Whether you’re looking for crunchy thrash riffs (“Olethros,” “Children of Haze,”) frenzied, cacophonous noise (“Melancholy,” “White Forest Rain Lullabies”) or spacy synths (“Remains,” “Children of Haze”) Zakula delivers the goods both cohesively and effectively, something even well-seasoned musicians struggle to do. Unfortunately, in their zeal to cram more genres, instrumentation, and ideas into each song, Zakula has inadvertently delivered a record in dire need of some editing. On a six-song album, there are three tracks that clock in at or over eight minutes, and each would have been leaner, meaner, and more impactful with just two to three minutes shaved off. This certainly isn’t a deal breaker, but it does stifle the momentum of an otherwise promising album. Still, I’d recommend White Forest Rain Lullabies, especially to all you little freaks out there. 3.0/5.0
Iceberg: While I tend to follow the Germanic school of thought that order and structure rule supreme, I have a soft spot for unpredictable, chaotic music. Dolph has zeroed in on this personal weakness, and continues to poke and prod me with insanity I can’t help but love. Zakula barely manages to control their chaos across an impressive forty minutes of music with White Forest Reign Lullabies, throwing so many genres against the wall that I’d waste word count listing them here. From the deliriously quick, heaving chromatic leads of “Όλεθρος” to the relentless, across-the-bar ostinati of “Remains,” Zakula sinks their hooks into the listener and refuses to let go. Mid-album heavyweight “Melancholy” is a twisting nine minutes that feels much shorter than that, and it’s middle section is straight from a Twilight Zone soundtrack, successfully blended with speed metal bookends. Every time I’ve come back to this record I’ve found a new corner to explore, a new chromatic tremolo, a new electronic underpinning. The title track and “Ton 618” don’t hit quite as hard as their album-mates, and there could be a case for some more editing, but the amount of fat amongst these tracks is pretty minimal. White Forest Reign Lullabies marks a triumph for the Athenians, and I can easily see it increasing in score as it continues to worm its way into my brainstem. An absolute must for fans of extreme music that blows right past anything resembling a boundary. 3.5/5.0
Alekhines Gun: If metal were a snack, White Forest Reign Lullabies would be the chunkiest of trail mix. Zakula assembles a brand of blackened thrash, piano, clean vocals, interludes, and electronica in an absurd, bizarrely effective middle finger to our stance at AMG Inc. that less is more. Do you love synth shreddage? Zakula pack in enough to make His Statue Falls blush and Fail Emotions suggest toning it down a bit. Do you love blackened thrash? White Forest Reign Lullabies pack in the spirit of Urn with pained vocals pulled straight from modern Asphyx, seeking to kick arse with beer and steel-toed boot. The sincerity behind the more metal riffs serves as a surprising counterpart to the instrumental excess on display here, keeping Zakula from being mistaken for a mere gimmick band. Look no further than the opening minute of “Melancholy” to realize this band is in no way here to mess around, even if it seems like they can’t commit to a style for long enough to do anything but. Some people will cry that this album lacks cohesion, identity, and focus, and those are people who don’t like fun. Your tolerance for this album will certainly depend on your joy for madcap zany ADHD (positive) song structures. But for those looking for a walk on the wild side, come enjoy some sweet Lullabies. Or as Zakula would ask, “How can less be more? That’s impossible!” 3.0/5.0
Thyme: Three years after their 2021 eponymous debut, Greek thrashers Zakula return with White Forest Reign Lullabies. From the first swift, surgically precise riff and chaotic keyboard run of opener, “Όλεθρος,” it’s clear Zakula is no straight-line descendant of the (some say tragically Overkill-less) Big Four — no sir. Zakula’s brand of blackened thrash has an everything-and-the-kitchen-sink quality to it that not only belies its genre tags but makes drawing valid comparisons difficult. If Mr. Bungle and Xoth paid Titan to Tachyons for a threesome, you’d at least be in the ballpark, as every second of this six-song, forty-minute tornado is engaging as fook. The songwriting, especially on the lengthier tracks (“Melancholy,” “Children of Haze”), showcases what Zakula does best. And that’s providing a wealth of melt-in-your-mouth goodness chock full of visceral riffs, Xothically spacy synths, and Schuldiner by way of Van Drunen1 vocals that imbue a particular deathly black menace to each of these thrashtastically jazzy (thrazzy? thrazztastic?)2 compositions. Full of twists, turns, and surprises designed to keep the listener guessing but never letting them get lost in the woods, White Forest Reign Lullabies is an album I strongly suggest you check out. At this rate, Zakula won’t stay Rodeö bait for much longer. 3.5/5.0
#AngryMetalGuySUnsignedBandRodeo #AngryMetalGuySUnsignedBandRodeo2024 #Asphyx #BlackMetal #Coroner #Death #GreekMetal #IndependentRelease #MrBungle #OingoBoingo #Review #Reviews #SelfRelease #Stam1na #TechnicalThrashMetal #ThrashMetal #TitanToTachyons #Vektor #Voivod #WhiteForestReignLullabies #Xoth #Zakula
-
Capilla Ardiente – Where Gods Live and Men Die Review
By Dolphin Whisperer
The only thing more metal than the glimmer of bloodied blade in the setting sun is the barbaric howl that reverberates afterward as a determination of victory. Early in heavy metal’s history, that kind of bravado embodied by the epic escapades of Iron Maiden, marching jams of Manilla Road, or the regressive rambunctiousness of Manowar separated that true spirit from burgeoning radio-friendly sounds in similarly incepted acts. In the modern day, the epic tag has carried on through the spirit of traditional heavy and doom-leaning acts—the Aceruses and Stygian Crowns of this world, among others. Capilla Ardiente too has carried the flag, with their 2019 opus The Siege harboring both the explosive nature required to wield steel and the patience to strike for killing impact. Less restrained in title, does Where Gods Live and Men Die possess the same battlefield tact?
If The Siege drew inspiration from a raid while the walls still stood in defense, Where Gods Live and Men Die finds itself amid the breeched fortifications. The Siege saw Felipe Plaza Kutzbach’s (Procession, Scald) barrel-chested, Bayley-intonated1 roars soar through the wade and gallop of Candlemassive riffs and aggressive Solitude Aeturnus charges against the heavy load of full gain bass thwonk—a tone far more common in stoner doom than in the moistened-loins epic world. Now, Where Gods sees an increased guide of wailing leads as histrionic intros and episodic transitions in its four episodic, long-form pieces. No matter the guitar tone, low and modern for rhythms or high and cutting for shredding hours, Claudio Botarro Neira’s monstrous four-string work never hides, finding its way to a tasteful clanging solo (“Not Here. Nowhere.,” “As I Lie on the Summit”) and dancing, progressive transition all the same.
For an act focused on building layers of harmony on mountains of riffs, Capilla Ardiente has chosen a robust and unsubtle production style for Where Gods Live and Men Die. From the opening notes a wall of distorted bass, modern-toned chords, and low-end harmonized riff lines ring in voluminous glory. Each line rings through with enough compression to allow clarity in assault, and maintains a pleasant warmth, particularly in ringing chord breakaways that segue various moments on this time-testing journey. Against Neira’s devouring bass presence, a gargantuan tone that in the wrong hands would be a recipe for bulldozed guitars, it’s no easy feat for riffs to maintain their own separate weight, and the amount of volume it takes to keep palm-muted touches crispy and trills defined can wear on the ears. But still, Capilla Ardiente plays around with enough higher frequency accents—Maiden worship roto tom fills, neoclassical melodic guitar quips—to keep the soundstage from collapsing in its own power.
Kutzbach’s well-framed vocal charisma remains equally important to the winding structure that defines Capilla Ardiente’s works. Many of his parts have a roundabout way of finding note resolution. The call-and-response vocal-guitar solo break in the midway point of “The Hands of Fate Around My Neck,” where many words fall just flat until descending into a double-tracked harmony or paired arpeggio, would be a hard sell if not for the backing triumph of the riff run that led up to it—and the blazing solo that follows it, for that matter. And Kutzbach himself holds the proper belief that a well-placed falsetto can raise the intensity level, with key breaks from his burly, tightroping baritone-shattering listening defenses as necessary. Truthfully, I’m not certain a more accurate voice2 could match the sword-clashing spirals that present in “Envenomed” or “As I Lie…” as the frenetic nature of the tempo accelerations and subsequent crawls spell for chaos not calculation. Just as in battle, it’s the last swing that matters, and Kutzbach knows this.
Through the various bouts I’ve had with Where Gods Live and Men Die, Capilla Ardiente continues to come out with sword raised high and head hanging low. Though their take on epic, progressive doom metal eschews the horrors of skirmish by focusing on the path necessary to rise above, its sullen dips into Peaceville aesthetics reminds us that the battlefield is not a jubilant place. Much like the music that Capilla Ardiente produces, navigating a dive into the fray requires careful attention to its twists. Where Gods Live and Men Die is a challenge, but not one without its spoils.
Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: High Roller Records3.
Websites: facebook.com/capillaardientedoom
Releases Worldwide: October 18th, 2024#2024 #35 #BlazeBayley #Candlemass #CapillaArdiente #ChileanMetal #DoomMetal #EpicDoomMetal #HighRollerRecords #IronMaiden #Oct24 #Procession #ProgressiveDoomMetal #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #Scald #SolitudeAeturnus #TheSiege #WhereGodsLiveAndMenDie
-
Capilla Ardiente – Where Gods Live and Men Die Review
By Dolphin Whisperer
The only thing more metal than the glimmer of bloodied blade in the setting sun is the barbaric howl that reverberates afterward as a determination of victory. Early in heavy metal’s history, that kind of bravado embodied by the epic escapades of Iron Maiden, marching jams of Manilla Road, or the regressive rambunctiousness of Manowar separated that true spirit from burgeoning radio-friendly sounds in similarly incepted acts. In the modern day, the epic tag has carried on through the spirit of traditional heavy and doom-leaning acts—the Aceruses and Stygian Crowns of this world, among others. Capilla Ardiente too has carried the flag, with their 2019 opus The Siege harboring both the explosive nature required to wield steel and the patience to strike for killing impact. Less restrained in title, does Where Gods Live and Men Die possess the same battlefield tact?
If The Siege drew inspiration from a raid while the walls still stood in defense, Where Gods Live and Men Die finds itself amid the breeched fortifications. The Siege saw Felipe Plaza Kutzbach’s (Procession, Scald) barrel-chested, Bayley-intonated1 roars soar through the wade and gallop of Candlemassive riffs and aggressive Solitude Aeturnus charges against the heavy load of full gain bass thwonk—a tone far more common in stoner doom than in the moistened-loins epic world. Now, Where Gods sees an increased guide of wailing leads as histrionic intros and episodic transitions in its four episodic, long-form pieces. No matter the guitar tone, low and modern for rhythms or high and cutting for shredding hours, Claudio Botarro Neira’s monstrous four-string work never hides, finding its way to a tasteful clanging solo (“Not Here. Nowhere.,” “As I Lie on the Summit”) and dancing, progressive transition all the same.
For an act focused on building layers of harmony on mountains of riffs, Capilla Ardiente has chosen a robust and unsubtle production style for Where Gods Live and Men Die. From the opening notes a wall of distorted bass, modern-toned chords, and low-end harmonized riff lines ring in voluminous glory. Each line rings through with enough compression to allow clarity in assault, and maintains a pleasant warmth, particularly in ringing chord breakaways that segue various moments on this time-testing journey. Against Neira’s devouring bass presence, a gargantuan tone that in the wrong hands would be a recipe for bulldozed guitars, it’s no easy feat for riffs to maintain their own separate weight, and the amount of volume it takes to keep palm-muted touches crispy and trills defined can wear on the ears. But still, Capilla Ardiente plays around with enough higher frequency accents—Maiden worship roto tom fills, neoclassical melodic guitar quips—to keep the soundstage from collapsing in its own power.
Kutzbach’s well-framed vocal charisma remains equally important to the winding structure that defines Capilla Ardiente’s works. Many of his parts have a roundabout way of finding note resolution. The call-and-response vocal-guitar solo break in the midway point of “The Hands of Fate Around My Neck,” where many words fall just flat until descending into a double-tracked harmony or paired arpeggio, would be a hard sell if not for the backing triumph of the riff run that led up to it—and the blazing solo that follows it, for that matter. And Kutzbach himself holds the proper belief that a well-placed falsetto can raise the intensity level, with key breaks from his burly, tightroping baritone-shattering listening defenses as necessary. Truthfully, I’m not certain a more accurate voice2 could match the sword-clashing spirals that present in “Envenomed” or “As I Lie…” as the frenetic nature of the tempo accelerations and subsequent crawls spell for chaos not calculation. Just as in battle, it’s the last swing that matters, and Kutzbach knows this.
Through the various bouts I’ve had with Where Gods Live and Men Die, Capilla Ardiente continues to come out with sword raised high and head hanging low. Though their take on epic, progressive doom metal eschews the horrors of skirmish by focusing on the path necessary to rise above, its sullen dips into Peaceville aesthetics reminds us that the battlefield is not a jubilant place. Much like the music that Capilla Ardiente produces, navigating a dive into the fray requires careful attention to its twists. Where Gods Live and Men Die is a challenge, but not one without its spoils.
Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: High Roller Records3.
Websites: facebook.com/capillaardientedoom
Releases Worldwide: October 18th, 2024#2024 #35 #BlazeBayley #Candlemass #CapillaArdiente #ChileanMetal #DoomMetal #EpicDoomMetal #HighRollerRecords #IronMaiden #Oct24 #Procession #ProgressiveDoomMetal #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #Scald #SolitudeAeturnus #TheSiege #WhereGodsLiveAndMenDie
-
Capilla Ardiente – Where Gods Live and Men Die Review
By Dolphin Whisperer
The only thing more metal than the glimmer of bloodied blade in the setting sun is the barbaric howl that reverberates afterward as a determination of victory. Early in heavy metal’s history, that kind of bravado embodied by the epic escapades of Iron Maiden, marching jams of Manilla Road, or the regressive rambunctiousness of Manowar separated that true spirit from burgeoning radio-friendly sounds in similarly incepted acts. In the modern day, the epic tag has carried on through the spirit of traditional heavy and doom-leaning acts—the Aceruses and Stygian Crowns of this world, among others. Capilla Ardiente too has carried the flag, with their 2019 opus The Siege harboring both the explosive nature required to wield steel and the patience to strike for killing impact. Less restrained in title, does Where Gods Live and Men Die possess the same battlefield tact?
If The Siege drew inspiration from a raid while the walls still stood in defense, Where Gods Live and Men Die finds itself amid the breeched fortifications. The Siege saw Felipe Plaza Kutzbach’s (Procession, Scald) barrel-chested, Bayley-intonated1 roars soar through the wade and gallop of Candlemassive riffs and aggressive Solitude Aeturnus charges against the heavy load of full gain bass thwonk—a tone far more common in stoner doom than in the moistened-loins epic world. Now, Where Gods sees an increased guide of wailing leads as histrionic intros and episodic transitions in its four episodic, long-form pieces. No matter the guitar tone, low and modern for rhythms or high and cutting for shredding hours, Claudio Botarro Neira’s monstrous four-string work never hides, finding its way to a tasteful clanging solo (“Not Here. Nowhere.,” “As I Lie on the Summit”) and dancing, progressive transition all the same.
For an act focused on building layers of harmony on mountains of riffs, Capilla Ardiente has chosen a robust and unsubtle production style for Where Gods Live and Men Die. From the opening notes a wall of distorted bass, modern-toned chords, and low-end harmonized riff lines ring in voluminous glory. Each line rings through with enough compression to allow clarity in assault, and maintains a pleasant warmth, particularly in ringing chord breakaways that segue various moments on this time-testing journey. Against Neira’s devouring bass presence, a gargantuan tone that in the wrong hands would be a recipe for bulldozed guitars, it’s no easy feat for riffs to maintain their own separate weight, and the amount of volume it takes to keep palm-muted touches crispy and trills defined can wear on the ears. But still, Capilla Ardiente plays around with enough higher frequency accents—Maiden worship roto tom fills, neoclassical melodic guitar quips—to keep the soundstage from collapsing in its own power.
Kutzbach’s well-framed vocal charisma remains equally important to the winding structure that defines Capilla Ardiente’s works. Many of his parts have a roundabout way of finding note resolution. The call-and-response vocal-guitar solo break in the midway point of “The Hands of Fate Around My Neck,” where many words fall just flat until descending into a double-tracked harmony or paired arpeggio, would be a hard sell if not for the backing triumph of the riff run that led up to it—and the blazing solo that follows it, for that matter. And Kutzbach himself holds the proper belief that a well-placed falsetto can raise the intensity level, with key breaks from his burly, tightroping baritone-shattering listening defenses as necessary. Truthfully, I’m not certain a more accurate voice2 could match the sword-clashing spirals that present in “Envenomed” or “As I Lie…” as the frenetic nature of the tempo accelerations and subsequent crawls spell for chaos not calculation. Just as in battle, it’s the last swing that matters, and Kutzbach knows this.
Through the various bouts I’ve had with Where Gods Live and Men Die, Capilla Ardiente continues to come out with sword raised high and head hanging low. Though their take on epic, progressive doom metal eschews the horrors of skirmish by focusing on the path necessary to rise above, its sullen dips into Peaceville aesthetics reminds us that the battlefield is not a jubilant place. Much like the music that Capilla Ardiente produces, navigating a dive into the fray requires careful attention to its twists. Where Gods Live and Men Die is a challenge, but not one without its spoils.
Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: High Roller Records3.
Websites: facebook.com/capillaardientedoom
Releases Worldwide: October 18th, 2024#2024 #35 #BlazeBayley #Candlemass #CapillaArdiente #ChileanMetal #DoomMetal #EpicDoomMetal #HighRollerRecords #IronMaiden #Oct24 #Procession #ProgressiveDoomMetal #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #Scald #SolitudeAeturnus #TheSiege #WhereGodsLiveAndMenDie
-
Dreamless Veil – Every Limb of the Flood Review
By Dolphin Whisperer
The supergroups of today’s widespread niche metal scenes look very different than the power collaborations that came before them. Once a result of prominent groups with big personalities that needed side expressions—like the punk-born MegaDave offshoot of MD.45 or Cavelera industrial conspiracy of Nailbomb—these kinds of acts came about less of intense creative need and more of freedom of available time and ideas. Really, that’s a long way of saying that the primary driving force behind these typically well-enough received by-products is not the same hunger that earned the primary incarnation its pedestal in the first place. So what then when the underground begins spawning permutations of its own outré offerings? Dan Gargiulo, once of a celebrated period for Revocation and a leading force for Artificial Brain, finds himself at the nexus of one such budding—Dreamless Veil. Assembled with now bandmate Mike Paparo (Inter Arma, Artificial Brain) and Psycroptic kitsmasher Dave Haley, can these friends, all top-tier performers, implement the supergroup form honestly?
Born not just of friendship and the urge to unleash artistic energy, both Gargiulo and Paparo suffered isolation together as roommates in the early days of pandemic reculsion, which thrust Dreamless Veil and Every Limb of the Flood into existence. Ever the busybody, Gargiulo stood at the ready with a bevy of riff structures in his trademarked expressive and sullen style. Much of what presents throughout Every Limb wouldn’t have sounded out of place as a companion to the heavily blackened sway of Artificial Brain’s 2017 release Infrared Horizon with “Dim Golden Rave” and “Cyanide Mine” falling right into that specific lane of space-frosted drama. And alongside dramatic and precise tremolo runs that clash about with a classic energy that recalls the progressive tendencies of an act like Diabolical Masquerade, Paparo’s kvlt-reverbed wail and Haley’s kick and blast beatings drill an equally bleeding and machine-like fervor into Every Limb’s most extreme passages (“Saturnism,” “Every Limb of the Flood,” “Dreamless”).
Despite the unquestionable proficiency of Dreamless Veil’s execution, it’s difficult to pin its highlights against the dense and textural choices that fill every second of space. Structurally, each song flows through verses, choruses, wonky modulations of already triumphant themes, and a recapitulation of each that almost always finds resolution in some form of fadeout, which renders the end of each statement a wash. As the lyricist and main mind for the actual story of Every Limb, a concept that follows a central character throughout its personal decay of mind and spirit, Paparo comes closest to filling the highlight reel with tortured wails and pathos-drenched cries (“Saturnism,” “Every Limb…”) that bely his door-smashing power that propels riff-weighted intros and escalations (“The Stirring of Flies,” “Dreamless”). But the backdrop as a continued stream of blistering, histrionic melodies and terraced counterpoints does little to differentiate the platform on which Paparo spills his devouring tale.
Yet that same quality which threatens to blend Dreamless Veil’s ideas into an intangible black mass also provides Every Limb with a compelling, tonally interesting environment. Gargiulo has shown his guitar prowess plenty in past projects, and all the same his subtle shifts in attack through recurring melodies—dreamy reverb excursions (“Dim Golden Rave,” “A Generation of Eyes”), tempo-jostled swinging time signatures (“The Stirring…,” “Cyanide Mine”), and a persistent dissonant lurch. And though packing these smart techniques in layers and layers of guitar, nary a solo nor flamboyant fill exists at any point of Every Limb. A carefully carved tone—a beauty on any listening device I have—and a cinematic drama carries the weight of each composition’s interest. None of this makes specific moments any easier to identify, but each adds up to Every Limb being a sonically pleasing experience worth returning to for ear candy alone.
Whether Dreamless Veil will be a one-off spurt of ideas tested, realized, and fulfilled matters little in the face of its simple success. As a concept album, its narrative isn’t wholly clear, but the forlorn spectacle that accompanies its reeling performances ensures that one at least feels the goal of dissolution for which it aims. Though Every Limb of the Flood fits neatly into a black metal box—almost too clean and curated in total package—its aspirations are more than kvltish khaos and confessional depressive monologue. And while Every Limb may not be the pinnacle of what a band that aims this high could offer in the world of storyboard sonic excess, its snappy and satisfying run remains difficult to disregard.
Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Relapse Records | Bandcamp
Websites: dreamlessveil.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/dreamlessveil
Releases Worldwide: September 20th, 2024#2024 #30 #ArtificialBrain #BlackMetal #DiabolicalMasquerade #DreamlessVeil #EveryLimbOfTheFlood #InfraredHorizon #InternationalMetal #MelodicBlackMetal #ProgressiveBlackMetal #RelapseRecords #Review #Reviews #Sep24
-
Dreamless Veil – Every Limb of the Flood Review
By Dolphin Whisperer
The supergroups of today’s widespread niche metal scenes look very different than the power collaborations that came before them. Once a result of prominent groups with big personalities that needed side expressions—like the punk-born MegaDave offshoot of MD.45 or Cavelera industrial conspiracy of Nailbomb—these kinds of acts came about less of intense creative need and more of freedom of available time and ideas. Really, that’s a long way of saying that the primary driving force behind these typically well-enough received by-products is not the same hunger that earned the primary incarnation its pedestal in the first place. So what then when the underground begins spawning permutations of its own outré offerings? Dan Gargiulo, once of a celebrated period for Revocation and a leading force for Artificial Brain, finds himself at the nexus of one such budding—Dreamless Veil. Assembled with now bandmate Mike Paparo (Inter Arma, Artificial Brain) and Psycroptic kitsmasher Dave Haley, can these friends, all top-tier performers, implement the supergroup form honestly?
Born not just of friendship and the urge to unleash artistic energy, both Gargiulo and Paparo suffered isolation together as roommates in the early days of pandemic reculsion, which thrust Dreamless Veil and Every Limb of the Flood into existence. Ever the busybody, Gargiulo stood at the ready with a bevy of riff structures in his trademarked expressive and sullen style. Much of what presents throughout Every Limb wouldn’t have sounded out of place as a companion to the heavily blackened sway of Artificial Brain’s 2017 release Infrared Horizon with “Dim Golden Rave” and “Cyanide Mine” falling right into that specific lane of space-frosted drama. And alongside dramatic and precise tremolo runs that clash about with a classic energy that recalls the progressive tendencies of an act like Diabolical Masquerade, Paparo’s kvlt-reverbed wail and Haley’s kick and blast beatings drill an equally bleeding and machine-like fervor into Every Limb’s most extreme passages (“Saturnism,” “Every Limb of the Flood,” “Dreamless”).
Despite the unquestionable proficiency of Dreamless Veil’s execution, it’s difficult to pin its highlights against the dense and textural choices that fill every second of space. Structurally, each song flows through verses, choruses, wonky modulations of already triumphant themes, and a recapitulation of each that almost always finds resolution in some form of fadeout, which renders the end of each statement a wash. As the lyricist and main mind for the actual story of Every Limb, a concept that follows a central character throughout its personal decay of mind and spirit, Paparo comes closest to filling the highlight reel with tortured wails and pathos-drenched cries (“Saturnism,” “Every Limb…”) that bely his door-smashing power that propels riff-weighted intros and escalations (“The Stirring of Flies,” “Dreamless”). But the backdrop as a continued stream of blistering, histrionic melodies and terraced counterpoints does little to differentiate the platform on which Paparo spills his devouring tale.
Yet that same quality which threatens to blend Dreamless Veil’s ideas into an intangible black mass also provides Every Limb with a compelling, tonally interesting environment. Gargiulo has shown his guitar prowess plenty in past projects, and all the same his subtle shifts in attack through recurring melodies—dreamy reverb excursions (“Dim Golden Rave,” “A Generation of Eyes”), tempo-jostled swinging time signatures (“The Stirring…,” “Cyanide Mine”), and a persistent dissonant lurch. And though packing these smart techniques in layers and layers of guitar, nary a solo nor flamboyant fill exists at any point of Every Limb. A carefully carved tone—a beauty on any listening device I have—and a cinematic drama carries the weight of each composition’s interest. None of this makes specific moments any easier to identify, but each adds up to Every Limb being a sonically pleasing experience worth returning to for ear candy alone.
