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1000 results for “quite_adept”
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Here's Myna's profile for #artfight2024
Description:
Myna is a trans woman of Korean decent. She is thoughtful and compassionate, but not quite socially surefooted. She's an adept gardener who lives in the North Hills - a township that is all but deserted.
#ArtFight #KFotC #NorthHills #MastoArt #CharacterDesign #Gardener #green
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Here's Myna's profile for #artfight2024
Description:
Myna is a trans woman of Korean decent. She is thoughtful and compassionate, but not quite socially surefooted. She's an adept gardener who lives in the North Hills - a township that is all but deserted.
#ArtFight #KFotC #NorthHills #MastoArt #CharacterDesign #Gardener #green
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Here's Myna's profile for #artfight2024
Description:
Myna is a trans woman of Korean decent. She is thoughtful and compassionate, but not quite socially surefooted. She's an adept gardener who lives in the North Hills - a township that is all but deserted.
#ArtFight #KFotC #NorthHills #MastoArt #CharacterDesign #Gardener #green
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Here's Myna's profile for #artfight2024
Description:
Myna is a trans woman of Korean decent. She is thoughtful and compassionate, but not quite socially surefooted. She's an adept gardener who lives in the North Hills - a township that is all but deserted.
#ArtFight #KFotC #NorthHills #MastoArt #CharacterDesign #Gardener #green
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Here's Myna's profile for #artfight2024
Description:
Myna is a trans woman of Korean decent. She is thoughtful and compassionate, but not quite socially surefooted. She's an adept gardener who lives in the North Hills - a township that is all but deserted.
#ArtFight #KFotC #NorthHills #MastoArt #CharacterDesign #Gardener #green
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"Children as young as six years old have contributed to civic matters. Do voices get raised? Sure. Do men burst into tears? Quite often. Do passions drown out reasoned accounts? Eh, not as often as you fear. Our children learn to listen at a young age and become adept in the skill as adults."
#solarpunk #grist #imagine2200
https://grist.org/climate-fiction/imagine2200-the-imperfect-blue-marble/
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I’m always highly amused when ceremonial magicians or energy workers claim to practice high magic or have some skill, but then when I whip out a very basic magic square of Mercury, they claim they do not do Math magic. It’s quite amusing to me because there’s a slight medieval difference in the connotation between Sorcery and Thaumaturgy, and many of them will call the basic magic sorcery they do, such as sigils, thaumaturgy.
Technology, art, and magic can inspire awe and wonder, so the artist is similar to the technologist, which is similar to the magician in that their disciplines are marvelous. Many occultists incorrectly use thaumaturgy to reference any art, technique, or technology that is marvelous or even extraordinary, so it is frequently conflated with sorcery, albeit there’s a large difference between black and white magic from an esoteric perspective.
Orthodoxly, the adept is not the sorcerer. While both inspire awe and wonder, Johnathan Dee explicitly mentioned Thaumaturgy as a mathematical art in The Mathematicall Praeface to Elements of Geometrie of Euclid of Megara. In that preface, John Dee primarily discusses foundational principles and concepts of geometry as presented by Euclid. Euclid’s “Elements” is a comprehensive compilation of the fundamental principles of geometry, including definitions, postulates, propositions, and proofs.
In addition to that, Enochian Magic is highly algorithmic and uses techniques that John Dee discussed in The Mathematicall Praeface to Elements of Geometrie of Euclid of Megara. The modern understanding of Thaumaturgy is predicated on Math, though. Math and technology elicit the same aesthetic sense of awe and wonder that miracles and magic do. For example, lightning is awesome. It inspires awe and wonder. We can call a lightning strike beautiful and thus grant it an aesthetic value that we seek to capture in art. Since this is willful and deliberate, the art is magic. So, we can call lightning magical; however, that isn’t sufficient to call it thaumaturgy.
High Magic is highly metaphysical and uses formal symbolic languages, such as Geometry and Math. If you are bad at Math or do not like Math, you are quite limited.
Alchemy and Thaumaturgy are branches of Natural Magic which do not necessarily depend on spirits. So I am always highly amused when so-called occultists on Twitter try to discredit me while acknowledging they actually know nothing about the magic I practice.
I hate fraternities. Always have. Always will. I was never tempted to join one in college, though my sister pledged to a sorority. This applies to occult fraternities too. Occult lodges are just occult frat bros. For some reason, though, not subjecting myself to the abuse of occult orders somehow makes me less knowledgeable. It’s so bizarre.
Anyone who knows me knows that I love The Vampire Diaries universe, and I really relate to the members of the Gemini coven, especially the siphoners, like Josie. While they are known for their vampire and witch hybrids, the Gemini coven is especially skilled at hoary and creating mechanical devices based on hoary astrology that serve as astrological machines. They called it an ascendant, and it’s normally presented as a key to a prison world in the show.
Gemini covenMy husband and I are putting together something like those devices from 3D printing parts and gears to create an astrological engine. That is an example of Thaumaturgy. See this link for a copy of The Mathematicall Praeface to Elements of Geometrie of Euclid of Megara.
#alchemist #Alchemy #Animism #animistic #Astral #astrological #astrology #ceremonialMagic #ceremonialMagick #chaosMagic #chaosMagick #Hellenism #Hellenistic #HermeticOrderOfTheGoldenDawn #hermeticism #magick #occultism #pagan #paganism #paranormal #ritualMagic #ritualMagick #sigil #sigilMagic #sigilMagick #sigils #Spirituality #Thaumaturgy #Thelema #theosophy #Theurgy #Twitter #witch #witchcraft
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I’m always highly amused when ceremonial magicians or energy workers claim to practice high magic or have some skill, but then when I whip out a very basic magic square of Mercury, they claim they do not do Math magic. It’s quite amusing to me because there’s a slight medieval difference in the connotation between Sorcery and Thaumaturgy, and many of them will call the basic magic sorcery they do, such as sigils, thaumaturgy.
Technology, art, and magic can inspire awe and wonder, so the artist is similar to the technologist, which is similar to the magician in that their disciplines are marvelous. Many occultists incorrectly use thaumaturgy to reference any art, technique, or technology that is marvelous or even extraordinary, so it is frequently conflated with sorcery, albeit there’s a large difference between black and white magic from an esoteric perspective.
Orthodoxly, the adept is not the sorcerer. While both inspire awe and wonder, Johnathan Dee explicitly mentioned Thaumaturgy as a mathematical art in The Mathematicall Praeface to Elements of Geometrie of Euclid of Megara. In that preface, John Dee primarily discusses foundational principles and concepts of geometry as presented by Euclid. Euclid’s “Elements” is a comprehensive compilation of the fundamental principles of geometry, including definitions, postulates, propositions, and proofs.
In addition to that, Enochian Magic is highly algorithmic and uses techniques that John Dee discussed in The Mathematicall Praeface to Elements of Geometrie of Euclid of Megara. The modern understanding of Thaumaturgy is predicated on Math, though. Math and technology elicit the same aesthetic sense of awe and wonder that miracles and magic do. For example, lightning is awesome. It inspires awe and wonder. We can call a lightning strike beautiful and thus grant it an aesthetic value that we seek to capture in art. Since this is willful and deliberate, the art is magic. So, we can call lightning magical; however, that isn’t sufficient to call it thaumaturgy.
High Magic is highly metaphysical and uses formal symbolic languages, such as Geometry and Math. If you are bad at Math or do not like Math, you are quite limited.
Alchemy and Thaumaturgy are branches of Natural Magic which do not necessarily depend on spirits. So I am always highly amused when so-called occultists on Twitter try to discredit me while acknowledging they actually know nothing about the magic I practice.
I hate fraternities. Always have. Always will. I was never tempted to join one in college, though my sister pledged to a sorority. This applies to occult fraternities too. Occult lodges are just occult frat bros. For some reason, though, not subjecting myself to the abuse of occult orders somehow makes me less knowledgeable. It’s so bizarre.
Anyone who knows me knows that I love The Vampire Diaries universe, and I really relate to the members of the Gemini coven, especially the siphoners, like Josie. While they are known for their vampire and witch hybrids, the Gemini coven is especially skilled at hoary and creating mechanical devices based on hoary astrology that serve as astrological machines. They called it an ascendant, and it’s normally presented as a key to a prison world in the show.
Gemini covenMy husband and I are putting together something like those devices from 3D printing parts and gears to create an astrological engine. That is an example of Thaumaturgy. See this link for a copy of The Mathematicall Praeface to Elements of Geometrie of Euclid of Megara.
#alchemist #Alchemy #Animism #animistic #Astral #astrological #astrology #ceremonialMagic #ceremonialMagick #chaosMagic #chaosMagick #Hellenism #Hellenistic #HermeticOrderOfTheGoldenDawn #hermeticism #magick #occultism #pagan #paganism #paranormal #ritualMagic #ritualMagick #sigil #sigilMagic #sigilMagick #sigils #Spirituality #Thaumaturgy #Thelema #theosophy #Theurgy #Twitter #witch #witchcraft
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Elusive
This is a red-headed woodpecker (Melanerpes erythrocephalus). I've probably posted this photo before, a long time ago. I took this photo in 2014 and am hoping to see one again this year. But so far, no luck.
"The gorgeous Red-headed Woodpecker is so boldly patterned it’s been called a “flying checkerboard,” with an entirely crimson head, a snow-white body, and half white, half inky black wings. These birds don’t act quite like most other woodpeckers: they’re adept at catching insects in the air, and they eat lots of acorns and beech nuts, often hiding away extra food in tree crevices for later. This magnificent species has declined severely in the past half-century because of habitat loss and changes to its food supply." - allaboutbirds.org
#photo #photography #photographer #photographylovers #birds #birdsofmastodon #birdwatching #RedHeadedWoodpecker
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On the topic of #onlinevoting - still seeing people on birbsite with major reckons that 'because we can bank on line, we *must* be able to vote online"... These are non-technical people who, have unbounded (blind) faith in technical people to solve all problems... and they're adept at complete rejecting those very same technical people when they tell them quite emphatically "your faith is misguided. It can't be done." Humanity is doomed. Blind faith is not a virtue, it's a character flaw.
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Novembers Doom – Major Arcana Review
By Steel Druhm
Chicago’s Novembers Doom have charted a unique course for themselves over the last 30 years. Their unnatural pairing of beefy, cargo-beshorted death metal and highly emotional doom originally felt unstable and liable to erupt into chaos at any moment, but over time, they became adept at finding the ideal balance between madman and sadboi. Albums like The Pale Haunt Departure and Hamartia were loaded with ripping riffs and plaintive gloom, and at their best, Novembers Doom can tear at the heartstrings even as they snap your neck. The wild swings from hugely emotional, weepy sadboi melancholy and femur-fracturing death could sometimes feel forced, but more often it just fucking worked. 2019s Nephilim Grove had big moments but felt underbaked with too much filler. It’s been almost six years since, but now we get their 12th album, Major Arcana, and hopefully, a rebound for these Autumnal leaf reapers of despair.
Nothing’s really changed in the way Novembers Doom approach their trade. After an ominous and forboding intro piece, they come out swinging on the massive title track and hit you like a runaway battleship with a wide collection of primal feelz. Grinding riffs are coated with Paul Kuhr’s excellent clean and death metal vocals as the intensity builds and Kuhr warns, “This has gone too far.” The way his vocals increase in intensity is gripping, and all the usual melodic tricks Novembers Doom are known for come to the fore. This is really good shit. Another high point comes with “Mercy,” where the band hits gold with an emotionally crushing piece that evokes Woods of Ypres, Pink Floyd, and latter-era Anthema. It will break your fucking heart with its beauty and poignancy. Also quite tasty is album centerpiece “Bleed Static,” which uses its 8-minute runtime to explore a variety of despondent emotions effectively. Elsewhere, “The Dance” sticks out for its very Amorphis-esque airy, melodic guitar work and a chorus that you can easily imagine Tomi Joutsen singing.
Unfortunately, the rest of Major Arcana doesn’t operate at this level, and though most tracks have something worthwhile to offer, they won’t whisk you away in a leafblower maelstrom. “Ravenous” is a basic melodeath tune that should run 3-4 minutes, but gets stretched to 6 for no good reason. The back third of the album is significantly less enthralling than the early tracks, and while the songs work in the context of the album, they aren’t especially captivating individually. At 56-plus minutes, it would have been easy to drop 2 or 3 tracks to deliver a leaner, meaner release, but that isn’t the Novembers Doom way. This is a mood piece kind of listen, though, and if you’re in the right state of mind, it will all drift by without much resistance.
As ever, Paul Kuhr is the epicenter of the band’s sound, and he does his usual first-rate job. His singing voice is so perfect for doom that he should run a clinic on it.1 He sounds so desperately hurt and broken on “Mercy” that you can’t help but want to give him a big hug and tell him everything will be OK. At times, his singing reminds me a lot of the late great Eric Wagner of Trouble, and that’s great company to be in. His death roars are also as good as ever, big, booming, nasty, and venomous. His transitions between extremes are smooth and well-timed, and he knows how to wring a song for the maximum emotional impact. Lawrence Roberts and Vito Marchese wield potent riff hammers that often feel like they belong on a caveman death metal platter. When they do lapse into doom and melancholic sadboi mode, they deliver the goods there too. On cuts like the title track, “Mercy,” and “Bleed Static,” you can feel the pathos dripping from their fretboards. I just wish they spread that quality more evenly across the whole record.
Albums like Major Arcana can end up a frustrating experience because you get a few really amazing songs and the remainder ends up looking pale in comparison, even if nothing is bad. Novembers Doom have struggled with this issue over their career, and both 2019s Nephilim Grove and this one are held back by inconsistent songcraft. This is a good release with really high points, but you’re left feeling it could be so much more. I want MOAR leaf doom, dammit!
Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: novembersdoom1989.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/novembersdoom1989 | instagram.com/novembersdoom
Releases Worldwide: September 19th, 2025#2025 #30 #AmericanMetal #DoomMetal #FieldsOfNephilim #MajorArcana #NovembersDoom #ProphecyProductions #Review #Reviews #Sep25 #WoodsOfYpres
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Novembers Doom – Major Arcana Review
By Steel Druhm
Chicago’s Novembers Doom have charted a unique course for themselves over the last 30 years. Their unnatural pairing of beefy, cargo-beshorted death metal and highly emotional doom originally felt unstable and liable to erupt into chaos at any moment, but over time, they became adept at finding the ideal balance between madman and sadboi. Albums like The Pale Haunt Departure and Hamartia were loaded with ripping riffs and plaintive gloom, and at their best, Novembers Doom can tear at the heartstrings even as they snap your neck. The wild swings from hugely emotional, weepy sadboi melancholy and femur-fracturing death could sometimes feel forced, but more often it just fucking worked. 2019s Nephilim Grove had big moments but felt underbaked with too much filler. It’s been almost six years since, but now we get their 12th album, Major Arcana, and hopefully, a rebound for these Autumnal leaf reapers of despair.
Nothing’s really changed in the way Novembers Doom approach their trade. After an ominous and forboding intro piece, they come out swinging on the massive title track and hit you like a runaway battleship with a wide collection of primal feelz. Grinding riffs are coated with Paul Kuhr’s excellent clean and death metal vocals as the intensity builds and Kuhr warns, “This has gone too far.” The way his vocals increase in intensity is gripping, and all the usual melodic tricks Novembers Doom are known for come to the fore. This is really good shit. Another high point comes with “Mercy,” where the band hits gold with an emotionally crushing piece that evokes Woods of Ypres, Pink Floyd, and latter-era Anthema. It will break your fucking heart with its beauty and poignancy. Also quite tasty is album centerpiece “Bleed Static,” which uses its 8-minute runtime to explore a variety of despondent emotions effectively. Elsewhere, “The Dance” sticks out for its very Amorphis-esque airy, melodic guitar work and a chorus that you can easily imagine Tomi Joutsen singing.
Unfortunately, the rest of Major Arcana doesn’t operate at this level, and though most tracks have something worthwhile to offer, they won’t whisk you away in a leafblower maelstrom. “Ravenous” is a basic melodeath tune that should run 3-4 minutes, but gets stretched to 6 for no good reason. The back third of the album is significantly less enthralling than the early tracks, and while the songs work in the context of the album, they aren’t especially captivating individually. At 56-plus minutes, it would have been easy to drop 2 or 3 tracks to deliver a leaner, meaner release, but that isn’t the Novembers Doom way. This is a mood piece kind of listen, though, and if you’re in the right state of mind, it will all drift by without much resistance.
As ever, Paul Kuhr is the epicenter of the band’s sound, and he does his usual first-rate job. His singing voice is so perfect for doom that he should run a clinic on it.1 He sounds so desperately hurt and broken on “Mercy” that you can’t help but want to give him a big hug and tell him everything will be OK. At times, his singing reminds me a lot of the late great Eric Wagner of Trouble, and that’s great company to be in. His death roars are also as good as ever, big, booming, nasty, and venomous. His transitions between extremes are smooth and well-timed, and he knows how to wring a song for the maximum emotional impact. Lawrence Roberts and Vito Marchese wield potent riff hammers that often feel like they belong on a caveman death metal platter. When they do lapse into doom and melancholic sadboi mode, they deliver the goods there too. On cuts like the title track, “Mercy,” and “Bleed Static,” you can feel the pathos dripping from their fretboards. I just wish they spread that quality more evenly across the whole record.
Albums like Major Arcana can end up a frustrating experience because you get a few really amazing songs and the remainder ends up looking pale in comparison, even if nothing is bad. Novembers Doom have struggled with this issue over their career, and both 2019s Nephilim Grove and this one are held back by inconsistent songcraft. This is a good release with really high points, but you’re left feeling it could be so much more. I want MOAR leaf doom, dammit!
Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: novembersdoom1989.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/novembersdoom1989 | instagram.com/novembersdoom
Releases Worldwide: September 19th, 2025#2025 #30 #AmericanMetal #DoomMetal #FieldsOfNephilim #MajorArcana #NovembersDoom #ProphecyProductions #Review #Reviews #Sep25 #WoodsOfYpres
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Novembers Doom – Major Arcana Review
By Steel Druhm
Chicago’s Novembers Doom have charted a unique course for themselves over the last 30 years. Their unnatural pairing of beefy, cargo-beshorted death metal and highly emotional doom originally felt unstable and liable to erupt into chaos at any moment, but over time, they became adept at finding the ideal balance between madman and sadboi. Albums like The Pale Haunt Departure and Hamartia were loaded with ripping riffs and plaintive gloom, and at their best, Novembers Doom can tear at the heartstrings even as they snap your neck. The wild swings from hugely emotional, weepy sadboi melancholy and femur-fracturing death could sometimes feel forced, but more often it just fucking worked. 2019s Nephilim Grove had big moments but felt underbaked with too much filler. It’s been almost six years since, but now we get their 12th album, Major Arcana, and hopefully, a rebound for these Autumnal leaf reapers of despair.
Nothing’s really changed in the way Novembers Doom approach their trade. After an ominous and forboding intro piece, they come out swinging on the massive title track and hit you like a runaway battleship with a wide collection of primal feelz. Grinding riffs are coated with Paul Kuhr’s excellent clean and death metal vocals as the intensity builds and Kuhr warns, “This has gone too far.” The way his vocals increase in intensity is gripping, and all the usual melodic tricks Novembers Doom are known for come to the fore. This is really good shit. Another high point comes with “Mercy,” where the band hits gold with an emotionally crushing piece that evokes Woods of Ypres, Pink Floyd, and latter-era Anthema. It will break your fucking heart with its beauty and poignancy. Also quite tasty is album centerpiece “Bleed Static,” which uses its 8-minute runtime to explore a variety of despondent emotions effectively. Elsewhere, “The Dance” sticks out for its very Amorphis-esque airy, melodic guitar work and a chorus that you can easily imagine Tomi Joutsen singing.
Unfortunately, the rest of Major Arcana doesn’t operate at this level, and though most tracks have something worthwhile to offer, they won’t whisk you away in a leafblower maelstrom. “Ravenous” is a basic melodeath tune that should run 3-4 minutes, but gets stretched to 6 for no good reason. The back third of the album is significantly less enthralling than the early tracks, and while the songs work in the context of the album, they aren’t especially captivating individually. At 56-plus minutes, it would have been easy to drop 2 or 3 tracks to deliver a leaner, meaner release, but that isn’t the Novembers Doom way. This is a mood piece kind of listen, though, and if you’re in the right state of mind, it will all drift by without much resistance.
As ever, Paul Kuhr is the epicenter of the band’s sound, and he does his usual first-rate job. His singing voice is so perfect for doom that he should run a clinic on it.1 He sounds so desperately hurt and broken on “Mercy” that you can’t help but want to give him a big hug and tell him everything will be OK. At times, his singing reminds me a lot of the late great Eric Wagner of Trouble, and that’s great company to be in. His death roars are also as good as ever, big, booming, nasty, and venomous. His transitions between extremes are smooth and well-timed, and he knows how to wring a song for the maximum emotional impact. Lawrence Roberts and Vito Marchese wield potent riff hammers that often feel like they belong on a caveman death metal platter. When they do lapse into doom and melancholic sadboi mode, they deliver the goods there too. On cuts like the title track, “Mercy,” and “Bleed Static,” you can feel the pathos dripping from their fretboards. I just wish they spread that quality more evenly across the whole record.
Albums like Major Arcana can end up a frustrating experience because you get a few really amazing songs and the remainder ends up looking pale in comparison, even if nothing is bad. Novembers Doom have struggled with this issue over their career, and both 2019s Nephilim Grove and this one are held back by inconsistent songcraft. This is a good release with really high points, but you’re left feeling it could be so much more. I want MOAR leaf doom, dammit!
Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: novembersdoom1989.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/novembersdoom1989 | instagram.com/novembersdoom
Releases Worldwide: September 19th, 2025#2025 #30 #AmericanMetal #DoomMetal #FieldsOfNephilim #MajorArcana #NovembersDoom #ProphecyProductions #Review #Reviews #Sep25 #WoodsOfYpres
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Novembers Doom – Major Arcana Review
By Steel Druhm
Chicago’s Novembers Doom have charted a unique course for themselves over the last 30 years. Their unnatural pairing of beefy, cargo-beshorted death metal and highly emotional doom originally felt unstable and liable to erupt into chaos at any moment, but over time, they became adept at finding the ideal balance between madman and sadboi. Albums like The Pale Haunt Departure and Hamartia were loaded with ripping riffs and plaintive gloom, and at their best, Novembers Doom can tear at the heartstrings even as they snap your neck. The wild swings from hugely emotional, weepy sadboi melancholy and femur-fracturing death could sometimes feel forced, but more often it just fucking worked. 2019s Nephilim Grove had big moments but felt underbaked with too much filler. It’s been almost six years since, but now we get their 12th album, Major Arcana, and hopefully, a rebound for these Autumnal leaf reapers of despair.
Nothing’s really changed in the way Novembers Doom approach their trade. After an ominous and forboding intro piece, they come out swinging on the massive title track and hit you like a runaway battleship with a wide collection of primal feelz. Grinding riffs are coated with Paul Kuhr’s excellent clean and death metal vocals as the intensity builds and Kuhr warns, “This has gone too far.” The way his vocals increase in intensity is gripping, and all the usual melodic tricks Novembers Doom are known for come to the fore. This is really good shit. Another high point comes with “Mercy,” where the band hits gold with an emotionally crushing piece that evokes Woods of Ypres, Pink Floyd, and latter-era Anthema. It will break your fucking heart with its beauty and poignancy. Also quite tasty is album centerpiece “Bleed Static,” which uses its 8-minute runtime to explore a variety of despondent emotions effectively. Elsewhere, “The Dance” sticks out for its very Amorphis-esque airy, melodic guitar work and a chorus that you can easily imagine Tomi Joutsen singing.
Unfortunately, the rest of Major Arcana doesn’t operate at this level, and though most tracks have something worthwhile to offer, they won’t whisk you away in a leafblower maelstrom. “Ravenous” is a basic melodeath tune that should run 3-4 minutes, but gets stretched to 6 for no good reason. The back third of the album is significantly less enthralling than the early tracks, and while the songs work in the context of the album, they aren’t especially captivating individually. At 56-plus minutes, it would have been easy to drop 2 or 3 tracks to deliver a leaner, meaner release, but that isn’t the Novembers Doom way. This is a mood piece kind of listen, though, and if you’re in the right state of mind, it will all drift by without much resistance.
As ever, Paul Kuhr is the epicenter of the band’s sound, and he does his usual first-rate job. His singing voice is so perfect for doom that he should run a clinic on it.1 He sounds so desperately hurt and broken on “Mercy” that you can’t help but want to give him a big hug and tell him everything will be OK. At times, his singing reminds me a lot of the late great Eric Wagner of Trouble, and that’s great company to be in. His death roars are also as good as ever, big, booming, nasty, and venomous. His transitions between extremes are smooth and well-timed, and he knows how to wring a song for the maximum emotional impact. Lawrence Roberts and Vito Marchese wield potent riff hammers that often feel like they belong on a caveman death metal platter. When they do lapse into doom and melancholic sadboi mode, they deliver the goods there too. On cuts like the title track, “Mercy,” and “Bleed Static,” you can feel the pathos dripping from their fretboards. I just wish they spread that quality more evenly across the whole record.
Albums like Major Arcana can end up a frustrating experience because you get a few really amazing songs and the remainder ends up looking pale in comparison, even if nothing is bad. Novembers Doom have struggled with this issue over their career, and both 2019s Nephilim Grove and this one are held back by inconsistent songcraft. This is a good release with really high points, but you’re left feeling it could be so much more. I want MOAR leaf doom, dammit!
Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: novembersdoom1989.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/novembersdoom1989 | instagram.com/novembersdoom
Releases Worldwide: September 19th, 2025#2025 #30 #AmericanMetal #DoomMetal #FieldsOfNephilim #MajorArcana #NovembersDoom #ProphecyProductions #Review #Reviews #Sep25 #WoodsOfYpres
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A speculative genealogy of accelerationist perspectives
Increasingly I think it makes sense to distinguish between different accelerationist positions. I rarely use the term to describe my own politics any more, both because I don’t want to risk association with far-right positions and because the potential vehicle for a left-accelerationist politics has been smashed into pieces. But my instincts remain left-accelerationist, in the sense of being inclined to ask how emerging technologies could be steered towards solidaristic and socially beneficial goals rather than being driven by the market. It means insisting we consider the technology analytically in ways which distinguish between emergent capacities and how those capacities are being organised at present by commercial imperatives. It means insisting we dive into the problems created by emerging technologies, going through them rather than seeking to go around them, rather than imagining we could hold them back by force of our critique.
In the mid 2010s this felt like quite an optimistic way to see the world but now it feels like a weirdly gloomy way to see the world, because the sense of collective agency underwriting such a future-orientation now seems largely, if not entirely, absent. It’s interesting therefore to see someone like Reid Hoffman, rare liberal member of the billionaire paypal mafia, offer a perspective which has some commonalities with this but could rather be described as a liberal humanist accelerationism. From pg 1-3 of the book Superagency, he’s written with Greg Beato:
We form groups of all kinds, at all levels, to amplify our efforts, often deploying our collective power against other teams, other companies, other countries. Even within our own groups of like-minded allies, competition emerges, because of variations in values and goals. And each group and subgroup is generally adept at rationalizing self-interest in the name of the greater good. Coordinating at a group level to ban, constrain, or even just contain a new technology is hard. Doing so at a state or national level is even harder. Coordinating globally is like herding cats—if cats were armed, tribal, and had different languages, different gods, and dreams for the future that went beyond their next meal. Meanwhile, the more powerful the technology, the harder the coordination problem, and that means you’ll never get the future you want simply by prohibiting the future you don’t want. Refusing to actively shape the future never works, and that’s especially true now that the other side of the world is only just a few clicks away. Other actors have other futures in mind. What should we do? Fundamentally, the surest way to prevent a bad future is to steer toward a better one that, by its existence, makes significantly worse outcomes harder to achieve.
The difference here is that he’s envisioning society as made up with more or less self-realised individuals, in a world in which power and vested interests is (primarily, at least) a matter of how those individuals interact rather than an enduring structural context to their interaction. But with this huge caveat, a lot of the assumptions and instincts here are similar to my own. This could in turn be contrasted to Tony Blair’s post-liberal accelerationism concerned with the role of the state under these conditions:
There’s a similar line of thought in this review by Nathan Pinkoski of Blair’s book on leadership. He describes Blair’s program as a “kind of post-liberal progressive rightism that promises to co-opt the progressive left while crushing the populist right”. Underlying this project is “a commitment to unlimited, unrestrained technological progress, and a belief that this will bring about a better world”.
And we might in turn distinguish this from the libertarian accelerationism of Marc Andreessen who seems to see little to no legitimate role ofr the state.
There’s a risk in distinguishing between these positions that we take them as doctrines, whereas I think they can better be understand as articulations of underlying instincts and orientations. How technology feels to people and how they feel about technology. Their inclination when presented with sociotechnical change etc.
#accelerationism #capitalism #ideology #instinct #MarcAndreessen #ReidHoffman #socialChange #sociotechnicalChange #technology #tonyBlair
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Miscellaneous Updates
Every so often, I like to do these. People often ask me questions like this in email so I figure I’ll try to do one of these monthly.
What am I reading?: I just finished “Memorial: A Version of Homer’s Iliad” by Alice Oswald. I’ve read this before, but my husband and I were discussing Homer the other day and I shared this with him. It’s an extraordinary retelling …a poem, epic in its way, that catalogues every single death in the Iliad. That’s all it is, a poetic remembrance of the dead. It’s haunting. I highly recommend it. Other than this, I’m reading about 4th century asceticism for my dissertation.
What am I watching?: I just finished the second season of “House of David” and I highly recommend it. Samuel is awesome from start to finish. It is an incredibly immersive series. There’s going to be one more season. The young man playing David actually learned how to wield a sling, and all the sling work in the show is his own– the writers actually added more scenes in season 1 of him using the sling because he was so adept at it. I thought that was cool. The music, likewise, is quite haunting.
I’ve also been binge watching this martial artist who specializes in teaching girls to protect themselves. It’s good technique and I think this guy is going really important, maybe even sacred work. His Instagram handle is viswa_viswanath_, and here’s a link.
I’ve also been enjoying the military videos by “The Fat Electrician” on YouTube. Here’s one of my favorites. I’ve been watching him obsessively the past few days. He’s awesome.
What am I currently working on?: my dissertation. I’m hoping to finish by next year.
That’s about it these days, except for Summer Sunwait, where we celebrate the six weeks leading into Summer Solstice, just like we do for the Winter Solstice. I’ve also been working on the various prayers that I’ve recently posted.
I’d love to hear the same from you, my readers. Let’s share cool things. 🙂
Amazon affiliate Disclosure
detail of a woman reading from the Ghent altar piece.
#books #Community #life #LivedPolytheism #miscellaneous #movies #reading #updates #writing -
The Drummer of Tedworth
Drumming could never be considered a rarity – there have been many percussionists throughout the world and down through the ages, some distinctly more talented than others…
…but of all the Dave Grohls, the Keith Moons and Rick Allens who have delighted fans with their rhythms, no drummer has inspired and intrigued a nation and even the Church and Crown quite so much as the fabled Drummer of Tedworth.
Our drummer, a stout and sturdy Englishman, would have been in his prime around the time the Cromwellian wars broke out. He would have suffered as many did from the hard rule of the Stuarts, and so wishing to better his fortune he volunteered his services under the Man of Blood and Iron.
It is said that the call of his drum inspired the revolutionists to mighty deeds of valor from the very first skirmishes til the last bloody battle. Then with the conflict at an end, Charles separated from his royal head and the fifth Monarchy men invoking bedlam in their efforts to establish the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth, our brave drummer lapsed, forgotten, into a haze of obscurity which lasted until the Restoration.
He reemerged, not as the veteran hero living a life of ease and tranquility but as a beggar, wandering from town to town. The fearsome beat of his beloved drum no longer provoking great and heroic deeds, but played to implore alms and sustenance to facilitate his very survival. And so he journeyed, unnoticed, undisturbed and scraping a meager existence until in the spring of 1661 his weary footsteps chanced upon the quiet village of Tedworth, in Wiltshire, UK.
Tedworth at the time was under the rule of a certain Squire Mompesson, a gouty and miserable old git who was unimpressed that the peace and tranquility of his little kingdom was being shattered by the drummers’ loud and raucous battle cries and his even louder drum, and so it was on the Squires direct orders that the faded soldier was seized, beaten and driven from the little town minus his precious drum. The drummer pleaded in vain with the Squire to return his drum – with tears streaming down his battle worn and weather beaten face he begged, protesting that the drum was the only friend he had left to him in the whole world. In vain he related the happy memories that it held for him, of fire and battle and victory… of greater times. But his plaintive cries fell on deaf ears… “Go!” he was told–“go, and be thankful thou escapest so lightly!”
Go he did. To where nobody knew, and nobody really cared.
The following month, Squire Mompesson had cause to make the long and treacherous journey into London to pay his respects to the King, and the people of Tedworth had occasion to wish that the poor drummers lamentations had moved the Squire to pity, for in the middle of the night the Squires family were roused by angry voices violently demanding entry, windows being tried and an unrelenting banging on the front door..
The house was situated in a remote spot and to the occupants it seemed certain that having heard of the Squires absence one of the many gangs of highwaymen who roamed the countryside had planned to turn burglars. With no men folk to protect them the women and children could make little resistance. Panic reigned at once. And consequently there was much quaking and trembling, until finding the bolts and bars too strong for them, the unwelcome visitors retired.
Mompesson’s wrath was unsurpassed when he returned and learned of the Midnight siege. He only hoped, he declared with great enthusiasm, that the villains would return for he would give them a greeting such as had not been known since the days of the Great War.
Little did the Squire know that he would soon be given chance to make good his boast, for no sooner had the household retired than the disturbance began again. Lighting a lantern, slipping into a dressing-gown and snatching up his brace of pistols, the irate Squire dashed downstairs.
As he neared the door, the hammering and voices became almost unbearable. He quickly turned the great key, slipped back the bolts and threw open the heavy door…
The moment he opened the door all became still. He warily extended his lantern and peered into the night yet nothing but empty darkness met his eyes.
Then the knocking began again – this time at a second door. Quickly securing the first, the Squire hurried towards the hellish noise and threw open the second door – only to find the quiet darkness and to hear, with mounting anger, a tumult at yet another door. Again, he secured the door and raced to the renewed bedlam and again met only silence when the door was thrown open…
When Mompesson related the story afterward, he said that as he stepped out into the darkness he became aware of “a strange and hollow sound in the air.” This instilled in him the suspicion that the noises the household had witnessed may be of supernatural nature. As the Squire hurried back to the sanctity of his bed the suspicion deepened to a certainty, and an irrational alarm filled his very soul – an alarm that grew into a deadly fear when a tremendous booming sound came from the top of the house…
For it was there for safety he kept the beggar’s drum, and a terrible idea began to twist and turn Mompesson’s mind: “Could it be that the drummer is dead, and that his spirit has returned to torment me?”
A few nights later, the Squires darkest fears seemed to come true when instead of the usual cacophony of nocturnal shouting and knocking, there began a veritable concert from the room containing the drum. This concert, Mompesson informed his friends, opened with a peculiar “hurling in the air over the house,” and closed with “the beating of a drum like that at the breaking up of a guard.” One can only imagine the mental torture of the Squire and his family, but worse was still to come.
As the ghostly drummer gained confidence he laid aside his drum and began to play practical, and sometimes very painful, jokes on the members of the Squires household, and this malicious practice was directed primarily at the Squires children. It is recorded that for a time “it haunted none particularly but them.” Linen was dragged from their beds as they slept and thrown to the floor, a scratching noise was heard emanating from under the bed, described as ‘of some animal with iron claws’. Sometimes, the children were lifted bodily, “so that six men could not hold them down,” and their limbs were beaten violently against the bedposts.
It would seem the unseen visitor bore no prejudice regarding age though, Mompesson’s elderly mother’s bed was often found to contain ashes and knives among other things and her bible was frequently nowhere to be found.
As time went by, the seemingly unexplainable events became more frequent and profound – chairs moved by themselves, a board pulled itself from the floor and reportedly hurled itself at a servant. Lights were observed to float around, described as similar to corpse candles.