Whether Dreamless Veil will be a one-off spurt of ideas tested, realized, and fulfilled matters little in the face of its simple success. As a concept album, its narrative isn’t wholly clear, but the forlorn spectacle that accompanies its reeling performances ensures that one at least feels the goal of dissolution for which it aims. Though Every Limb of the Flood fits neatly into a black metal box—almost too clean and curated in total package—its aspirations are more than kvltish khaos and confessional depressive monologue. And while Every Limb may not be the pinnacle of what a band that aims this high could offer in the world of storyboard sonic excess, its snappy and satisfying run remains difficult to disregard.
Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Relapse Records | Bandcamp
Websites: dreamlessveil.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/dreamlessveil
Releases Worldwide: September 20th, 2024#2024 #30 #ArtificialBrain #BlackMetal #DiabolicalMasquerade #DreamlessVeil #EveryLimbOfTheFlood #InfraredHorizon #InternationalMetal #MelodicBlackMetal #ProgressiveBlackMetal #RelapseRecords #Review #Reviews #Sep24
-
Dreamless Veil – Every Limb of the Flood Review
By Dolphin Whisperer
The supergroups of today’s widespread niche metal scenes look very different than the power collaborations that came before them. Once a result of prominent groups with big personalities that needed side expressions—like the punk-born MegaDave offshoot of MD.45 or Cavelera industrial conspiracy of Nailbomb—these kinds of acts came about less of intense creative need and more of freedom of available time and ideas. Really, that’s a long way of saying that the primary driving force behind these typically well-enough received by-products is not the same hunger that earned the primary incarnation its pedestal in the first place. So what then when the underground begins spawning permutations of its own outré offerings? Dan Gargiulo, once of a celebrated period for Revocation and a leading force for Artificial Brain, finds himself at the nexus of one such budding—Dreamless Veil. Assembled with now bandmate Mike Paparo (Inter Arma, Artificial Brain) and Psycroptic kitsmasher Dave Haley, can these friends, all top-tier performers, implement the supergroup form honestly?
Born not just of friendship and the urge to unleash artistic energy, both Gargiulo and Paparo suffered isolation together as roommates in the early days of pandemic reculsion, which thrust Dreamless Veil and Every Limb of the Flood into existence. Ever the busybody, Gargiulo stood at the ready with a bevy of riff structures in his trademarked expressive and sullen style. Much of what presents throughout Every Limb wouldn’t have sounded out of place as a companion to the heavily blackened sway of Artificial Brain’s 2017 release Infrared Horizon with “Dim Golden Rave” and “Cyanide Mine” falling right into that specific lane of space-frosted drama. And alongside dramatic and precise tremolo runs that clash about with a classic energy that recalls the progressive tendencies of an act like Diabolical Masquerade, Paparo’s kvlt-reverbed wail and Haley’s kick and blast beatings drill an equally bleeding and machine-like fervor into Every Limb’s most extreme passages (“Saturnism,” “Every Limb of the Flood,” “Dreamless”).
Despite the unquestionable proficiency of Dreamless Veil’s execution, it’s difficult to pin its highlights against the dense and textural choices that fill every second of space. Structurally, each song flows through verses, choruses, wonky modulations of already triumphant themes, and a recapitulation of each that almost always finds resolution in some form of fadeout, which renders the end of each statement a wash. As the lyricist and main mind for the actual story of Every Limb, a concept that follows a central character throughout its personal decay of mind and spirit, Paparo comes closest to filling the highlight reel with tortured wails and pathos-drenched cries (“Saturnism,” “Every Limb…”) that bely his door-smashing power that propels riff-weighted intros and escalations (“The Stirring of Flies,” “Dreamless”). But the backdrop as a continued stream of blistering, histrionic melodies and terraced counterpoints does little to differentiate the platform on which Paparo spills his devouring tale.
Yet that same quality which threatens to blend Dreamless Veil’s ideas into an intangible black mass also provides Every Limb with a compelling, tonally interesting environment. Gargiulo has shown his guitar prowess plenty in past projects, and all the same his subtle shifts in attack through recurring melodies—dreamy reverb excursions (“Dim Golden Rave,” “A Generation of Eyes”), tempo-jostled swinging time signatures (“The Stirring…,” “Cyanide Mine”), and a persistent dissonant lurch. And though packing these smart techniques in layers and layers of guitar, nary a solo nor flamboyant fill exists at any point of Every Limb. A carefully carved tone—a beauty on any listening device I have—and a cinematic drama carries the weight of each composition’s interest. None of this makes specific moments any easier to identify, but each adds up to Every Limb being a sonically pleasing experience worth returning to for ear candy alone.
Whether Dreamless Veil will be a one-off spurt of ideas tested, realized, and fulfilled matters little in the face of its simple success. As a concept album, its narrative isn’t wholly clear, but the forlorn spectacle that accompanies its reeling performances ensures that one at least feels the goal of dissolution for which it aims. Though Every Limb of the Flood fits neatly into a black metal box—almost too clean and curated in total package—its aspirations are more than kvltish khaos and confessional depressive monologue. And while Every Limb may not be the pinnacle of what a band that aims this high could offer in the world of storyboard sonic excess, its snappy and satisfying run remains difficult to disregard.
Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Relapse Records | Bandcamp
Websites: dreamlessveil.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/dreamlessveil
Releases Worldwide: September 20th, 2024#2024 #30 #ArtificialBrain #BlackMetal #DiabolicalMasquerade #DreamlessVeil #EveryLimbOfTheFlood #InfraredHorizon #InternationalMetal #MelodicBlackMetal #ProgressiveBlackMetal #RelapseRecords #Review #Reviews #Sep24
-
Black Sites – The Promised Land? Review
By Dolphin Whisperer
Though not a household name, Mark Sugar and his projects Trials1 and Black Sites hold a special seat at casa AMG and Dolph alike—underground gems that would not have had the same presence without the right ears and voice. Over the past seven years, Black Sites has been the main vehicle for Sugar’s vision, an amalgamation of loved sounds that maintains a niche curb appeal despite its familiar face. Whether by the maligned chug of 90s groove thrash, the 80s snap of stadium torchers, or the melodic wail of distant radio memory that you can’t quite place, Black Sites has successively reinvigorated well-traveled musical routes. Yet, Sugar would never want to tread the same path twice. And though The Promised Land? wears a cover similar to its predecessor, Untrue, its verdant aesthetic paints a world in healing rather than in dread—in evolution?
Not progressive in the virtuosic showboat sense, The Promised Land? earns its artistic merit through its curated layers which stack influences on influences to reconstruct from the past a sound all its own—Black Sites ever the difficulty to pin to one genre. Leaning on the heavy metal riffcraft of legends like early Queensrÿche and Dio, Black Sites rips into easy gallops with fiery intros and breaks (“Dread Tomorrow,” “Many Turn to None”). And when in the atmosphere of slow builds and pedal textures, Black Sites finds chorus-shimmering contrasts (“Gideon”) and melodic breakaways from soft-toned transitions (“Promised Land”) in the same way you might catch in a modern Fates Warning album. All the while, though, Sugar finds a way back to the sounds of thick, thrashy licks through a calculated, lower-tuned harmony. As much 90s Testament in weight as they are King‘s X in their open, ringing connection (“Descent,” “Chasing Eternity”)—consequently also sounding the most like Trials riffs except punctuated by anthemic choruses and Rush-y shuffles instead of snarled disgust.
Those same sing-a-long shouts and bellows pose both Black Sites’ biggest hooks and greatest challenges. Not resembling a histrionic powerhouse like Geoff Tate (Operation: Mindcrime, ex-Queensrÿche), as one might assume a vocalist would in throwback land, Sugar hovers in the realm of a tactical voice like Denis “Snake” Bélanger (Voivod) at his most melodic,2 with enough power—and layering—to find a balance between a chesty projection and nasally cut on the most aggressive tracks (“Dread Tomorrow,” “World on Fire,” “Many Turn to None”). Wielding a dramatic, but not cheesy, vibrato, Sugar can also find a gripping sense of pathos as the tempo crawls. But on the early pseudo-ballad “Gideon,” mournful and striking, he wears the role a touch too long before finding a chanting bridge to escalate the narrative. And while Sugar maintains an admirable diversity throughout the eleven-minute epic “Promised Land,” during its accelerations, his voice falls to the very limits of his clean abilities—mostly charming and effective, but also in need of a break-in period.
However, at The Promised Land’s front and center sits Sugar’s mighty strings, and new drummer Brandon White’s frenetic kitwork, elements that carry enough weight to smooth over many of the album’s bumps. Black Sites presents an experience stuffed to the brim with riffs,3 but a testament to good ol’ fashioned songwriting, each riff has a sneaky and smooth transition to follow. Finding a comfortable snare strut between shifting guitar tempos (“Descent”) and tom-pounding march about which delicate melodies dance (“Gideon,” “Promised Land”), White acts as metronomic glue for Sugar’s every while, making it hard to break away from any given moment. And likewise, well before any riff feels to have expired its play, Sugar will flurry a lead, a ringing chord, or simply a complementary progression to keep every song on a healthy stumble.
Never dull and only momentarily questionable, The Promised Land? begs repetition and gives plenty in return. Though the whole of Black Sites’ latest offering may not tickle my deepest listening fantasies—an unquestionable need for music that reaches so deftly into the past—it remains a valuable progression in the Black Sites discography for the chances it takes. Always a gifted songwriter, Sugar continues to settle into an emotional layer in this lane that’s as accessible as its musical backbone and has come a long way over Black Sites’ iterative run. And for those who already see it the Sugar way? Greatness is well within grasp.
Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: blacksites.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/blacksites
Releases Worldwide: September 6th, 2024#2024 #35 #AmericanMetal #BlackSites #Dio #FatesWarning #HeavyMetal #IndependentRelease #KingsX #ProgressiveMetal #Queensryche #Review #Reviews #Rush #SelfRelease #Sep24 #Testament #ThePromisedLand_ #Trials #Voivod
-
Black Sites – The Promised Land? Review
By Dolphin Whisperer
Though not a household name, Mark Sugar and his projects Trials1 and Black Sites hold a special seat at casa AMG and Dolph alike—underground gems that would not have had the same presence without the right ears and voice. Over the past seven years, Black Sites has been the main vehicle for Sugar’s vision, an amalgamation of loved sounds that maintains a niche curb appeal despite its familiar face. Whether by the maligned chug of 90s groove thrash, the 80s snap of stadium torchers, or the melodic wail of distant radio memory that you can’t quite place, Black Sites has successively reinvigorated well-traveled musical routes. Yet, Sugar would never want to tread the same path twice. And though The Promised Land? wears a cover similar to its predecessor, Untrue, its verdant aesthetic paints a world in healing rather than in dread—in evolution?
Not progressive in the virtuosic showboat sense, The Promised Land? earns its artistic merit through its curated layers which stack influences on influences to reconstruct from the past a sound all its own—Black Sites ever the difficulty to pin to one genre. Leaning on the heavy metal riffcraft of legends like early Queensrÿche and Dio, Black Sites rips into easy gallops with fiery intros and breaks (“Dread Tomorrow,” “Many Turn to None”). And when in the atmosphere of slow builds and pedal textures, Black Sites finds chorus-shimmering contrasts (“Gideon”) and melodic breakaways from soft-toned transitions (“Promised Land”) in the same way you might catch in a modern Fates Warning album. All the while, though, Sugar finds a way back to the sounds of thick, thrashy licks through a calculated, lower-tuned harmony. As much 90s Testament in weight as they are King‘s X in their open, ringing connection (“Descent,” “Chasing Eternity”)—consequently also sounding the most like Trials riffs except punctuated by anthemic choruses and Rush-y shuffles instead of snarled disgust.
Those same sing-a-long shouts and bellows pose both Black Sites’ biggest hooks and greatest challenges. Not resembling a histrionic powerhouse like Geoff Tate (Operation: Mindcrime, ex-Queensrÿche), as one might assume a vocalist would in throwback land, Sugar hovers in the realm of a tactical voice like Denis “Snake” Bélanger (Voivod) at his most melodic,2 with enough power—and layering—to find a balance between a chesty projection and nasally cut on the most aggressive tracks (“Dread Tomorrow,” “World on Fire,” “Many Turn to None”). Wielding a dramatic, but not cheesy, vibrato, Sugar can also find a gripping sense of pathos as the tempo crawls. But on the early pseudo-ballad “Gideon,” mournful and striking, he wears the role a touch too long before finding a chanting bridge to escalate the narrative. And while Sugar maintains an admirable diversity throughout the eleven-minute epic “Promised Land,” during its accelerations, his voice falls to the very limits of his clean abilities—mostly charming and effective, but also in need of a break-in period.
However, at The Promised Land’s front and center sits Sugar’s mighty strings, and new drummer Brandon White’s frenetic kitwork, elements that carry enough weight to smooth over many of the album’s bumps. Black Sites presents an experience stuffed to the brim with riffs,3 but a testament to good ol’ fashioned songwriting, each riff has a sneaky and smooth transition to follow. Finding a comfortable snare strut between shifting guitar tempos (“Descent”) and tom-pounding march about which delicate melodies dance (“Gideon,” “Promised Land”), White acts as metronomic glue for Sugar’s every while, making it hard to break away from any given moment. And likewise, well before any riff feels to have expired its play, Sugar will flurry a lead, a ringing chord, or simply a complementary progression to keep every song on a healthy stumble.
Never dull and only momentarily questionable, The Promised Land? begs repetition and gives plenty in return. Though the whole of Black Sites’ latest offering may not tickle my deepest listening fantasies—an unquestionable need for music that reaches so deftly into the past—it remains a valuable progression in the Black Sites discography for the chances it takes. Always a gifted songwriter, Sugar continues to settle into an emotional layer in this lane that’s as accessible as its musical backbone and has come a long way over Black Sites’ iterative run. And for those who already see it the Sugar way? Greatness is well within grasp.
Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: blacksites.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/blacksites
Releases Worldwide: September 6th, 2024#2024 #35 #AmericanMetal #BlackSites #Dio #FatesWarning #HeavyMetal #IndependentRelease #KingsX #ProgressiveMetal #Queensryche #Review #Reviews #Rush #SelfRelease #Sep24 #Testament #ThePromisedLand_ #Trials #Voivod
-
Inner Strength – Daydreaming in Moonlight Review
By Dolphin Whisperer
The face of progressive metal has warped and splintered and mutated since its origins in divergence from heavy metal. From the theatrical and rifftastical charm of Savatage to the pomp and groove of Psychotic Waltz to the emotional and shifting tug of Fates Warning, progressive music holds roots in complex narrative structures that range in tone from whimsical fantasy to deeply and painfully human. In the American arena, technicality flourished through Watchtower—and eventually Dream Theater—virtuosic elements, and intrinsic thrash pedigrees to give rise to a 90s and 00s movement that birthed bands like Zero Hour, Control Denied, and Nevermore, each ranging between these extremities of noodle-noting and tear-jerking. But before them all, Inner Strength stood at the cusp of these advents with their lone 1993 full-length Shallow Reflections making an underground splash,1 which contained all the aforementioned elements laced together with an of-the-time funk metal groove. And now, another thirty years later, that smorgasbord of influences has crested into this newest Daydreaming in Moonlight.
From Scott Oliva’s (The Nightmare Stage, ex-Wind Wraith) vocal rasp and strained harmonies to guitarist Joe Marselle’s slightly down-tuned and dry twang, every bit of Daydreaming sounds unearthed from a 1995 time capsule. With a focus on open-stringed chiming, melodic chord-driven passages (“Daydreaming in Moonlight,” “Dearly Departed”) find a hypnotic legato that recalls aggressive later-era Rush or King’s X works. Whereas bluesy, pull-off riff tension that explodes into snappy and slinky solo work pushes the Rainbow-on-thrash energy that you can hear in the still developing muscular sound of The Damnation Game-era Symphony X. And when it’s not Marselle’s winding fretwork leading the charge, drummer Joe Kirsch in his Zonderful (ex-Fates Warning, Warlord)2 and classy, hi-hat accented approach provides all the rhythmic shuffle necessary to power the progtrain. Forward motion defines Inner Strength’s approach.
But where Daydreaming really finds its secret, aged sauce is in the application of varied sonic hooks in each song. Early album cut “Face Another Hero,” and the later “Truth and Lies,” Inner Strength finds a switch-up to its groove in Voivodian chord stabs that set up a need to resolve with later soaring, melodic capriciousness. And late album romp “War Song” in contrast to its muscle-forward name marches in a constant stumble guided by a sliding nasal bass line that finds a steady thump only during the closing solo and reprise. In Daydreaming’s most modern move, Inner Strength ties up the curtains with the mammoth “The Strength Within – Part II” which pulses a few tones lower—never djent, rather Train of Thought-era Dream Theater—to tie off a journey started so long ago, an aggressive and hammer-headed in contrast to its origins.
To the ears of a prog-head reared in a post-Meshuggah world, though, Daydreaming’s exact studio playbook may not land as quickly as bass-loaded contemporary production does. Choosing to highlight instead the play and intricacy of a ghost note bolstered rhythm section, and a rise and fall guitar aesthetic, its intricacy resides mostly in higher frequencies. Mid-album anchor (and song o’ the year contender) “Dearly Departed” showcases Inner Strength’s mission best with its smoky, extended guitar intro that crashes against Olivia’s time-worn snarl and full riff contraction, only to find a histrionic charm again as choruses expand with chiming guitar resolutions and reaching vocal harmonies. Steeped in technicality without ever being overbearingly so (have fun counting “Compelled” or following the snare and cymbal dance in the closer), this choice to remain in Daydreaming’s chosen sound pocket keeps the listening experience focused while exposing its many layers.
Being the product of thirty years of planning, living, loving, listening, and losing, Daydreaming in Moonlight could be a product of these name-drops here or none of them at all—a missing link in the prog annals that never was. Inner Strength in 2024 is just as much a reimagining of their own sound as they are a refinement and iteration of learned and borrowed tricks.3 With careful devotion to mastering their works for studio bolstering—multi-tracked guitar and vocal pieces that sum to an astounding whole—Daydreaming in Moonlight soars as the opus the band always knew they could create. Any lover of idiosyncratic and fully realized progressive missions, should take notice, as Inner Strength does not have wash away again in the footnotes of emergent sounds.
Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Divebomb Records | Tribunal Records4
Website: facebook.com/innerstrengthny
Releases Worldwide: July 19th, 2024#2024 #40 #AmericanMetal #ControlDenied #DaydreamingInMoonlight #DivebombRecords #DreamTheater #FatesWarning #InnerStrength #Jul24 #KingsX #LongIsland #Nevermore #ProgPower #ProgressiveMetal #ProgressiveThrashMetal #PsychoticWaltz #Review #Reviews #Rush #Savatage #SunriseDreamer #SymphonyX #TribunalRecords #Voivod #Warlord #Watchtower #ZeroHour
-
Inner Strength – Daydreaming in Moonlight Review
By Dolphin Whisperer
The face of progressive metal has warped and splintered and mutated since its origins in divergence from heavy metal. From the theatrical and rifftastical charm of Savatage to the pomp and groove of Psychotic Waltz to the emotional and shifting tug of Fates Warning, progressive music holds roots in complex narrative structures that range in tone from whimsical fantasy to deeply and painfully human. In the American arena, technicality flourished through Watchtower—and eventually Dream Theater—virtuosic elements, and intrinsic thrash pedigrees to give rise to a 90s and 00s movement that birthed bands like Zero Hour, Control Denied, and Nevermore, each ranging between these extremities of noodle-noting and tear-jerking. But before them all, Inner Strength stood at the cusp of these advents with their lone 1993 full-length Shallow Reflections making an underground splash,1 which contained all the aforementioned elements laced together with an of-the-time funk metal groove. And now, another thirty years later, that smorgasbord of influences has crested into this newest Daydreaming in Moonlight.
From Scott Oliva’s (The Nightmare Stage, ex-Wind Wraith) vocal rasp and strained harmonies to guitarist Joe Marselle’s slightly down-tuned and dry twang, every bit of Daydreaming sounds unearthed from a 1995 time capsule. With a focus on open-stringed chiming, melodic chord-driven passages (“Daydreaming in Moonlight,” “Dearly Departed”) find a hypnotic legato that recalls aggressive later-era Rush or King’s X works. Whereas bluesy, pull-off riff tension that explodes into snappy and slinky solo work pushes the Rainbow-on-thrash energy that you can hear in the still developing muscular sound of The Damnation Game-era Symphony X. And when it’s not Marselle’s winding fretwork leading the charge, drummer Joe Kirsch in his Zonderful (ex-Fates Warning, Warlord)2 and classy, hi-hat accented approach provides all the rhythmic shuffle necessary to power the progtrain. Forward motion defines Inner Strength’s approach.
But where Daydreaming really finds its secret, aged sauce is in the application of varied sonic hooks in each song. Early album cut “Face Another Hero,” and the later “Truth and Lies,” Inner Strength finds a switch-up to its groove in Voivodian chord stabs that set up a need to resolve with later soaring, melodic capriciousness. And late album romp “War Song” in contrast to its muscle-forward name marches in a constant stumble guided by a sliding nasal bass line that finds a steady thump only during the closing solo and reprise. In Daydreaming’s most modern move, Inner Strength ties up the curtains with the mammoth “The Strength Within – Part II” which pulses a few tones lower—never djent, rather Train of Thought-era Dream Theater—to tie off a journey started so long ago, an aggressive and hammer-headed in contrast to its origins.
To the ears of a prog-head reared in a post-Meshuggah world, though, Daydreaming’s exact studio playbook may not land as quickly as bass-loaded contemporary production does. Choosing to highlight instead the play and intricacy of a ghost note bolstered rhythm section, and a rise and fall guitar aesthetic, its intricacy resides mostly in higher frequencies. Mid-album anchor (and song o’ the year contender) “Dearly Departed” showcases Inner Strength’s mission best with its smoky, extended guitar intro that crashes against Olivia’s time-worn snarl and full riff contraction, only to find a histrionic charm again as choruses expand with chiming guitar resolutions and reaching vocal harmonies. Steeped in technicality without ever being overbearingly so (have fun counting “Compelled” or following the snare and cymbal dance in the closer), this choice to remain in Daydreaming’s chosen sound pocket keeps the listening experience focused while exposing its many layers.
Being the product of thirty years of planning, living, loving, listening, and losing, Daydreaming in Moonlight could be a product of these name-drops here or none of them at all—a missing link in the prog annals that never was. Inner Strength in 2024 is just as much a reimagining of their own sound as they are a refinement and iteration of learned and borrowed tricks.3 With careful devotion to mastering their works for studio bolstering—multi-tracked guitar and vocal pieces that sum to an astounding whole—Daydreaming in Moonlight soars as the opus the band always knew they could create. Any lover of idiosyncratic and fully realized progressive missions, should take notice, as Inner Strength does not have wash away again in the footnotes of emergent sounds.
Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Divebomb Records | Tribunal Records4
Website: facebook.com/innerstrengthny
Releases Worldwide: July 19th, 2024#2024 #40 #AmericanMetal #ControlDenied #DaydreamingInMoonlight #DivebombRecords #DreamTheater #FatesWarning #InnerStrength #Jul24 #KingsX #LongIsland #Nevermore #ProgPower #ProgressiveMetal #ProgressiveThrashMetal #PsychoticWaltz #Review #Reviews #Rush #Savatage #SunriseDreamer #SymphonyX #TribunalRecords #Voivod #Warlord #Watchtower #ZeroHour
-
Retropost: Politicians Aren't The Characters They Play On TV
https://shkspr.mobi/blog/2024/08/retropost-politicians-arent-the-characters-they-play-on-tv/This is a retropost. Mostly written in August 2020 but published long after I left the Civil Service.
It is, although I don't quite realise it, the depths of the pandemic. Everyone is relegated to working from home. Thousands of Civil Servants trying to keep things running from their kitchen tables, on dodgy WiFi, with crying children in the background.
Things are happening quickly. Much more quickly than ever before. Perhaps that's a good thing, but it doesn't leave much time for preparation. I know it is terribly clichéd of me to think I'm in an episode of The West Wing, but this scene keeps running through my head:
https://shkspr.mobi/blog/wp-content/uploads/2024/07/West-Wing-Briefing.mp4Today I have meeting with one the Internet's "Main Characters". You know, that politician. The one you (and certainly I) have send snarky tweets about - the duplicitous lickspittle. Every time I see them on TV I physically cringe. How can someone like that be part and parcel of the democratic process? Ugh!
The Zoom call flickers to life. A couple of dozen people start appearing like the world's dullest advent calendar. The Minister is, of course, late. The twat. We make small talk and eventually their grinning mug graces us with their presence.
I've seen this wazzock lose their rag on Question Time - there's no way they can manage a meeting with this many people.
But… I'm wrong. I'm very wrong. They are collegiate and welcoming. They acknowledge the strain we're all under and give us a reassuring - and human - thanks for our hard work. They have complete command of the room. They know who to call on to ask a question. Their follow ups are friendly and incisive - not flippant and ignorant.
They're as good as any CEO I've worked with.
And then they turn to me.
My job is simple. They have requested something from our department. It is my job to say "no".
I'm nervous. Lockdown has worn me down and there's every chance I'll make what's euphemistically called "a career limiting remark".
"Terence! Thanks so much for joining us. I know you're all frightfully busy. Have you had the chance to consider...?"
I give them the bad news. I distil several hours of technical discussions and (small p) political wrangling into a couple of sentences. I brace for impact. Surely this smug git isn't going make me walk the plank?