John, the Squires personal manservant, was often the focus of the eerie occurrences. The “stout fellow of sober conversation” found himself confronted one night by a horrible apparition which he described as “a great body with two red and glaring eyes…” John also suffered from bedroom visitations in much the same way as the children, his bedclothes removed and being struck by an unseen force. John found, however, that if he brandished a sword he was left alone. Clearly, the ghost seemed to respond to the threat of cold steel. It didn’t, unfortunately, respond to the exorcism rituals which were performed with no effect. All went well as long as the clergyman was on his knees saying the prescribed Latin verses by the bedside of the terrified children, but a bed staff was thrown at him the moment he rose from his genuflection, while other articles of furniture whirled about so violently, that the room had to be cleared of people for fear of serious injury.
The Squire Mompesson was understandably distraught. As well as the injuries received by members of his family and household, people from all over the country began to flock to the house every night, hoping to witness the otherworldly events. The Squire found himself accused of staging the phenomena himself, of having committed some terrible secret sin for which he was now being punished. Such was the reputation of the events at Tedworth that sermons were preached with the Squire as the text.
The people were divided, half angrily affirming the paranormal nature of the disturbances, the other emphatically denying it. In time news of the events reached the ears of the King, who sent an investigating commission to Mompesson House. Nothing untoward occurred during the visit, to the great delight of the disbelievers. After the visit, however, the most sensational and vexatious phenomena of the haunting so far occurred.
The events continued for many months in this manner, until one day it occurred to Mompesson and his friends that the cause was not ghosts as they had first presumed. This idea rose from the singular circumstance that the voices heard in the children’s room began “for a hundred times together” to bellow “A witch! A witch!”.
One of the bravest individuals in the throng of spectators suddenly demanded, “Satan, if the drummer set thee to work, give three knocks and no more!” Three distinct knocks were heard as if in response. By way of confirmation, five knocks were requested, and received by another onlooker.
A hunt for the drummer was launched, and eventually he was discovered in a jail in Gloucester accused of theft. With this discovery came the word that the drummer had openly bragged of hexing Squire Mompesson. This was all the evidence the outraged Squire needed.
There was in existence at the time an act of King James I. which stated it was a felony to “feed, employ, or reward any evil spirit.” It was under this Act that the Squire quickly had his alleged persecutor indicted as a wizard, and amid great excitement, the aged veteran was brought from Gloucester to Salisbury to stand trial. Although in the seventeenth century such a trial was sure to end in the drummer’s execution, his spirit remained unbroken. Not for him the lesser acts of confessing or humbly begging mercy. Instead the drummer tried to bargain with Mompesson, promising that if the squire would only secure his liberty and gave him employment as a farm hand he would rid him of the haunting that had plagued the Mompesson household.
Sadly, the Squire felt the drummer “could do him no good in any honest way,” and rejected the drummer’s ingenuous proposal, and so the drummer was left to face his fate A packed court room listened attentively to the tales of mishaps and misadventures that had made Mompesson House a national center of interest. During the trial proof was submitted that the accused had been friends with an old vagabond who claimed to possess supernatural powers. Emphasis was placed on the alleged ‘fact’ that the drummer had boasted of having taken revenge on Mompesson for stealing his drum and the beating that had been administered on the Squires orders.
Tedworth House todayIt was to the drummer’s great fortune that Mompesson did not have the power in Salisbury that he held in Tedworth. The jury was moved by the drummer’s eloquent defense, acquitted him, and sent him on his way rejoicing. The Drummer was never heard of again, and with his disappearance came an end to the knockings, the corpse candles, and all the other uncanny phenomena that had made life a waking nightmare for the Mompesson family.
So astonishing was the story of the drummer of Tedworth, it was still cited by the superstitious as a capital example of the intermeddling of superhuman agencies in human affairs, and still mentioned by the skeptical as one of the most amusing and most successful hoaxes on record until the beginning of the twentieth century.
Today the chief significance of this case lies in the striking resemblance between the trials of the Mompesson family and modern poltergeist phenomena, or Recurrent Spontaneous Psychokinesis (RSPK). There are few people who are not already familiar with the theory of an invisible entity which seemingly for no apparent reason other than to annoy causes furniture to shake or move violently, rings bells, plays tambourines, levitates alleged “mediums,” and favors its victims with knocks and even blows. The term RSPK was coined by William Roll in the 1960s and can be defined as inexplicable, spontaneous physical effects unknowingly effected by an individual who wishes to express hostility without the fear of punishment and is sometimes forwarded as an explanation for the effects known as Poltergeist phenomena.
Still another possible explanation could be given citing one of the many forms of temporal lobe epilepsy. In the early twentieth century when research into psychic phenomena was relatively new, the learned gentleman researchers were divided in their opinion. The more forward thinking of the two camps claimed that the Mompesson case was not caused by something supernatural in origin, and was more than likely a hoax. The supporters of the newly minted Spiritual movement generated by the exploits of the briefly celebrated Fox sisters toe-dislocating and general (later allegedly admitted as hoaxed) shenanigans believed that the occurrences at Mompesson House were indeed caused by the restless spirits of the dead. For all we know, if the Fox sisters claim that they had hoaxed the entire episode in which they were involved –the episode which fuelled a trend for darkened parlor séances and were the bane of the Victorian maid due to the amount of ‘ectoplasm’ which had to be disposed of following these events – may have been based on the alleged events at Mompesson House. which would be both a shame and quite amusing in equal measures.
The only real chance of forming a true picture of the case of the Drummer of Tedworth lay within the meticulous documentation of the case made at the time the events were occurring.
A document exists, written by the Reverend Joseph Glanville who was a clergyman of the Church of England and an eye witness to some of the phenomena. Glanville’s point of view is that of an ardent believer in the reality of witchcraft, and his narrative of the Tedworth affair was designed to shame the foolhardy folk who didn’t. Glanville’s account is therefore somewhat one-sided. Another consideration is the fact that all the phenomena witnessed personally by Glanville and Mompesson were described as ‘susceptible of mundane interpretation’, while the more extraordinary phenomena – the great body with red eyes, the levitated children etc. were related to the Squire and the Reverend by second, third or even fourth hand sources – uneducated and superstitious persons no doubt, whose fears would lend wings to their imagination.
Further to these considerations, the Reverend Glanville changed his story on many occasions, adding more details of his own alleged experiences, or making fun of other events when the validity of his narration was brought into question. It is also worth noting that the Reverend was responsible for reporting the case to Court – the medieval equivalent of selling your story to the tabloid newspapers – the Reverend Joseph Glanville may indeed have been the very first ‘media whore’.
John Mompesson was an avid letter writer, and though he was not a popular chap his name at least was well-known enough in the right circles for his letters to have been read and in some cases even replied to by some very important people of the time.
Samuel Pepys also wrote about the Drummer of Tedworth case. He documented the fact that, as far as he was concerned, John Mompesson had actually confessed to fabricating the whole story to none other than the King himself….
John Mompesson was born in 1623 to the Reverend John Mompesson of the Parish of North Tidworth. The Reverend Mompesson had been called before parliament for his Royalist sympathies 20 odd years before our story commences. The young John Mompesson’s’ uncle was the infamous Jacobean Monopolist, Sir Giles Mompesson, and his cousin Thomas had raised a force in support of Penruddocks rising in 1655, and had then gone into exile in France before returning to England during the Restoration. On Thomas’s return to Blighty his estates were restored and he became the MP for Wilton before 1662, when he secured himself a Knighthood and the Excise farm in Wilton for his dear cousin John.
John wasn’t, as many writers on this subject claim, the High Sheriff of Wiltshire at the time of these events. He wasn’t even so much as a Knight, this title being stripped from the family due to old Uncle Giles’s misdeeds. John was, however, a staunch Royalist, and as such had a desperate need to get back into the Kings good books. What better way than to be seen as the defender of the Faith, and present His Majesty not just a witch, but with a witch who had fought for the ‘Other Side’?
Our Parliamentarian Drummer was the ideal pawn in Mompesson’s game. William Drury had requested money from a local constable on the strength of a pass that was alleged to have been counterfeit in the neighboring town of Ludgershall. I’m uncertain as to the nature of this pass, but in 1660 an act was passed by Charles II titled ‘An Act for the speedy provision of money for disbanding and paying off the forces of this Kingdome both by Land and Sea.’ This act required that all ‘Noblemen and their eldest Sons of the Age of 21.; A Baronet.; A Knight of the Bath.; Knight Batchelor.; King’s Sergeant.; Esquires.; Widows rated at One-third according to Rank of Husbands.’ To pay a levy to the Crown at a rate in accordance to their stature. Several ‘commissioners’ were employed by the Crown to achieve this, and among them, oddly, was John Mompesson.
That John had been accorded this position of trust is odd in the sense that his Uncle, Sir Giles, had been exiled in 1623 after exploiting a similar position of trust bestowed on him by the Crown. Sir Giles had devised a scheme to become a commissioner for the licensing of Inns, among other endeavors, which he had the exploited for his own and his friends and family’s gain. As a result of his nepotism, Sir Giles was heavily fined, stripped of his title, exiled and made to ride down the Mall in London, facing backwards on his horse.
During his time as commissioner of Inns, Sir Giles had managed to upset just about everyone he came across – one of his favorite wiles was to send his men into establishments pretending to be in distress. The men would then spiel such a tale of woe and sorrow that the keeper would offer him a bed and sustenance. At which point, Sir Giles could not only earn a license fee from the poor keeper, but also fine or blackmail him to his hearts content – not a nice chap, old Sir Giles. He was an adept in the art of nepotism. The only people to benefit from his wicked ways were himself, and his immediate ‘family’.
During the Reformation, it was common for banished dignitaries (such as Sir Giles, who had only left Britain briefly) to try to regain their titles by… well, by getting into the new Kings good books. Giles’ son, Thomas had already secured himself a Knighthood and the Excise farm for John, which meant John now owed him a favor. That the whole witchcraft themed poltergeist plot was engineered between the two to try to gain the Kings favor, Knighthoods within the family and thus reinstate the ageing ex- Sir Giles to a respectable position is not too far fetched a story. Using the Parliamentarian drummer who was allegedly trying to gain money by deception is far too close to home for it not to be an added detail designed to jog the memory a little.
In 1663, the events at Mompesson House ceased, and peace reigned again in the little village of Tedworth. Also in 1663, The King questioned John Mompesson about the alleged haunting, and John confessed that the whole thing had been a hoax – this little detail was recorded by the ever vigilant Samuel Pepys in his Diary. Another major event in the Mompesson family in this year was the death of Giles Mompesson.
And our Drummer? Nothing is really known other than the vague story about him serving in Cromwell’s Army, of which I can find no record. After the false pass incident he was arrested for stealing a pig and sentenced to transportation. Some stories say he escaped on the way to the ship, some say he jumped overboard and swam to shore, or was lost. We can pretty much say that the events at Mompesson House were not of paranormal origin – either that or John Mompesson lied to the King, which if discovered would have brought about a charge of treason and almost certainly the loss of his head. The frustrating thing is that I’ll never discover for certain John Mompesson’s motive for the hoax.
Of one thing I am certain though – If John Mompesson’s motive was fame and fortune, he surely achieved his aim. 350 years later the Drummer of Tedworth is STILL regarded as an ‘Unsolved Mystery’.
#History #London #Mysterious #Restoration #Tedworth #Wiltshire -
The Drummer of Tedworth
Drumming could never be considered a rarity – there have been many percussionists throughout the world and down through the ages, some distinctly more talented than others…
…but of all the Dave Grohls, the Keith Moons and Rick Allens who have delighted fans with their rhythms, no drummer has inspired and intrigued a nation and even the Church and Crown quite so much as the fabled Drummer of Tedworth.
Our drummer, a stout and sturdy Englishman, would have been in his prime around the time the Cromwellian wars broke out. He would have suffered as many did from the hard rule of the Stuarts, and so wishing to better his fortune he volunteered his services under the Man of Blood and Iron.
It is said that the call of his drum inspired the revolutionists to mighty deeds of valor from the very first skirmishes til the last bloody battle. Then with the conflict at an end, Charles separated from his royal head and the fifth Monarchy men invoking bedlam in their efforts to establish the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth, our brave drummer lapsed, forgotten, into a haze of obscurity which lasted until the Restoration.
He reemerged, not as the veteran hero living a life of ease and tranquility but as a beggar, wandering from town to town. The fearsome beat of his beloved drum no longer provoking great and heroic deeds, but played to implore alms and sustenance to facilitate his very survival. And so he journeyed, unnoticed, undisturbed and scraping a meager existence until in the spring of 1661 his weary footsteps chanced upon the quiet village of Tedworth, in Wiltshire, UK.
Tedworth at the time was under the rule of a certain Squire Mompesson, a gouty and miserable old git who was unimpressed that the peace and tranquility of his little kingdom was being shattered by the drummers’ loud and raucous battle cries and his even louder drum, and so it was on the Squires direct orders that the faded soldier was seized, beaten and driven from the little town minus his precious drum. The drummer pleaded in vain with the Squire to return his drum – with tears streaming down his battle worn and weather beaten face he begged, protesting that the drum was the only friend he had left to him in the whole world. In vain he related the happy memories that it held for him, of fire and battle and victory… of greater times. But his plaintive cries fell on deaf ears… “Go!” he was told–“go, and be thankful thou escapest so lightly!”
Go he did. To where nobody knew, and nobody really cared.
The following month, Squire Mompesson had cause to make the long and treacherous journey into London to pay his respects to the King, and the people of Tedworth had occasion to wish that the poor drummers lamentations had moved the Squire to pity, for in the middle of the night the Squires family were roused by angry voices violently demanding entry, windows being tried and an unrelenting banging on the front door..
The house was situated in a remote spot and to the occupants it seemed certain that having heard of the Squires absence one of the many gangs of highwaymen who roamed the countryside had planned to turn burglars. With no men folk to protect them the women and children could make little resistance. Panic reigned at once. And consequently there was much quaking and trembling, until finding the bolts and bars too strong for them, the unwelcome visitors retired.
Mompesson’s wrath was unsurpassed when he returned and learned of the Midnight siege. He only hoped, he declared with great enthusiasm, that the villains would return for he would give them a greeting such as had not been known since the days of the Great War.
Little did the Squire know that he would soon be given chance to make good his boast, for no sooner had the household retired than the disturbance began again. Lighting a lantern, slipping into a dressing-gown and snatching up his brace of pistols, the irate Squire dashed downstairs.
As he neared the door, the hammering and voices became almost unbearable. He quickly turned the great key, slipped back the bolts and threw open the heavy door…
The moment he opened the door all became still. He warily extended his lantern and peered into the night yet nothing but empty darkness met his eyes.
Then the knocking began again – this time at a second door. Quickly securing the first, the Squire hurried towards the hellish noise and threw open the second door – only to find the quiet darkness and to hear, with mounting anger, a tumult at yet another door. Again, he secured the door and raced to the renewed bedlam and again met only silence when the door was thrown open…
When Mompesson related the story afterward, he said that as he stepped out into the darkness he became aware of “a strange and hollow sound in the air.” This instilled in him the suspicion that the noises the household had witnessed may be of supernatural nature. As the Squire hurried back to the sanctity of his bed the suspicion deepened to a certainty, and an irrational alarm filled his very soul – an alarm that grew into a deadly fear when a tremendous booming sound came from the top of the house…
For it was there for safety he kept the beggar’s drum, and a terrible idea began to twist and turn Mompesson’s mind: “Could it be that the drummer is dead, and that his spirit has returned to torment me?”
A few nights later, the Squires darkest fears seemed to come true when instead of the usual cacophony of nocturnal shouting and knocking, there began a veritable concert from the room containing the drum. This concert, Mompesson informed his friends, opened with a peculiar “hurling in the air over the house,” and closed with “the beating of a drum like that at the breaking up of a guard.” One can only imagine the mental torture of the Squire and his family, but worse was still to come.
As the ghostly drummer gained confidence he laid aside his drum and began to play practical, and sometimes very painful, jokes on the members of the Squires household, and this malicious practice was directed primarily at the Squires children. It is recorded that for a time “it haunted none particularly but them.” Linen was dragged from their beds as they slept and thrown to the floor, a scratching noise was heard emanating from under the bed, described as ‘of some animal with iron claws’. Sometimes, the children were lifted bodily, “so that six men could not hold them down,” and their limbs were beaten violently against the bedposts.
It would seem the unseen visitor bore no prejudice regarding age though, Mompesson’s elderly mother’s bed was often found to contain ashes and knives among other things and her bible was frequently nowhere to be found.
As time went by, the seemingly unexplainable events became more frequent and profound – chairs moved by themselves, a board pulled itself from the floor and reportedly hurled itself at a servant. Lights were observed to float around, described as similar to corpse candles.
John, the Squires personal manservant, was often the focus of the eerie occurrences. The “stout fellow of sober conversation” found himself confronted one night by a horrible apparition which he described as “a great body with two red and glaring eyes…” John also suffered from bedroom visitations in much the same way as the children, his bedclothes removed and being struck by an unseen force. John found, however, that if he brandished a sword he was left alone. Clearly, the ghost seemed to respond to the threat of cold steel. It didn’t, unfortunately, respond to the exorcism rituals which were performed with no effect. All went well as long as the clergyman was on his knees saying the prescribed Latin verses by the bedside of the terrified children, but a bed staff was thrown at him the moment he rose from his genuflection, while other articles of furniture whirled about so violently, that the room had to be cleared of people for fear of serious injury.
The Squire Mompesson was understandably distraught. As well as the injuries received by members of his family and household, people from all over the country began to flock to the house every night, hoping to witness the otherworldly events. The Squire found himself accused of staging the phenomena himself, of having committed some terrible secret sin for which he was now being punished. Such was the reputation of the events at Tedworth that sermons were preached with the Squire as the text.
The people were divided, half angrily affirming the paranormal nature of the disturbances, the other emphatically denying it. In time news of the events reached the ears of the King, who sent an investigating commission to Mompesson House. Nothing untoward occurred during the visit, to the great delight of the disbelievers. After the visit, however, the most sensational and vexatious phenomena of the haunting so far occurred.
The events continued for many months in this manner, until one day it occurred to Mompesson and his friends that the cause was not ghosts as they had first presumed. This idea rose from the singular circumstance that the voices heard in the children’s room began “for a hundred times together” to bellow “A witch! A witch!”.
One of the bravest individuals in the throng of spectators suddenly demanded, “Satan, if the drummer set thee to work, give three knocks and no more!” Three distinct knocks were heard as if in response. By way of confirmation, five knocks were requested, and received by another onlooker.
A hunt for the drummer was launched, and eventually he was discovered in a jail in Gloucester accused of theft. With this discovery came the word that the drummer had openly bragged of hexing Squire Mompesson. This was all the evidence the outraged Squire needed.
There was in existence at the time an act of King James I. which stated it was a felony to “feed, employ, or reward any evil spirit.” It was under this Act that the Squire quickly had his alleged persecutor indicted as a wizard, and amid great excitement, the aged veteran was brought from Gloucester to Salisbury to stand trial. Although in the seventeenth century such a trial was sure to end in the drummer’s execution, his spirit remained unbroken. Not for him the lesser acts of confessing or humbly begging mercy. Instead the drummer tried to bargain with Mompesson, promising that if the squire would only secure his liberty and gave him employment as a farm hand he would rid him of the haunting that had plagued the Mompesson household.
Sadly, the Squire felt the drummer “could do him no good in any honest way,” and rejected the drummer’s ingenuous proposal, and so the drummer was left to face his fate A packed court room listened attentively to the tales of mishaps and misadventures that had made Mompesson House a national center of interest. During the trial proof was submitted that the accused had been friends with an old vagabond who claimed to possess supernatural powers. Emphasis was placed on the alleged ‘fact’ that the drummer had boasted of having taken revenge on Mompesson for stealing his drum and the beating that had been administered on the Squires orders.
Tedworth House todayIt was to the drummer’s great fortune that Mompesson did not have the power in Salisbury that he held in Tedworth. The jury was moved by the drummer’s eloquent defense, acquitted him, and sent him on his way rejoicing. The Drummer was never heard of again, and with his disappearance came an end to the knockings, the corpse candles, and all the other uncanny phenomena that had made life a waking nightmare for the Mompesson family.
So astonishing was the story of the drummer of Tedworth, it was still cited by the superstitious as a capital example of the intermeddling of superhuman agencies in human affairs, and still mentioned by the skeptical as one of the most amusing and most successful hoaxes on record until the beginning of the twentieth century.
Today the chief significance of this case lies in the striking resemblance between the trials of the Mompesson family and modern poltergeist phenomena, or Recurrent Spontaneous Psychokinesis (RSPK). There are few people who are not already familiar with the theory of an invisible entity which seemingly for no apparent reason other than to annoy causes furniture to shake or move violently, rings bells, plays tambourines, levitates alleged “mediums,” and favors its victims with knocks and even blows. The term RSPK was coined by William Roll in the 1960s and can be defined as inexplicable, spontaneous physical effects unknowingly effected by an individual who wishes to express hostility without the fear of punishment and is sometimes forwarded as an explanation for the effects known as Poltergeist phenomena.
Still another possible explanation could be given citing one of the many forms of temporal lobe epilepsy. In the early twentieth century when research into psychic phenomena was relatively new, the learned gentleman researchers were divided in their opinion. The more forward thinking of the two camps claimed that the Mompesson case was not caused by something supernatural in origin, and was more than likely a hoax. The supporters of the newly minted Spiritual movement generated by the exploits of the briefly celebrated Fox sisters toe-dislocating and general (later allegedly admitted as hoaxed) shenanigans believed that the occurrences at Mompesson House were indeed caused by the restless spirits of the dead. For all we know, if the Fox sisters claim that they had hoaxed the entire episode in which they were involved –the episode which fuelled a trend for darkened parlor séances and were the bane of the Victorian maid due to the amount of ‘ectoplasm’ which had to be disposed of following these events – may have been based on the alleged events at Mompesson House. which would be both a shame and quite amusing in equal measures.
The only real chance of forming a true picture of the case of the Drummer of Tedworth lay within the meticulous documentation of the case made at the time the events were occurring.
A document exists, written by the Reverend Joseph Glanville who was a clergyman of the Church of England and an eye witness to some of the phenomena. Glanville’s point of view is that of an ardent believer in the reality of witchcraft, and his narrative of the Tedworth affair was designed to shame the foolhardy folk who didn’t. Glanville’s account is therefore somewhat one-sided. Another consideration is the fact that all the phenomena witnessed personally by Glanville and Mompesson were described as ‘susceptible of mundane interpretation’, while the more extraordinary phenomena – the great body with red eyes, the levitated children etc. were related to the Squire and the Reverend by second, third or even fourth hand sources – uneducated and superstitious persons no doubt, whose fears would lend wings to their imagination.
Further to these considerations, the Reverend Glanville changed his story on many occasions, adding more details of his own alleged experiences, or making fun of other events when the validity of his narration was brought into question. It is also worth noting that the Reverend was responsible for reporting the case to Court – the medieval equivalent of selling your story to the tabloid newspapers – the Reverend Joseph Glanville may indeed have been the very first ‘media whore’.
John Mompesson was an avid letter writer, and though he was not a popular chap his name at least was well-known enough in the right circles for his letters to have been read and in some cases even replied to by some very important people of the time.
Samuel Pepys also wrote about the Drummer of Tedworth case. He documented the fact that, as far as he was concerned, John Mompesson had actually confessed to fabricating the whole story to none other than the King himself….
John Mompesson was born in 1623 to the Reverend John Mompesson of the Parish of North Tidworth. The Reverend Mompesson had been called before parliament for his Royalist sympathies 20 odd years before our story commences. The young John Mompesson’s’ uncle was the infamous Jacobean Monopolist, Sir Giles Mompesson, and his cousin Thomas had raised a force in support of Penruddocks rising in 1655, and had then gone into exile in France before returning to England during the Restoration. On Thomas’s return to Blighty his estates were restored and he became the MP for Wilton before 1662, when he secured himself a Knighthood and the Excise farm in Wilton for his dear cousin John.
John wasn’t, as many writers on this subject claim, the High Sheriff of Wiltshire at the time of these events. He wasn’t even so much as a Knight, this title being stripped from the family due to old Uncle Giles’s misdeeds. John was, however, a staunch Royalist, and as such had a desperate need to get back into the Kings good books. What better way than to be seen as the defender of the Faith, and present His Majesty not just a witch, but with a witch who had fought for the ‘Other Side’?
Our Parliamentarian Drummer was the ideal pawn in Mompesson’s game. William Drury had requested money from a local constable on the strength of a pass that was alleged to have been counterfeit in the neighboring town of Ludgershall. I’m uncertain as to the nature of this pass, but in 1660 an act was passed by Charles II titled ‘An Act for the speedy provision of money for disbanding and paying off the forces of this Kingdome both by Land and Sea.’ This act required that all ‘Noblemen and their eldest Sons of the Age of 21.; A Baronet.; A Knight of the Bath.; Knight Batchelor.; King’s Sergeant.; Esquires.; Widows rated at One-third according to Rank of Husbands.’ To pay a levy to the Crown at a rate in accordance to their stature. Several ‘commissioners’ were employed by the Crown to achieve this, and among them, oddly, was John Mompesson.
That John had been accorded this position of trust is odd in the sense that his Uncle, Sir Giles, had been exiled in 1623 after exploiting a similar position of trust bestowed on him by the Crown. Sir Giles had devised a scheme to become a commissioner for the licensing of Inns, among other endeavors, which he had the exploited for his own and his friends and family’s gain. As a result of his nepotism, Sir Giles was heavily fined, stripped of his title, exiled and made to ride down the Mall in London, facing backwards on his horse.
During his time as commissioner of Inns, Sir Giles had managed to upset just about everyone he came across – one of his favorite wiles was to send his men into establishments pretending to be in distress. The men would then spiel such a tale of woe and sorrow that the keeper would offer him a bed and sustenance. At which point, Sir Giles could not only earn a license fee from the poor keeper, but also fine or blackmail him to his hearts content – not a nice chap, old Sir Giles. He was an adept in the art of nepotism. The only people to benefit from his wicked ways were himself, and his immediate ‘family’.
During the Reformation, it was common for banished dignitaries (such as Sir Giles, who had only left Britain briefly) to try to regain their titles by… well, by getting into the new Kings good books. Giles’ son, Thomas had already secured himself a Knighthood and the Excise farm for John, which meant John now owed him a favor. That the whole witchcraft themed poltergeist plot was engineered between the two to try to gain the Kings favor, Knighthoods within the family and thus reinstate the ageing ex- Sir Giles to a respectable position is not too far fetched a story. Using the Parliamentarian drummer who was allegedly trying to gain money by deception is far too close to home for it not to be an added detail designed to jog the memory a little.
In 1663, the events at Mompesson House ceased, and peace reigned again in the little village of Tedworth. Also in 1663, The King questioned John Mompesson about the alleged haunting, and John confessed that the whole thing had been a hoax – this little detail was recorded by the ever vigilant Samuel Pepys in his Diary. Another major event in the Mompesson family in this year was the death of Giles Mompesson.
And our Drummer? Nothing is really known other than the vague story about him serving in Cromwell’s Army, of which I can find no record. After the false pass incident he was arrested for stealing a pig and sentenced to transportation. Some stories say he escaped on the way to the ship, some say he jumped overboard and swam to shore, or was lost. We can pretty much say that the events at Mompesson House were not of paranormal origin – either that or John Mompesson lied to the King, which if discovered would have brought about a charge of treason and almost certainly the loss of his head. The frustrating thing is that I’ll never discover for certain John Mompesson’s motive for the hoax.
Of one thing I am certain though – If John Mompesson’s motive was fame and fortune, he surely achieved his aim. 350 years later the Drummer of Tedworth is STILL regarded as an ‘Unsolved Mystery’.
#History #London #Mysterious #Restoration #Tedworth #Wiltshire -
The Drummer of Tedworth
Drumming could never be considered a rarity – there have been many percussionists throughout the world and down through the ages, some distinctly more talented than others…
…but of all the Dave Grohls, the Keith Moons and Rick Allens who have delighted fans with their rhythms, no drummer has inspired and intrigued a nation and even the Church and Crown quite so much as the fabled Drummer of Tedworth.
Our drummer, a stout and sturdy Englishman, would have been in his prime around the time the Cromwellian wars broke out. He would have suffered as many did from the hard rule of the Stuarts, and so wishing to better his fortune he volunteered his services under the Man of Blood and Iron.
It is said that the call of his drum inspired the revolutionists to mighty deeds of valor from the very first skirmishes til the last bloody battle. Then with the conflict at an end, Charles separated from his royal head and the fifth Monarchy men invoking bedlam in their efforts to establish the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth, our brave drummer lapsed, forgotten, into a haze of obscurity which lasted until the Restoration.
He reemerged, not as the veteran hero living a life of ease and tranquility but as a beggar, wandering from town to town. The fearsome beat of his beloved drum no longer provoking great and heroic deeds, but played to implore alms and sustenance to facilitate his very survival. And so he journeyed, unnoticed, undisturbed and scraping a meager existence until in the spring of 1661 his weary footsteps chanced upon the quiet village of Tedworth, in Wiltshire, UK.
Tedworth at the time was under the rule of a certain Squire Mompesson, a gouty and miserable old git who was unimpressed that the peace and tranquility of his little kingdom was being shattered by the drummers’ loud and raucous battle cries and his even louder drum, and so it was on the Squires direct orders that the faded soldier was seized, beaten and driven from the little town minus his precious drum. The drummer pleaded in vain with the Squire to return his drum – with tears streaming down his battle worn and weather beaten face he begged, protesting that the drum was the only friend he had left to him in the whole world. In vain he related the happy memories that it held for him, of fire and battle and victory… of greater times. But his plaintive cries fell on deaf ears… “Go!” he was told–“go, and be thankful thou escapest so lightly!”
Go he did. To where nobody knew, and nobody really cared.
The following month, Squire Mompesson had cause to make the long and treacherous journey into London to pay his respects to the King, and the people of Tedworth had occasion to wish that the poor drummers lamentations had moved the Squire to pity, for in the middle of the night the Squires family were roused by angry voices violently demanding entry, windows being tried and an unrelenting banging on the front door..
The house was situated in a remote spot and to the occupants it seemed certain that having heard of the Squires absence one of the many gangs of highwaymen who roamed the countryside had planned to turn burglars. With no men folk to protect them the women and children could make little resistance. Panic reigned at once. And consequently there was much quaking and trembling, until finding the bolts and bars too strong for them, the unwelcome visitors retired.
Mompesson’s wrath was unsurpassed when he returned and learned of the Midnight siege. He only hoped, he declared with great enthusiasm, that the villains would return for he would give them a greeting such as had not been known since the days of the Great War.
Little did the Squire know that he would soon be given chance to make good his boast, for no sooner had the household retired than the disturbance began again. Lighting a lantern, slipping into a dressing-gown and snatching up his brace of pistols, the irate Squire dashed downstairs.
As he neared the door, the hammering and voices became almost unbearable. He quickly turned the great key, slipped back the bolts and threw open the heavy door…
The moment he opened the door all became still. He warily extended his lantern and peered into the night yet nothing but empty darkness met his eyes.
Then the knocking began again – this time at a second door. Quickly securing the first, the Squire hurried towards the hellish noise and threw open the second door – only to find the quiet darkness and to hear, with mounting anger, a tumult at yet another door. Again, he secured the door and raced to the renewed bedlam and again met only silence when the door was thrown open…
When Mompesson related the story afterward, he said that as he stepped out into the darkness he became aware of “a strange and hollow sound in the air.” This instilled in him the suspicion that the noises the household had witnessed may be of supernatural nature. As the Squire hurried back to the sanctity of his bed the suspicion deepened to a certainty, and an irrational alarm filled his very soul – an alarm that grew into a deadly fear when a tremendous booming sound came from the top of the house…
For it was there for safety he kept the beggar’s drum, and a terrible idea began to twist and turn Mompesson’s mind: “Could it be that the drummer is dead, and that his spirit has returned to torment me?”
A few nights later, the Squires darkest fears seemed to come true when instead of the usual cacophony of nocturnal shouting and knocking, there began a veritable concert from the room containing the drum. This concert, Mompesson informed his friends, opened with a peculiar “hurling in the air over the house,” and closed with “the beating of a drum like that at the breaking up of a guard.” One can only imagine the mental torture of the Squire and his family, but worse was still to come.
As the ghostly drummer gained confidence he laid aside his drum and began to play practical, and sometimes very painful, jokes on the members of the Squires household, and this malicious practice was directed primarily at the Squires children. It is recorded that for a time “it haunted none particularly but them.” Linen was dragged from their beds as they slept and thrown to the floor, a scratching noise was heard emanating from under the bed, described as ‘of some animal with iron claws’. Sometimes, the children were lifted bodily, “so that six men could not hold them down,” and their limbs were beaten violently against the bedposts.
It would seem the unseen visitor bore no prejudice regarding age though, Mompesson’s elderly mother’s bed was often found to contain ashes and knives among other things and her bible was frequently nowhere to be found.
As time went by, the seemingly unexplainable events became more frequent and profound – chairs moved by themselves, a board pulled itself from the floor and reportedly hurled itself at a servant. Lights were observed to float around, described as similar to corpse candles.
John, the Squires personal manservant, was often the focus of the eerie occurrences. The “stout fellow of sober conversation” found himself confronted one night by a horrible apparition which he described as “a great body with two red and glaring eyes…” John also suffered from bedroom visitations in much the same way as the children, his bedclothes removed and being struck by an unseen force. John found, however, that if he brandished a sword he was left alone. Clearly, the ghost seemed to respond to the threat of cold steel. It didn’t, unfortunately, respond to the exorcism rituals which were performed with no effect. All went well as long as the clergyman was on his knees saying the prescribed Latin verses by the bedside of the terrified children, but a bed staff was thrown at him the moment he rose from his genuflection, while other articles of furniture whirled about so violently, that the room had to be cleared of people for fear of serious injury.
The Squire Mompesson was understandably distraught. As well as the injuries received by members of his family and household, people from all over the country began to flock to the house every night, hoping to witness the otherworldly events. The Squire found himself accused of staging the phenomena himself, of having committed some terrible secret sin for which he was now being punished. Such was the reputation of the events at Tedworth that sermons were preached with the Squire as the text.
The people were divided, half angrily affirming the paranormal nature of the disturbances, the other emphatically denying it. In time news of the events reached the ears of the King, who sent an investigating commission to Mompesson House. Nothing untoward occurred during the visit, to the great delight of the disbelievers. After the visit, however, the most sensational and vexatious phenomena of the haunting so far occurred.
The events continued for many months in this manner, until one day it occurred to Mompesson and his friends that the cause was not ghosts as they had first presumed. This idea rose from the singular circumstance that the voices heard in the children’s room began “for a hundred times together” to bellow “A witch! A witch!”.
One of the bravest individuals in the throng of spectators suddenly demanded, “Satan, if the drummer set thee to work, give three knocks and no more!” Three distinct knocks were heard as if in response. By way of confirmation, five knocks were requested, and received by another onlooker.
A hunt for the drummer was launched, and eventually he was discovered in a jail in Gloucester accused of theft. With this discovery came the word that the drummer had openly bragged of hexing Squire Mompesson. This was all the evidence the outraged Squire needed.
There was in existence at the time an act of King James I. which stated it was a felony to “feed, employ, or reward any evil spirit.” It was under this Act that the Squire quickly had his alleged persecutor indicted as a wizard, and amid great excitement, the aged veteran was brought from Gloucester to Salisbury to stand trial. Although in the seventeenth century such a trial was sure to end in the drummer’s execution, his spirit remained unbroken. Not for him the lesser acts of confessing or humbly begging mercy. Instead the drummer tried to bargain with Mompesson, promising that if the squire would only secure his liberty and gave him employment as a farm hand he would rid him of the haunting that had plagued the Mompesson household.
Sadly, the Squire felt the drummer “could do him no good in any honest way,” and rejected the drummer’s ingenuous proposal, and so the drummer was left to face his fate A packed court room listened attentively to the tales of mishaps and misadventures that had made Mompesson House a national center of interest. During the trial proof was submitted that the accused had been friends with an old vagabond who claimed to possess supernatural powers. Emphasis was placed on the alleged ‘fact’ that the drummer had boasted of having taken revenge on Mompesson for stealing his drum and the beating that had been administered on the Squires orders.