"I see. What about...?" they then launch into a, frankly, excellent dismantling of my position. I cynically wonder who has been briefing them. But as our conversation progresses (!) it's clear they've actually read the paper we presented them. They know the science, the law, and the technology.
I wasn't prepared for the fact that they were… competent!
However after a few minutes (that feel like an eternity) they concede. I am right. They are wrong. There are no fireworks. No histrionics. No sloganeering, Gish-galloping, or threats. They are charming, intelligent, and happy to be contradicted.
The eye of Sauron moves on. I breathe. If we had capitulated, I'm sure the decision would have been in the papers. It might even have been in (what we're all grimly calling) The Inevitable Public Inquiry. As it is, it will be a dusty footnote about what might have been.
Later that night, I scroll through Twitter. The Minister's account pops up - and they're spewing the sort of appalling rhetoric which would make a Roman Senator blush.
I speak to my mentor about the encounter. "Politicians aren't the characters they play on TV," they say.
Sure, some of them are idiots. But it is hard to be elected without having some level of charm and ability to make personal connections.
Yeah, a few are promoted above their ability, but many are quietly competent at running a department of thousands of people.
And, of course, they all play up to the cameras. Every sound-bite is a vote. Every spittle of fury a chance to go viral and raise their profile. Every stunt a chance to embed themselves into the nation's psyche.
We all code-switch. The way you talk to you partner isn't the same way you speak to your friends. The way you talk to your co-workers isn't the same way you speak to your plumber.
And the way politicians speak to their electorate isn't always the same way they speak to their public servants.
It took me an embarrassingly long time to figure that out.
Whoever you think this is about, you're wrong. I had the same experience several times throughout Covid and have amalgamated them into this parable of a blog post.
https://shkspr.mobi/blog/2024/08/retropost-politicians-arent-the-characters-they-play-on-tv/
-
Retropost: Politicians Aren't The Characters They Play On TV
https://shkspr.mobi/blog/2024/08/retropost-politicians-arent-the-characters-they-play-on-tv/This is a retropost. Mostly written in August 2020 but published long after I left the Civil Service.
It is, although I don't quite realise it, the depths of the pandemic. Everyone is relegated to working from home. Thousands of Civil Servants trying to keep things running from their kitchen tables, on dodgy WiFi, with crying children in the background.
Things are happening quickly. Much more quickly than ever before. Perhaps that's a good thing, but it doesn't leave much time for preparation. I know it is terribly clichéd of me to think I'm in an episode of The West Wing, but this scene keeps running through my head:
https://shkspr.mobi/blog/wp-content/uploads/2024/07/West-Wing-Briefing.mp4Today I have meeting with one the Internet's "Main Characters". You know, that politician. The one you (and certainly I) have send snarky tweets about - the duplicitous lickspittle. Every time I see them on TV I physically cringe. How can someone like that be part and parcel of the democratic process? Ugh!
The Zoom call flickers to life. A couple of dozen people start appearing like the world's dullest advent calendar. The Minister is, of course, late. The twat. We make small talk and eventually their grinning mug graces us with their presence.
I've seen this wazzock lose their rag on Question Time - there's no way they can manage a meeting with this many people.
But… I'm wrong. I'm very wrong. They are collegiate and welcoming. They acknowledge the strain we're all under and give us a reassuring - and human - thanks for our hard work. They have complete command of the room. They know who to call on to ask a question. Their follow ups are friendly and incisive - not flippant and ignorant.
They're as good as any CEO I've worked with.
And then they turn to me.
My job is simple. They have requested something from our department. It is my job to say "no".
I'm nervous. Lockdown has worn me down and there's every chance I'll make what's euphemistically called "a career limiting remark".
"Terence! Thanks so much for joining us. I know you're all frightfully busy. Have you had the chance to consider...?"
I give them the bad news. I distil several hours of technical discussions and (small p) political wrangling into a couple of sentences. I brace for impact. Surely this smug git isn't going make me walk the plank?
"I see. What about...?" they then launch into a, frankly, excellent dismantling of my position. I cynically wonder who has been briefing them. But as our conversation progresses (!) it's clear they've actually read the paper we presented them. They know the science, the law, and the technology.
I wasn't prepared for the fact that they were… competent!
However after a few minutes (that feel like an eternity) they concede. I am right. They are wrong. There are no fireworks. No histrionics. No sloganeering, Gish-galloping, or threats. They are charming, intelligent, and happy to be contradicted.
The eye of Sauron moves on. I breathe. If we had capitulated, I'm sure the decision would have been in the papers. It might even have been in (what we're all grimly calling) The Inevitable Public Inquiry. As it is, it will be a dusty footnote about what might have been.
Later that night, I scroll through Twitter. The Minister's account pops up - and they're spewing the sort of appalling rhetoric which would make a Roman Senator blush.
I speak to my mentor about the encounter. "Politicians aren't the characters they play on TV," they say.
Sure, some of them are idiots. But it is hard to be elected without having some level of charm and ability to make personal connections.
Yeah, a few are promoted above their ability, but many are quietly competent at running a department of thousands of people.
And, of course, they all play up to the cameras. Every sound-bite is a vote. Every spittle of fury a chance to go viral and raise their profile. Every stunt a chance to embed themselves into the nation's psyche.
We all code-switch. The way you talk to you partner isn't the same way you speak to your friends. The way you talk to your co-workers isn't the same way you speak to your plumber.
And the way politicians speak to their electorate isn't always the same way they speak to their public servants.
It took me an embarrassingly long time to figure that out.
Whoever you think this is about, you're wrong. I had the same experience several times throughout Covid and have amalgamated them into this parable of a blog post.
https://shkspr.mobi/blog/2024/08/retropost-politicians-arent-the-characters-they-play-on-tv/
-
Retropost: Politicians Aren't The Characters They Play On TV
https://shkspr.mobi/blog/2024/08/retropost-politicians-arent-the-characters-they-play-on-tv/This is a retropost. Mostly written in August 2020 but published long after I left the Civil Service.
It is, although I don't quite realise it, the depths of the pandemic. Everyone is relegated to working from home. Thousands of Civil Servants trying to keep things running from their kitchen tables, on dodgy WiFi, with crying children in the background.
Things are happening quickly. Much more quickly than ever before. Perhaps that's a good thing, but it doesn't leave much time for preparation. I know it is terribly clichéd of me to think I'm in an episode of The West Wing, but this scene keeps running through my head:
https://shkspr.mobi/blog/wp-content/uploads/2024/07/West-Wing-Briefing.mp4Today I have meeting with one the Internet's "Main Characters". You know, that politician. The one you (and certainly I) have send snarky tweets about - the duplicitous lickspittle. Every time I see them on TV I physically cringe. How can someone like that be part and parcel of the democratic process? Ugh!
The Zoom call flickers to life. A couple of dozen people start appearing like the world's dullest advent calendar. The Minister is, of course, late. The twat. We make small talk and eventually their grinning mug graces us with their presence.
I've seen this wazzock lose their rag on Question Time - there's no way they can manage a meeting with this many people.
But… I'm wrong. I'm very wrong. They are collegiate and welcoming. They acknowledge the strain we're all under and give us a reassuring - and human - thanks for our hard work. They have complete command of the room. They know who to call on to ask a question. Their follow ups are friendly and incisive - not flippant and ignorant.
They're as good as any CEO I've worked with.
And then they turn to me.
My job is simple. They have requested something from our department. It is my job to say "no".
I'm nervous. Lockdown has worn me down and there's every chance I'll make what's euphemistically called "a career limiting remark".
"Terence! Thanks so much for joining us. I know you're all frightfully busy. Have you had the chance to consider...?"
I give them the bad news. I distil several hours of technical discussions and (small p) political wrangling into a couple of sentences. I brace for impact. Surely this smug git isn't going make me walk the plank?
"I see. What about...?" they then launch into a, frankly, excellent dismantling of my position. I cynically wonder who has been briefing them. But as our conversation progresses (!) it's clear they've actually read the paper we presented them. They know the science, the law, and the technology.
I wasn't prepared for the fact that they were… competent!
However after a few minutes (that feel like an eternity) they concede. I am right. They are wrong. There are no fireworks. No histrionics. No sloganeering, Gish-galloping, or threats. They are charming, intelligent, and happy to be contradicted.
The eye of Sauron moves on. I breathe. If we had capitulated, I'm sure the decision would have been in the papers. It might even have been in (what we're all grimly calling) The Inevitable Public Inquiry. As it is, it will be a dusty footnote about what might have been.
Later that night, I scroll through Twitter. The Minister's account pops up - and they're spewing the sort of appalling rhetoric which would make a Roman Senator blush.
I speak to my mentor about the encounter. "Politicians aren't the characters they play on TV," they say.
Sure, some of them are idiots. But it is hard to be elected without having some level of charm and ability to make personal connections.
Yeah, a few are promoted above their ability, but many are quietly competent at running a department of thousands of people.
And, of course, they all play up to the cameras. Every sound-bite is a vote. Every spittle of fury a chance to go viral and raise their profile. Every stunt a chance to embed themselves into the nation's psyche.
We all code-switch. The way you talk to you partner isn't the same way you speak to your friends. The way you talk to your co-workers isn't the same way you speak to your plumber.
And the way politicians speak to their electorate isn't always the same way they speak to their public servants.
It took me an embarrassingly long time to figure that out.
Whoever you think this is about, you're wrong. I had the same experience several times throughout Covid and have amalgamated them into this parable of a blog post.
https://shkspr.mobi/blog/2024/08/retropost-politicians-arent-the-characters-they-play-on-tv/
-
Retropost: Politicians Aren't The Characters They Play On TV
https://shkspr.mobi/blog/2024/08/retropost-politicians-arent-the-characters-they-play-on-tv/This is a retropost. Mostly written in August 2020 but published long after I left the Civil Service.
It is, although I don't quite realise it, the depths of the pandemic. Everyone is relegated to working from home. Thousands of Civil Servants trying to keep things running from their kitchen tables, on dodgy WiFi, with crying children in the background.
Things are happening quickly. Much more quickly than ever before. Perhaps that's a good thing, but it doesn't leave much time for preparation. I know it is terribly clichéd of me to think I'm in an episode of The West Wing, but this scene keeps running through my head:
https://shkspr.mobi/blog/wp-content/uploads/2024/07/West-Wing-Briefing.mp4Today I have meeting with one the Internet's "Main Characters". You know, that politician. The one you (and certainly I) have send snarky tweets about - the duplicitous lickspittle. Every time I see them on TV I physically cringe. How can someone like that be part and parcel of the democratic process? Ugh!
The Zoom call flickers to life. A couple of dozen people start appearing like the world's dullest advent calendar. The Minister is, of course, late. The twat. We make small talk and eventually their grinning mug graces us with their presence.
I've seen this wazzock lose their rag on Question Time - there's no way they can manage a meeting with this many people.
But… I'm wrong. I'm very wrong. They are collegiate and welcoming. They acknowledge the strain we're all under and give us a reassuring - and human - thanks for our hard work. They have complete command of the room. They know who to call on to ask a question. Their follow ups are friendly and incisive - not flippant and ignorant.
They're as good as any CEO I've worked with.
And then they turn to me.
My job is simple. They have requested something from our department. It is my job to say "no".
I'm nervous. Lockdown has worn me down and there's every chance I'll make what's euphemistically called "a career limiting remark".
"Terence! Thanks so much for joining us. I know you're all frightfully busy. Have you had the chance to consider...?"
I give them the bad news. I distil several hours of technical discussions and (small p) political wrangling into a couple of sentences. I brace for impact. Surely this smug git isn't going make me walk the plank?
"I see. What about...?" they then launch into a, frankly, excellent dismantling of my position. I cynically wonder who has been briefing them. But as our conversation progresses (!) it's clear they've actually read the paper we presented them. They know the science, the law, and the technology.
I wasn't prepared for the fact that they were… competent!
However after a few minutes (that feel like an eternity) they concede. I am right. They are wrong. There are no fireworks. No histrionics. No sloganeering, Gish-galloping, or threats. They are charming, intelligent, and happy to be contradicted.
The eye of Sauron moves on. I breathe. If we had capitulated, I'm sure the decision would have been in the papers. It might even have been in (what we're all grimly calling) The Inevitable Public Inquiry. As it is, it will be a dusty footnote about what might have been.
Later that night, I scroll through Twitter. The Minister's account pops up - and they're spewing the sort of appalling rhetoric which would make a Roman Senator blush.
I speak to my mentor about the encounter. "Politicians aren't the characters they play on TV," they say.
Sure, some of them are idiots. But it is hard to be elected without having some level of charm and ability to make personal connections.
Yeah, a few are promoted above their ability, but many are quietly competent at running a department of thousands of people.
And, of course, they all play up to the cameras. Every sound-bite is a vote. Every spittle of fury a chance to go viral and raise their profile. Every stunt a chance to embed themselves into the nation's psyche.
We all code-switch. The way you talk to you partner isn't the same way you speak to your friends. The way you talk to your co-workers isn't the same way you speak to your plumber.
And the way politicians speak to their electorate isn't always the same way they speak to their public servants.
It took me an embarrassingly long time to figure that out.
Whoever you think this is about, you're wrong. I had the same experience several times throughout Covid and have amalgamated them into this parable of a blog post.
https://shkspr.mobi/blog/2024/08/retropost-politicians-arent-the-characters-they-play-on-tv/
-
By Iceberg
It’s not often the promo sump yields death metal of the Norwegian variety. To this point I searched the site for reviews containing both “death” and “Norwegian” metal tags, and over the past twelve months I found a grand total of 4 articles matching the criteria. I nearly passed over Deception’s Daenacteh while hunting in the muck, but that bizarre cover and a shared member with Blood Red Throne (vocalist Sindre Wathne Johnsen) gave me pause. Closer inspection of the promo language promised a heavy influence of orchestral arrangements and “brutal, hard-hitting, technical music.” Add on to that a desert adventure concept, and you’re speaking the Berg’s language. Deciding on this promo was easy, but would my delve into the world of Deception yield a diamond in the rough, or another reason to leave the death metal to their southern brethren?
Daenacteh is a melodeath record at it’s core, but augmented with so many other elements it’s become it’s own unique monster. The orchestral accompaniments, which are both omnipresent and superbly executed, seem of the Italian neo-classical school of Septicflesh and Fleshgod, but MENA-tinged like Aeternam. The riffs—and there is a Dostoyevsky-sized amount here—sound like a less thrashy Blood Red Throne or a groovier Stortregn. There are shades of tech-death in the airtight performance of skinsman Einar Hasselberg Petersen, and proggy excursions in the longform tracks “Dhariyan” and “Daughters of the Desert,” but the band never fully explode into histrionics or wankery. This compositional restraint pays dividends, because Daenacteh comes off as a finely honed blade, razor-sharp in both riff and runtime, and indicative of a band operating at their highest level.
It’s remarkable how Deception are able to harness different iterations of metal and organically layer them into their compositions. Eschewing an instrumental introduction—which I would expect given the concept-driven nature of the album—“Sulphur Clouds” annihilates the silence with tremolos and crashing orchestral hits the moment you press play. One may think this a standard symphonic death record until the verse riff plunges into a knuckle-dragging chug worthy of Ashes of the Wake-era Lamb of God. This stylistic whiplash, which in lesser hands often seems clumsy or full of seams, always feels intentional throughout Daenacteh. From the plaintive piano opening of “Iblis’ Mistress,” breaking up the jab-hook of the opening tracks, to the downtempo crushing doom of the chorus on “Assailants” and the proggy off-kilter rhythms of “Be Headed On Your Way,” Deception have a question, answer and mic-drop for every turn-of-style they present. Even the eau-du-djent sprinkled over the end of “Iblis’ Mistress” feels correctly seated, adding a layer of groove and stank to an already standout track.
Not content with proving their ability to solder styles together, Deception work in a myriad of compositional forms as well. Normally I’d expect an adherence to a more standard verse-chorus format from a melodeath record, and while this is on display (“King of Salvation,” “Assailants”) it’s the exception and not the rule. “Dhariyan” packs a 7 minute wallop into the back end of the album with a form that’s so varied it feels through-composed, detouring through circling guitar solos and unexpected tempo/meter changes, including a nerve-racking extended dissonance propelled by Johnsen’s enveloping roar. Special acclamation is reserved for the vocalist and orchestral arranger; the symphonics are undoubtedly the fifth member of the band, cementing the MENA influence and lending greater dynamic shape to the music (“Sulphur Clouds,” “Dhariyan,” the coda of “Daughters of the Desert”). If I work very hard I can find some nitpicks with closer “Daughters of the Desert.” The song’s climactic build has a guitar solo shoehorned in it’s middle, and the transitions between sections show more seams than other tracks, but these are cosmetic blemishes at best. The longer I sat with Daenacteh the harder it was for me to find fault in their process or product, a rare experience for this reviewer.
Deception have—up to this moment—flown under the radar of this blog, an oversight I aim to rectify in the future. The Stavager quartet have crafted a meticulous and shape-shifting record, possessing ingenuity and workmanship alike. I have to give Daenacteh my full-throated recommendation for fans of melodeath, MENA-death, tech-death, hell, any kind of death; there’s something for you to like here. I look forward to returning to the sandswept world of Daenacteh often, and expect it duke it out for a spot on my year-end list.
Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Mighty Music | Target Group (Physical) | Bandcamp (Digital)
Websites: facebook.com | Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 22, 2024#2024 #40 #Aeternam #BloodRedThrone #Daenacteh #Deception #FleshgodApocalypse #Mar24 #MelodicDeathMetal #MightyMusic #NorwegianMetal #Review #Reviews #SepticFlesh #Stortregn #SymphonicDeathMetal #TechnicalDeathMetal
-
By Iceberg
It’s not often the promo sump yields death metal of the Norwegian variety. To this point I searched the site for reviews containing both “death” and “Norwegian” metal tags, and over the past twelve months I found a grand total of 4 articles matching the criteria. I nearly passed over Deception’s Daenacteh while hunting in the muck, but that bizarre cover and a shared member with Blood Red Throne (vocalist Sindre Wathne Johnsen) gave me pause. Closer inspection of the promo language promised a heavy influence of orchestral arrangements and “brutal, hard-hitting, technical music.” Add on to that a desert adventure concept, and you’re speaking the Berg’s language. Deciding on this promo was easy, but would my delve into the world of Deception yield a diamond in the rough, or another reason to leave the death metal to their southern brethren?
Daenacteh is a melodeath record at it’s core, but augmented with so many other elements it’s become it’s own unique monster. The orchestral accompaniments, which are both omnipresent and superbly executed, seem of the Italian neo-classical school of Septicflesh and Fleshgod, but MENA-tinged like Aeternam. The riffs—and there is a Dostoyevsky-sized amount here—sound like a less thrashy Blood Red Throne or a groovier Stortregn. There are shades of tech-death in the airtight performance of skinsman Einar Hasselberg Petersen, and proggy excursions in the longform tracks “Dhariyan” and “Daughters of the Desert,” but the band never fully explode into histrionics or wankery. This compositional restraint pays dividends, because Daenacteh comes off as a finely honed blade, razor-sharp in both riff and runtime, and indicative of a band operating at their highest level.
It’s remarkable how Deception are able to harness different iterations of metal and organically layer them into their compositions. Eschewing an instrumental introduction—which I would expect given the concept-driven nature of the album—“Sulphur Clouds” annihilates the silence with tremolos and crashing orchestral hits the moment you press play. One may think this a standard symphonic death record until the verse riff plunges into a knuckle-dragging chug worthy of Ashes of the Wake-era Lamb of God. This stylistic whiplash, which in lesser hands often seems clumsy or full of seams, always feels intentional throughout Daenacteh. From the plaintive piano opening of “Iblis’ Mistress,” breaking up the jab-hook of the opening tracks, to the downtempo crushing doom of the chorus on “Assailants” and the proggy off-kilter rhythms of “Be Headed On Your Way,” Deception have a question, answer and mic-drop for every turn-of-style they present. Even the eau-du-djent sprinkled over the end of “Iblis’ Mistress” feels correctly seated, adding a layer of groove and stank to an already standout track.
Not content with proving their ability to solder styles together, Deception work in a myriad of compositional forms as well. Normally I’d expect an adherence to a more standard verse-chorus format from a melodeath record, and while this is on display (“King of Salvation,” “Assailants”) it’s the exception and not the rule. “Dhariyan” packs a 7 minute wallop into the back end of the album with a form that’s so varied it feels through-composed, detouring through circling guitar solos and unexpected tempo/meter changes, including a nerve-racking extended dissonance propelled by Johnsen’s enveloping roar. Special acclamation is reserved for the vocalist and orchestral arranger; the symphonics are undoubtedly the fifth member of the band, cementing the MENA influence and lending greater dynamic shape to the music (“Sulphur Clouds,” “Dhariyan,” the coda of “Daughters of the Desert”). If I work very hard I can find some nitpicks with closer “Daughters of the Desert.” The song’s climactic build has a guitar solo shoehorned in it’s middle, and the transitions between sections show more seams than other tracks, but these are cosmetic blemishes at best. The longer I sat with Daenacteh the harder it was for me to find fault in their process or product, a rare experience for this reviewer.
Deception have—up to this moment—flown under the radar of this blog, an oversight I aim to rectify in the future. The Stavager quartet have crafted a meticulous and shape-shifting record, possessing ingenuity and workmanship alike. I have to give Daenacteh my full-throated recommendation for fans of melodeath, MENA-death, tech-death, hell, any kind of death; there’s something for you to like here. I look forward to returning to the sandswept world of Daenacteh often, and expect it duke it out for a spot on my year-end list.
Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Mighty Music | Target Group (Physical) | Bandcamp (Digital)
Websites: facebook.com | Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 22, 2024#2024 #40 #Aeternam #BloodRedThrone #Daenacteh #Deception #FleshgodApocalypse #Mar24 #MelodicDeathMetal #MightyMusic #NorwegianMetal #Review #Reviews #SepticFlesh #Stortregn #SymphonicDeathMetal #TechnicalDeathMetal
-
By Iceberg
It’s not often the promo sump yields death metal of the Norwegian variety. To this point I searched the site for reviews containing both “death” and “Norwegian” metal tags, and over the past twelve months I found a grand total of 4 articles matching the criteria. I nearly passed over Deception’s Daenacteh while hunting in the muck, but that bizarre cover and a shared member with Blood Red Throne (vocalist Sindre Wathne Johnsen) gave me pause. Closer inspection of the promo language promised a heavy influence of orchestral arrangements and “brutal, hard-hitting, technical music.” Add on to that a desert adventure concept, and you’re speaking the Berg’s language. Deciding on this promo was easy, but would my delve into the world of Deception yield a diamond in the rough, or another reason to leave the death metal to their southern brethren?
Daenacteh is a melodeath record at it’s core, but augmented with so many other elements it’s become it’s own unique monster. The orchestral accompaniments, which are both omnipresent and superbly executed, seem of the Italian neo-classical school of Septicflesh and Fleshgod, but MENA-tinged like Aeternam. The riffs—and there is a Dostoyevsky-sized amount here—sound like a less thrashy Blood Red Throne or a groovier Stortregn. There are shades of tech-death in the airtight performance of skinsman Einar Hasselberg Petersen, and proggy excursions in the longform tracks “Dhariyan” and “Daughters of the Desert,” but the band never fully explode into histrionics or wankery. This compositional restraint pays dividends, because Daenacteh comes off as a finely honed blade, razor-sharp in both riff and runtime, and indicative of a band operating at their highest level.
It’s remarkable how Deception are able to harness different iterations of metal and organically layer them into their compositions. Eschewing an instrumental introduction—which I would expect given the concept-driven nature of the album—“Sulphur Clouds” annihilates the silence with tremolos and crashing orchestral hits the moment you press play. One may think this a standard symphonic death record until the verse riff plunges into a knuckle-dragging chug worthy of Ashes of the Wake-era Lamb of God. This stylistic whiplash, which in lesser hands often seems clumsy or full of seams, always feels intentional throughout Daenacteh. From the plaintive piano opening of “Iblis’ Mistress,” breaking up the jab-hook of the opening tracks, to the downtempo crushing doom of the chorus on “Assailants” and the proggy off-kilter rhythms of “Be Headed On Your Way,” Deception have a question, answer and mic-drop for every turn-of-style they present. Even the eau-du-djent sprinkled over the end of “Iblis’ Mistress” feels correctly seated, adding a layer of groove and stank to an already standout track.
Not content with proving their ability to solder styles together, Deception work in a myriad of compositional forms as well. Normally I’d expect an adherence to a more standard verse-chorus format from a melodeath record, and while this is on display (“King of Salvation,” “Assailants”) it’s the exception and not the rule. “Dhariyan” packs a 7 minute wallop into the back end of the album with a form that’s so varied it feels through-composed, detouring through circling guitar solos and unexpected tempo/meter changes, including a nerve-racking extended dissonance propelled by Johnsen’s enveloping roar. Special acclamation is reserved for the vocalist and orchestral arranger; the symphonics are undoubtedly the fifth member of the band, cementing the MENA influence and lending greater dynamic shape to the music (“Sulphur Clouds,” “Dhariyan,” the coda of “Daughters of the Desert”). If I work very hard I can find some nitpicks with closer “Daughters of the Desert.” The song’s climactic build has a guitar solo shoehorned in it’s middle, and the transitions between sections show more seams than other tracks, but these are cosmetic blemishes at best. The longer I sat with Daenacteh the harder it was for me to find fault in their process or product, a rare experience for this reviewer.