Tedworth House todayIt was to the drummer’s great fortune that Mompesson did not have the power in Salisbury that he held in Tedworth. The jury was moved by the drummer’s eloquent defense, acquitted him, and sent him on his way rejoicing. The Drummer was never heard of again, and with his disappearance came an end to the knockings, the corpse candles, and all the other uncanny phenomena that had made life a waking nightmare for the Mompesson family.
So astonishing was the story of the drummer of Tedworth, it was still cited by the superstitious as a capital example of the intermeddling of superhuman agencies in human affairs, and still mentioned by the skeptical as one of the most amusing and most successful hoaxes on record until the beginning of the twentieth century.
Today the chief significance of this case lies in the striking resemblance between the trials of the Mompesson family and modern poltergeist phenomena, or Recurrent Spontaneous Psychokinesis (RSPK). There are few people who are not already familiar with the theory of an invisible entity which seemingly for no apparent reason other than to annoy causes furniture to shake or move violently, rings bells, plays tambourines, levitates alleged “mediums,” and favors its victims with knocks and even blows. The term RSPK was coined by William Roll in the 1960s and can be defined as inexplicable, spontaneous physical effects unknowingly effected by an individual who wishes to express hostility without the fear of punishment and is sometimes forwarded as an explanation for the effects known as Poltergeist phenomena.
Still another possible explanation could be given citing one of the many forms of temporal lobe epilepsy. In the early twentieth century when research into psychic phenomena was relatively new, the learned gentleman researchers were divided in their opinion. The more forward thinking of the two camps claimed that the Mompesson case was not caused by something supernatural in origin, and was more than likely a hoax. The supporters of the newly minted Spiritual movement generated by the exploits of the briefly celebrated Fox sisters toe-dislocating and general (later allegedly admitted as hoaxed) shenanigans believed that the occurrences at Mompesson House were indeed caused by the restless spirits of the dead. For all we know, if the Fox sisters claim that they had hoaxed the entire episode in which they were involved –the episode which fuelled a trend for darkened parlor séances and were the bane of the Victorian maid due to the amount of ‘ectoplasm’ which had to be disposed of following these events – may have been based on the alleged events at Mompesson House. which would be both a shame and quite amusing in equal measures.
The only real chance of forming a true picture of the case of the Drummer of Tedworth lay within the meticulous documentation of the case made at the time the events were occurring.
A document exists, written by the Reverend Joseph Glanville who was a clergyman of the Church of England and an eye witness to some of the phenomena. Glanville’s point of view is that of an ardent believer in the reality of witchcraft, and his narrative of the Tedworth affair was designed to shame the foolhardy folk who didn’t. Glanville’s account is therefore somewhat one-sided. Another consideration is the fact that all the phenomena witnessed personally by Glanville and Mompesson were described as ‘susceptible of mundane interpretation’, while the more extraordinary phenomena – the great body with red eyes, the levitated children etc. were related to the Squire and the Reverend by second, third or even fourth hand sources – uneducated and superstitious persons no doubt, whose fears would lend wings to their imagination.
Further to these considerations, the Reverend Glanville changed his story on many occasions, adding more details of his own alleged experiences, or making fun of other events when the validity of his narration was brought into question. It is also worth noting that the Reverend was responsible for reporting the case to Court – the medieval equivalent of selling your story to the tabloid newspapers – the Reverend Joseph Glanville may indeed have been the very first ‘media whore’.
John Mompesson was an avid letter writer, and though he was not a popular chap his name at least was well-known enough in the right circles for his letters to have been read and in some cases even replied to by some very important people of the time.
Samuel Pepys also wrote about the Drummer of Tedworth case. He documented the fact that, as far as he was concerned, John Mompesson had actually confessed to fabricating the whole story to none other than the King himself….
John Mompesson was born in 1623 to the Reverend John Mompesson of the Parish of North Tidworth. The Reverend Mompesson had been called before parliament for his Royalist sympathies 20 odd years before our story commences. The young John Mompesson’s’ uncle was the infamous Jacobean Monopolist, Sir Giles Mompesson, and his cousin Thomas had raised a force in support of Penruddocks rising in 1655, and had then gone into exile in France before returning to England during the Restoration. On Thomas’s return to Blighty his estates were restored and he became the MP for Wilton before 1662, when he secured himself a Knighthood and the Excise farm in Wilton for his dear cousin John.
John wasn’t, as many writers on this subject claim, the High Sheriff of Wiltshire at the time of these events. He wasn’t even so much as a Knight, this title being stripped from the family due to old Uncle Giles’s misdeeds. John was, however, a staunch Royalist, and as such had a desperate need to get back into the Kings good books. What better way than to be seen as the defender of the Faith, and present His Majesty not just a witch, but with a witch who had fought for the ‘Other Side’?
Our Parliamentarian Drummer was the ideal pawn in Mompesson’s game. William Drury had requested money from a local constable on the strength of a pass that was alleged to have been counterfeit in the neighboring town of Ludgershall. I’m uncertain as to the nature of this pass, but in 1660 an act was passed by Charles II titled ‘An Act for the speedy provision of money for disbanding and paying off the forces of this Kingdome both by Land and Sea.’ This act required that all ‘Noblemen and their eldest Sons of the Age of 21.; A Baronet.; A Knight of the Bath.; Knight Batchelor.; King’s Sergeant.; Esquires.; Widows rated at One-third according to Rank of Husbands.’ To pay a levy to the Crown at a rate in accordance to their stature. Several ‘commissioners’ were employed by the Crown to achieve this, and among them, oddly, was John Mompesson.
That John had been accorded this position of trust is odd in the sense that his Uncle, Sir Giles, had been exiled in 1623 after exploiting a similar position of trust bestowed on him by the Crown. Sir Giles had devised a scheme to become a commissioner for the licensing of Inns, among other endeavors, which he had the exploited for his own and his friends and family’s gain. As a result of his nepotism, Sir Giles was heavily fined, stripped of his title, exiled and made to ride down the Mall in London, facing backwards on his horse.
During his time as commissioner of Inns, Sir Giles had managed to upset just about everyone he came across – one of his favorite wiles was to send his men into establishments pretending to be in distress. The men would then spiel such a tale of woe and sorrow that the keeper would offer him a bed and sustenance. At which point, Sir Giles could not only earn a license fee from the poor keeper, but also fine or blackmail him to his hearts content – not a nice chap, old Sir Giles. He was an adept in the art of nepotism. The only people to benefit from his wicked ways were himself, and his immediate ‘family’.
During the Reformation, it was common for banished dignitaries (such as Sir Giles, who had only left Britain briefly) to try to regain their titles by… well, by getting into the new Kings good books. Giles’ son, Thomas had already secured himself a Knighthood and the Excise farm for John, which meant John now owed him a favor. That the whole witchcraft themed poltergeist plot was engineered between the two to try to gain the Kings favor, Knighthoods within the family and thus reinstate the ageing ex- Sir Giles to a respectable position is not too far fetched a story. Using the Parliamentarian drummer who was allegedly trying to gain money by deception is far too close to home for it not to be an added detail designed to jog the memory a little.
In 1663, the events at Mompesson House ceased, and peace reigned again in the little village of Tedworth. Also in 1663, The King questioned John Mompesson about the alleged haunting, and John confessed that the whole thing had been a hoax – this little detail was recorded by the ever vigilant Samuel Pepys in his Diary. Another major event in the Mompesson family in this year was the death of Giles Mompesson.
And our Drummer? Nothing is really known other than the vague story about him serving in Cromwell’s Army, of which I can find no record. After the false pass incident he was arrested for stealing a pig and sentenced to transportation. Some stories say he escaped on the way to the ship, some say he jumped overboard and swam to shore, or was lost. We can pretty much say that the events at Mompesson House were not of paranormal origin – either that or John Mompesson lied to the King, which if discovered would have brought about a charge of treason and almost certainly the loss of his head. The frustrating thing is that I’ll never discover for certain John Mompesson’s motive for the hoax.
Of one thing I am certain though – If John Mompesson’s motive was fame and fortune, he surely achieved his aim. 350 years later the Drummer of Tedworth is STILL regarded as an ‘Unsolved Mystery’.
#History #London #Mysterious #Restoration #Tedworth #Wiltshire -
The Drummer of Tedworth
Drumming could never be considered a rarity – there have been many percussionists throughout the world and down through the ages, some distinctly more talented than others…
…but of all the Dave Grohls, the Keith Moons and Rick Allens who have delighted fans with their rhythms, no drummer has inspired and intrigued a nation and even the Church and Crown quite so much as the fabled Drummer of Tedworth.
Our drummer, a stout and sturdy Englishman, would have been in his prime around the time the Cromwellian wars broke out. He would have suffered as many did from the hard rule of the Stuarts, and so wishing to better his fortune he volunteered his services under the Man of Blood and Iron.
It is said that the call of his drum inspired the revolutionists to mighty deeds of valor from the very first skirmishes til the last bloody battle. Then with the conflict at an end, Charles separated from his royal head and the fifth Monarchy men invoking bedlam in their efforts to establish the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth, our brave drummer lapsed, forgotten, into a haze of obscurity which lasted until the Restoration.
He reemerged, not as the veteran hero living a life of ease and tranquility but as a beggar, wandering from town to town. The fearsome beat of his beloved drum no longer provoking great and heroic deeds, but played to implore alms and sustenance to facilitate his very survival. And so he journeyed, unnoticed, undisturbed and scraping a meager existence until in the spring of 1661 his weary footsteps chanced upon the quiet village of Tedworth, in Wiltshire, UK.
Tedworth at the time was under the rule of a certain Squire Mompesson, a gouty and miserable old git who was unimpressed that the peace and tranquility of his little kingdom was being shattered by the drummers’ loud and raucous battle cries and his even louder drum, and so it was on the Squires direct orders that the faded soldier was seized, beaten and driven from the little town minus his precious drum. The drummer pleaded in vain with the Squire to return his drum – with tears streaming down his battle worn and weather beaten face he begged, protesting that the drum was the only friend he had left to him in the whole world. In vain he related the happy memories that it held for him, of fire and battle and victory… of greater times. But his plaintive cries fell on deaf ears… “Go!” he was told–“go, and be thankful thou escapest so lightly!”
Go he did. To where nobody knew, and nobody really cared.
The following month, Squire Mompesson had cause to make the long and treacherous journey into London to pay his respects to the King, and the people of Tedworth had occasion to wish that the poor drummers lamentations had moved the Squire to pity, for in the middle of the night the Squires family were roused by angry voices violently demanding entry, windows being tried and an unrelenting banging on the front door..
The house was situated in a remote spot and to the occupants it seemed certain that having heard of the Squires absence one of the many gangs of highwaymen who roamed the countryside had planned to turn burglars. With no men folk to protect them the women and children could make little resistance. Panic reigned at once. And consequently there was much quaking and trembling, until finding the bolts and bars too strong for them, the unwelcome visitors retired.
Mompesson’s wrath was unsurpassed when he returned and learned of the Midnight siege. He only hoped, he declared with great enthusiasm, that the villains would return for he would give them a greeting such as had not been known since the days of the Great War.
Little did the Squire know that he would soon be given chance to make good his boast, for no sooner had the household retired than the disturbance began again. Lighting a lantern, slipping into a dressing-gown and snatching up his brace of pistols, the irate Squire dashed downstairs.
As he neared the door, the hammering and voices became almost unbearable. He quickly turned the great key, slipped back the bolts and threw open the heavy door…
The moment he opened the door all became still. He warily extended his lantern and peered into the night yet nothing but empty darkness met his eyes.
Then the knocking began again – this time at a second door. Quickly securing the first, the Squire hurried towards the hellish noise and threw open the second door – only to find the quiet darkness and to hear, with mounting anger, a tumult at yet another door. Again, he secured the door and raced to the renewed bedlam and again met only silence when the door was thrown open…
When Mompesson related the story afterward, he said that as he stepped out into the darkness he became aware of “a strange and hollow sound in the air.” This instilled in him the suspicion that the noises the household had witnessed may be of supernatural nature. As the Squire hurried back to the sanctity of his bed the suspicion deepened to a certainty, and an irrational alarm filled his very soul – an alarm that grew into a deadly fear when a tremendous booming sound came from the top of the house…
For it was there for safety he kept the beggar’s drum, and a terrible idea began to twist and turn Mompesson’s mind: “Could it be that the drummer is dead, and that his spirit has returned to torment me?”
A few nights later, the Squires darkest fears seemed to come true when instead of the usual cacophony of nocturnal shouting and knocking, there began a veritable concert from the room containing the drum. This concert, Mompesson informed his friends, opened with a peculiar “hurling in the air over the house,” and closed with “the beating of a drum like that at the breaking up of a guard.” One can only imagine the mental torture of the Squire and his family, but worse was still to come.
As the ghostly drummer gained confidence he laid aside his drum and began to play practical, and sometimes very painful, jokes on the members of the Squires household, and this malicious practice was directed primarily at the Squires children. It is recorded that for a time “it haunted none particularly but them.” Linen was dragged from their beds as they slept and thrown to the floor, a scratching noise was heard emanating from under the bed, described as ‘of some animal with iron claws’. Sometimes, the children were lifted bodily, “so that six men could not hold them down,” and their limbs were beaten violently against the bedposts.
It would seem the unseen visitor bore no prejudice regarding age though, Mompesson’s elderly mother’s bed was often found to contain ashes and knives among other things and her bible was frequently nowhere to be found.
As time went by, the seemingly unexplainable events became more frequent and profound – chairs moved by themselves, a board pulled itself from the floor and reportedly hurled itself at a servant. Lights were observed to float around, described as similar to corpse candles.
John, the Squires personal manservant, was often the focus of the eerie occurrences. The “stout fellow of sober conversation” found himself confronted one night by a horrible apparition which he described as “a great body with two red and glaring eyes…” John also suffered from bedroom visitations in much the same way as the children, his bedclothes removed and being struck by an unseen force. John found, however, that if he brandished a sword he was left alone. Clearly, the ghost seemed to respond to the threat of cold steel. It didn’t, unfortunately, respond to the exorcism rituals which were performed with no effect. All went well as long as the clergyman was on his knees saying the prescribed Latin verses by the bedside of the terrified children, but a bed staff was thrown at him the moment he rose from his genuflection, while other articles of furniture whirled about so violently, that the room had to be cleared of people for fear of serious injury.
The Squire Mompesson was understandably distraught. As well as the injuries received by members of his family and household, people from all over the country began to flock to the house every night, hoping to witness the otherworldly events. The Squire found himself accused of staging the phenomena himself, of having committed some terrible secret sin for which he was now being punished. Such was the reputation of the events at Tedworth that sermons were preached with the Squire as the text.
The people were divided, half angrily affirming the paranormal nature of the disturbances, the other emphatically denying it. In time news of the events reached the ears of the King, who sent an investigating commission to Mompesson House. Nothing untoward occurred during the visit, to the great delight of the disbelievers. After the visit, however, the most sensational and vexatious phenomena of the haunting so far occurred.
The events continued for many months in this manner, until one day it occurred to Mompesson and his friends that the cause was not ghosts as they had first presumed. This idea rose from the singular circumstance that the voices heard in the children’s room began “for a hundred times together” to bellow “A witch! A witch!”.
One of the bravest individuals in the throng of spectators suddenly demanded, “Satan, if the drummer set thee to work, give three knocks and no more!” Three distinct knocks were heard as if in response. By way of confirmation, five knocks were requested, and received by another onlooker.
A hunt for the drummer was launched, and eventually he was discovered in a jail in Gloucester accused of theft. With this discovery came the word that the drummer had openly bragged of hexing Squire Mompesson. This was all the evidence the outraged Squire needed.
There was in existence at the time an act of King James I. which stated it was a felony to “feed, employ, or reward any evil spirit.” It was under this Act that the Squire quickly had his alleged persecutor indicted as a wizard, and amid great excitement, the aged veteran was brought from Gloucester to Salisbury to stand trial. Although in the seventeenth century such a trial was sure to end in the drummer’s execution, his spirit remained unbroken. Not for him the lesser acts of confessing or humbly begging mercy. Instead the drummer tried to bargain with Mompesson, promising that if the squire would only secure his liberty and gave him employment as a farm hand he would rid him of the haunting that had plagued the Mompesson household.
Sadly, the Squire felt the drummer “could do him no good in any honest way,” and rejected the drummer’s ingenuous proposal, and so the drummer was left to face his fate A packed court room listened attentively to the tales of mishaps and misadventures that had made Mompesson House a national center of interest. During the trial proof was submitted that the accused had been friends with an old vagabond who claimed to possess supernatural powers. Emphasis was placed on the alleged ‘fact’ that the drummer had boasted of having taken revenge on Mompesson for stealing his drum and the beating that had been administered on the Squires orders.
Tedworth House todayIt was to the drummer’s great fortune that Mompesson did not have the power in Salisbury that he held in Tedworth. The jury was moved by the drummer’s eloquent defense, acquitted him, and sent him on his way rejoicing. The Drummer was never heard of again, and with his disappearance came an end to the knockings, the corpse candles, and all the other uncanny phenomena that had made life a waking nightmare for the Mompesson family.
So astonishing was the story of the drummer of Tedworth, it was still cited by the superstitious as a capital example of the intermeddling of superhuman agencies in human affairs, and still mentioned by the skeptical as one of the most amusing and most successful hoaxes on record until the beginning of the twentieth century.
Today the chief significance of this case lies in the striking resemblance between the trials of the Mompesson family and modern poltergeist phenomena, or Recurrent Spontaneous Psychokinesis (RSPK). There are few people who are not already familiar with the theory of an invisible entity which seemingly for no apparent reason other than to annoy causes furniture to shake or move violently, rings bells, plays tambourines, levitates alleged “mediums,” and favors its victims with knocks and even blows. The term RSPK was coined by William Roll in the 1960s and can be defined as inexplicable, spontaneous physical effects unknowingly effected by an individual who wishes to express hostility without the fear of punishment and is sometimes forwarded as an explanation for the effects known as Poltergeist phenomena.
Still another possible explanation could be given citing one of the many forms of temporal lobe epilepsy. In the early twentieth century when research into psychic phenomena was relatively new, the learned gentleman researchers were divided in their opinion. The more forward thinking of the two camps claimed that the Mompesson case was not caused by something supernatural in origin, and was more than likely a hoax. The supporters of the newly minted Spiritual movement generated by the exploits of the briefly celebrated Fox sisters toe-dislocating and general (later allegedly admitted as hoaxed) shenanigans believed that the occurrences at Mompesson House were indeed caused by the restless spirits of the dead. For all we know, if the Fox sisters claim that they had hoaxed the entire episode in which they were involved –the episode which fuelled a trend for darkened parlor séances and were the bane of the Victorian maid due to the amount of ‘ectoplasm’ which had to be disposed of following these events – may have been based on the alleged events at Mompesson House. which would be both a shame and quite amusing in equal measures.
The only real chance of forming a true picture of the case of the Drummer of Tedworth lay within the meticulous documentation of the case made at the time the events were occurring.
A document exists, written by the Reverend Joseph Glanville who was a clergyman of the Church of England and an eye witness to some of the phenomena. Glanville’s point of view is that of an ardent believer in the reality of witchcraft, and his narrative of the Tedworth affair was designed to shame the foolhardy folk who didn’t. Glanville’s account is therefore somewhat one-sided. Another consideration is the fact that all the phenomena witnessed personally by Glanville and Mompesson were described as ‘susceptible of mundane interpretation’, while the more extraordinary phenomena – the great body with red eyes, the levitated children etc. were related to the Squire and the Reverend by second, third or even fourth hand sources – uneducated and superstitious persons no doubt, whose fears would lend wings to their imagination.
Further to these considerations, the Reverend Glanville changed his story on many occasions, adding more details of his own alleged experiences, or making fun of other events when the validity of his narration was brought into question. It is also worth noting that the Reverend was responsible for reporting the case to Court – the medieval equivalent of selling your story to the tabloid newspapers – the Reverend Joseph Glanville may indeed have been the very first ‘media whore’.
John Mompesson was an avid letter writer, and though he was not a popular chap his name at least was well-known enough in the right circles for his letters to have been read and in some cases even replied to by some very important people of the time.
Samuel Pepys also wrote about the Drummer of Tedworth case. He documented the fact that, as far as he was concerned, John Mompesson had actually confessed to fabricating the whole story to none other than the King himself….
John Mompesson was born in 1623 to the Reverend John Mompesson of the Parish of North Tidworth. The Reverend Mompesson had been called before parliament for his Royalist sympathies 20 odd years before our story commences. The young John Mompesson’s’ uncle was the infamous Jacobean Monopolist, Sir Giles Mompesson, and his cousin Thomas had raised a force in support of Penruddocks rising in 1655, and had then gone into exile in France before returning to England during the Restoration. On Thomas’s return to Blighty his estates were restored and he became the MP for Wilton before 1662, when he secured himself a Knighthood and the Excise farm in Wilton for his dear cousin John.
John wasn’t, as many writers on this subject claim, the High Sheriff of Wiltshire at the time of these events. He wasn’t even so much as a Knight, this title being stripped from the family due to old Uncle Giles’s misdeeds. John was, however, a staunch Royalist, and as such had a desperate need to get back into the Kings good books. What better way than to be seen as the defender of the Faith, and present His Majesty not just a witch, but with a witch who had fought for the ‘Other Side’?
Our Parliamentarian Drummer was the ideal pawn in Mompesson’s game. William Drury had requested money from a local constable on the strength of a pass that was alleged to have been counterfeit in the neighboring town of Ludgershall. I’m uncertain as to the nature of this pass, but in 1660 an act was passed by Charles II titled ‘An Act for the speedy provision of money for disbanding and paying off the forces of this Kingdome both by Land and Sea.’ This act required that all ‘Noblemen and their eldest Sons of the Age of 21.; A Baronet.; A Knight of the Bath.; Knight Batchelor.; King’s Sergeant.; Esquires.; Widows rated at One-third according to Rank of Husbands.’ To pay a levy to the Crown at a rate in accordance to their stature. Several ‘commissioners’ were employed by the Crown to achieve this, and among them, oddly, was John Mompesson.
That John had been accorded this position of trust is odd in the sense that his Uncle, Sir Giles, had been exiled in 1623 after exploiting a similar position of trust bestowed on him by the Crown. Sir Giles had devised a scheme to become a commissioner for the licensing of Inns, among other endeavors, which he had the exploited for his own and his friends and family’s gain. As a result of his nepotism, Sir Giles was heavily fined, stripped of his title, exiled and made to ride down the Mall in London, facing backwards on his horse.
During his time as commissioner of Inns, Sir Giles had managed to upset just about everyone he came across – one of his favorite wiles was to send his men into establishments pretending to be in distress. The men would then spiel such a tale of woe and sorrow that the keeper would offer him a bed and sustenance. At which point, Sir Giles could not only earn a license fee from the poor keeper, but also fine or blackmail him to his hearts content – not a nice chap, old Sir Giles. He was an adept in the art of nepotism. The only people to benefit from his wicked ways were himself, and his immediate ‘family’.
During the Reformation, it was common for banished dignitaries (such as Sir Giles, who had only left Britain briefly) to try to regain their titles by… well, by getting into the new Kings good books. Giles’ son, Thomas had already secured himself a Knighthood and the Excise farm for John, which meant John now owed him a favor. That the whole witchcraft themed poltergeist plot was engineered between the two to try to gain the Kings favor, Knighthoods within the family and thus reinstate the ageing ex- Sir Giles to a respectable position is not too far fetched a story. Using the Parliamentarian drummer who was allegedly trying to gain money by deception is far too close to home for it not to be an added detail designed to jog the memory a little.
In 1663, the events at Mompesson House ceased, and peace reigned again in the little village of Tedworth. Also in 1663, The King questioned John Mompesson about the alleged haunting, and John confessed that the whole thing had been a hoax – this little detail was recorded by the ever vigilant Samuel Pepys in his Diary. Another major event in the Mompesson family in this year was the death of Giles Mompesson.
And our Drummer? Nothing is really known other than the vague story about him serving in Cromwell’s Army, of which I can find no record. After the false pass incident he was arrested for stealing a pig and sentenced to transportation. Some stories say he escaped on the way to the ship, some say he jumped overboard and swam to shore, or was lost. We can pretty much say that the events at Mompesson House were not of paranormal origin – either that or John Mompesson lied to the King, which if discovered would have brought about a charge of treason and almost certainly the loss of his head. The frustrating thing is that I’ll never discover for certain John Mompesson’s motive for the hoax.
Of one thing I am certain though – If John Mompesson’s motive was fame and fortune, he surely achieved his aim. 350 years later the Drummer of Tedworth is STILL regarded as an ‘Unsolved Mystery’.
#History #London #Mysterious #Restoration #Tedworth #Wiltshire -
The Drummer of Tedworth
Drumming could never be considered a rarity – there have been many percussionists throughout the world and down through the ages, some distinctly more talented than others…
…but of all the Dave Grohls, the Keith Moons and Rick Allens who have delighted fans with their rhythms, no drummer has inspired and intrigued a nation and even the Church and Crown quite so much as the fabled Drummer of Tedworth.
Our drummer, a stout and sturdy Englishman, would have been in his prime around the time the Cromwellian wars broke out. He would have suffered as many did from the hard rule of the Stuarts, and so wishing to better his fortune he volunteered his services under the Man of Blood and Iron.
It is said that the call of his drum inspired the revolutionists to mighty deeds of valor from the very first skirmishes til the last bloody battle. Then with the conflict at an end, Charles separated from his royal head and the fifth Monarchy men invoking bedlam in their efforts to establish the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth, our brave drummer lapsed, forgotten, into a haze of obscurity which lasted until the Restoration.
He reemerged, not as the veteran hero living a life of ease and tranquility but as a beggar, wandering from town to town. The fearsome beat of his beloved drum no longer provoking great and heroic deeds, but played to implore alms and sustenance to facilitate his very survival. And so he journeyed, unnoticed, undisturbed and scraping a meager existence until in the spring of 1661 his weary footsteps chanced upon the quiet village of Tedworth, in Wiltshire, UK.
Tedworth at the time was under the rule of a certain Squire Mompesson, a gouty and miserable old git who was unimpressed that the peace and tranquility of his little kingdom was being shattered by the drummers’ loud and raucous battle cries and his even louder drum, and so it was on the Squires direct orders that the faded soldier was seized, beaten and driven from the little town minus his precious drum. The drummer pleaded in vain with the Squire to return his drum – with tears streaming down his battle worn and weather beaten face he begged, protesting that the drum was the only friend he had left to him in the whole world. In vain he related the happy memories that it held for him, of fire and battle and victory… of greater times. But his plaintive cries fell on deaf ears… “Go!” he was told–“go, and be thankful thou escapest so lightly!”
Go he did. To where nobody knew, and nobody really cared.
The following month, Squire Mompesson had cause to make the long and treacherous journey into London to pay his respects to the King, and the people of Tedworth had occasion to wish that the poor drummers lamentations had moved the Squire to pity, for in the middle of the night the Squires family were roused by angry voices violently demanding entry, windows being tried and an unrelenting banging on the front door..
The house was situated in a remote spot and to the occupants it seemed certain that having heard of the Squires absence one of the many gangs of highwaymen who roamed the countryside had planned to turn burglars. With no men folk to protect them the women and children could make little resistance. Panic reigned at once. And consequently there was much quaking and trembling, until finding the bolts and bars too strong for them, the unwelcome visitors retired.
Mompesson’s wrath was unsurpassed when he returned and learned of the Midnight siege. He only hoped, he declared with great enthusiasm, that the villains would return for he would give them a greeting such as had not been known since the days of the Great War.
Little did the Squire know that he would soon be given chance to make good his boast, for no sooner had the household retired than the disturbance began again. Lighting a lantern, slipping into a dressing-gown and snatching up his brace of pistols, the irate Squire dashed downstairs.
As he neared the door, the hammering and voices became almost unbearable. He quickly turned the great key, slipped back the bolts and threw open the heavy door…
The moment he opened the door all became still. He warily extended his lantern and peered into the night yet nothing but empty darkness met his eyes.
Then the knocking began again – this time at a second door. Quickly securing the first, the Squire hurried towards the hellish noise and threw open the second door – only to find the quiet darkness and to hear, with mounting anger, a tumult at yet another door. Again, he secured the door and raced to the renewed bedlam and again met only silence when the door was thrown open…
When Mompesson related the story afterward, he said that as he stepped out into the darkness he became aware of “a strange and hollow sound in the air.” This instilled in him the suspicion that the noises the household had witnessed may be of supernatural nature. As the Squire hurried back to the sanctity of his bed the suspicion deepened to a certainty, and an irrational alarm filled his very soul – an alarm that grew into a deadly fear when a tremendous booming sound came from the top of the house…
For it was there for safety he kept the beggar’s drum, and a terrible idea began to twist and turn Mompesson’s mind: “Could it be that the drummer is dead, and that his spirit has returned to torment me?”
A few nights later, the Squires darkest fears seemed to come true when instead of the usual cacophony of nocturnal shouting and knocking, there began a veritable concert from the room containing the drum. This concert, Mompesson informed his friends, opened with a peculiar “hurling in the air over the house,” and closed with “the beating of a drum like that at the breaking up of a guard.” One can only imagine the mental torture of the Squire and his family, but worse was still to come.
As the ghostly drummer gained confidence he laid aside his drum and began to play practical, and sometimes very painful, jokes on the members of the Squires household, and this malicious practice was directed primarily at the Squires children. It is recorded that for a time “it haunted none particularly but them.” Linen was dragged from their beds as they slept and thrown to the floor, a scratching noise was heard emanating from under the bed, described as ‘of some animal with iron claws’. Sometimes, the children were lifted bodily, “so that six men could not hold them down,” and their limbs were beaten violently against the bedposts.
It would seem the unseen visitor bore no prejudice regarding age though, Mompesson’s elderly mother’s bed was often found to contain ashes and knives among other things and her bible was frequently nowhere to be found.
As time went by, the seemingly unexplainable events became more frequent and profound – chairs moved by themselves, a board pulled itself from the floor and reportedly hurled itself at a servant. Lights were observed to float around, described as similar to corpse candles.
John, the Squires personal manservant, was often the focus of the eerie occurrences. The “stout fellow of sober conversation” found himself confronted one night by a horrible apparition which he described as “a great body with two red and glaring eyes…” John also suffered from bedroom visitations in much the same way as the children, his bedclothes removed and being struck by an unseen force. John found, however, that if he brandished a sword he was left alone. Clearly, the ghost seemed to respond to the threat of cold steel. It didn’t, unfortunately, respond to the exorcism rituals which were performed with no effect. All went well as long as the clergyman was on his knees saying the prescribed Latin verses by the bedside of the terrified children, but a bed staff was thrown at him the moment he rose from his genuflection, while other articles of furniture whirled about so violently, that the room had to be cleared of people for fear of serious injury.
The Squire Mompesson was understandably distraught. As well as the injuries received by members of his family and household, people from all over the country began to flock to the house every night, hoping to witness the otherworldly events. The Squire found himself accused of staging the phenomena himself, of having committed some terrible secret sin for which he was now being punished. Such was the reputation of the events at Tedworth that sermons were preached with the Squire as the text.
The people were divided, half angrily affirming the paranormal nature of the disturbances, the other emphatically denying it. In time news of the events reached the ears of the King, who sent an investigating commission to Mompesson House. Nothing untoward occurred during the visit, to the great delight of the disbelievers. After the visit, however, the most sensational and vexatious phenomena of the haunting so far occurred.
The events continued for many months in this manner, until one day it occurred to Mompesson and his friends that the cause was not ghosts as they had first presumed. This idea rose from the singular circumstance that the voices heard in the children’s room began “for a hundred times together” to bellow “A witch! A witch!”.
One of the bravest individuals in the throng of spectators suddenly demanded, “Satan, if the drummer set thee to work, give three knocks and no more!” Three distinct knocks were heard as if in response. By way of confirmation, five knocks were requested, and received by another onlooker.
A hunt for the drummer was launched, and eventually he was discovered in a jail in Gloucester accused of theft. With this discovery came the word that the drummer had openly bragged of hexing Squire Mompesson. This was all the evidence the outraged Squire needed.
There was in existence at the time an act of King James I. which stated it was a felony to “feed, employ, or reward any evil spirit.” It was under this Act that the Squire quickly had his alleged persecutor indicted as a wizard, and amid great excitement, the aged veteran was brought from Gloucester to Salisbury to stand trial. Although in the seventeenth century such a trial was sure to end in the drummer’s execution, his spirit remained unbroken. Not for him the lesser acts of confessing or humbly begging mercy. Instead the drummer tried to bargain with Mompesson, promising that if the squire would only secure his liberty and gave him employment as a farm hand he would rid him of the haunting that had plagued the Mompesson household.
Sadly, the Squire felt the drummer “could do him no good in any honest way,” and rejected the drummer’s ingenuous proposal, and so the drummer was left to face his fate A packed court room listened attentively to the tales of mishaps and misadventures that had made Mompesson House a national center of interest. During the trial proof was submitted that the accused had been friends with an old vagabond who claimed to possess supernatural powers. Emphasis was placed on the alleged ‘fact’ that the drummer had boasted of having taken revenge on Mompesson for stealing his drum and the beating that had been administered on the Squires orders.
Tedworth House todayIt was to the drummer’s great fortune that Mompesson did not have the power in Salisbury that he held in Tedworth. The jury was moved by the drummer’s eloquent defense, acquitted him, and sent him on his way rejoicing. The Drummer was never heard of again, and with his disappearance came an end to the knockings, the corpse candles, and all the other uncanny phenomena that had made life a waking nightmare for the Mompesson family.
So astonishing was the story of the drummer of Tedworth, it was still cited by the superstitious as a capital example of the intermeddling of superhuman agencies in human affairs, and still mentioned by the skeptical as one of the most amusing and most successful hoaxes on record until the beginning of the twentieth century.
Today the chief significance of this case lies in the striking resemblance between the trials of the Mompesson family and modern poltergeist phenomena, or Recurrent Spontaneous Psychokinesis (RSPK). There are few people who are not already familiar with the theory of an invisible entity which seemingly for no apparent reason other than to annoy causes furniture to shake or move violently, rings bells, plays tambourines, levitates alleged “mediums,” and favors its victims with knocks and even blows. The term RSPK was coined by William Roll in the 1960s and can be defined as inexplicable, spontaneous physical effects unknowingly effected by an individual who wishes to express hostility without the fear of punishment and is sometimes forwarded as an explanation for the effects known as Poltergeist phenomena.
Still another possible explanation could be given citing one of the many forms of temporal lobe epilepsy. In the early twentieth century when research into psychic phenomena was relatively new, the learned gentleman researchers were divided in their opinion. The more forward thinking of the two camps claimed that the Mompesson case was not caused by something supernatural in origin, and was more than likely a hoax. The supporters of the newly minted Spiritual movement generated by the exploits of the briefly celebrated Fox sisters toe-dislocating and general (later allegedly admitted as hoaxed) shenanigans believed that the occurrences at Mompesson House were indeed caused by the restless spirits of the dead. For all we know, if the Fox sisters claim that they had hoaxed the entire episode in which they were involved –the episode which fuelled a trend for darkened parlor séances and were the bane of the Victorian maid due to the amount of ‘ectoplasm’ which had to be disposed of following these events – may have been based on the alleged events at Mompesson House. which would be both a shame and quite amusing in equal measures.
The only real chance of forming a true picture of the case of the Drummer of Tedworth lay within the meticulous documentation of the case made at the time the events were occurring.
A document exists, written by the Reverend Joseph Glanville who was a clergyman of the Church of England and an eye witness to some of the phenomena. Glanville’s point of view is that of an ardent believer in the reality of witchcraft, and his narrative of the Tedworth affair was designed to shame the foolhardy folk who didn’t. Glanville’s account is therefore somewhat one-sided. Another consideration is the fact that all the phenomena witnessed personally by Glanville and Mompesson were described as ‘susceptible of mundane interpretation’, while the more extraordinary phenomena – the great body with red eyes, the levitated children etc. were related to the Squire and the Reverend by second, third or even fourth hand sources – uneducated and superstitious persons no doubt, whose fears would lend wings to their imagination.