Deception have—up to this moment—flown under the radar of this blog, an oversight I aim to rectify in the future. The Stavager quartet have crafted a meticulous and shape-shifting record, possessing ingenuity and workmanship alike. I have to give Daenacteh my full-throated recommendation for fans of melodeath, MENA-death, tech-death, hell, any kind of death; there’s something for you to like here. I look forward to returning to the sandswept world of Daenacteh often, and expect it duke it out for a spot on my year-end list.
Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Mighty Music | Target Group (Physical) | Bandcamp (Digital)
Websites: facebook.com | Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 22, 2024#2024 #40 #Aeternam #BloodRedThrone #Daenacteh #Deception #FleshgodApocalypse #Mar24 #MelodicDeathMetal #MightyMusic #NorwegianMetal #Review #Reviews #SepticFlesh #Stortregn #SymphonicDeathMetal #TechnicalDeathMetal
-
“You could tell The State of the Union is great just by watching Little Modern Day Moses Mike Johnson last night.” John Buss, @repeat1968
Good Day, Sky Dancers!
I’m getting started late today because I had a dentist appointment. Also, I’m evidently Low-energy Kat. I fell asleep during the 45 minutes of people shuffling into the House last night for the State of the Union. I’m watching the live-action now with no sportzpols calling the horse race. The only editorial commentary I see is the face of Ayatollah Mike Johnson. As you can tell from the featured funny today by John Buss (@repeat1968), Johnson’s discomfort was notable. It’s also a headline in the media like this one for The New Republic. “Forget Biden’s SOTU Performance, and Focus on Tiny, Weak Mike Johnson. The House speaker lived down to the moment at the State of the Union on Thursday night.” The analysis is provided by Michael Tomasky.
Joe Biden more than made it through Thursday night’s State of the Union address. That moment that his supporters always fear—the major brain fart, the confusing of Nikki Haley with Nancy Pelosi (oh wait, that was someone else)—never came. Not only did it not come, but most of the energy was dramatically positive. As is the morning-after conventional wisdom. Politico’s Playbook called it the “turn-the-tables SOTU,” reporting that the Biden campaign’s best two hours of fundraising in this cycle were from 9 to 11 p.m. last night. A CNN flash poll found that 62 percent thought the policies Biden laid out would move the country in the right direction.
He had his stumbles, and that Laken Riley moment was pretty cringey. But mostly he threw punches—and he landed almost all of them. As TNR’s Osita Nwanevu wrote: “That overall impression—of a vigorous president, strong enough to take the fight to his detractors—will linger more deeply in the minds of most who watched than the substance of anything he said.”
But let’s not talk about Biden. Let’s talk instead about that little guy in the chair over the president’s left shoulder. House Speaker Mike Johnson showed, in his histrionic facial expressions, everything that’s wrong and idiotic and dangerous and even treasonous about the Republican Party.Johnson was ridiculous. He was small. Granted it’s not always easy for an opposition party leader to figure out how to comport him or herself during a State of the Union. The camera is on you for an hour or more, yet you can’t speak. You’re not going to join in on the frequent applauses, except rarely. Johnson did applaud Biden’s call for aid to Ukraine early in the speech, which he does seem to support personally, even though he’s too afraid of his wingnut caucus to allow a straight-up vote and thus may go down in history as the one person more than any other who handed Vladimir Putin the keys to Kyiv. So you sit there awkwardly.
Johnson decided that the State of the Union was the right time to mug for the camera. And he laid it on like a silent-movie actor, so thick that you could practically see the girl tied on the railroad tracks and hear the piano music. He nodded and nodded—you know, that solemn, “more in anger than in sorrow” nod. And those eye rolls! He rolled his eyes more than a teenage girl listening to her father’s jokes (that’s an eye roll I know rather well).
Joe became more animated and articulated as he moved into the ‘vision thing.’ His speech was powerful and inspirational, clearly describing what he considered ‘American Values’. He called them his “North Star.” He sliced and diced ‘his predecessor.’ He ends with a plan and optimism. This one may be one for the history books, which is a ‘big fucking deal’ considering his primary reference to the State of the Union speech given by FDR in 1941. He took the opportunity to blast Putin as the enemy abroad and his predecessor and his cult in Congress as the enemy within. His speech is getting great reviews.
The speech that is not getting rave reviews is the Republican Response. This one is getting grilled more than the Jindal rebuttal. This is the headline from Newsweek. “Republican Katie Britt Ruthlessly Mocked for SOTU Response.” Ouch. Social media has dubbed her the poster child for The Handmaid’s Tale.
Alabama Senator Katie Britt on Thursday faced widespread backlash after delivering the Republican Party’s response to President Joe Biden‘s State of the Union address.
Many users on X, formerly Twitter, described Britt’s recorded response as “creepy” and “overly dramatic.”
The speech even received criticism from prominent conservatives like Michael Steele, former chair of the Republican National Convention, who posted on X: “Well, that Katie Britt experience was … experiential.”
Others felt her delivery was reminiscent of The Handmaid’s Tale, a television show based on a famous novel that centers on a dystopian society where women are treated cruelly. Multiple people said Britt was overacting in a way that was almost humorous and compared her rebuttal to a Saturday Night Live sketch.
Newsweek reached out to a representative for Britt on early Friday morning via email for comment.
Handmaids Fail for @Democracy1stE #TrumpIsNotFitToBePresident #TrumpForPrison2024 #TrumpisaRussianAsset #TrumpIsACriminal #KatieBrittmemes #KatieBritt #Britt pic.twitter.com/nwYXe3MBEJ
— Tarquin 🇺🇦 (@Tarquin_Helmet) March 8, 2024
This is from Monica Hesse, who is writing for the Washington Post. “A lot of moms can’t see themselves in Katie Britt’s kitchen. The Alabama senator’s performance seemed aimed at suburban women whom Republicans have done little to win back.” I once was a Republican suburban mom. It definitely insulted the intelligence of every woman I know. I’m pretty sure only the creepy white christian evangelical women remotely identified with this. They’ve already got that niche, so I don’t expect this will get them more votes for the racist, rapist, twice-impeached fraudster.
Before Sen. Katie Boyd Britt (R-Ala.) had even begun her State of the Union rebuttal on Thursday night, an ally reportedly had already sent around a helpful list of talking points that conservative pundits could use to describe her — again, as-yet undelivered — speech. They should make comparisons to Ronald Reagan, according to the New York Times, which reported the memo. They should say that Britt came across as “America’s mom.”
When Britt did appear, it became clear she’d gone balls-to-the-wall with the mom theme, broadcasting solo from her Alabama kitchen in such a way that, if you were watching with the volume down, you would have assumed you had stumbled upon a commercial for either stain remover or Il Makiage. Turn the volume up and there was Britt opening by saying that her proudest role was being a “wife and mother,” before segueing into describing a violent gang rape, before calling Biden “dithering and diminished,” and explaining that we were all “steeped in the blood of patriots,” which, ladies — if that’s a menstruation euphemism, I hadn’t heard it before. Somehow she wrapped up by talking about how America put a man on the moon.
It’s not hard to imagine why Republicans chose Britt to deliver their rebuttal. At 81, Biden’s greatest liability is his age. Britt, at 42, is the youngest woman ever elected to the Senate, with school-aged kids at home.
Was she effective? Hard to say. Somehow, despite also being a White 42-year-old mom who watched the State of the Union from my own kitchen, I did not feel I was her target audience.
This is the third State of the Union for which Republicans have chosen a woman to deliver the response (last year was Arkansas Gov. Sarah Huckabee Sanders, the year before was Iowa Gov. Kim Reynolds). Clearly, someone in charge is trying to sell the GOP as the party for women, and specifically, for moms.
The trouble is that they are trying to sell it that way once a year, via a televised State of the Union rebuttal, rather than by selling it via policies and legislation. So much of the rest of the night revealed a contrast between what Britt’s party had done for women, and how women and mothers were actually living their lives.
Let’s just say I’d have quite the babysitter coop in my neighborhood had this woman been on the list. No way I’d let her near my girls. I’d also be worried about her husband, her pastor, and her church’s youth minister. The review news is much better for Biden. This is from Dan Pfiefrer. “The Smart Political Strategy Behind Biden’s Big Speech. The President gave a pugilistic speech and took direct aim at Trump.”
Last night was a very good night for Joe Biden. The President delivered a vigorous, pugilistic speech with the highest possible stakes for his presidency. He was strong and in command. Most importantly, he made his best case yet for reelection.
The President never mentioned Donald Trump’s name, but the speech was written — and delivered — with the disgraced former President in mind. He swung at Trump several times throughout the speech, hitting him for inviting Russia to invade a NATO country, for the Big Lie, demonizing immigrants, and more.
This certainly didn’t escape Trump’s notice since he began the day with a bizarre rebuttal and then uncorked a series of unhinged “Truths.”
The speech hit all the right notes. Biden touted his accomplishments, criticized Congressional Republicans for failing to pass bipartisan bills to secure our border and support Ukraine’s border security, and called for laws to protect our freedoms by codifying Roe v. Wade and access to IVF.
The press and partisans cheered his tone and delivery. Democrats were excited, and Republicans were mad, but Biden’s energy on the dais is only part of the story.
Unlike my Pod Save America co-hosts, I was never a speechwriter. I don’t watch these speeches regarding rhetoric, writing, and history. I take a much more pedantic — and hackier — approach. I watched to discover how Biden and his team saw the forthcoming campaign against Trump, their strategy, and whether they executed it.
This was a very political speech, and that’s a good thing. The President sought out conflict with his opponent and his opponent’s party. Also good. Biden recognizes how to wage information warfare in 2024.
Read the point-by-point analysis at the link. Axios has the walk-in moment where Biden spotted Marjorie Taylor Greene, proving that she is an insurrectionist. “Watch: Biden comes face to face with MTG at State of the Union.” The troll named Shriek was doing her performance art schtick again. This is by Zachary Basu.
President Biden came face to face with one of his most outspoken critics — Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-Ga.) — as he shook hands with members of Congress ahead of his State of the Union address.
The latest: After the brief confrontation, Greene heckled Biden during his speech — demanding that he recognize the alleged murder of Georgia nursing student Laken Riley by an undocumented immigrant last month.
- In a remarkable moment, Biden responded to the outburst by holding up the “Say Her Name” pin Greene had handed him during his entrance — and appealing to Republicans to pass the bipartisan border security deal.
“Laken Riley, an innocent young woman who was killed by an illegal,” Biden said, going off script. “To her parents, I say my heart goes out to you.”
Catch up quick: Greene, a fierce ally of former President Trump, broke convention by donning a MAGA hat to greet Biden as he walked into the chamber for his address.
- “Say her name,” Greene urged Biden, who appeared to stop and listen.
- Earlier Thursday, the House passed the Laken Riley Act requiring the detention of any migrant who commits burglary or theft. 37 House Democrats joined all Republicans in voting for the legislation.
The big picture: Biden has sought to turn the border crisis — his top political vulnerability — into a potent campaign weapon, after Trump pressured Republicans to derail one of the most significant border security bills in decades.
- “If my predecessor is watching — instead of playing politics and pressuring members of Congress to block this bill, join me in telling Congress to pass it,” Biden said in his speech.
- “We can do it together.”
President Biden’s reaction to Marjorie Taylor Greene looking like an idiot is the funniest that happened tonight pic.twitter.com/mQe5UKMdtM
— Jack Cocchiarella (@JDCocchiarella) March 8, 2024
All I can say is I’m glad she’s never taken a class from me. She’s a teacher’s worst nightmare.
So, one more thing. Today is International Women’s Day! Do you know where your rights are?
Check out The Guardian for some great pictures. I love the cover with women doing a sunrise dip in the North Sea. The bravery of Scottish women is legendary.
So, Happy Women’s Day. Get out there and vote like a woman after her reproductive rights!!!!
What’s on your reading and blogging list today?
Not the old school I am Woman. This is from 2022, and Meli writes some great lyrics.
I am woman, I am fearless
I am sexy, I’m divine
I’m unbeatable, I’m creative
Honey, you can get in line
I am feminine, I am masculine
I am anything I want
I can teach you, I can love you
If you got it goin’ on
If you got it, got it, got it, got it, got it, got it
If you got it, got it, got it, got it, got it goin’ on
Got it, got it, got it, got it, got it, got it
If you got it, got it, got it, got it, got it goin’ on
Got it on goin’ on, yeah
(Got it, got it, got it, got it, got it goin’ on)
(Got it, got it, got it, got it, got it goin’ on)
I am classy, I am modern, I live by my own design
I’m cherry, I’m lemon, I’m the sweetest key lime pie
I’m electric, I’m bass, I’m the beat of my own drum
I could make your goosebumps raise with the tracing of my thumb
Only love can get inside me
I move in my own timing
Voice of the future, speak to me kindly
I feel what I want and somehow it find me
Somehow it find me
Somehow it find me
Yeah, hey, hey
I am woman, I am fearless
I am sexy, I’m divine
I’m unbeatable, I’m creative
Honey, you can get in line
I am feminine, I am masculine
I am anything I want
I can teach you, I can love you
If you got it goin’ on
If you got it, got it, got it, got it, got it, got it
If you got it, got it, got it, got it, got it goin’ on
Got it, got it, got it, got it, got it, got it
If you got it, got it, got it, got it, got it goin’ on
Got it goin’ on, yeah
(Got it, got it, got it, got it, got it goin’ on)
(Got it, got it, got it, got it, got it goin’ on, yeah, yeah)
Hear no evil, speak no evil
I am not the one to cross
They can talk that shit about you
Long as you know that it’s false
I am earthly, I am heaven
I am what I like to be
When I ask for what I want
Somehow it find me
Somehow it find me
(Hey, hey)
I am woman, I am fearless
I am sexy, I’m divine
I’m unbeatable, I’m creative
Honey, you can get in line
I am feminine, I am masculine
I am anything I want
I can teach you, I can love you
If you got it goin’ on
If you got it, got it, got it, got it
Got it, got it, got it goin’ on
Got it goin’ on
Got it goin’ on
Got it goin’ onhttps://skydancingblog.com/2024/03/08/finally-friday-reads-grandpa-joe-kicks-maga-ass/
#Repeat1968 #InternationalWomenSDay2024 #JoeBiden #JohnBuss #Jp #KamalaHarris #RepublicanRebuttal #StateOfTheUnion2024
-
@bookstodon
#BooksIn2026 #Bookstodon12. False Prophet (Decker/Lazarus series, book 5) - Faye Kellerman
Official author site: 🔗 https://fayekellerman.net/book/false-prophet/
More info at: 🔗 https://www.tlbranson.com/faye-kellerman-books-in-order/
And at: 🔗 https://newbookrecommendation.com/summary-of-false-prophet-by-faye-kellerman-a-detailed-synopsis/Another book that I quickly read through, with a surprising plot twist in the end. The mighty Duck, and some AI, have helped me to gather more info on the book and edit it to an informative piece.
If you’ve been following the journey of Peter Decker and Rina Lazarus, you know that their world is usually a delicate balance between gritty LAPD crime scenes and the quiet, traditional life they’re building together. In False Prophet (the fifth installment of the series), that balance gets tested by a case that feels uncomfortably personal.
Here is the lowdown on the plot without giving away any of the big reveals!
If you’ve been following the journey of Peter Decker and Rina Lazarus, you know that their world is usually a delicate balance between gritty LAPD crime scenes and the quiet, traditional life they’re building together. In False Prophet (the fifth installment of the series), that balance gets tested by a case that feels uncomfortably personal.
Here is the lowdown on the plot without giving away any of the big reveals!The Setup
The story kicks off when Lilah Brecht, a high-profile, powerhouse owner of an exclusive health spa in a wealthy canyon, is brutally attacked and raped. It’s a horrific crime, but the case gets complicated fast. Lilah isn’t exactly "warm and fuzzy"—she’s a hard-edged, manipulative woman with a long list of people who might want to see her suffer.The Decker/Lazarus Dynamic
As Peter takes the lead on the investigation, he’s still navigating his relatively new life as a practicing Jew. This book continues to weave in the domestic life he shares with Rina, showing how their relationship has matured since the events of the first four books. Rina remains his moral compass and sounding board, providing that "outside perspective" when the darkness of the job starts to cloud Peter’s judgment.The Conflict
What makes this case a nightmare for Decker is the suspects. The primary focus falls on Lilah’s own family—specifically her sons. One of them is a charismatic, fringe-dwelling "prophet" who leads a group of devoted followers.This sets up a fascinating clash between:
The Law: Decker’s need for evidence and justice.
Family: The twisted loyalty (and hatred) within the Romig clan.
Faith: The contrast between Rina and Peter’s sincere religious path and the manipulative, "false" spirituality of the cult leader.Why It’s a Page-Turner
Unlike some of the previous books that focused on the streets of LA, this one feels more like a "closed-door" mystery. It’s a psychological deep dive into a very dysfunctional, very wealthy family. You get all the classic Kellerman hallmarks: authentic police procedural details, deep respect for Jewish culture, and a mystery that keeps you guessing about who is truly the victim and who is the villain.A quick heads-up: If you’re sensitive to themes of sexual assault, this one is a bit more graphic in its description of the crime's aftermath than some of the earlier books.
False Prophet generally received a warm reception, though it’s often noted as a bit of a "pivot point" for the series. Critics and fans alike noticed a shift in tone from the previous four books.
Here is how it was viewed across the board:
What the Critics Said
The professional reviews were a bit of a mixed bag, which is common for a long-running series hitting its fifth installment.The Praise: Library Journal was a big fan, calling it a "masterful effort" and a "great escape." They particularly liked how Kellerman handled the post-Rodney King era of Los Angeles, giving the police work a very realistic, grounded feel. New York Newsday also chimed in, calling it "absolutely absorbing."
The Critique: On the flip side, Kirkus Reviews—known for being notoriously tough—was less impressed. They felt the plot was a bit "histrionic" (overly dramatic) and that the writing leaned into "B-movie" territory. They missed the heavy focus on Jewish culture that was the hallmark of the earlier books, noting that the "Judaica takes a backseat" to the family drama in this one.
What the Public Thought
Among regular readers and longtime fans, the book holds a solid reputation (usually sitting around a 4/5 star rating on sites like Goodreads and Amazon).The "Page-Turner" Factor: Most readers agreed it’s a fast-paced mystery. People loved the "closed-room" feel of the spa setting and the sheer messiness of the Brecht family.
The Domestic Appeal: Fans of the series generally loved seeing Peter and Rina’s relationship progress (especially with a baby on the way). For many, the "soap opera" elements of their lives are just as important as the actual crimes.
The Ending: If there was one common complaint from the public, it was the ending. Some readers felt it wrapped up a little too abruptly or didn't provide the "justice" they were hoping for, given how much they grew to dislike the villains.
The General Consensus
Most people saw False Prophet as Kellerman broadening her horizons. While the first four books focused heavily on the clash between Peter’s world and Rina’s religious community, this book proved the series could also handle a "traditional" Hollywood noir-style mystery. It’s often cited as one of the darker entries in the early series because of the family dynamics involved. -
Dolphin Whisperer’s and Thus Spoke’s Top Ten(ish) of 2025 By Steel DruhmDolphin Whisperer
Thus Spoke and I go way back. In fact, after our successful graduation from the same n00b class and into our first list season as full article writers, we had imagined that us two as a listing pair would produce a lethal and novel whiplash.1 So welcome to the bottom (or top) half of this eclectic endeavor that’s sure to leave you with thirty-some-odd unique albums to revisit or ignore or whatever it is you do with our strong and word-riddled opinions.
Now, the keen reader may notice I’ve had a bit of a productivity drop-off since about June. Well, that’s cause my wife gave birth to The Dolphlet, first of his name, and that’s kind of a lot of work, as I’m finding out. Baby comes first, as it goes. But I squeaked out a few important things, including a Coroner review that the unwashed masses claimed didn’t jerk Tommy Baron and co. as full of glee as it should have. I did miss other important things, like several of my list items.2. And I sincerely apologize to the following bands and offer them words of condolence or, something like that, based upon their individual situation: Bonginator, you should be glad I dropped the ball, stop it with the lame interludes; and count your blessings, Hell Ever After, thrash doesn’t need to be a musical; Species, you did thrash right though and I’m happy that others enjoyed you even more; Moths, and more specifically bassist Weslie Negron, I’m sorry that I took on your interview when my son was one month old and my brain was fried—your album rocks and you put in so much work to make Moths special. And lastly, to all the classics, I had grand plans to YMIO because I thought my brain could make that work—haha.3
Angry Metal Guy, however, remains home for me. You, dear readers, are a part of that love and drive that keep me here. Sometimes, I may only be able to conjure a half-funny joke in the comments section—you laugh (let me believe that) and give it two to five likes. Others, I may hype the heck out of a promising underground act until one of my trusted colleagues tells me “Dolph, that’s enough already, I’ll review it, sheesh.”—you liked it probably more than I did anyway. You see, for every word of bleeding hyperbole that we scribble, two sets of eyes may walk away enraptured. When you’re dealing with artists who have anywhere from sub-100 to 30004 listeners on the popularity engine of Spotify, every set counts. Every purchase on Bandcamp or Ampwall counts. Every stream on Tidal or some other competitor counts. Even your damn scrobble on last.fm counts if you’re nerdy enough for that. So sappy as it may seem, along with the herding efforts of Steel and occasionally The Big Dr. AMG Man Himself, you all give life to the bands in this wonderful modern metal scene. Hails!!
#ish. Messa // The Spin – I can’t rid myself of the power that a soaring bluesy lick and a smoky siren voice hold, no matter how I try. Burned into my head are The Spin’s glassy chorused-out chorus escalations. Drenched into the cones of my crackling car speakers are the synth throbs of certified shakers “Fire on the Roof” and “Thicker Blood.” Turn up the volume and turn down the lights, Messa has come to steal attention with yet another platter of throwback creativity.
#10. Quadvium // Tetradōm – Steve DiGiorgio and Jeroen Paul Thesseling stand at the altar of supreme metal bassists in my own personal head canon. They’d helm yours too if you were familiar with the span of their collective talents across acts like Death, Sadus, Autopsy, (DiGiorgio), and Pestilence, Obscura, Sadist (Thesseling). Knowing all this, they decided to make an album together. And in their refinement as performers, they managed to make a supergroup two-bass project more than just a thumpy wankfest. Full of diverse and rich tones, modern and proggy jitteriness, and a rounded, jazz fusion-leaning taste for exploration, Tetradōm provides an exciting notch in the weathered belt of these legends. I don’t know where Quadvium goes next after this, but I hope that it’s anything but dormant.
#9. Scardust // Souls – Every time I hear the introductory stumble of “Long Forgotten Song,” I fall immediately into the spastic and serenading world that Scardust crafts with their hypermelodic, histrionic, and confident progressive metal attitude. Central to this success remains the peerless Noa Gruman, whose every melody lands with honey-slathered tack and sing-a-long inspiration, despite my voice being a far, far cry away from the searing soprano wail that functions as a mic-drop crescendo as often as it needs to. Behind her, though, lies one of modern prog’s most nimble rhythm sections, imbuing even ballads like “Dazzling Darkness” and “Searing Echoes” with a bass-popping and hi-hat chattering clamor that places Souls in a league of its own. Also, Ross Jennings of Haken sounds better here than he has with Haken since The Mountain.
#8. Chiasma // Reaches – Chiasma possesses the unique ability to blend in with the modern paradigm of accessible melody prog in the lane of a band like Tesseract without conforming to its most djentrified tendencies. Rather, floating in its own swirl of Cynic-coded riffage and angelic, layered vocal excess, Reaches explodes with atmosphere and propulsive riff alike. In Katie Thompson’s nimble serenades rests a voice imbued with both a fluttering prowess and an aching heart. And in this sorrow—wrapped in the brightness of bleeping electronic backings, flipping virtuosic guitar runs, and singular voice—a yearning and healing takes place in fervent and fluorescent splendor.
#7. Dawnwalker // The Between – Just when I thought Dawnwalker didn’t have any more surprises left in their bag of tricks that seem tailor-made for my enjoyment,5 these sneaky Brits went and pulled out the one-long-song album. Continuing to live in the space of esoteric philosophy set forth in The Unknowing last year, Dawnwalker collects moods from all their previous works—the melancholy of isolation from In Rooms, the vocal aggression from Human Ruins, a sonic palette even grander in scope than Ages—to explore thoughts surrounding death. In lush construction, plaintive discourse, and time-bending magic, The Between breathes as a meditation bookended by heavy chiming bells—a journey that feels longer than its svelte 30-ish minute runtime but with none of the fatigue its gargantuan ask threatens. 6
#6. Gorycz // Zasypia – It’s a shame that Gorycz isn’t a household name, as their mystical, groovy approach to atmospheric and retching black metal sits among my favorites in the genre as a whole. Zasypia, as part three of a trilogy, tells a tale of despair through a warping pedalboard light on traditional distortion, shrieking throat on the edge of coherence,7 and dancing kit full of jazzy aplomb. In the space that lives between recursive and developing refrains, terror lurks. But in the Gorycz tattered exhale hangs a reverence for the beauty that can emerge from destruction and grieving. Feel every amplified string creak as you fall deeper into this devastating world.
#5. Lychgate // Precipice – You may be aware that this album was released on the 19th of December, a full two days after we were supposed to turn in these lists. Knowing that, I made sure I beat Precipice to the punch of garbage time list upheaval by listening to it, well, before that. In turn, Lychgate made sure that they’d make this late-season blooming count. With the death-thrash spirit of an early Morbid Angel crashing through low-end organ harmony and colliding with Holdsworthian alien guitar bleating, Precipice holds back neither on its urge to wander in arcane atmosphere nor on its urge to churn bodies in kinetic wonder. As another writer (whose name I can’t remember) said, Precipice ensnares by “…oscillating between Zappa’s Jazz from Hell and unearthly, pit-scorching acrobatics.” I couldn’t have put it better myself.8
#4. Barren Path // Grieving – The best grindcore album of the decade so far would come from the manic attack of Gridlink sans Jon Chang. Absent his terrifying shriek, Matsubara’s guitar scatter weighs heavier, Fajarado’s lightning snare rolls clang sharper, all against song lengths that inhabit the true short-form tradition of extreme brevity. The truth is, I’ve spent longer than the album’s length trying to convey its intensity and prowess, so just go and listen to it already. I’ll wait here. No, seriously, do it.
#3. Turian // Blood Quantum Blues – So very rare is the album that aligns like a key to a lock of a heart torn by generational angst. An eloquence exists in the disparity between Turian’s stark societal observations punctuated by raw emotional interjections of “FUCK”. I haven’t bothered to count the instances that this linguistic escalation occurs, but I guarantee that there are more fucks per stanza on Blood Quantum Blues than your favorite album this year. And, after you’ve become addicted to its overdriven noise rock-meets-hardcore-meets-industrial madness, you’ll know every single one as you shout along its contemptuous tales of cultural erasure. Indians don’t vanish, and neither will my love for every riff, every breakdown, and every tirade of Blood Quantum Blues.
#2. Changeling // Changeling – Tom “Fountainhead” Geldschläger poured everything into Changeling. Arranging over thirty performers across Changeling’s seems Sisyphean in scope, but Geldschläger persevered. Through peerless fretless wailings, every instrument under the sun follows well-developed motifs, and a pure love for metal, Changeling expresses nostalgia and novelty in its every loaded nook and cranny. And behind each moment of dense and exuberant songcraft, Geldschläger has tinkered to deliver an experience that feels carved over a lifetime. On top of all of that, Geldschläger is also a true guitar wizard—he zigs and zags and twists and twirls where others wear a scale to death. Like a classic novel or movie, Changeling reveals its worth both in immediate, jaw-dropping action and deep, attention-stealing detail. Geldschläger even put together a Dolby Atmos mix for the album and held listening parties in Berlin. I hear they’re wonderful. Come to California, Tom!
#1. Maud the Moth // The Distaff – When we seek art, we seek bravery and freedom of expression. And in the music that we seek in a refuge like Angry Metal guy, we often find these qualities expressed in emotional theme, in raw, sonic aggression, or in sweeping guitar-led grandeur. Woven from a different base cloth, Maud the Moth on paper does not fit that mold. Amaya López-Carromero wields, instead, a piano and scrawled diary pages. She, too, has pain, the same as any human who has encountered a world unforgiving to a life that wishes to live in a divergent path. And like the artists we value—or rather, like the artists I value—Amaya presents her vision of this struggle with focused and expanding melodic lines, crushing and crying crescendos, and an earnestness that compels its audience to surrender for a moment to a world created by these musical ideas. When your sadness comes, it won’t weep in blacks and ivories the way that The Distaff does. But you can pop it on and pretend for its run that its triumph will transfer from your ears to the very center of your tingling chest.
Honorable Mentions:
- Pissgrave // Malignant Worthlessness – Tempos that flow like a full sewage pipe and riffage that doesn’t let up until the steaming and warped conclusion. The Pissgrave family flows as one heaving death-fueled machine, and it’s sad to see them close shop. But they left us with a monster of a swansong.
- Dormant Ordeal // Tooth and Nail – Pummeling and emotionally resonant—if a bit ham-fisted in some lyrical choices—Tooth and Nail represents the ideal form so far of what Dormant Ordeal can achieve with their gut-wrenching take on the Polish death metal sound.
- Sterveling // Sterveling – The backdrop of black metal on what is otherwise downcast jam music makes for a combo that is both hypnotic and uncontested in the space. It helps that the vocalist lets out some of the most demented howls I’ve heard this year.
- 夢遊病者 // РЛБ30011922 – Speaking of jam music, 夢遊病者 has, over time, morphed from a more frenetic math rock-indebted experience to this current, flowing state of progressive tone porn. 2025 was a good year for the one-song album. And much like Dawnwalker’s The Between, it takes up about thirty minutes and some change. Restraint, class, and fat bass heaven.
- Aversed // Erasure of Color – I’m not normally one for melodic death metal. But when it comes packaged with this much mic vitriol and a neoclassical sense that reminds me of the late, great Nevermore,9 I pay attention. And I spin it again and again and again—constant rotation since arrival.
- Yellow Eyes // Confusion Gate – Certain albums that come out late in the year suffer greatly because their true power lies in remaining interesting and unfolding over a long period of time. Immersion Trench Reverie is a special album, and Confusion Gate feels like its sequel. Comfy and caustic all at once.
- Moths // Septem – As the premier progressive metal band from Puerto Rico, Moths has a loaded mission to make a name for themselves. And with another album that keeps its runtime tight and its riffweight heavy, Septem deserves your attention for half an hour and then some. Hey, look, it’s on Ampwall too!
- Grayceon // Then the Darkness – Cello metal at its finest and most relatable. Despite advances in chamber inclusion throughout the metalsphere, not a single band sounds like Grayceon yet. And their songwriting quality remains so high that I don’t care that this album is just about eighty minutes.
- Helms Deep // Chasing the Dragon – There’s a dragon with a jetpack on the cover. I shouldn’t need to say more than that. But note also that Chasing the Dragon comes also loaded with rollicking ’80s flair and pentatonic guitar wizardry that’s so out of fashion it’s cool again. This is metal.
Disappointments o’ the Year:
- Suffering Hour // Impelling Rebirth and Umulamahri // Learning the Secrets of Acid – You’ll see more words about these later, cause they are great. And they are EPs. That’s not enough music when this quality exists.
Songs o’ the Year:
Why give you one when I can give you twenty-seven? Why twenty-seven? That’s my secret. Now, I’ve talked enough. Go out there and enjoy some music, friends. And enjoy this photo of my dogs eating. And the Dolphlet admiring them!
Thus Spoke
I’ve been blindsided by the year’s end again, and now have to find some interesting things to say about 2025. Other than the fact that I turned 3010, my main personal Thing ov Significance is that I managed to land myself a new job, which I’ll start in the new year.11 Don’t worry, though, I won’t be girl-bossing too hard to have time for AMG.
Musically, 2025 has been a (small) step down from 2024 for me, although this could just be due to my attention deficit. I’ve had my finger less firmly on the pulse in the last six months, such that several albums, by artists I like, many on this list, either took me completely by surprise on release day, or crossed my radar barely any sooner, thanks to me actually checking Slack for once. I don’t have any well-defined excuse for this outside of plain old burnout plus terrible organization. On the other hand, the fact that I didn’t review most of my favorite records this year means that I can bat away criticisms of self-indulgence by having a year-end list mostly comprised of albums I didn’t write about. One thing I am happy to have achieved this year is running my first AMG Ranking piece on Panopticon. It might be the most verbose and least exciting of its kind for the majority of site readers, but being forced to immerse myself that extensively in the discography of an artist I love was very cool (albeit intense).
Speaking of my own erratic presence at HQ, leads me on to the hiatus (official or not) of several wonderful people among the staff, particularly my list-buddy Maddog, whom I miss very much. They all have good reasons, and I support them immensely, even if it means fewer of their excellent reviews. Fortunately, we’ve also welcomed many newcomers to our ranks who can pick up my slack in their stead, and whose reviews help me improve my own writing whilst also appending to the endless list of Things I Must Listen To.
As my extensive yapping here shows, my ability to meet a word count hasn’t improved much. Before finally moving on to the list, I’ll take the chance to reiterate my gratitude for everyone reading this, and some people who might not be. Thank you to all the staff for collectively making this all possible, and giving me the opportunity to speak about music and for people—you guys—to actually read it. Thank you for reading. Even if our tastes are completely opposed and you think I’m wrong about everything, I’m glad you’re here.
Now for the bit people actually care about.
#ish. Panopticon // Songs of Hiraeth – Quietly12 released alongside Laurentian Blue, Songs of Hiraeth is a collection of songs composed between 2009-2011 that never saw the light of day. In it, you can hear the incredible development of Panopticon’s signature emotionally swelling black metal style in this period, and this record, like virtually all of them, as I repeated in my ranking blurbs, is gorgeously, absorbingly heartfelt and powerful. Unlike you might expect, it actually increases in intensity as it progresses (for me), with the final trifecta of “The End is Drawing Near,” “A Letter,” and “The Eulogy” all gunning for my Songs o’ the Year playlist with first devastating rage and fury, then heartbroken solemnity and sublime melody throughout. I guess it’s not fully in the list purely because it’s not a ‘proper’ new release, or whatever.
#10. Grima // Nightside – It could have been easy to forget about Grima, given its dropping right on the cusp of the stacked Spring release season we had this year, and the fact that I didn’t instantly mark it down for a TYMHM as with Clouds. But I didn’t forget. Despite their wintry aesthetic, Grima’s music warms my heart with folky magic and ardent blackened blizzards. Nightside is no exception, its warmth coming this time from a renewed emphasis on the atmosphere and bayan after the higher energies of Frostbitten. I love intense, harsh, frosty black metal, and I love how Grima do it (“Impending Death Premonition,” “Where We are Lost”). But what I love most of all about Grima is how they pair that with their folky tendencies, and the way—as Sharky pointed out—Vilhelm’s rasps graze over it all. This culminates, for me, in the more mournful and urgent tone of several tracks on Nightside, where intense moments still feel dreamlike (“The Nightside”), and vocals breathe like ghostly whispers (“Mist and Fog”). It’s not my favorite Grima record (that’s probably Rotten Garden), but being a Grima record at all, given their caliber, means it’s bloody great and has to be on my list.
#9. Bianca // Bianca – Here’s an excellent example of a record I very likely would never have heard were it not for the AMG writer community. And wow, am I grateful I did. Ken‘s description alone caught my interest, let alone the tidbit that the project includes two members of another 2025 favorite of mine, Patristic.13 It takes familiar concepts from metal, both post—ethereal atmospheres and haunting singing—and extreme—sky-piercing shrieks, undulating, relentless double-bass, and tangled guitar blizzards—but sounds like nothing else. Even in combining these elements, Bianca stands alone. The coalescence of blackened, doomed, ambient layers is mesmerizing, the pitches upward into mania, and lapses back into mournful mystique, captivating. Throat-gripping furor arrests me more inextricably than almost anything else this year (“Abysmal,” “Nachthexe”), and transcendent melodies forged from this black fire lift me fully out of my body (“Abysmal,” “Todestrieb”). I’ve been in love since.
#8. Der Weg Einer Freiheit // Innern – Innern’s influence on me was subtle and insidious. I would just put it on, be absorbed—or be sucked back in periodically, if I was working and not concentrating on it—and suddenly it would end. Then I’d listen to it again. Der Weg Einer Freiheit has been developing their particular intense, dark, atmospheric kind of (post-) black over the last decade or so, and with Innern, it’s approaching an apex. Through endlessly enveloping compositions, filled with fury and urgency (“Marter”) or solemn reflection and introspection (“Eos,” “Forlorn”), that flow seamlessly out of one another, Innern folds you insidiously into its depths. Compelling melodies, dynamic rushing percussion, and here-dramatic, there-soft-spoken vocals, each taking pieces and incorporating trials from Der Weg Einer Freiheit’s career so far, drive the thematic compositional thread through irresistibly. From the anticipatory opening shudders to the ebbing chords at its close, Innern is an experience best taken whole, and one I’ve indulged in countless times to go on this magnetic journey once again.
#7. Paradise Lost // Ascension – I never thought this would land here when first announced. Sure, I like Paradise Lost, but their back-catalog is so mixed (in style, let alone quality), that ‘liking’ them for me comes down to enjoying a handful of their now 17 albums. Even the singles’ being good failed to stir anything more than curiosity, given my experience with intra-album inconsistency. But when Ascension did finally grace my ears in full, it appropriately transcended any doubts and softened my heart towards these doom icons again.14 Paradise Lost were heavy again, melancholic and mopey again—in a cool, atmospheric way—and Ascension just flowed, with grungy aggression and sadboi introspection in perfect equilibrium. This easy, natural duality that characterizes Gothic metal, and Paradise Lost themselves as genre pioneers, when they’re at the top of their game, is exemplified in Ascension. Hopefully, the group can stay on this trajectory for number 18, if that comes.
#6. Clouds // Desprins – I don’t understand how Clouds are as good as they are. I mean this as no insult to the musicians; what stuns me is the depth of pathos, and the consistency with which they deliver it, given the relatively understated and idiosyncratic manner in which they execute it. Their characteristic flute-folk-funeral doom is so ethereally, painfully sad without being overwrought, melodramatic, or crushing. It took my n00bish breath away four years ago, and this year Desprins came and took it again; this time with pieces of my soul attached. The music is just so beautiful—unrelentingly bleak, but beautiful, and Clouds’ balance of the dark and the light through the synths and acoustics, and apathetic spoken-word is exquisite and deeply affecting. These composite melodies, swelling and trilling softly, are transportive for me—particularly “Life Becomes Lifeless,” “Chain Me,” “Sorrowbound,” and “Chasing Ghosts.” Desprins is everything I want funeral doom to be: a prolonged dream-state of melancholy that paradoxically brings me joy.
#5. Deafheaven // Lonely People with Power – I have never been a Deafheaven fan. In all honesty, I’m still not. Lonely People with Power fires me up and fills my soul, while the rest of their discography continues to leave me completely cold. It seems that, briefly departing from metal entirely with Infinite Granite, has matured their sound, adding layers to their edgy blackgaze. Even when indifferent, I never understood the scorn their music generates, and now that I’ve fallen for Lonely People with Power, it makes even less sense. Not only is the way Deafheaven are combining rich, beautiful melodies with—yes—brilliant black metal simply lovely to listen to, slick, seamless, sharp, etc, it’s also distinctive and engrossing. That’s before even getting into how emotionally resonant it is. And it’s not even like this means it can’t be heavy—heck, one of these tracks is on my Heavy Moves Heavy playlist. It’s not ‘cringe’; it’s a phenomenal record and one of the best to release this year.
#4. 1914 // Viribus Unitis – I have always been most moved—emotionally and aesthetically—by 1914’s brand of WWI-themed blackened-death than any other like act. Viribus Unitis somehow outdoes Where Fear and Weapons Meet, and possibly all of the band’s previous efforts, for evocativeness and being straightforward and compelling. From the now hallmark bookends “War In/Out” to frequent samples to lyrics infused with real soldier testimony, Viribus Unitis envelops the listener in this portal to the past through 1914’s most powerful, urgently melodic compositions. Every song is heavy, dramatic, and snappy in just the right amounts, resulting in a series of back-to-back bangers that also occasionally really, really hit home emotionally. “1918 Pt 3: ADE (A duty to escape)” does all the above to perfection and has received an almost embarrassing number of replays in the short time since release. But “1919 (The Home where I Died)” did actually make me cry,15 and its fade into “War Out” is the perfect end to the monumental achievement Viribus Unitis represents.
#3. Patristic // Catechesis – It seems that every year, I review one particular atmospheric-dissonant death metal record which dominates my listening in that subgenre, and instantly secures a year-end list spot. In 2023, Serpent of Old, last year Ulcerate16, and this year Patristic. Catechesis was an immediate, visceral love for me, and not once since June has it left rotation. Sinister and dark, but irresistible in its seamlessly flowing, captivating macro-composition narrated by roars and solemn sermonizing; it ends far too soon. And in addition to being beautifully atmospheric and magnetic in melody and dissonance alike, it stands out for truly insane performances in their own right. Specifically, the drumming, which continues to blow my mind and propels Catechesis from greatness into excellence with hypnotic, intelligent rhythmic interplay. Patristic’s uncanny ability to make extreme, inaccessible music incomprehensibly engrossing and a magnificent expression of its concept are why I can’t stop listening to Catechesis, and why it’s almost the best record of 2025.
#2. Qrixkuor // The Womb of the World – Much like reviewer Kenstrosity, whereas Qrixkuor’s debut Poison Palinopsia rewired my brain with its brilliance, I found follow-up Zoetrope a tad underwhelming. When said sponge began to hint, and then gush unstoppably about the duo’s second full-length, The Womb of the World, which was in his possession, vague hope turned to giddy excitement. Not only the twisted, psychedelic horror of their signature freeform blackened death would await me, but also a full live orchestra. Yet I still don’t think anything could have adequately prepared me for how massive and mad The Womb of the World actually is. With the strings, horns, and piano swooping and crashing about in great surges and falls, Qrixkuor’s already grandiose style fully feels like some tormented classical opus, and it’s utterly magnificent. Things so small as my words can’t do justice to the way the eerie and intense lurching orchestrals, maniacal snarling voices, and cavernous extreme metal combine to create some of the best things I have ever heard, ever. Weirdly memorable and violently compelling despite its monstrosity, I’ve become completely addicted to it since. Ken himself said, it is “a mastapeece for those to whom sanity is immaterial,” when he rightfully deemed it ‘Excellent’. If I must rescind soundness of mind to so esteem The Womb of the World, I will do so gladly.
#1. Cave Sermon // Fragile Wings – Last year, Divine Laughter went from unknown to #5 on my year-end list in about 2 weeks, so when I found out there was a follow-up—thanks to my new Flippered list buddy—I dropped everything.17 My stratospheric expectations were not only met, but they were lifted into outer space. I would fear for Cave Sermon’s ability to deliver in the future, but Fragile Wings itself dismisses any trepidation. So recognizably, uniquely Cave Sermon, it displays a new, more uplifting interpretation of their sound. A commenter pointed out the lack of reference to So Hideous in my review, and in retrospect, I see their point, at least in degree: the two projects are similarly experimental and impressively novel-sounding without actually feeling avant-garde. But there is just something about Cave Sermon that puts them in an entirely different category of genius—for me. Fragile Wings is playful but not silly; it’s complex but memorable, groovy, and fun; it’s dissonant and strange, but it’s organic, harmonious, and digestible. The idea that just one person is behind this18 makes it that much more mind-blowing. At this rate, there could well be another Cave Sermon record next year, and on the current trajectory, it may finally land this fantastic artist the official Iconic status they have always deserved.
Honorable Mentions:
- Dormant Ordeal // Tooth and Nail – Hands-down my favorite Dormant Ordeal album so far. Heavy, groovy, and eminently-listenable, it really got its claws into me—especially during gym sessions shortly after release. It did fall out of my rotation quite substantially, in favor of its rivals above, thus putting it here.
- Primitive Man // Observance – When Observance dropped, and I was listening for the first time, I badly tried to describe Primitive Man to my partner (not a metal fan) over WhatsApp as “being crushed by a big rock really slowly, but in a good way.” Obviously, they didn’t know what I was on about, but Spicie Forrest seems to with his much better analogy of “being imprisoned and forgotten in a lightless pit.” Primitive Man has always made silly-heavy, scary-huge music, but Observance clicked with me like nothing else in their discography prior. I am indeed helplessly crushed and held prisoner.
- Blut Aus Nord // Ethereal Horizons – I think if this had dropped just a tiny bit earlier, it could have ended up on my list proper. Blut Aus Nord has always been one of those artists I know I do enjoy, but for some reason has never fully clicked for me. Ethereal Horizons felt immediately more enthralling. It’s more atmospheric, more darkly melodic, more blackened in its heaviness, and through it all, possibly more frightening.
Songs of the Year
- Cave Sermon – “Ancient for Someone”
- Panopticon – “A Letter”
- Panopticon – “The Poppies Bloom For No King”
- Patristic – “A Vinculis Soluta II”
- Qrixkuor – “The Womb of the World”
- Bianca – “Abysmal”
- Deafheaven – “The Garden Route”
- Nephylim – “Amaranth”
- Clouds – “Sorrowbound”
- 1914 – “1918 Pt 3 A.D.E (A Duty to Escape)”
- Der Weg Einer Freiheit – “Marter”
- Primitive Man – “Natural Law”
#1914 #2025 #Aversed #BarrenPath #Bianca #BlogPosts #BlutAusNord #CaveSermon #Changeling #Chiasma #Clouds #Dawnwalker #Deafheaven #DerWegEinerFreiheit #DolphinWhisperSAndThusSpokeSTopTenIshOf2025 #DormantOrdeal #Gorycz #Grayceon #Grima #HelmsDeep #Lists #Lynchgate #MaudTheMoth #Messa #Mothers #Nephylim #Panopticon #ParadiseLost #Patristic #Pissgrave #PrimitiveMan #Qrixkuor #Quadvium #Scardust #Sterveling #SufferingHour #Turian #YellowEyes #夢遊病者 -
Dolphin Whisperer’s and Thus Spoke’s Top Ten(ish) of 2025 By Steel Druhm
Dolphin Whisperer
Thus Spoke and I go way back. In fact, after our successful graduation from the same n00b class and into our first list season as full article writers, we had imagined that us two as a listing pair would produce a lethal and novel whiplash.1 So welcome to the bottom (or top) half of this eclectic endeavor that’s sure to leave you with thirty-some-odd unique albums to revisit or ignore or whatever it is you do with our strong and word-riddled opinions.
Now, the keen reader may notice I’ve had a bit of a productivity drop-off since about June. Well, that’s cause my wife gave birth to The Dolphlet, first of his name, and that’s kind of a lot of work, as I’m finding out. Baby comes first, as it goes. But I squeaked out a few important things, including a Coroner review that the unwashed masses claimed didn’t jerk Tommy Baron and co. as full of glee as it should have. I did miss other important things, like several of my list items.2. And I sincerely apologize to the following bands and offer them words of condolence or, something like that, based upon their individual situation: Bonginator, you should be glad I dropped the ball, stop it with the lame interludes; and count your blessings, Hell Ever After, thrash doesn’t need to be a musical; Species, you did thrash right though and I’m happy that others enjoyed you even more; Moths, and more specifically bassist Weslie Negron, I’m sorry that I took on your interview when my son was one month old and my brain was fried—your album rocks and you put in so much work to make Moths special. And lastly, to all the classics, I had grand plans to YMIO because I thought my brain could make that work—haha.3
Angry Metal Guy, however, remains home for me. You, dear readers, are a part of that love and drive that keep me here. Sometimes, I may only be able to conjure a half-funny joke in the comments section—you laugh (let me believe that) and give it two to five likes. Others, I may hype the heck out of a promising underground act until one of my trusted colleagues tells me “Dolph, that’s enough already, I’ll review it, sheesh.”—you liked it probably more than I did anyway. You see, for every word of bleeding hyperbole that we scribble, two sets of eyes may walk away enraptured. When you’re dealing with artists who have anywhere from sub-100 to 30004 listeners on the popularity engine of Spotify, every set counts. Every purchase on Bandcamp or Ampwall counts. Every stream on Tidal or some other competitor counts. Even your damn scrobble on last.fm counts if you’re nerdy enough for that. So sappy as it may seem, along with the herding efforts of Steel and occasionally The Big Dr. AMG Man Himself, you all give life to the bands in this wonderful modern metal scene. Hails!!
#ish. Messa // The Spin – I can’t rid myself of the power that a soaring bluesy lick and a smoky siren voice hold, no matter how I try. Burned into my head are The Spin’s glassy chorused-out chorus escalations. Drenched into the cones of my crackling car speakers are the synth throbs of certified shakers “Fire on the Roof” and “Thicker Blood.” Turn up the volume and turn down the lights, Messa has come to steal attention with yet another platter of throwback creativity.
#10. Quadvium // Tetradōm – Steve DiGiorgio and Jeroen Paul Thesseling stand at the altar of supreme metal bassists in my own personal head canon. They’d helm yours too if you were familiar with the span of their collective talents across acts like Death, Sadus, Autopsy, (DiGiorgio), and Pestilence, Obscura, Sadist (Thesseling). Knowing all this, they decided to make an album together. And in their refinement as performers, they managed to make a supergroup two-bass project more than just a thumpy wankfest. Full of diverse and rich tones, modern and proggy jitteriness, and a rounded, jazz fusion-leaning taste for exploration, Tetradōm provides an exciting notch in the weathered belt of these legends. I don’t know where Quadvium goes next after this, but I hope that it’s anything but dormant.
#9. Scardust // Souls – Every time I hear the introductory stumble of “Long Forgotten Song,” I fall immediately into the spastic and serenading world that Scardust crafts with their hypermelodic, histrionic, and confident progressive metal attitude. Central to this success remains the peerless Noa Gruman, whose every melody lands with honey-slathered tack and sing-a-long inspiration, despite my voice being a far, far cry away from the searing soprano wail that functions as a mic-drop crescendo as often as it needs to. Behind her, though, lies one of modern prog’s most nimble rhythm sections, imbuing even ballads like “Dazzling Darkness” and “Searing Echoes” with a bass-popping and hi-hat chattering clamor that places Souls in a league of its own. Also, Ross Jennings of Haken sounds better here than he has with Haken since The Mountain.
#8. Chiasma // Reaches – Chiasma possesses the unique ability to blend in with the modern paradigm of accessible melody prog in the lane of a band like Tesseract without conforming to its most djentrified tendencies. Rather, floating in its own swirl of Cynic-coded riffage and angelic, layered vocal excess, Reaches explodes with atmosphere and propulsive riff alike. In Katie Thompson’s nimble serenades rests a voice imbued with both a fluttering prowess and an aching heart. And in this sorrow—wrapped in the brightness of bleeping electronic backings, flipping virtuosic guitar runs, and singular voice—a yearning and healing takes place in fervent and fluorescent splendor.