Further to these considerations, the Reverend Glanville changed his story on many occasions, adding more details of his own alleged experiences, or making fun of other events when the validity of his narration was brought into question. It is also worth noting that the Reverend was responsible for reporting the case to Court – the medieval equivalent of selling your story to the tabloid newspapers – the Reverend Joseph Glanville may indeed have been the very first ‘media whore’.
John Mompesson was an avid letter writer, and though he was not a popular chap his name at least was well-known enough in the right circles for his letters to have been read and in some cases even replied to by some very important people of the time.
Samuel Pepys also wrote about the Drummer of Tedworth case. He documented the fact that, as far as he was concerned, John Mompesson had actually confessed to fabricating the whole story to none other than the King himself….
John Mompesson was born in 1623 to the Reverend John Mompesson of the Parish of North Tidworth. The Reverend Mompesson had been called before parliament for his Royalist sympathies 20 odd years before our story commences. The young John Mompesson’s’ uncle was the infamous Jacobean Monopolist, Sir Giles Mompesson, and his cousin Thomas had raised a force in support of Penruddocks rising in 1655, and had then gone into exile in France before returning to England during the Restoration. On Thomas’s return to Blighty his estates were restored and he became the MP for Wilton before 1662, when he secured himself a Knighthood and the Excise farm in Wilton for his dear cousin John.
John wasn’t, as many writers on this subject claim, the High Sheriff of Wiltshire at the time of these events. He wasn’t even so much as a Knight, this title being stripped from the family due to old Uncle Giles’s misdeeds. John was, however, a staunch Royalist, and as such had a desperate need to get back into the Kings good books. What better way than to be seen as the defender of the Faith, and present His Majesty not just a witch, but with a witch who had fought for the ‘Other Side’?
Our Parliamentarian Drummer was the ideal pawn in Mompesson’s game. William Drury had requested money from a local constable on the strength of a pass that was alleged to have been counterfeit in the neighboring town of Ludgershall. I’m uncertain as to the nature of this pass, but in 1660 an act was passed by Charles II titled ‘An Act for the speedy provision of money for disbanding and paying off the forces of this Kingdome both by Land and Sea.’ This act required that all ‘Noblemen and their eldest Sons of the Age of 21.; A Baronet.; A Knight of the Bath.; Knight Batchelor.; King’s Sergeant.; Esquires.; Widows rated at One-third according to Rank of Husbands.’ To pay a levy to the Crown at a rate in accordance to their stature. Several ‘commissioners’ were employed by the Crown to achieve this, and among them, oddly, was John Mompesson.
That John had been accorded this position of trust is odd in the sense that his Uncle, Sir Giles, had been exiled in 1623 after exploiting a similar position of trust bestowed on him by the Crown. Sir Giles had devised a scheme to become a commissioner for the licensing of Inns, among other endeavors, which he had the exploited for his own and his friends and family’s gain. As a result of his nepotism, Sir Giles was heavily fined, stripped of his title, exiled and made to ride down the Mall in London, facing backwards on his horse.
During his time as commissioner of Inns, Sir Giles had managed to upset just about everyone he came across – one of his favorite wiles was to send his men into establishments pretending to be in distress. The men would then spiel such a tale of woe and sorrow that the keeper would offer him a bed and sustenance. At which point, Sir Giles could not only earn a license fee from the poor keeper, but also fine or blackmail him to his hearts content – not a nice chap, old Sir Giles. He was an adept in the art of nepotism. The only people to benefit from his wicked ways were himself, and his immediate ‘family’.
During the Reformation, it was common for banished dignitaries (such as Sir Giles, who had only left Britain briefly) to try to regain their titles by… well, by getting into the new Kings good books. Giles’ son, Thomas had already secured himself a Knighthood and the Excise farm for John, which meant John now owed him a favor. That the whole witchcraft themed poltergeist plot was engineered between the two to try to gain the Kings favor, Knighthoods within the family and thus reinstate the ageing ex- Sir Giles to a respectable position is not too far fetched a story. Using the Parliamentarian drummer who was allegedly trying to gain money by deception is far too close to home for it not to be an added detail designed to jog the memory a little.
In 1663, the events at Mompesson House ceased, and peace reigned again in the little village of Tedworth. Also in 1663, The King questioned John Mompesson about the alleged haunting, and John confessed that the whole thing had been a hoax – this little detail was recorded by the ever vigilant Samuel Pepys in his Diary. Another major event in the Mompesson family in this year was the death of Giles Mompesson.
And our Drummer? Nothing is really known other than the vague story about him serving in Cromwell’s Army, of which I can find no record. After the false pass incident he was arrested for stealing a pig and sentenced to transportation. Some stories say he escaped on the way to the ship, some say he jumped overboard and swam to shore, or was lost. We can pretty much say that the events at Mompesson House were not of paranormal origin – either that or John Mompesson lied to the King, which if discovered would have brought about a charge of treason and almost certainly the loss of his head. The frustrating thing is that I’ll never discover for certain John Mompesson’s motive for the hoax.
Of one thing I am certain though – If John Mompesson’s motive was fame and fortune, he surely achieved his aim. 350 years later the Drummer of Tedworth is STILL regarded as an ‘Unsolved Mystery’.
#History #London #Mysterious #Restoration #Tedworth #Wiltshire -
Saunders and Felagund’s Top Ten(ish) of 2024
By Dr. A.N. Grier
Saunders
Rather than delve into the not-so-good parts of a rollercoaster 2024, which had its share of rough circumstances, I’m using this rare soapbox moment to focus on the positives of another action-packed year of metal. Celebrating ten years of writing at Angry Metal Guy was an achievement that crept up. All these years later I remain beyond stoked and privileged to still be contributing in a small way as the blog has snowballed into the juggernaut it is today.
Unfortunately, I haven’t quite fulfilled my writing productivity goals in 2024. However, even when motivation slips, it still gives me great satisfaction to have a platform to share my thoughts and opinions on the music I love. I cannot match the writing chops or word smithery of our most esteemed scribes. However, honing my craft within my own abilities and drawing inspiration from the excellence of my fellow writers continues to motivate me and hopefully steer listeners toward some great music.
While it may not compete with some of the top-shelf individual years over the past decade, 2024 featured a lot of top-shelf stuff across a multitude of genres sprawled over the heavy spectrum. As per usual, the plethora of releases was overwhelming and again I stumble into the end-of-year chaos with a hefty list of stuff I need to check out or spend more time with. Nevertheless, from the numerous albums, I spent quality time with throughout the year, I eventually arrived at the releases that mattered the most to me, with many gems to no doubt uncover in the end-of-year wash-up. This is probably one of the more eclectic lists I’ve cultivated during my time here. Not sure exactly why that was the case, but a year of fluctuating, uneasy shifts on personal and professional fronts perhaps contributed to the more diverse listening rotation.
To wrap up, a heartfelt thank you to our beloved readership for making this all worthwhile and to all my colleagues/writing buddies and general crew of awesome people comprising the ever-expanding blog. Also shout-out to my list buddy Felagund, here’s hoping our combined powers partially align or otherwise complement and provide some listening inspiration. Lastly, a special heads-up to Angry Metal Guy, Steel Druhm, and the rest of the AMG editors and brains trust for whipping us all into order and doing the behind-the-scenes heavy lifting to keep this great thing chugging along. Cheers.
#ish: Anciients // Beyond the Reach of the Sun – Personal dramas, line-up shuffles, and an extended stint away from the studio failed to hamper the triumphant return of Canada’s progressive-stoner-sludge heavyweights Anciients. Beyond the Reach of the Sun marks a strong return that expands the band’s songwriting vision through a standout collection of ambitious, heavily prog-leaning cuts. Loaded with dazzling guitar work and gripping songwriting, Beyond the Reach of the Sun finds the band recalibrating and hitting their songwriting straps without compromising the genre-splicing traits and character they formed across their first couple of albums. It is not a perfect album by any means, with some niggling elements rearing their head, mostly via the way of some bloat, sequencing issues, and a flat production job. But with songs of the outstanding quality of “Despoiled,” “Is it Your God,” and “The Torch” leading the way, the album’s issues fail to extinguish my overall enthusiasm.
#10. Madder Mortem // Old Eyes New Heart – I came to veteran Norwegian progressive metal outfit Madder Mortem late in the game, just as they appeared to be hitting modern-era career peaks via Red in Tooth and Claw, and most recent album, 2018’s Marrow. Six long years in the wilderness and Madder Mortem return without missing a beat, continuing to pump out expressive, powerfully composed jams of their trademark mix of Goth-tinged progressive/alt metal. Although I enjoyed the album from the outset, if anything it has grown in stature since its early year release. The album’s subtleties and bevy of emotion-charged hooks bury deeper into the brain upon repeat doses. The tough period the band endured prior to the unleashing of Old Eyes New Heart is reflected in the album’s raw, potent swell of emotions and overall depth. This is further reflected in the diverse nature of the colorful songwriting, swinging from bluesy, melancholic restraint (“Cold Hard Rain”), pop-infected prog (‘Here and Now”) to urgent, dramatic, and infectious rock powerhouses (“The Head That Wears the Crown,” “Towers”).
#9. Opeth // The Last Will and Testament – As a longtime Opeth fanboy, it is a cool feeling to be genuinely enthused about a new LP, nearly three decades since their underrated Orchid debut. All the pre-release buzz centered on the return of Åkerfeldt’s famed death growls. While certainly a cool and unexpected touch, the fourteenth album The Last Will and Testament is not merely a nostalgic throwback to the band’s glory days. Instead, Opeth fuses those quirky, vintage prog tools from their modern-era material and fuses them into an intricate concept album that is a significant step up from the past couple of uneven efforts and easily their best work since at least 2014’s Pale Communion. Dazzling musicianship, jazzy licks, and inventively crafted, yet notably more focused and concise writing marked an album that features better production and tighter, punchier songs than the band has written in a while. It is also Opeth’s heaviest, most riff-centric release in many moons. Despite the trademark melancholic moods and darker shades, it also sounds as if the band is having real fun, reinforced by the abundance of bouncy, infectious riffs, shreddy solos, and boisterous grooves littering the album. Likely would have earned higher honors with time, as I still feel there is much more to discover.
#8. Oceans of Slumber // Where Gods Fear to Speak – Previously enjoyed the idea of Texan progressive metal powerhouse Oceans of Slumber, more than the execution and finished product. In particular, 2016’s Winter has grown in stature over the years. Yet for much of their career, it has felt like a case of incredible talent and potential not fully realized. That changed on Where Gods Fear to Speak, arguably the band’s most complete, consistent, and hook-laden release. When I felt the prog itch throughout 2024, Where Gods Fear to Speak was often the go-to. An album of lush, moody, drama-filled compositions, deftly contrasting soaring melodies, and skyscraping hooks with muscular riffage and heftier bouts of aggression, the writing is tighter and more compelling than previous efforts. Cammie Beverly’s scene-stealing vocals may take center stage, but this is very much a complete effort, where the rich soundscapes, brooding atmospheres, and technical musicianship shine brightly. Loaded with killer jams, including stirring highlights, “Don’t Come Back from Hell Empty Handed,” “Wish,” and “Poem of Ecstasy,” Where Gods Fear to Speak finally finds Oceans of Slumber firing on all cylinders.
#7. Pyrrhon // Exhaust – In theory, Pyrrhon should be one of my favorite bands. I used to eat up all manner of skronky, dissonant, and abrasive extreme metal. Perhaps my thirst for the weirder, experimental forms of death metal and dissonance has softened over the years. However, while largely enjoying Pyrrhon’s career up to this point, Exhaust feels like the album I have been waiting for the band to deliver. Exhaust dropped unexpectedly and that element of surprise flowed through another oddball, deranged platter of wildly inventive, chaotic, yet oddly accessible (in Pyrrhon terms) extreme metal. From cautious, challenging early listens, I found myself increasingly compelled to revisit Exhaust on a regular basis, marveling at its flexible, fractured songwriting, nimble musicianship, and raw hardcore punk edge infiltrating the dissonant, experimental death metal at the core of the Pyrrhon experience. Gritty production, perfectly unhinged vocal performance from Doug Moore, and occasional burst of groove and shred of accessibility punctuating the chaos (“First as Tragedy, Then as Farce,” “Strange Pains,” “Stress Fractures”) lend the album a refreshingly addictive edge to counterbalance its abrasive, challenging angles.
#6. Replicant // Infinite Mortality – New Jersey’s Replicant previously exhibited their brawny, yet brainy mix of gnarled dissonance, technicality, and knuckle-dragging street grooves to powerful effect. However, third album Infinite Mortality levelled the playing field as the band upped their game to elite levels of controlled chaos, while the writing remained challenging yet strangely accessible and memorable. In spirit, the ugly mix of harshness, discordance, and headbangable blockbuster grooves reminds me of the great Ion Dissonance. Meanwhile, the contrasting blend of unorthodox melody, jagged dissonance, and stuttering, complex song structures come together with cohesion and blunt force, punctuated by the occasional warped solo. Like a harsh, harrowing soundtrack to a bleak dystopian future, Infinite Mortality is a mean, chunky, technical, and deliciously primal slab of advanced disso-tech-death excellence.
#5. Noxis // Violence Inherent in the System – Notably death metal in 2024 was dominated by brutal, dissonant varieties, designed to scramble brains and challenge minds while battering the listener into submission. Refreshingly, unheralded surprise packet Noxis unloaded a killer debut LP to savor. Drawing from an array of old-school influences and ’90s touchstones without ever aping one particular band or style, Noxis unleashed a nostalgic yet unique death metal platter. Managing to at once sound raw and unclean, technical and brutal, thrashy and proggy, sharp and refined, Noxis blaze their way craftily through memorable, riff-infested wastelands with unbridled aggression, speed, and finesse, rubber-stamped by some exceptional bass work. Remnants of the classic Floridian scene mingle with powerful influences, including early Cryptopsy, later-era Death, Atheist, and Cannibal Corpse, resulting in a finished product that sounds fresh and vital, while containing an endearing, workmanlike old-school charm. It works a treat, and the top-notch and frequently inventive writing reveals impressive depth and character that rewards repeat listens.
#4. Dissimulator // Lower Form Resistance – There are some serviceable, enjoyable thrash-aligned albums in 2024, but one stood head and shoulders above the competition. Comprised of a grizzled bunch of underground Canadian musicians hellbent on fusing advanced technical thrash assaults with sick old-school death-thrash, a fuckton of killer riffs, quirky vocoder action, and razor-sharp hooks, Lower Form Resistance has consistently provided an adrenaline-filled shot of thrash when needing that specific fix. Dissimulator rewires thrash in intricate and intriguing ways, giving me the same giddy rush as past experiences with the likes of Capharnaum, Vhol, and Revocation. Excited to hear what these dudes conjure up next. In the meantime, Lower Form Resistance will continue to keep my thrash cogs oiled through potent bangers like “Warped,” “Automoil & Robotoil,” and “Hyperline Underflow.”
#3. Huntsmen // The Dry Land – After somehow sleeping on 2018 debut American Scrap and subsequently their apparent sophomore slumping second album, I finally righted my wrongs by delving into the strange and wildly unique woodlands of Chicago metal troupe Huntsmen and their phenomenal third LP, The Dry Land. A raw, rustic, and emotionally striking explosion of genre-bending excellence, where blackened sludge, doom, post, prog, folk, and Americana influences coalesce into an intoxicating and frequently thrilling musical formula, rich in detail and emotion. The skilled genre mashing is cohesive and genuine, loaded with surprises, structural twists, dramatic ebbs and flows, deep burrowing hooks, and contrasting vocal trade-offs to seal the deal on a remarkable album. Despite only a small handful of songs comprising the album (six in total), Huntsmen make every moment count, from blazing longer numbers with stunning contrasts and peaks (“This, Our Gospel,” “In Time, All things”) to plaintive folk dusted rock (“Lean Times”), through to the stunningly moving, compact power of “Rain.” Huntsmen occupy a unique space in the metalverse.
#2. Borknagar // Fall – I have a slightly odd history with Norwegian legends Borknagar. I recall being taken by their excellent 2012 album Urd, yet oddly enough I didn’t extend my listening beyond that isolated release. Things changed with 2019’s True North, a typically solid offering that inspired my explorations of portions of their vast and consistently engaging catalog. The twelfth album Fall marks their first album since True North and again features an outstanding line-up of talents, including founding mastermind Øystein Brun, multi-talented keyboardist/clean vocalist Lars Nedland, and ace up their sleeve bass/vocal powerhouse ICS Vortex. Fall smacks of a veteran band not merely content to coast on their laurels but rather carve freshly creative trajectories for their now signature blend of epic prog, triumphant Viking, and icy black metal to thrive. An extra shot of old-school blackened aggression and fuller production boosted an album of consistently high quality. Fall became a true all-occasions album in 2024; often uplifting me when I felt down or giving me a punchy charge when the need arose. Wall-to-wall prime cuts feature, headlined by the storming “Summits,” moody earworm, “The Wild Lingers”, and the striking, epic shimmer of “Moon.” Stalwarts still operating at the top of their game.
#1. Counting Hours // The Wishing Tomb – Not since Fvneral Fvkk’s remarkable Carnal Confessions debut has a doom album struck as hard as the second platter of sadboi misery perpetrated by Finland’s excellent Counting Hours. While doom and its death-doom companion may not always dominate my listening habits, when an album does hit that sweet spot, it usually leaves a profound impact. Few forms of metal generate the emotional resonance of quality doom and Counting Hours tears at the heartstrings through a riveting collection of gorgeously played and executed death-doom ditties, spearheaded by former members of the hugely underrated Rapture. Ilpo Paasela backs up the stellar musicianship, superb guitar work, and tight, addictive songwriting with a stunning mix of emotively raw, stately cleans and rugged death growls. The whole package packs an emotional wallop, yet its soulful edge and hopelessly addictive hooks and sing-along moments prevent a drop too deeply into depressive waters, as such earwormy gems as “Timeless Ones,” “All That Blooms (Needs to Die),” and “Starlit / Lifeless” attest. The Wishing Tomb is an epic album to lose yourself in.