#7. Dawnwalker // The Between – Just when I thought Dawnwalker didn’t have any more surprises left in their bag of tricks that seem tailor-made for my enjoyment,5 these sneaky Brits went and pulled out the one-long-song album. Continuing to live in the space of esoteric philosophy set forth in The Unknowing last year, Dawnwalker collects moods from all their previous works—the melancholy of isolation from In Rooms, the vocal aggression from Human Ruins, a sonic palette even grander in scope than Ages—to explore thoughts surrounding death. In lush construction, plaintive discourse, and time-bending magic, The Between breathes as a meditation bookended by heavy chiming bells—a journey that feels longer than its svelte 30-ish minute runtime but with none of the fatigue its gargantuan ask threatens. 6
#6. Gorycz // Zasypia – It’s a shame that Gorycz isn’t a household name, as their mystical, groovy approach to atmospheric and retching black metal sits among my favorites in the genre as a whole. Zasypia, as part three of a trilogy, tells a tale of despair through a warping pedalboard light on traditional distortion, shrieking throat on the edge of coherence,7 and dancing kit full of jazzy aplomb. In the space that lives between recursive and developing refrains, terror lurks. But in the Gorycz tattered exhale hangs a reverence for the beauty that can emerge from destruction and grieving. Feel every amplified string creak as you fall deeper into this devastating world.
#5. Lychgate // Precipice – You may be aware that this album was released on the 19th of December, a full two days after we were supposed to turn in these lists. Knowing that, I made sure I beat Precipice to the punch of garbage time list upheaval by listening to it, well, before that. In turn, Lychgate made sure that they’d make this late-season blooming count. With the death-thrash spirit of an early Morbid Angel crashing through low-end organ harmony and colliding with Holdsworthian alien guitar bleating, Precipice holds back neither on its urge to wander in arcane atmosphere nor on its urge to churn bodies in kinetic wonder. As another writer (whose name I can’t remember) said, Precipice ensnares by “…oscillating between Zappa’s Jazz from Hell and unearthly, pit-scorching acrobatics.” I couldn’t have put it better myself.8
#4. Barren Path // Grieving – The best grindcore album of the decade so far would come from the manic attack of Gridlink sans Jon Chang. Absent his terrifying shriek, Matsubara’s guitar scatter weighs heavier, Fajarado’s lightning snare rolls clang sharper, all against song lengths that inhabit the true short-form tradition of extreme brevity. The truth is, I’ve spent longer than the album’s length trying to convey its intensity and prowess, so just go and listen to it already. I’ll wait here. No, seriously, do it.
#3. Turian // Blood Quantum Blues – So very rare is the album that aligns like a key to a lock of a heart torn by generational angst. An eloquence exists in the disparity between Turian’s stark societal observations punctuated by raw emotional interjections of “FUCK”. I haven’t bothered to count the instances that this linguistic escalation occurs, but I guarantee that there are more fucks per stanza on Blood Quantum Blues than your favorite album this year. And, after you’ve become addicted to its overdriven noise rock-meets-hardcore-meets-industrial madness, you’ll know every single one as you shout along its contemptuous tales of cultural erasure. Indians don’t vanish, and neither will my love for every riff, every breakdown, and every tirade of Blood Quantum Blues.
#2. Changeling // Changeling – Tom “Fountainhead” Geldschläger poured everything into Changeling. Arranging over thirty performers across Changeling’s seems Sisyphean in scope, but Geldschläger persevered. Through peerless fretless wailings, every instrument under the sun follows well-developed motifs, and a pure love for metal, Changeling expresses nostalgia and novelty in its every loaded nook and cranny. And behind each moment of dense and exuberant songcraft, Geldschläger has tinkered to deliver an experience that feels carved over a lifetime. On top of all of that, Geldschläger is also a true guitar wizard—he zigs and zags and twists and twirls where others wear a scale to death. Like a classic novel or movie, Changeling reveals its worth both in immediate, jaw-dropping action and deep, attention-stealing detail. Geldschläger even put together a Dolby Atmos mix for the album and held listening parties in Berlin. I hear they’re wonderful. Come to California, Tom!
#1. Maud the Moth // The Distaff – When we seek art, we seek bravery and freedom of expression. And in the music that we seek in a refuge like Angry Metal guy, we often find these qualities expressed in emotional theme, in raw, sonic aggression, or in sweeping guitar-led grandeur. Woven from a different base cloth, Maud the Moth on paper does not fit that mold. Amaya López-Carromero wields, instead, a piano and scrawled diary pages. She, too, has pain, the same as any human who has encountered a world unforgiving to a life that wishes to live in a divergent path. And like the artists we value—or rather, like the artists I value—Amaya presents her vision of this struggle with focused and expanding melodic lines, crushing and crying crescendos, and an earnestness that compels its audience to surrender for a moment to a world created by these musical ideas. When your sadness comes, it won’t weep in blacks and ivories the way that The Distaff does. But you can pop it on and pretend for its run that its triumph will transfer from your ears to the very center of your tingling chest.
Honorable Mentions:
- Pissgrave // Malignant Worthlessness – Tempos that flow like a full sewage pipe and riffage that doesn’t let up until the steaming and warped conclusion. The Pissgrave family flows as one heaving death-fueled machine, and it’s sad to see them close shop. But they left us with a monster of a swansong.
- Dormant Ordeal // Tooth and Nail – Pummeling and emotionally resonant—if a bit ham-fisted in some lyrical choices—Tooth and Nail represents the ideal form so far of what Dormant Ordeal can achieve with their gut-wrenching take on the Polish death metal sound.
- Sterveling // Sterveling – The backdrop of black metal on what is otherwise downcast jam music makes for a combo that is both hypnotic and uncontested in the space. It helps that the vocalist lets out some of the most demented howls I’ve heard this year.
- 夢遊病者 // РЛБ30011922 – Speaking of jam music, 夢遊病者 has, over time, morphed from a more frenetic math rock-indebted experience to this current, flowing state of progressive tone porn. 2025 was a good year for the one-song album. And much like Dawnwalker’s The Between, it takes up about thirty minutes and some change. Restraint, class, and fat bass heaven.
- Aversed // Erasure of Color – I’m not normally one for melodic death metal. But when it comes packaged with this much mic vitriol and a neoclassical sense that reminds me of the late, great Nevermore,9 I pay attention. And I spin it again and again and again—constant rotation since arrival.
- Yellow Eyes // Confusion Gate – Certain albums that come out late in the year suffer greatly because their true power lies in remaining interesting and unfolding over a long period of time. Immersion Trench Reverie is a special album, and Confusion Gate feels like its sequel. Comfy and caustic all at once.
- Moths // Septem – As the premier progressive metal band from Puerto Rico, Moths has a loaded mission to make a name for themselves. And with another album that keeps its runtime tight and its riffweight heavy, Septem deserves your attention for half an hour and then some. Hey, look, it’s on Ampwall too!
- Grayceon // Then the Darkness – Cello metal at its finest and most relatable. Despite advances in chamber inclusion throughout the metalsphere, not a single band sounds like Grayceon yet. And their songwriting quality remains so high that I don’t care that this album is just about eighty minutes.
- Helms Deep // Chasing the Dragon – There’s a dragon with a jetpack on the cover. I shouldn’t need to say more than that. But note also that Chasing the Dragon comes also loaded with rollicking ’80s flair and pentatonic guitar wizardry that’s so out of fashion it’s cool again. This is metal.
Disappointments o’ the Year:
- Suffering Hour // Impelling Rebirth and Umulamahri // Learning the Secrets of Acid – You’ll see more words about these later, cause they are great. And they are EPs. That’s not enough music when this quality exists.
Songs o’ the Year:
Why give you one when I can give you twenty-seven? Why twenty-seven? That’s my secret. Now, I’ve talked enough. Go out there and enjoy some music, friends. And enjoy this photo of my dogs eating. And the Dolphlet admiring them!
Thus Spoke
I’ve been blindsided by the year’s end again, and now have to find some interesting things to say about 2025. Other than the fact that I turned 3010, my main personal Thing ov Significance is that I managed to land myself a new job, which I’ll start in the new year.11 Don’t worry, though, I won’t be girl-bossing too hard to have time for AMG.
Musically, 2025 has been a (small) step down from 2024 for me, although this could just be due to my attention deficit. I’ve had my finger less firmly on the pulse in the last six months, such that several albums, by artists I like, many on this list, either took me completely by surprise on release day, or crossed my radar barely any sooner, thanks to me actually checking Slack for once. I don’t have any well-defined excuse for this outside of plain old burnout plus terrible organization. On the other hand, the fact that I didn’t review most of my favorite records this year means that I can bat away criticisms of self-indulgence by having a year-end list mostly comprised of albums I didn’t write about. One thing I am happy to have achieved this year is running my first AMG Ranking piece on Panopticon. It might be the most verbose and least exciting of its kind for the majority of site readers, but being forced to immerse myself that extensively in the discography of an artist I love was very cool (albeit intense).
Speaking of my own erratic presence at HQ, leads me on to the hiatus (official or not) of several wonderful people among the staff, particularly my list-buddy Maddog, whom I miss very much. They all have good reasons, and I support them immensely, even if it means fewer of their excellent reviews. Fortunately, we’ve also welcomed many newcomers to our ranks who can pick up my slack in their stead, and whose reviews help me improve my own writing whilst also appending to the endless list of Things I Must Listen To.
As my extensive yapping here shows, my ability to meet a word count hasn’t improved much. Before finally moving on to the list, I’ll take the chance to reiterate my gratitude for everyone reading this, and some people who might not be. Thank you to all the staff for collectively making this all possible, and giving me the opportunity to speak about music and for people—you guys—to actually read it. Thank you for reading. Even if our tastes are completely opposed and you think I’m wrong about everything, I’m glad you’re here.
Now for the bit people actually care about.
#ish. Panopticon // Songs of Hiraeth – Quietly12 released alongside Laurentian Blue, Songs of Hiraeth is a collection of songs composed between 2009-2011 that never saw the light of day. In it, you can hear the incredible development of Panopticon’s signature emotionally swelling black metal style in this period, and this record, like virtually all of them, as I repeated in my ranking blurbs, is gorgeously, absorbingly heartfelt and powerful. Unlike you might expect, it actually increases in intensity as it progresses (for me), with the final trifecta of “The End is Drawing Near,” “A Letter,” and “The Eulogy” all gunning for my Songs o’ the Year playlist with first devastating rage and fury, then heartbroken solemnity and sublime melody throughout. I guess it’s not fully in the list purely because it’s not a ‘proper’ new release, or whatever.
#10. Grima // Nightside – It could have been easy to forget about Grima, given its dropping right on the cusp of the stacked Spring release season we had this year, and the fact that I didn’t instantly mark it down for a TYMHM as with Clouds. But I didn’t forget. Despite their wintry aesthetic, Grima’s music warms my heart with folky magic and ardent blackened blizzards. Nightside is no exception, its warmth coming this time from a renewed emphasis on the atmosphere and bayan after the higher energies of Frostbitten. I love intense, harsh, frosty black metal, and I love how Grima do it (“Impending Death Premonition,” “Where We are Lost”). But what I love most of all about Grima is how they pair that with their folky tendencies, and the way—as Sharky pointed out—Vilhelm’s rasps graze over it all. This culminates, for me, in the more mournful and urgent tone of several tracks on Nightside, where intense moments still feel dreamlike (“The Nightside”), and vocals breathe like ghostly whispers (“Mist and Fog”). It’s not my favorite Grima record (that’s probably Rotten Garden), but being a Grima record at all, given their caliber, means it’s bloody great and has to be on my list.
#9. Bianca // Bianca – Here’s an excellent example of a record I very likely would never have heard were it not for the AMG writer community. And wow, am I grateful I did. Ken‘s description alone caught my interest, let alone the tidbit that the project includes two members of another 2025 favorite of mine, Patristic.13 It takes familiar concepts from metal, both post—ethereal atmospheres and haunting singing—and extreme—sky-piercing shrieks, undulating, relentless double-bass, and tangled guitar blizzards—but sounds like nothing else. Even in combining these elements, Bianca stands alone. The coalescence of blackened, doomed, ambient layers is mesmerizing, the pitches upward into mania, and lapses back into mournful mystique, captivating. Throat-gripping furor arrests me more inextricably than almost anything else this year (“Abysmal,” “Nachthexe”), and transcendent melodies forged from this black fire lift me fully out of my body (“Abysmal,” “Todestrieb”). I’ve been in love since.
#8. Der Weg Einer Freiheit // Innern – Innern’s influence on me was subtle and insidious. I would just put it on, be absorbed—or be sucked back in periodically, if I was working and not concentrating on it—and suddenly it would end. Then I’d listen to it again. Der Weg Einer Freiheit has been developing their particular intense, dark, atmospheric kind of (post-) black over the last decade or so, and with Innern, it’s approaching an apex. Through endlessly enveloping compositions, filled with fury and urgency (“Marter”) or solemn reflection and introspection (“Eos,” “Forlorn”), that flow seamlessly out of one another, Innern folds you insidiously into its depths. Compelling melodies, dynamic rushing percussion, and here-dramatic, there-soft-spoken vocals, each taking pieces and incorporating trials from Der Weg Einer Freiheit’s career so far, drive the thematic compositional thread through irresistibly. From the anticipatory opening shudders to the ebbing chords at its close, Innern is an experience best taken whole, and one I’ve indulged in countless times to go on this magnetic journey once again.
#7. Paradise Lost // Ascension – I never thought this would land here when first announced. Sure, I like Paradise Lost, but their back-catalog is so mixed (in style, let alone quality), that ‘liking’ them for me comes down to enjoying a handful of their now 17 albums. Even the singles’ being good failed to stir anything more than curiosity, given my experience with intra-album inconsistency. But when Ascension did finally grace my ears in full, it appropriately transcended any doubts and softened my heart towards these doom icons again.14 Paradise Lost were heavy again, melancholic and mopey again—in a cool, atmospheric way—and Ascension just flowed, with grungy aggression and sadboi introspection in perfect equilibrium. This easy, natural duality that characterizes Gothic metal, and Paradise Lost themselves as genre pioneers, when they’re at the top of their game, is exemplified in Ascension. Hopefully, the group can stay on this trajectory for number 18, if that comes.
#6. Clouds // Desprins – I don’t understand how Clouds are as good as they are. I mean this as no insult to the musicians; what stuns me is the depth of pathos, and the consistency with which they deliver it, given the relatively understated and idiosyncratic manner in which they execute it. Their characteristic flute-folk-funeral doom is so ethereally, painfully sad without being overwrought, melodramatic, or crushing. It took my n00bish breath away four years ago, and this year Desprins came and took it again; this time with pieces of my soul attached. The music is just so beautiful—unrelentingly bleak, but beautiful, and Clouds’ balance of the dark and the light through the synths and acoustics, and apathetic spoken-word is exquisite and deeply affecting. These composite melodies, swelling and trilling softly, are transportive for me—particularly “Life Becomes Lifeless,” “Chain Me,” “Sorrowbound,” and “Chasing Ghosts.” Desprins is everything I want funeral doom to be: a prolonged dream-state of melancholy that paradoxically brings me joy.
#5. Deafheaven // Lonely People with Power – I have never been a Deafheaven fan. In all honesty, I’m still not. Lonely People with Power fires me up and fills my soul, while the rest of their discography continues to leave me completely cold. It seems that, briefly departing from metal entirely with Infinite Granite, has matured their sound, adding layers to their edgy blackgaze. Even when indifferent, I never understood the scorn their music generates, and now that I’ve fallen for Lonely People with Power, it makes even less sense. Not only is the way Deafheaven are combining rich, beautiful melodies with—yes—brilliant black metal simply lovely to listen to, slick, seamless, sharp, etc, it’s also distinctive and engrossing. That’s before even getting into how emotionally resonant it is. And it’s not even like this means it can’t be heavy—heck, one of these tracks is on my Heavy Moves Heavy playlist. It’s not ‘cringe’; it’s a phenomenal record and one of the best to release this year.
#4. 1914 // Viribus Unitis – I have always been most moved—emotionally and aesthetically—by 1914’s brand of WWI-themed blackened-death than any other like act. Viribus Unitis somehow outdoes Where Fear and Weapons Meet, and possibly all of the band’s previous efforts, for evocativeness and being straightforward and compelling. From the now hallmark bookends “War In/Out” to frequent samples to lyrics infused with real soldier testimony, Viribus Unitis envelops the listener in this portal to the past through 1914’s most powerful, urgently melodic compositions. Every song is heavy, dramatic, and snappy in just the right amounts, resulting in a series of back-to-back bangers that also occasionally really, really hit home emotionally. “1918 Pt 3: ADE (A duty to escape)” does all the above to perfection and has received an almost embarrassing number of replays in the short time since release. But “1919 (The Home where I Died)” did actually make me cry,15 and its fade into “War Out” is the perfect end to the monumental achievement Viribus Unitis represents.
#3. Patristic // Catechesis – It seems that every year, I review one particular atmospheric-dissonant death metal record which dominates my listening in that subgenre, and instantly secures a year-end list spot. In 2023, Serpent of Old, last year Ulcerate16, and this year Patristic. Catechesis was an immediate, visceral love for me, and not once since June has it left rotation. Sinister and dark, but irresistible in its seamlessly flowing, captivating macro-composition narrated by roars and solemn sermonizing; it ends far too soon. And in addition to being beautifully atmospheric and magnetic in melody and dissonance alike, it stands out for truly insane performances in their own right. Specifically, the drumming, which continues to blow my mind and propels Catechesis from greatness into excellence with hypnotic, intelligent rhythmic interplay. Patristic’s uncanny ability to make extreme, inaccessible music incomprehensibly engrossing and a magnificent expression of its concept are why I can’t stop listening to Catechesis, and why it’s almost the best record of 2025.
#2. Qrixkuor // The Womb of the World – Much like reviewer Kenstrosity, whereas Qrixkuor’s debut Poison Palinopsia rewired my brain with its brilliance, I found follow-up Zoetrope a tad underwhelming. When said sponge began to hint, and then gush unstoppably about the duo’s second full-length, The Womb of the World, which was in his possession, vague hope turned to giddy excitement. Not only the twisted, psychedelic horror of their signature freeform blackened death would await me, but also a full live orchestra. Yet I still don’t think anything could have adequately prepared me for how massive and mad The Womb of the World actually is. With the strings, horns, and piano swooping and crashing about in great surges and falls, Qrixkuor’s already grandiose style fully feels like some tormented classical opus, and it’s utterly magnificent. Things so small as my words can’t do justice to the way the eerie and intense lurching orchestrals, maniacal snarling voices, and cavernous extreme metal combine to create some of the best things I have ever heard, ever. Weirdly memorable and violently compelling despite its monstrosity, I’ve become completely addicted to it since. Ken himself said, it is “a mastapeece for those to whom sanity is immaterial,” when he rightfully deemed it ‘Excellent’. If I must rescind soundness of mind to so esteem The Womb of the World, I will do so gladly.
#1. Cave Sermon // Fragile Wings – Last year, Divine Laughter went from unknown to #5 on my year-end list in about 2 weeks, so when I found out there was a follow-up—thanks to my new Flippered list buddy—I dropped everything.17 My stratospheric expectations were not only met, but they were lifted into outer space. I would fear for Cave Sermon’s ability to deliver in the future, but Fragile Wings itself dismisses any trepidation. So recognizably, uniquely Cave Sermon, it displays a new, more uplifting interpretation of their sound. A commenter pointed out the lack of reference to So Hideous in my review, and in retrospect, I see their point, at least in degree: the two projects are similarly experimental and impressively novel-sounding without actually feeling avant-garde. But there is just something about Cave Sermon that puts them in an entirely different category of genius—for me. Fragile Wings is playful but not silly; it’s complex but memorable, groovy, and fun; it’s dissonant and strange, but it’s organic, harmonious, and digestible. The idea that just one person is behind this18 makes it that much more mind-blowing. At this rate, there could well be another Cave Sermon record next year, and on the current trajectory, it may finally land this fantastic artist the official Iconic status they have always deserved.
Honorable Mentions:
- Dormant Ordeal // Tooth and Nail – Hands-down my favorite Dormant Ordeal album so far. Heavy, groovy, and eminently-listenable, it really got its claws into me—especially during gym sessions shortly after release. It did fall out of my rotation quite substantially, in favor of its rivals above, thus putting it here.
- Primitive Man // Observance – When Observance dropped, and I was listening for the first time, I badly tried to describe Primitive Man to my partner (not a metal fan) over WhatsApp as “being crushed by a big rock really slowly, but in a good way.” Obviously, they didn’t know what I was on about, but Spicie Forrest seems to with his much better analogy of “being imprisoned and forgotten in a lightless pit.” Primitive Man has always made silly-heavy, scary-huge music, but Observance clicked with me like nothing else in their discography prior. I am indeed helplessly crushed and held prisoner.
- Blut Aus Nord // Ethereal Horizons – I think if this had dropped just a tiny bit earlier, it could have ended up on my list proper. Blut Aus Nord has always been one of those artists I know I do enjoy, but for some reason has never fully clicked for me. Ethereal Horizons felt immediately more enthralling. It’s more atmospheric, more darkly melodic, more blackened in its heaviness, and through it all, possibly more frightening.
Songs of the Year
- Cave Sermon – “Ancient for Someone”
- Panopticon – “A Letter”
- Panopticon – “The Poppies Bloom For No King”
- Patristic – “A Vinculis Soluta II”
- Qrixkuor – “The Womb of the World”
- Bianca – “Abysmal”
- Deafheaven – “The Garden Route”
- Nephylim – “Amaranth”
- Clouds – “Sorrowbound”
- 1914 – “1918 Pt 3 A.D.E (A Duty to Escape)”
- Der Weg Einer Freiheit – “Marter”
- Primitive Man – “Natural Law”
#1914 #2025 #Aversed #BarrenPath #Bianca #BlogPosts #BlutAusNord #CaveSermon #Changeling #Chiasma #Clouds #Dawnwalker #Deafheaven #DerWegEinerFreiheit #DolphinWhisperSAndThusSpokeSTopTenIshOf2025 #DormantOrdeal #Gorycz #Grayceon #Grima #HelmsDeep #Lists #Lynchgate #MaudTheMoth #Messa #Mothers #Nephylim #Panopticon #ParadiseLost #Patristic #Pissgrave #PrimitiveMan #Qrixkuor #Quadvium #Scardust #Sterveling #SufferingHour #Turian #YellowEyes #夢遊病者 -
Dolphin Whisperer’s and Thus Spoke’s Top Ten(ish) of 2025 By Steel Druhm
Dolphin Whisperer
Thus Spoke and I go way back. In fact, after our successful graduation from the same n00b class and into our first list season as full article writers, we had imagined that us two as a listing pair would produce a lethal and novel whiplash.1 So welcome to the bottom (or top) half of this eclectic endeavor that’s sure to leave you with thirty-some-odd unique albums to revisit or ignore or whatever it is you do with our strong and word-riddled opinions.
Now, the keen reader may notice I’ve had a bit of a productivity drop-off since about June. Well, that’s cause my wife gave birth to The Dolphlet, first of his name, and that’s kind of a lot of work, as I’m finding out. Baby comes first, as it goes. But I squeaked out a few important things, including a Coroner review that the unwashed masses claimed didn’t jerk Tommy Baron and co. as full of glee as it should have. I did miss other important things, like several of my list items.2. And I sincerely apologize to the following bands and offer them words of condolence or, something like that, based upon their individual situation: Bonginator, you should be glad I dropped the ball, stop it with the lame interludes; and count your blessings, Hell Ever After, thrash doesn’t need to be a musical; Species, you did thrash right though and I’m happy that others enjoyed you even more; Moths, and more specifically bassist Weslie Negron, I’m sorry that I took on your interview when my son was one month old and my brain was fried—your album rocks and you put in so much work to make Moths special. And lastly, to all the classics, I had grand plans to YMIO because I thought my brain could make that work—haha.3
Angry Metal Guy, however, remains home for me. You, dear readers, are a part of that love and drive that keep me here. Sometimes, I may only be able to conjure a half-funny joke in the comments section—you laugh (let me believe that) and give it two to five likes. Others, I may hype the heck out of a promising underground act until one of my trusted colleagues tells me “Dolph, that’s enough already, I’ll review it, sheesh.”—you liked it probably more than I did anyway. You see, for every word of bleeding hyperbole that we scribble, two sets of eyes may walk away enraptured. When you’re dealing with artists who have anywhere from sub-100 to 30004 listeners on the popularity engine of Spotify, every set counts. Every purchase on Bandcamp or Ampwall counts. Every stream on Tidal or some other competitor counts. Even your damn scrobble on last.fm counts if you’re nerdy enough for that. So sappy as it may seem, along with the herding efforts of Steel and occasionally The Big Dr. AMG Man Himself, you all give life to the bands in this wonderful modern metal scene. Hails!!
#ish. Messa // The Spin – I can’t rid myself of the power that a soaring bluesy lick and a smoky siren voice hold, no matter how I try. Burned into my head are The Spin’s glassy chorused-out chorus escalations. Drenched into the cones of my crackling car speakers are the synth throbs of certified shakers “Fire on the Roof” and “Thicker Blood.” Turn up the volume and turn down the lights, Messa has come to steal attention with yet another platter of throwback creativity.
#10. Quadvium // Tetradōm – Steve DiGiorgio and Jeroen Paul Thesseling stand at the altar of supreme metal bassists in my own personal head canon. They’d helm yours too if you were familiar with the span of their collective talents across acts like Death, Sadus, Autopsy, (DiGiorgio), and Pestilence, Obscura, Sadist (Thesseling). Knowing all this, they decided to make an album together. And in their refinement as performers, they managed to make a supergroup two-bass project more than just a thumpy wankfest. Full of diverse and rich tones, modern and proggy jitteriness, and a rounded, jazz fusion-leaning taste for exploration, Tetradōm provides an exciting notch in the weathered belt of these legends. I don’t know where Quadvium goes next after this, but I hope that it’s anything but dormant.
#9. Scardust // Souls – Every time I hear the introductory stumble of “Long Forgotten Song,” I fall immediately into the spastic and serenading world that Scardust crafts with their hypermelodic, histrionic, and confident progressive metal attitude. Central to this success remains the peerless Noa Gruman, whose every melody lands with honey-slathered tack and sing-a-long inspiration, despite my voice being a far, far cry away from the searing soprano wail that functions as a mic-drop crescendo as often as it needs to. Behind her, though, lies one of modern prog’s most nimble rhythm sections, imbuing even ballads like “Dazzling Darkness” and “Searing Echoes” with a bass-popping and hi-hat chattering clamor that places Souls in a league of its own. Also, Ross Jennings of Haken sounds better here than he has with Haken since The Mountain.
#8. Chiasma // Reaches – Chiasma possesses the unique ability to blend in with the modern paradigm of accessible melody prog in the lane of a band like Tesseract without conforming to its most djentrified tendencies. Rather, floating in its own swirl of Cynic-coded riffage and angelic, layered vocal excess, Reaches explodes with atmosphere and propulsive riff alike. In Katie Thompson’s nimble serenades rests a voice imbued with both a fluttering prowess and an aching heart. And in this sorrow—wrapped in the brightness of bleeping electronic backings, flipping virtuosic guitar runs, and singular voice—a yearning and healing takes place in fervent and fluorescent splendor.
#7. Dawnwalker // The Between – Just when I thought Dawnwalker didn’t have any more surprises left in their bag of tricks that seem tailor-made for my enjoyment,5 these sneaky Brits went and pulled out the one-long-song album. Continuing to live in the space of esoteric philosophy set forth in The Unknowing last year, Dawnwalker collects moods from all their previous works—the melancholy of isolation from In Rooms, the vocal aggression from Human Ruins, a sonic palette even grander in scope than Ages—to explore thoughts surrounding death. In lush construction, plaintive discourse, and time-bending magic, The Between breathes as a meditation bookended by heavy chiming bells—a journey that feels longer than its svelte 30-ish minute runtime but with none of the fatigue its gargantuan ask threatens. 6
#6. Gorycz // Zasypia – It’s a shame that Gorycz isn’t a household name, as their mystical, groovy approach to atmospheric and retching black metal sits among my favorites in the genre as a whole. Zasypia, as part three of a trilogy, tells a tale of despair through a warping pedalboard light on traditional distortion, shrieking throat on the edge of coherence,7 and dancing kit full of jazzy aplomb. In the space that lives between recursive and developing refrains, terror lurks. But in the Gorycz tattered exhale hangs a reverence for the beauty that can emerge from destruction and grieving. Feel every amplified string creak as you fall deeper into this devastating world.
#5. Lychgate // Precipice – You may be aware that this album was released on the 19th of December, a full two days after we were supposed to turn in these lists. Knowing that, I made sure I beat Precipice to the punch of garbage time list upheaval by listening to it, well, before that. In turn, Lychgate made sure that they’d make this late-season blooming count. With the death-thrash spirit of an early Morbid Angel crashing through low-end organ harmony and colliding with Holdsworthian alien guitar bleating, Precipice holds back neither on its urge to wander in arcane atmosphere nor on its urge to churn bodies in kinetic wonder. As another writer (whose name I can’t remember) said, Precipice ensnares by “…oscillating between Zappa’s Jazz from Hell and unearthly, pit-scorching acrobatics.” I couldn’t have put it better myself.8
#4. Barren Path // Grieving – The best grindcore album of the decade so far would come from the manic attack of Gridlink sans Jon Chang. Absent his terrifying shriek, Matsubara’s guitar scatter weighs heavier, Fajarado’s lightning snare rolls clang sharper, all against song lengths that inhabit the true short-form tradition of extreme brevity. The truth is, I’ve spent longer than the album’s length trying to convey its intensity and prowess, so just go and listen to it already. I’ll wait here. No, seriously, do it.
#3. Turian // Blood Quantum Blues – So very rare is the album that aligns like a key to a lock of a heart torn by generational angst. An eloquence exists in the disparity between Turian’s stark societal observations punctuated by raw emotional interjections of “FUCK”. I haven’t bothered to count the instances that this linguistic escalation occurs, but I guarantee that there are more fucks per stanza on Blood Quantum Blues than your favorite album this year. And, after you’ve become addicted to its overdriven noise rock-meets-hardcore-meets-industrial madness, you’ll know every single one as you shout along its contemptuous tales of cultural erasure. Indians don’t vanish, and neither will my love for every riff, every breakdown, and every tirade of Blood Quantum Blues.
#2. Changeling // Changeling – Tom “Fountainhead” Geldschläger poured everything into Changeling. Arranging over thirty performers across Changeling’s seems Sisyphean in scope, but Geldschläger persevered. Through peerless fretless wailings, every instrument under the sun follows well-developed motifs, and a pure love for metal, Changeling expresses nostalgia and novelty in its every loaded nook and cranny. And behind each moment of dense and exuberant songcraft, Geldschläger has tinkered to deliver an experience that feels carved over a lifetime. On top of all of that, Geldschläger is also a true guitar wizard—he zigs and zags and twists and twirls where others wear a scale to death. Like a classic novel or movie, Changeling reveals its worth both in immediate, jaw-dropping action and deep, attention-stealing detail. Geldschläger even put together a Dolby Atmos mix for the album and held listening parties in Berlin. I hear they’re wonderful. Come to California, Tom!
#1. Maud the Moth // The Distaff – When we seek art, we seek bravery and freedom of expression. And in the music that we seek in a refuge like Angry Metal guy, we often find these qualities expressed in emotional theme, in raw, sonic aggression, or in sweeping guitar-led grandeur. Woven from a different base cloth, Maud the Moth on paper does not fit that mold. Amaya López-Carromero wields, instead, a piano and scrawled diary pages. She, too, has pain, the same as any human who has encountered a world unforgiving to a life that wishes to live in a divergent path. And like the artists we value—or rather, like the artists I value—Amaya presents her vision of this struggle with focused and expanding melodic lines, crushing and crying crescendos, and an earnestness that compels its audience to surrender for a moment to a world created by these musical ideas. When your sadness comes, it won’t weep in blacks and ivories the way that The Distaff does. But you can pop it on and pretend for its run that its triumph will transfer from your ears to the very center of your tingling chest.
Honorable Mentions:
- Pissgrave // Malignant Worthlessness – Tempos that flow like a full sewage pipe and riffage that doesn’t let up until the steaming and warped conclusion. The Pissgrave family flows as one heaving death-fueled machine, and it’s sad to see them close shop. But they left us with a monster of a swansong.
- Dormant Ordeal // Tooth and Nail – Pummeling and emotionally resonant—if a bit ham-fisted in some lyrical choices—Tooth and Nail represents the ideal form so far of what Dormant Ordeal can achieve with their gut-wrenching take on the Polish death metal sound.
- Sterveling // Sterveling – The backdrop of black metal on what is otherwise downcast jam music makes for a combo that is both hypnotic and uncontested in the space. It helps that the vocalist lets out some of the most demented howls I’ve heard this year.
- 夢遊病者 // РЛБ30011922 – Speaking of jam music, 夢遊病者 has, over time, morphed from a more frenetic math rock-indebted experience to this current, flowing state of progressive tone porn. 2025 was a good year for the one-song album. And much like Dawnwalker’s The Between, it takes up about thirty minutes and some change. Restraint, class, and fat bass heaven.
- Aversed // Erasure of Color – I’m not normally one for melodic death metal. But when it comes packaged with this much mic vitriol and a neoclassical sense that reminds me of the late, great Nevermore,9 I pay attention. And I spin it again and again and again—constant rotation since arrival.
- Yellow Eyes // Confusion Gate – Certain albums that come out late in the year suffer greatly because their true power lies in remaining interesting and unfolding over a long period of time. Immersion Trench Reverie is a special album, and Confusion Gate feels like its sequel. Comfy and caustic all at once.
- Moths // Septem – As the premier progressive metal band from Puerto Rico, Moths has a loaded mission to make a name for themselves. And with another album that keeps its runtime tight and its riffweight heavy, Septem deserves your attention for half an hour and then some. Hey, look, it’s on Ampwall too!
- Grayceon // Then the Darkness – Cello metal at its finest and most relatable. Despite advances in chamber inclusion throughout the metalsphere, not a single band sounds like Grayceon yet. And their songwriting quality remains so high that I don’t care that this album is just about eighty minutes.
- Helms Deep // Chasing the Dragon – There’s a dragon with a jetpack on the cover. I shouldn’t need to say more than that. But note also that Chasing the Dragon comes also loaded with rollicking ’80s flair and pentatonic guitar wizardry that’s so out of fashion it’s cool again. This is metal.
Disappointments o’ the Year:
- Suffering Hour // Impelling Rebirth and Umulamahri // Learning the Secrets of Acid – You’ll see more words about these later, cause they are great. And they are EPs. That’s not enough music when this quality exists.
Songs o’ the Year:
Why give you one when I can give you twenty-seven? Why twenty-seven? That’s my secret. Now, I’ve talked enough. Go out there and enjoy some music, friends. And enjoy this photo of my dogs eating. And the Dolphlet admiring them!
Thus Spoke
I’ve been blindsided by the year’s end again, and now have to find some interesting things to say about 2025. Other than the fact that I turned 3010, my main personal Thing ov Significance is that I managed to land myself a new job, which I’ll start in the new year.11 Don’t worry, though, I won’t be girl-bossing too hard to have time for AMG.
Musically, 2025 has been a (small) step down from 2024 for me, although this could just be due to my attention deficit. I’ve had my finger less firmly on the pulse in the last six months, such that several albums, by artists I like, many on this list, either took me completely by surprise on release day, or crossed my radar barely any sooner, thanks to me actually checking Slack for once. I don’t have any well-defined excuse for this outside of plain old burnout plus terrible organization. On the other hand, the fact that I didn’t review most of my favorite records this year means that I can bat away criticisms of self-indulgence by having a year-end list mostly comprised of albums I didn’t write about. One thing I am happy to have achieved this year is running my first AMG Ranking piece on Panopticon. It might be the most verbose and least exciting of its kind for the majority of site readers, but being forced to immerse myself that extensively in the discography of an artist I love was very cool (albeit intense).
Speaking of my own erratic presence at HQ, leads me on to the hiatus (official or not) of several wonderful people among the staff, particularly my list-buddy Maddog, whom I miss very much. They all have good reasons, and I support them immensely, even if it means fewer of their excellent reviews. Fortunately, we’ve also welcomed many newcomers to our ranks who can pick up my slack in their stead, and whose reviews help me improve my own writing whilst also appending to the endless list of Things I Must Listen To.
As my extensive yapping here shows, my ability to meet a word count hasn’t improved much. Before finally moving on to the list, I’ll take the chance to reiterate my gratitude for everyone reading this, and some people who might not be. Thank you to all the staff for collectively making this all possible, and giving me the opportunity to speak about music and for people—you guys—to actually read it. Thank you for reading. Even if our tastes are completely opposed and you think I’m wrong about everything, I’m glad you’re here.
Now for the bit people actually care about.
#ish. Panopticon // Songs of Hiraeth – Quietly12 released alongside Laurentian Blue, Songs of Hiraeth is a collection of songs composed between 2009-2011 that never saw the light of day. In it, you can hear the incredible development of Panopticon’s signature emotionally swelling black metal style in this period, and this record, like virtually all of them, as I repeated in my ranking blurbs, is gorgeously, absorbingly heartfelt and powerful. Unlike you might expect, it actually increases in intensity as it progresses (for me), with the final trifecta of “The End is Drawing Near,” “A Letter,” and “The Eulogy” all gunning for my Songs o’ the Year playlist with first devastating rage and fury, then heartbroken solemnity and sublime melody throughout. I guess it’s not fully in the list purely because it’s not a ‘proper’ new release, or whatever.
#10. Grima // Nightside – It could have been easy to forget about Grima, given its dropping right on the cusp of the stacked Spring release season we had this year, and the fact that I didn’t instantly mark it down for a TYMHM as with Clouds. But I didn’t forget. Despite their wintry aesthetic, Grima’s music warms my heart with folky magic and ardent blackened blizzards. Nightside is no exception, its warmth coming this time from a renewed emphasis on the atmosphere and bayan after the higher energies of Frostbitten. I love intense, harsh, frosty black metal, and I love how Grima do it (“Impending Death Premonition,” “Where We are Lost”). But what I love most of all about Grima is how they pair that with their folky tendencies, and the way—as Sharky pointed out—Vilhelm’s rasps graze over it all. This culminates, for me, in the more mournful and urgent tone of several tracks on Nightside, where intense moments still feel dreamlike (“The Nightside”), and vocals breathe like ghostly whispers (“Mist and Fog”). It’s not my favorite Grima record (that’s probably Rotten Garden), but being a Grima record at all, given their caliber, means it’s bloody great and has to be on my list.
#9. Bianca // Bianca – Here’s an excellent example of a record I very likely would never have heard were it not for the AMG writer community. And wow, am I grateful I did. Ken‘s description alone caught my interest, let alone the tidbit that the project includes two members of another 2025 favorite of mine, Patristic.13 It takes familiar concepts from metal, both post—ethereal atmospheres and haunting singing—and extreme—sky-piercing shrieks, undulating, relentless double-bass, and tangled guitar blizzards—but sounds like nothing else. Even in combining these elements, Bianca stands alone. The coalescence of blackened, doomed, ambient layers is mesmerizing, the pitches upward into mania, and lapses back into mournful mystique, captivating. Throat-gripping furor arrests me more inextricably than almost anything else this year (“Abysmal,” “Nachthexe”), and transcendent melodies forged from this black fire lift me fully out of my body (“Abysmal,” “Todestrieb”). I’ve been in love since.
#8. Der Weg Einer Freiheit // Innern – Innern’s influence on me was subtle and insidious. I would just put it on, be absorbed—or be sucked back in periodically, if I was working and not concentrating on it—and suddenly it would end. Then I’d listen to it again. Der Weg Einer Freiheit has been developing their particular intense, dark, atmospheric kind of (post-) black over the last decade or so, and with Innern, it’s approaching an apex. Through endlessly enveloping compositions, filled with fury and urgency (“Marter”) or solemn reflection and introspection (“Eos,” “Forlorn”), that flow seamlessly out of one another, Innern folds you insidiously into its depths. Compelling melodies, dynamic rushing percussion, and here-dramatic, there-soft-spoken vocals, each taking pieces and incorporating trials from Der Weg Einer Freiheit’s career so far, drive the thematic compositional thread through irresistibly. From the anticipatory opening shudders to the ebbing chords at its close, Innern is an experience best taken whole, and one I’ve indulged in countless times to go on this magnetic journey once again.
#7. Paradise Lost // Ascension – I never thought this would land here when first announced. Sure, I like Paradise Lost, but their back-catalog is so mixed (in style, let alone quality), that ‘liking’ them for me comes down to enjoying a handful of their now 17 albums. Even the singles’ being good failed to stir anything more than curiosity, given my experience with intra-album inconsistency. But when Ascension did finally grace my ears in full, it appropriately transcended any doubts and softened my heart towards these doom icons again.14 Paradise Lost were heavy again, melancholic and mopey again—in a cool, atmospheric way—and Ascension just flowed, with grungy aggression and sadboi introspection in perfect equilibrium. This easy, natural duality that characterizes Gothic metal, and Paradise Lost themselves as genre pioneers, when they’re at the top of their game, is exemplified in Ascension. Hopefully, the group can stay on this trajectory for number 18, if that comes.
#6. Clouds // Desprins – I don’t understand how Clouds are as good as they are. I mean this as no insult to the musicians; what stuns me is the depth of pathos, and the consistency with which they deliver it, given the relatively understated and idiosyncratic manner in which they execute it. Their characteristic flute-folk-funeral doom is so ethereally, painfully sad without being overwrought, melodramatic, or crushing. It took my n00bish breath away four years ago, and this year Desprins came and took it again; this time with pieces of my soul attached. The music is just so beautiful—unrelentingly bleak, but beautiful, and Clouds’ balance of the dark and the light through the synths and acoustics, and apathetic spoken-word is exquisite and deeply affecting. These composite melodies, swelling and trilling softly, are transportive for me—particularly “Life Becomes Lifeless,” “Chain Me,” “Sorrowbound,” and “Chasing Ghosts.” Desprins is everything I want funeral doom to be: a prolonged dream-state of melancholy that paradoxically brings me joy.
#5. Deafheaven // Lonely People with Power – I have never been a Deafheaven fan. In all honesty, I’m still not. Lonely People with Power fires me up and fills my soul, while the rest of their discography continues to leave me completely cold. It seems that, briefly departing from metal entirely with Infinite Granite, has matured their sound, adding layers to their edgy blackgaze. Even when indifferent, I never understood the scorn their music generates, and now that I’ve fallen for Lonely People with Power, it makes even less sense. Not only is the way Deafheaven are combining rich, beautiful melodies with—yes—brilliant black metal simply lovely to listen to, slick, seamless, sharp, etc, it’s also distinctive and engrossing. That’s before even getting into how emotionally resonant it is. And it’s not even like this means it can’t be heavy—heck, one of these tracks is on my Heavy Moves Heavy playlist. It’s not ‘cringe’; it’s a phenomenal record and one of the best to release this year.
#4. 1914 // Viribus Unitis – I have always been most moved—emotionally and aesthetically—by 1914’s brand of WWI-themed blackened-death than any other like act. Viribus Unitis somehow outdoes Where Fear and Weapons Meet, and possibly all of the band’s previous efforts, for evocativeness and being straightforward and compelling. From the now hallmark bookends “War In/Out” to frequent samples to lyrics infused with real soldier testimony, Viribus Unitis envelops the listener in this portal to the past through 1914’s most powerful, urgently melodic compositions. Every song is heavy, dramatic, and snappy in just the right amounts, resulting in a series of back-to-back bangers that also occasionally really, really hit home emotionally. “1918 Pt 3: ADE (A duty to escape)” does all the above to perfection and has received an almost embarrassing number of replays in the short time since release. But “1919 (The Home where I Died)” did actually make me cry,15 and its fade into “War Out” is the perfect end to the monumental achievement Viribus Unitis represents.
#3. Patristic // Catechesis – It seems that every year, I review one particular atmospheric-dissonant death metal record which dominates my listening in that subgenre, and instantly secures a year-end list spot. In 2023, Serpent of Old, last year Ulcerate16, and this year Patristic. Catechesis was an immediate, visceral love for me, and not once since June has it left rotation. Sinister and dark, but irresistible in its seamlessly flowing, captivating macro-composition narrated by roars and solemn sermonizing; it ends far too soon. And in addition to being beautifully atmospheric and magnetic in melody and dissonance alike, it stands out for truly insane performances in their own right. Specifically, the drumming, which continues to blow my mind and propels Catechesis from greatness into excellence with hypnotic, intelligent rhythmic interplay. Patristic’s uncanny ability to make extreme, inaccessible music incomprehensibly engrossing and a magnificent expression of its concept are why I can’t stop listening to Catechesis, and why it’s almost the best record of 2025.
#2. Qrixkuor // The Womb of the World – Much like reviewer Kenstrosity, whereas Qrixkuor’s debut Poison Palinopsia rewired my brain with its brilliance, I found follow-up Zoetrope a tad underwhelming. When said sponge began to hint, and then gush unstoppably about the duo’s second full-length, The Womb of the World, which was in his possession, vague hope turned to giddy excitement. Not only the twisted, psychedelic horror of their signature freeform blackened death would await me, but also a full live orchestra. Yet I still don’t think anything could have adequately prepared me for how massive and mad The Womb of the World actually is. With the strings, horns, and piano swooping and crashing about in great surges and falls, Qrixkuor’s already grandiose style fully feels like some tormented classical opus, and it’s utterly magnificent. Things so small as my words can’t do justice to the way the eerie and intense lurching orchestrals, maniacal snarling voices, and cavernous extreme metal combine to create some of the best things I have ever heard, ever. Weirdly memorable and violently compelling despite its monstrosity, I’ve become completely addicted to it since. Ken himself said, it is “a mastapeece for those to whom sanity is immaterial,” when he rightfully deemed it ‘Excellent’. If I must rescind soundness of mind to so esteem The Womb of the World, I will do so gladly.
#1. Cave Sermon // Fragile Wings – Last year, Divine Laughter went from unknown to #5 on my year-end list in about 2 weeks, so when I found out there was a follow-up—thanks to my new Flippered list buddy—I dropped everything.17 My stratospheric expectations were not only met, but they were lifted into outer space. I would fear for Cave Sermon’s ability to deliver in the future, but Fragile Wings itself dismisses any trepidation. So recognizably, uniquely Cave Sermon, it displays a new, more uplifting interpretation of their sound. A commenter pointed out the lack of reference to So Hideous in my review, and in retrospect, I see their point, at least in degree: the two projects are similarly experimental and impressively novel-sounding without actually feeling avant-garde. But there is just something about Cave Sermon that puts them in an entirely different category of genius—for me. Fragile Wings is playful but not silly; it’s complex but memorable, groovy, and fun; it’s dissonant and strange, but it’s organic, harmonious, and digestible. The idea that just one person is behind this18 makes it that much more mind-blowing. At this rate, there could well be another Cave Sermon record next year, and on the current trajectory, it may finally land this fantastic artist the official Iconic status they have always deserved.
Honorable Mentions:
- Dormant Ordeal // Tooth and Nail – Hands-down my favorite Dormant Ordeal album so far. Heavy, groovy, and eminently-listenable, it really got its claws into me—especially during gym sessions shortly after release. It did fall out of my rotation quite substantially, in favor of its rivals above, thus putting it here.
- Primitive Man // Observance – When Observance dropped, and I was listening for the first time, I badly tried to describe Primitive Man to my partner (not a metal fan) over WhatsApp as “being crushed by a big rock really slowly, but in a good way.” Obviously, they didn’t know what I was on about, but Spicie Forrest seems to with his much better analogy of “being imprisoned and forgotten in a lightless pit.” Primitive Man has always made silly-heavy, scary-huge music, but Observance clicked with me like nothing else in their discography prior. I am indeed helplessly crushed and held prisoner.
- Blut Aus Nord // Ethereal Horizons – I think if this had dropped just a tiny bit earlier, it could have ended up on my list proper. Blut Aus Nord has always been one of those artists I know I do enjoy, but for some reason has never fully clicked for me. Ethereal Horizons felt immediately more enthralling. It’s more atmospheric, more darkly melodic, more blackened in its heaviness, and through it all, possibly more frightening.
Songs of the Year
- Cave Sermon – “Ancient for Someone”
- Panopticon – “A Letter”
- Panopticon – “The Poppies Bloom For No King”
- Patristic – “A Vinculis Soluta II”
- Qrixkuor – “The Womb of the World”
- Bianca – “Abysmal”
- Deafheaven – “The Garden Route”
- Nephylim – “Amaranth”
- Clouds – “Sorrowbound”
- 1914 – “1918 Pt 3 A.D.E (A Duty to Escape)”
- Der Weg Einer Freiheit – “Marter”
- Primitive Man – “Natural Law”
#1914 #2025 #Aversed #BarrenPath #Bianca #BlogPosts #BlutAusNord #CaveSermon #Changeling #Chiasma #Clouds #Dawnwalker #Deafheaven #DerWegEinerFreiheit #DolphinWhisperSAndThusSpokeSTopTenIshOf2025 #DormantOrdeal #Gorycz #Grayceon #Grima #HelmsDeep #Lists #Lynchgate #MaudTheMoth #Messa #Mothers #Nephylim #Panopticon #ParadiseLost #Patristic #Pissgrave #PrimitiveMan #Qrixkuor #Quadvium #Scardust #Sterveling #SufferingHour #Turian #YellowEyes #夢遊病者 -
Dolphin Whisperer’s and Thus Spoke’s Top Ten(ish) of 2025 By Steel Druhm
Dolphin Whisperer
Thus Spoke and I go way back. In fact, after our successful graduation from the same n00b class and into our first list season as full article writers, we had imagined that us two as a listing pair would produce a lethal and novel whiplash.1 So welcome to the bottom (or top) half of this eclectic endeavor that’s sure to leave you with thirty-some-odd unique albums to revisit or ignore or whatever it is you do with our strong and word-riddled opinions.
Now, the keen reader may notice I’ve had a bit of a productivity drop-off since about June. Well, that’s cause my wife gave birth to The Dolphlet, first of his name, and that’s kind of a lot of work, as I’m finding out. Baby comes first, as it goes. But I squeaked out a few important things, including a Coroner review that the unwashed masses claimed didn’t jerk Tommy Baron and co. as full of glee as it should have. I did miss other important things, like several of my list items.2. And I sincerely apologize to the following bands and offer them words of condolence or, something like that, based upon their individual situation: Bonginator, you should be glad I dropped the ball, stop it with the lame interludes; and count your blessings, Hell Ever After, thrash doesn’t need to be a musical; Species, you did thrash right though and I’m happy that others enjoyed you even more; Moths, and more specifically bassist Weslie Negron, I’m sorry that I took on your interview when my son was one month old and my brain was fried—your album rocks and you put in so much work to make Moths special. And lastly, to all the classics, I had grand plans to YMIO because I thought my brain could make that work—haha.3
Angry Metal Guy, however, remains home for me. You, dear readers, are a part of that love and drive that keep me here. Sometimes, I may only be able to conjure a half-funny joke in the comments section—you laugh (let me believe that) and give it two to five likes. Others, I may hype the heck out of a promising underground act until one of my trusted colleagues tells me “Dolph, that’s enough already, I’ll review it, sheesh.”—you liked it probably more than I did anyway. You see, for every word of bleeding hyperbole that we scribble, two sets of eyes may walk away enraptured. When you’re dealing with artists who have anywhere from sub-100 to 30004 listeners on the popularity engine of Spotify, every set counts. Every purchase on Bandcamp or Ampwall counts. Every stream on Tidal or some other competitor counts. Even your damn scrobble on last.fm counts if you’re nerdy enough for that. So sappy as it may seem, along with the herding efforts of Steel and occasionally The Big Dr. AMG Man Himself, you all give life to the bands in this wonderful modern metal scene. Hails!!
#ish. Messa // The Spin – I can’t rid myself of the power that a soaring bluesy lick and a smoky siren voice hold, no matter how I try. Burned into my head are The Spin’s glassy chorused-out chorus escalations. Drenched into the cones of my crackling car speakers are the synth throbs of certified shakers “Fire on the Roof” and “Thicker Blood.” Turn up the volume and turn down the lights, Messa has come to steal attention with yet another platter of throwback creativity.
#10. Quadvium // Tetradōm – Steve DiGiorgio and Jeroen Paul Thesseling stand at the altar of supreme metal bassists in my own personal head canon. They’d helm yours too if you were familiar with the span of their collective talents across acts like Death, Sadus, Autopsy, (DiGiorgio), and Pestilence, Obscura, Sadist (Thesseling). Knowing all this, they decided to make an album together. And in their refinement as performers, they managed to make a supergroup two-bass project more than just a thumpy wankfest. Full of diverse and rich tones, modern and proggy jitteriness, and a rounded, jazz fusion-leaning taste for exploration, Tetradōm provides an exciting notch in the weathered belt of these legends. I don’t know where Quadvium goes next after this, but I hope that it’s anything but dormant.
#9. Scardust // Souls – Every time I hear the introductory stumble of “Long Forgotten Song,” I fall immediately into the spastic and serenading world that Scardust crafts with their hypermelodic, histrionic, and confident progressive metal attitude. Central to this success remains the peerless Noa Gruman, whose every melody lands with honey-slathered tack and sing-a-long inspiration, despite my voice being a far, far cry away from the searing soprano wail that functions as a mic-drop crescendo as often as it needs to. Behind her, though, lies one of modern prog’s most nimble rhythm sections, imbuing even ballads like “Dazzling Darkness” and “Searing Echoes” with a bass-popping and hi-hat chattering clamor that places Souls in a league of its own. Also, Ross Jennings of Haken sounds better here than he has with Haken since The Mountain.
#8. Chiasma // Reaches – Chiasma possesses the unique ability to blend in with the modern paradigm of accessible melody prog in the lane of a band like Tesseract without conforming to its most djentrified tendencies. Rather, floating in its own swirl of Cynic-coded riffage and angelic, layered vocal excess, Reaches explodes with atmosphere and propulsive riff alike. In Katie Thompson’s nimble serenades rests a voice imbued with both a fluttering prowess and an aching heart. And in this sorrow—wrapped in the brightness of bleeping electronic backings, flipping virtuosic guitar runs, and singular voice—a yearning and healing takes place in fervent and fluorescent splendor.
#7. Dawnwalker // The Between – Just when I thought Dawnwalker didn’t have any more surprises left in their bag of tricks that seem tailor-made for my enjoyment,5 these sneaky Brits went and pulled out the one-long-song album. Continuing to live in the space of esoteric philosophy set forth in The Unknowing last year, Dawnwalker collects moods from all their previous works—the melancholy of isolation from In Rooms, the vocal aggression from Human Ruins, a sonic palette even grander in scope than Ages—to explore thoughts surrounding death. In lush construction, plaintive discourse, and time-bending magic, The Between breathes as a meditation bookended by heavy chiming bells—a journey that feels longer than its svelte 30-ish minute runtime but with none of the fatigue its gargantuan ask threatens. 6
#6. Gorycz // Zasypia – It’s a shame that Gorycz isn’t a household name, as their mystical, groovy approach to atmospheric and retching black metal sits among my favorites in the genre as a whole. Zasypia, as part three of a trilogy, tells a tale of despair through a warping pedalboard light on traditional distortion, shrieking throat on the edge of coherence,7 and dancing kit full of jazzy aplomb. In the space that lives between recursive and developing refrains, terror lurks. But in the Gorycz tattered exhale hangs a reverence for the beauty that can emerge from destruction and grieving. Feel every amplified string creak as you fall deeper into this devastating world.
#5. Lychgate // Precipice – You may be aware that this album was released on the 19th of December, a full two days after we were supposed to turn in these lists. Knowing that, I made sure I beat Precipice to the punch of garbage time list upheaval by listening to it, well, before that. In turn, Lychgate made sure that they’d make this late-season blooming count. With the death-thrash spirit of an early Morbid Angel crashing through low-end organ harmony and colliding with Holdsworthian alien guitar bleating, Precipice holds back neither on its urge to wander in arcane atmosphere nor on its urge to churn bodies in kinetic wonder. As another writer (whose name I can’t remember) said, Precipice ensnares by “…oscillating between Zappa’s Jazz from Hell and unearthly, pit-scorching acrobatics.” I couldn’t have put it better myself.8
#4. Barren Path // Grieving – The best grindcore album of the decade so far would come from the manic attack of Gridlink sans Jon Chang. Absent his terrifying shriek, Matsubara’s guitar scatter weighs heavier, Fajarado’s lightning snare rolls clang sharper, all against song lengths that inhabit the true short-form tradition of extreme brevity. The truth is, I’ve spent longer than the album’s length trying to convey its intensity and prowess, so just go and listen to it already. I’ll wait here. No, seriously, do it.
#3. Turian // Blood Quantum Blues – So very rare is the album that aligns like a key to a lock of a heart torn by generational angst. An eloquence exists in the disparity between Turian’s stark societal observations punctuated by raw emotional interjections of “FUCK”. I haven’t bothered to count the instances that this linguistic escalation occurs, but I guarantee that there are more fucks per stanza on Blood Quantum Blues than your favorite album this year. And, after you’ve become addicted to its overdriven noise rock-meets-hardcore-meets-industrial madness, you’ll know every single one as you shout along its contemptuous tales of cultural erasure. Indians don’t vanish, and neither will my love for every riff, every breakdown, and every tirade of Blood Quantum Blues.
#2. Changeling // Changeling – Tom “Fountainhead” Geldschläger poured everything into Changeling. Arranging over thirty performers across Changeling’s seems Sisyphean in scope, but Geldschläger persevered. Through peerless fretless wailings, every instrument under the sun follows well-developed motifs, and a pure love for metal, Changeling expresses nostalgia and novelty in its every loaded nook and cranny. And behind each moment of dense and exuberant songcraft, Geldschläger has tinkered to deliver an experience that feels carved over a lifetime. On top of all of that, Geldschläger is also a true guitar wizard—he zigs and zags and twists and twirls where others wear a scale to death. Like a classic novel or movie, Changeling reveals its worth both in immediate, jaw-dropping action and deep, attention-stealing detail. Geldschläger even put together a Dolby Atmos mix for the album and held listening parties in Berlin. I hear they’re wonderful. Come to California, Tom!
#1. Maud the Moth // The Distaff – When we seek art, we seek bravery and freedom of expression. And in the music that we seek in a refuge like Angry Metal guy, we often find these qualities expressed in emotional theme, in raw, sonic aggression, or in sweeping guitar-led grandeur. Woven from a different base cloth, Maud the Moth on paper does not fit that mold. Amaya López-Carromero wields, instead, a piano and scrawled diary pages. She, too, has pain, the same as any human who has encountered a world unforgiving to a life that wishes to live in a divergent path. And like the artists we value—or rather, like the artists I value—Amaya presents her vision of this struggle with focused and expanding melodic lines, crushing and crying crescendos, and an earnestness that compels its audience to surrender for a moment to a world created by these musical ideas. When your sadness comes, it won’t weep in blacks and ivories the way that The Distaff does. But you can pop it on and pretend for its run that its triumph will transfer from your ears to the very center of your tingling chest.
Honorable Mentions:
- Pissgrave // Malignant Worthlessness – Tempos that flow like a full sewage pipe and riffage that doesn’t let up until the steaming and warped conclusion. The Pissgrave family flows as one heaving death-fueled machine, and it’s sad to see them close shop. But they left us with a monster of a swansong.
- Dormant Ordeal // Tooth and Nail – Pummeling and emotionally resonant—if a bit ham-fisted in some lyrical choices—Tooth and Nail represents the ideal form so far of what Dormant Ordeal can achieve with their gut-wrenching take on the Polish death metal sound.
- Sterveling // Sterveling – The backdrop of black metal on what is otherwise downcast jam music makes for a combo that is both hypnotic and uncontested in the space. It helps that the vocalist lets out some of the most demented howls I’ve heard this year.
- 夢遊病者 // РЛБ30011922 – Speaking of jam music, 夢遊病者 has, over time, morphed from a more frenetic math rock-indebted experience to this current, flowing state of progressive tone porn. 2025 was a good year for the one-song album. And much like Dawnwalker’s The Between, it takes up about thirty minutes and some change. Restraint, class, and fat bass heaven.
- Aversed // Erasure of Color – I’m not normally one for melodic death metal. But when it comes packaged with this much mic vitriol and a neoclassical sense that reminds me of the late, great Nevermore,9 I pay attention. And I spin it again and again and again—constant rotation since arrival.
- Yellow Eyes // Confusion Gate – Certain albums that come out late in the year suffer greatly because their true power lies in remaining interesting and unfolding over a long period of time. Immersion Trench Reverie is a special album, and Confusion Gate feels like its sequel. Comfy and caustic all at once.
- Moths // Septem – As the premier progressive metal band from Puerto Rico, Moths has a loaded mission to make a name for themselves. And with another album that keeps its runtime tight and its riffweight heavy, Septem deserves your attention for half an hour and then some. Hey, look, it’s on Ampwall too!
- Grayceon // Then the Darkness – Cello metal at its finest and most relatable. Despite advances in chamber inclusion throughout the metalsphere, not a single band sounds like Grayceon yet. And their songwriting quality remains so high that I don’t care that this album is just about eighty minutes.
- Helms Deep // Chasing the Dragon – There’s a dragon with a jetpack on the cover. I shouldn’t need to say more than that. But note also that Chasing the Dragon comes also loaded with rollicking ’80s flair and pentatonic guitar wizardry that’s so out of fashion it’s cool again. This is metal.
Disappointments o’ the Year:
- Suffering Hour // Impelling Rebirth and Umulamahri // Learning the Secrets of Acid – You’ll see more words about these later, cause they are great. And they are EPs. That’s not enough music when this quality exists.
Songs o’ the Year:
Why give you one when I can give you twenty-seven? Why twenty-seven? That’s my secret. Now, I’ve talked enough. Go out there and enjoy some music, friends. And enjoy this photo of my dogs eating. And the Dolphlet admiring them!
Thus Spoke
I’ve been blindsided by the year’s end again, and now have to find some interesting things to say about 2025. Other than the fact that I turned 3010, my main personal Thing ov Significance is that I managed to land myself a new job, which I’ll start in the new year.11 Don’t worry, though, I won’t be girl-bossing too hard to have time for AMG.
Musically, 2025 has been a (small) step down from 2024 for me, although this could just be due to my attention deficit. I’ve had my finger less firmly on the pulse in the last six months, such that several albums, by artists I like, many on this list, either took me completely by surprise on release day, or crossed my radar barely any sooner, thanks to me actually checking Slack for once. I don’t have any well-defined excuse for this outside of plain old burnout plus terrible organization. On the other hand, the fact that I didn’t review most of my favorite records this year means that I can bat away criticisms of self-indulgence by having a year-end list mostly comprised of albums I didn’t write about. One thing I am happy to have achieved this year is running my first AMG Ranking piece on Panopticon. It might be the most verbose and least exciting of its kind for the majority of site readers, but being forced to immerse myself that extensively in the discography of an artist I love was very cool (albeit intense).
Speaking of my own erratic presence at HQ, leads me on to the hiatus (official or not) of several wonderful people among the staff, particularly my list-buddy Maddog, whom I miss very much. They all have good reasons, and I support them immensely, even if it means fewer of their excellent reviews. Fortunately, we’ve also welcomed many newcomers to our ranks who can pick up my slack in their stead, and whose reviews help me improve my own writing whilst also appending to the endless list of Things I Must Listen To.
As my extensive yapping here shows, my ability to meet a word count hasn’t improved much. Before finally moving on to the list, I’ll take the chance to reiterate my gratitude for everyone reading this, and some people who might not be. Thank you to all the staff for collectively making this all possible, and giving me the opportunity to speak about music and for people—you guys—to actually read it. Thank you for reading. Even if our tastes are completely opposed and you think I’m wrong about everything, I’m glad you’re here.
Now for the bit people actually care about.
#ish. Panopticon // Songs of Hiraeth – Quietly12 released alongside Laurentian Blue, Songs of Hiraeth is a collection of songs composed between 2009-2011 that never saw the light of day. In it, you can hear the incredible development of Panopticon’s signature emotionally swelling black metal style in this period, and this record, like virtually all of them, as I repeated in my ranking blurbs, is gorgeously, absorbingly heartfelt and powerful. Unlike you might expect, it actually increases in intensity as it progresses (for me), with the final trifecta of “The End is Drawing Near,” “A Letter,” and “The Eulogy” all gunning for my Songs o’ the Year playlist with first devastating rage and fury, then heartbroken solemnity and sublime melody throughout. I guess it’s not fully in the list purely because it’s not a ‘proper’ new release, or whatever.
#10. Grima // Nightside – It could have been easy to forget about Grima, given its dropping right on the cusp of the stacked Spring release season we had this year, and the fact that I didn’t instantly mark it down for a TYMHM as with Clouds. But I didn’t forget. Despite their wintry aesthetic, Grima’s music warms my heart with folky magic and ardent blackened blizzards. Nightside is no exception, its warmth coming this time from a renewed emphasis on the atmosphere and bayan after the higher energies of Frostbitten. I love intense, harsh, frosty black metal, and I love how Grima do it (“Impending Death Premonition,” “Where We are Lost”). But what I love most of all about Grima is how they pair that with their folky tendencies, and the way—as Sharky pointed out—Vilhelm’s rasps graze over it all. This culminates, for me, in the more mournful and urgent tone of several tracks on Nightside, where intense moments still feel dreamlike (“The Nightside”), and vocals breathe like ghostly whispers (“Mist and Fog”). It’s not my favorite Grima record (that’s probably Rotten Garden), but being a Grima record at all, given their caliber, means it’s bloody great and has to be on my list.
#9. Bianca // Bianca – Here’s an excellent example of a record I very likely would never have heard were it not for the AMG writer community. And wow, am I grateful I did. Ken‘s description alone caught my interest, let alone the tidbit that the project includes two members of another 2025 favorite of mine, Patristic.13 It takes familiar concepts from metal, both post—ethereal atmospheres and haunting singing—and extreme—sky-piercing shrieks, undulating, relentless double-bass, and tangled guitar blizzards—but sounds like nothing else. Even in combining these elements, Bianca stands alone. The coalescence of blackened, doomed, ambient layers is mesmerizing, the pitches upward into mania, and lapses back into mournful mystique, captivating. Throat-gripping furor arrests me more inextricably than almost anything else this year (“Abysmal,” “Nachthexe”), and transcendent melodies forged from this black fire lift me fully out of my body (“Abysmal,” “Todestrieb”). I’ve been in love since.
#8. Der Weg Einer Freiheit // Innern – Innern’s influence on me was subtle and insidious. I would just put it on, be absorbed—or be sucked back in periodically, if I was working and not concentrating on it—and suddenly it would end. Then I’d listen to it again. Der Weg Einer Freiheit has been developing their particular intense, dark, atmospheric kind of (post-) black over the last decade or so, and with Innern, it’s approaching an apex. Through endlessly enveloping compositions, filled with fury and urgency (“Marter”) or solemn reflection and introspection (“Eos,” “Forlorn”), that flow seamlessly out of one another, Innern folds you insidiously into its depths. Compelling melodies, dynamic rushing percussion, and here-dramatic, there-soft-spoken vocals, each taking pieces and incorporating trials from Der Weg Einer Freiheit’s career so far, drive the thematic compositional thread through irresistibly. From the anticipatory opening shudders to the ebbing chords at its close, Innern is an experience best taken whole, and one I’ve indulged in countless times to go on this magnetic journey once again.
#7. Paradise Lost // Ascension – I never thought this would land here when first announced. Sure, I like Paradise Lost, but their back-catalog is so mixed (in style, let alone quality), that ‘liking’ them for me comes down to enjoying a handful of their now 17 albums. Even the singles’ being good failed to stir anything more than curiosity, given my experience with intra-album inconsistency. But when Ascension did finally grace my ears in full, it appropriately transcended any doubts and softened my heart towards these doom icons again.14 Paradise Lost were heavy again, melancholic and mopey again—in a cool, atmospheric way—and Ascension just flowed, with grungy aggression and sadboi introspection in perfect equilibrium. This easy, natural duality that characterizes Gothic metal, and Paradise Lost themselves as genre pioneers, when they’re at the top of their game, is exemplified in Ascension. Hopefully, the group can stay on this trajectory for number 18, if that comes.
#6. Clouds // Desprins – I don’t understand how Clouds are as good as they are. I mean this as no insult to the musicians; what stuns me is the depth of pathos, and the consistency with which they deliver it, given the relatively understated and idiosyncratic manner in which they execute it. Their characteristic flute-folk-funeral doom is so ethereally, painfully sad without being overwrought, melodramatic, or crushing. It took my n00bish breath away four years ago, and this year Desprins came and took it again; this time with pieces of my soul attached. The music is just so beautiful—unrelentingly bleak, but beautiful, and Clouds’ balance of the dark and the light through the synths and acoustics, and apathetic spoken-word is exquisite and deeply affecting. These composite melodies, swelling and trilling softly, are transportive for me—particularly “Life Becomes Lifeless,” “Chain Me,” “Sorrowbound,” and “Chasing Ghosts.” Desprins is everything I want funeral doom to be: a prolonged dream-state of melancholy that paradoxically brings me joy.
#5. Deafheaven // Lonely People with Power – I have never been a Deafheaven fan. In all honesty, I’m still not. Lonely People with Power fires me up and fills my soul, while the rest of their discography continues to leave me completely cold. It seems that, briefly departing from metal entirely with Infinite Granite, has matured their sound, adding layers to their edgy blackgaze. Even when indifferent, I never understood the scorn their music generates, and now that I’ve fallen for Lonely People with Power, it makes even less sense. Not only is the way Deafheaven are combining rich, beautiful melodies with—yes—brilliant black metal simply lovely to listen to, slick, seamless, sharp, etc, it’s also distinctive and engrossing. That’s before even getting into how emotionally resonant it is. And it’s not even like this means it can’t be heavy—heck, one of these tracks is on my Heavy Moves Heavy playlist. It’s not ‘cringe’; it’s a phenomenal record and one of the best to release this year.
#4. 1914 // Viribus Unitis – I have always been most moved—emotionally and aesthetically—by 1914’s brand of WWI-themed blackened-death than any other like act. Viribus Unitis somehow outdoes Where Fear and Weapons Meet, and possibly all of the band’s previous efforts, for evocativeness and being straightforward and compelling. From the now hallmark bookends “War In/Out” to frequent samples to lyrics infused with real soldier testimony, Viribus Unitis envelops the listener in this portal to the past through 1914’s most powerful, urgently melodic compositions. Every song is heavy, dramatic, and snappy in just the right amounts, resulting in a series of back-to-back bangers that also occasionally really, really hit home emotionally. “1918 Pt 3: ADE (A duty to escape)” does all the above to perfection and has received an almost embarrassing number of replays in the short time since release. But “1919 (The Home where I Died)” did actually make me cry,15 and its fade into “War Out” is the perfect end to the monumental achievement Viribus Unitis represents.
#3. Patristic // Catechesis – It seems that every year, I review one particular atmospheric-dissonant death metal record which dominates my listening in that subgenre, and instantly secures a year-end list spot. In 2023, Serpent of Old, last year Ulcerate16, and this year Patristic. Catechesis was an immediate, visceral love for me, and not once since June has it left rotation. Sinister and dark, but irresistible in its seamlessly flowing, captivating macro-composition narrated by roars and solemn sermonizing; it ends far too soon. And in addition to being beautifully atmospheric and magnetic in melody and dissonance alike, it stands out for truly insane performances in their own right. Specifically, the drumming, which continues to blow my mind and propels Catechesis from greatness into excellence with hypnotic, intelligent rhythmic interplay. Patristic’s uncanny ability to make extreme, inaccessible music incomprehensibly engrossing and a magnificent expression of its concept are why I can’t stop listening to Catechesis, and why it’s almost the best record of 2025.
#2. Qrixkuor // The Womb of the World – Much like reviewer Kenstrosity, whereas Qrixkuor’s debut Poison Palinopsia rewired my brain with its brilliance, I found follow-up Zoetrope a tad underwhelming. When said sponge began to hint, and then gush unstoppably about the duo’s second full-length, The Womb of the World, which was in his possession, vague hope turned to giddy excitement. Not only the twisted, psychedelic horror of their signature freeform blackened death would await me, but also a full live orchestra. Yet I still don’t think anything could have adequately prepared me for how massive and mad The Womb of the World actually is. With the strings, horns, and piano swooping and crashing about in great surges and falls, Qrixkuor’s already grandiose style fully feels like some tormented classical opus, and it’s utterly magnificent. Things so small as my words can’t do justice to the way the eerie and intense lurching orchestrals, maniacal snarling voices, and cavernous extreme metal combine to create some of the best things I have ever heard, ever. Weirdly memorable and violently compelling despite its monstrosity, I’ve become completely addicted to it since. Ken himself said, it is “a mastapeece for those to whom sanity is immaterial,” when he rightfully deemed it ‘Excellent’. If I must rescind soundness of mind to so esteem The Womb of the World, I will do so gladly.
#1. Cave Sermon // Fragile Wings – Last year, Divine Laughter went from unknown to #5 on my year-end list in about 2 weeks, so when I found out there was a follow-up—thanks to my new Flippered list buddy—I dropped everything.17 My stratospheric expectations were not only met, but they were lifted into outer space. I would fear for Cave Sermon’s ability to deliver in the future, but Fragile Wings itself dismisses any trepidation. So recognizably, uniquely Cave Sermon, it displays a new, more uplifting interpretation of their sound. A commenter pointed out the lack of reference to So Hideous in my review, and in retrospect, I see their point, at least in degree: the two projects are similarly experimental and impressively novel-sounding without actually feeling avant-garde. But there is just something about Cave Sermon that puts them in an entirely different category of genius—for me. Fragile Wings is playful but not silly; it’s complex but memorable, groovy, and fun; it’s dissonant and strange, but it’s organic, harmonious, and digestible. The idea that just one person is behind this18 makes it that much more mind-blowing. At this rate, there could well be another Cave Sermon record next year, and on the current trajectory, it may finally land this fantastic artist the official Iconic status they have always deserved.
Honorable Mentions:
- Dormant Ordeal // Tooth and Nail – Hands-down my favorite Dormant Ordeal album so far. Heavy, groovy, and eminently-listenable, it really got its claws into me—especially during gym sessions shortly after release. It did fall out of my rotation quite substantially, in favor of its rivals above, thus putting it here.
- Primitive Man // Observance – When Observance dropped, and I was listening for the first time, I badly tried to describe Primitive Man to my partner (not a metal fan) over WhatsApp as “being crushed by a big rock really slowly, but in a good way.” Obviously, they didn’t know what I was on about, but Spicie Forrest seems to with his much better analogy of “being imprisoned and forgotten in a lightless pit.” Primitive Man has always made silly-heavy, scary-huge music, but Observance clicked with me like nothing else in their discography prior. I am indeed helplessly crushed and held prisoner.
- Blut Aus Nord // Ethereal Horizons – I think if this had dropped just a tiny bit earlier, it could have ended up on my list proper. Blut Aus Nord has always been one of those artists I know I do enjoy, but for some reason has never fully clicked for me. Ethereal Horizons felt immediately more enthralling. It’s more atmospheric, more darkly melodic, more blackened in its heaviness, and through it all, possibly more frightening.
Songs of the Year
- Cave Sermon – “Ancient for Someone”
- Panopticon – “A Letter”
- Panopticon – “The Poppies Bloom For No King”
- Patristic – “A Vinculis Soluta II”
- Qrixkuor – “The Womb of the World”
- Bianca – “Abysmal”
- Deafheaven – “The Garden Route”
- Nephylim – “Amaranth”
- Clouds – “Sorrowbound”
- 1914 – “1918 Pt 3 A.D.E (A Duty to Escape)”
- Der Weg Einer Freiheit – “Marter”
- Primitive Man – “Natural Law”
#1914 #2025 #Aversed #BarrenPath #Bianca #BlogPosts #BlutAusNord #CaveSermon #Changeling #Chiasma #Clouds #Dawnwalker #Deafheaven #DerWegEinerFreiheit #DolphinWhisperSAndThusSpokeSTopTenIshOf2025 #DormantOrdeal #Gorycz #Grayceon #Grima #HelmsDeep #Lists #Lynchgate #MaudTheMoth #Messa #Mothers #Nephylim #Panopticon #ParadiseLost #Patristic #Pissgrave #PrimitiveMan #Qrixkuor #Quadvium #Scardust #Sterveling #SufferingHour #Turian #YellowEyes #夢遊病者