Honorable Mentions:
- Blood Incantation // Absolute Elsewhere – Did I overrate Absolute Elsewhere? Possibly. Is it overhyped? Absolutely. Yet Blood Incantation remains a brave, adventurous band and Absolute Elsewhere represents a welcome return to form from these gifted, star-gazing space cadets. A flawed but effective fusing of their death metal roots with an increased focus on ’70s-inspired progressive rock and trippy psych flourishes.
- 200 Stab Wounds // Manual Manic Procedures – I barely took notice of Cleveland’s 200 Stab Wounds debut LP, but sophomore album Manual Manic Procedures provided one of the real surprise packets in 2024. It very nearly cracked the main list sheerly through heavy rotation. A meaty, adrenaline-charged shot of muscular death into the veins.
- Ripped to Shreds // Sanshi – Another reliably awesome slab of old-school death from Andrew Lee and co. Increasingly shreddy, extravagant solo work and a grindier edge powered one of their best albums yet.
- Nails // Every Bridge Burning – Nails is back and that is a great thing. New line-up, the same mode of short, sharp, blast-your-skin-off aggression, head-caving grooves, and hate-filled energy.
- Unhallowed Deliverance // Of Spectre and Strife – A pleasant surprise and one of the best debut albums in 2024. German tech-slam-brutal death juggernaut Unhallowed Deliverance knocked it out of the park with limited subtlety but a heap of talent, creativity, and songwriting smarts.
- Wormed // Omegon – With Ulcerate’s latest release not quite hitting me on the intense level of others, and having run out of time to properly digest and rank the obvious high-quality new Defeated Sanity, Wormed’s long-awaited return gave me my fix of calculated brutality via futuristic, slammy, technical brutal death executed in typically warped, mind-blowing fashion.
- Khirki // Κυκεώνας – Following up an impressive, well-received debut LP is no easy feat. Kenstrosity steered many of us from the AMG community onto Greek band Khirki’s Κτηνωδία debut in 2021, so I eagerly anticipated Khirki’s return for the second go around. The resulting album met expectations through a fiery, passionate, and eclectic mix of metal, rock, and traditional Greek folk.
- Sergeant Thunderhoof // The Ghost of Badon Hill – A late-year list shaker, underappreciated UK psych-prog-stoner outfit Sergeant Thunderhoof unleased a more restrained, psych-enhanced, and introspective album, showing signs of being a genuine grower since its November release, despite not quite hitting the irresistible highs of 2022’s This Sceptred Veil.
Disappointments o’ the Year:
- Several highly anticipated albums did not quite land the killer blows I was hoping for. Respectable to very good albums, but I expected better from Vola (admittedly a grower), Caligula’s Horse, Ihsahn, and especially Zeal and Ardor.
Non-Metal Picks:
- St Vincent, SIR, Michael Kiwanuka, Allie X, MGMT
Song ‘o the Year:
- Counting Hours – “Timeless Ones”
There were any number of standouts and potential Song o’ the Year candidates that could have nabbed top honors, including several counterparts from Counting Hours’ spectacular sophomore album. In the end, I settled on the (proper) album opener of my album of the year, as the tune that really hooked me initially from an album that captivated my soul. A rich, emotive piece of dark, melodic death-doom with superlative guitar melodies and a chorus for the ages. Honorable mention to Huntsmen’s “Rain.”
Felgund
I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of living in interesting times. But as that wizened sage, Gandalf so wisely reminds us: “So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”
So what have I been doing with the time that has been given? A fair amount, as it turns out. 2024 has certainly been a tumultuous year for our small family. On the one hand, the business that I launched in 2023 has been chugging along for well over a year and a half now, and I think I’m far enough along in the process that I feel (at least somewhat) comfortable calling it a success. The baby that we brought home from the hospital is now, inexplicably, a whip-smart 7-year-old. My wife’s career continues to blossom as she continues to moonlight as my business manager. Things are good.
And yet 2024 also proved to be harder than I’d ever imagined. My dad died back in April, an experience that remains both devastating and surreal. He’d had multiple sclerosis for well over a decade, and as I’m sure many of you know, MS is a grasping, grinding petty little disease. But for as much as it stole, it proved incapable of taking away who my father was; it couldn’t quite make off with what made him him. He was my best friend before his diagnosis, and he remained my best friend up until that impossible evening in a hospital room in early April. Truth be told, he’s still my best friend, only now he’s free to walk wherever I see fit to imagine him.
Despite my best efforts, I realized pretty quickly you can’t capture a life in a few paragraphs. I couldn’t do it in his eulogy, and I certainly won’t attempt to do so on a heavy metal blog. But I will share this:
My dad was a carpenter by trade and an artist by choice; he was a fisherman and a cook; he was a handyman, a builder, a designer, and a writer; he taught himself how to play guitar, and he’s perhaps the singular reason why I’m writing for this website today. Because while he wasn’t a fan of metal himself, he instilled in me not only a love for music, but an interest in the process; in the people who create it, the minds that shape it, and the passion that births it.
He played in countless bands in his youth, and I can think of no better way to honor his memory than by sharing some of his music with you all. With Steel’s blessing, I’m embedding a two-song demo (“A Place in Time” and “Street Legal”) ripped from a cassette my old man recorded in the late 80s, so apologies in advance for the questionable quality. He composed both the music and lyrics, played guitar and bass, and sang on both tracks, which were devised when he was perhaps at his Rush fanboy peak. It’s been a delight and a balm hearing his voice again, captured as it was in a moment when he was young, vibrant, and doing what he loved.
So here we are. Despite (or perhaps because of) this, I managed to consume a fair amount of metal this year. And while I was far less productive as a writer than I’d hoped and I wasn’t able to listen to as much as I originally planned, I discovered a plethora of new music here on AMG that soothed what Neil Peart once referred to as his “baby soul.” And surprisingly, I found much of that solace in the discordant, the dissonant, and the off-kilter, as the list below probably reflects. But more importantly, I found compassion, support, and understanding amongst the writing staff here. And while they may not know it, I will be forever thankful for the folks who showed me such boundless kindness during a year that felt decidedly unkind. Thank you, my friends.
Now let’s get to to it. Here are my top ten(ish) albums of 2024.
#(ish). Beaten to Death // Sunrise Over Rigor Mortis – It almost feels like cheating to place an 18-minute album in my Top 10(ish), but here we are. 2024 proved to be a year where my interest in grind and grind-adjacent acts expanded, and this “ish” is the result. While I wasn’t aware of Beaten to Death prior to this release, I was quickly swept away by Sunrise Over Rigor Mortis’ ability to bludgeon its idiosyncratic way into my brain and coil there like the most glorious of infections. Beaten to Death has delivered a concise helping of grinding goodness, with crispy prog edges and a schmear of off-kilter humor. Back catalog, here I come!
#10. Sleepytime Gorilla Museum // Of the Last Human Being – Gardenstale’s gushing review of Sleepytime Gorilla Museum’s fourth album Of the Last Human Being was a tough endorsement to ignore, as was an invocation of Diablo Swing Orchestra. So I threw caution to the wind and leaped headlong into this experimental maelstrom. And I’m so happy I did. Don’t let the runtime dissuade you; Of the Last Human Being doesn’t feel nearly as long as it is, and over that relatively brief timespan, you’re provided with a front-row seat to the aural equivalent of perhaps the most fun kind of performance art. Hard-edged riffs, off-kilter instrumentation, ominous theatrics interlaced with beautiful, sparse melodies, and all capped off by the deranged croons of chief carnival barker Nils Frykdahl. If I’d spent more time with this record it may have placed higher, but as it is, I’m happy it’s making an appearance at the number 10 spot.
#9. Sur Austru // Datura Strǎhiarelor – Despite Twelve underrating this album, I suppose I should commend him for introducing me to Sur Austru in the first place. This Romanian outfit’s third full-length Datura Strǎhiarelor is a potent blend of rumbling, blackened fury, and melodic folk metal, with plenty of flute work, orchestration, choral elements, and plaintive keys thrown in. And, while the gruff, chanting growls might rub some listeners the wrong way, it was this aspect more than any other that first grabbed my attention, and proceeded to keep it. And while I haven’t a clue what the vocalists are shouting at me, the tone and placement in the mix feels just right, especially for this brand of folk-infused black metal. Such is the strength of Sur Austru that this album began as my “ish” before eventually working its way to ninth. Mightly bold of them.
#8. Necrowretch // Swords of Dajjal – Some of the entries on this list were either late discoveries or took some time before they got their dirty little hooks in me. Necrowretch’s Swords of Dajjal was not one of them. As soon as I spun it back in February, it was love at first listen. Swords of Dajjal focuses on the greater deceiver in Islamic mythology, and explores that tradition through the use of ferocious blackened death metal (with perhaps a dollop or two of thrash thrown in). Although, as Carcharodon rightly pointed out in his review, the “blackened” part is doing most of the heavy lifting here. And that’s not a bad thing, as Necrowretch is more than adept at crafting memorable hooks and an engaging atmosphere without sacrificing heft or freneticism. Swords of Dajjal is an unmitigated success, and my only real gripe is that Necrowretch dropped a new platter so early in the year that it may go overlooked on too many end-of-year lists.
#7. The Vision Bleak // Weird Tales – Grier and I may not see eye to eye on music, but what can I say? The man knows his way around gothic metal. So when he awarded a 4.0 to Weird Tales back in April, what was I to do? If you said wait several months before bothering to press play, you’re correct. But folks, I may have been late to the party, but it’s a rager nonetheless. The Vision Bleak has produced an emotive, memorable, downright heart-wrenching concept album; one that is both lush and harsh, both achingly melodic and morosely heavy. Weird Tales isn’t my usual cup of tea, but The Vision Bleak has rejected my assertion by doing what many similar acts appear incapable of doing: cohesively balancing “gothic” and “metal” without lessening the impact of either. A well-earned addition, indeed.
#6. Stenched // Purulence Gushing from the Coffin – While Rots-giving may have been tarnished by a less-than-stellar release from Rotpit back in November, I’ve moved on since then, and am now proudly celebrating Stenched-mas. The Manly n’ Mighty Steel reviewed this one-man grimy death outfit last month, and even though I was still smarting from my failed attempt to poach Purulence Gushing from the Coffin for myself, I can’t in good conscience deny how hard this globular mass of funerary muck rips. From the first track to the last, you’ll be rocking a near-permanent stank face, and you can’t blame that solely on the fungal miasma wafting from your speakers. The truth is, Stenched has delivered a masterclass in riff-heavy, moss-encrusted death metal; the kind that’s perfect to drag your knuckles to. Purulence Gushing from the Coffin is the exact kind of no-frills, all-guts death metal I needed in 2024, and that’s why it’s sitting pretty at 6.
#5. Aklash // Reincarnation – How are we already at the Top Five? And what better way to kick off this most treasured of positions than with the melodic black metal stylings of Aklash on their fourth album Reincarnation? Aklash received a solid write-up in June’s Stuck in the Filter by our very own Kenstrosity, and their most recent outing has continued to climb higher and higher on my list the more I’ve spun it. Part black metal, part progressive metal, part trad metal (epic choruses included), Reincarnation packs a wallop in just a short 37 minutes. overflowing with varied instrumentation and keen lyrical chops, grandiose in scope and medieval in tone, yet more personal than it has any right to be, Aklash is firing on all cylinders here, and, as such, is perfectly suited for anyone’s top 5.
#4. Devenial Verdict // Blessing of Despair – And, just like that, more death metal rears its ugly head. I’m still surprised at how high up Devenial Verdict’s sophomore album landed on my list, primarily because their 2022 debut Ash Blind failed to connect. But Blessing of Despair seems to have arrived just in time for my increasing flirtation with the cruel mistress that is dissodeath. As such, I found myself utterly taken with Devenial Verdict’s latest, overflowing as it is with equally heavy doses of discordant ferocity and mournful melodicism. And while Blessing of Despair is an undeniably heavy record, it makes sure to leave plenty of room for quieter moments, where slower sections and sparse instrumentation have room to bloom and breathe. This approach not only results in a wonderfully balanced album but ensures the bludgeoning that’s sure to follow is all the more impactful. Consider me reformed.
#3. Aborted // Vault of Horrors – I’m fairly certain that any death metal fan worth their salt is legally required to include the latest Aborted release on their end-of-year list. Over 25 years and 12 albums into their carnal career, these death metal titans need no introduction. Blood-drenched, gore-soaked, and happily grindy, Aborted are in a league all their own, and it shows on Vault of Horrors. The music remains tight and explosive, building a menacing atmosphere that pervades only the stickiest of grindhouse theaters. Besides, with songs dedicated to classics like Return of the Living Dead, Hellraiser, and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, how could I do anything other than include this gem of an album in my top 3? I for one welcome our horror-themed overlords.
#2. Noxis // Violence Inherent in the System – What began as a random pick from the promo sump by one Kenstrosity quickly rose to become a favorite of the death metal maniacs (those with good taste, anyway) on the AMG staff. Now, more importantly, it’s nabbed the second-highest honor on my year-end list. Noxis’ first full-length album Violence Inherent in the System sounds like the product of a much more experienced band. The songwriting is top-notch, the performances are big and bold without being overwrought, and the sticky riffs stay wedged in your mind long after the album ends. And yet for all of its bombast, Noxis is still able to infuse their debut with oodles of atmosphere, not to mention a level of balance between death metal orthodoxy and fresh bells and whistles (and horns) that would make even Thanos grimace in jealousy. Special attention must also be paid to Joe Lowrie’s snare tone and Dave Kirsch’s godlike bass performance.
#1. Pyrrhon // Exhaust – I suppose I was always destined to end up here, I just didn’t know it right away. Pyrrhon’s fifth full-length Exhaust didn’t initially grab me the way some of my other entries did. However, on repeat spins, I found myself falling deeper and deeper into its frenetic, dissonant embrace, discovering both nuances and subtleties amidst the proggy cacophony. On an album that thoroughly explores the universal theme of exhaustion, be it physical, mental, social, or economic, Pyrrhon’s brand of noise-tinged death metal feels like the ideal tool with which to scrawl their livid manifesto. But what truly sets Exhaust apart is its unrelenting groove, stoked by Pyrrhon’s inventive capacity to not only feature but to uplift its unique brand of melodicism amidst the unrelenting maelstrom. It’s hard to overstate just how critical this aspect is to Exhaust’s success, especially since it would have been so easy to excise. But Exhaust’s manic ferocity, which swerves jerks, hops, and heaves, is all the better for it. And while its charms were initially lost on me, I found it easier and easier to finally succumb to its tremulous tendrils. Any record with that kind of staying power (not to mention a theme so applicable to my own experiences this past year) has more than earned my top spot for 2024.
Honorable Mentions:
- Defeated Sanity // Chronicles of Lunacy – Defeated Sanity is a brutal tech death stalwart at this point, and now seven albums in, Chronicles of Lunacy only further cements that status. Chronicles of Lunacy provides the listener with track after aggressively intricate track exploring lunacy in its many forms, but the real treat here is Lille Gruber’s masterful performance on the drums.
- Full of Hell // Coagulated Bliss – while I don’t think I’ve become a complete grind convert, albums like Full of Hell’s Coagulated Bliss and Beaten to Death’s Sunrise Over Rigor Mortis certainly set me on the path to one day become a proud proselytizer. You can’t deny Coagulated Bliss’ infectious groove and whirlwind pace, although I agree with the Dolphin’s rating adjustment.
- Undeath // More Insane – no, it’s not as good as It’s Time…to Rise from the Grave, and there’s no reason to pretend that it is. Nor does it need to be. While More Insane may not reach the lofty heights of its predecessor, it still showcases an Undeath doing what it does best, while also hinting at an undeniable ability to evolve into an even sharper, more fetid OSDM beast.
- 200 Stab Wounds // Manual Manic Procedures – while I wasn’t entirely kind in my review of 200 Stab Wounds’ debut, Mark Z suggested I take their follow-up Manual Manic Procedures for a spin, and I’m glad I did. It’s clear they’ve grown as artists, and their sophomore effort reflects that heightened maturity. Keep stabbing on, your crazy diamonds!
- Mamaleek // Vida Blue – I’m confident this album captures what it would sound like if Tom Waits listened to too much Ashenspire before leaving for the recording studio. Long, difficult, and bold, I found myself returning again and again to Vida Blue no matter how challenging I found the experience. While this album didn’t make my top 10, I’m convinced a future Mamaleek release will.
Song o’ the Year:
- Noxis – ”Skullcrushing Defilement”
This song goes hard. Exceptionally hard. In truth, there are any number of tunes from Violence Inherent in the System that fit the “Song o’ the Year” bill, but I had to give the edge to “Skullcrushing Defilement.” Not only does it begin with an absolutely searing bass solo, but it sets the stage for the four-string onslaught that’s to come. There’s a noticeable Cannibal Corpse influence that I can’t help but love here, alongside heaping doses of maniacal melodicism, turbocharged technicality, and an earworm chorus to boot. Abandon all cervical spines, ye who enter here.
#200StabWounds #2024 #Aborted #Aklash #AllieX #Anciients #Archspire #Atheist #BeatenToDeath #BlogPosts #BloodIncantation #Borknagar #CaligulaSHorse #CannibalCorpse #Capharnaum #CountingHours #Crytopsy #Death #DefeatedSanity #DevenialVerdict #DiabloSwingOrchestra #Dissimulator #Dissonance #FullOfHell #FvneralFvkk #Huntsmen #Ihsahn #Khirki #Lists #MadderMortem #Mamaleek #MGMT #MichaelKiwanuka #Nails #Necrowretch #Noxis #OceansOfSlumber #Opeth #Pyrrhon #Rapture #Replicant #Revocation #RippedToShreds #Rotpit #SaundersAndFelagundSTopTenIshOf2024 #SergeantThunderfoot #SIR #SleepytimeGorillaMuseum #StVincent #Stenched #SurAustru #TheVisionBleak #TomWaits #Ulcerate #Undeath #UnhallowedDeliverance #Vhöl #Wormed #ZealAndArdor
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Dolphin Whisperer’s and Ferox’s Top Ten(ish) of 2024
By Dolphin Whisperer
Dolphin Whisperer
Every year, its end becomes more shocking and swift. Once, some guy told me, simply, “it only gets worse.” Not life though—attributing a better or worse or any sort of constant determination of our passage leaves a lot of room for falling into a void of enjoyment—life is, after all, a constant until its not. But time, or our sense of being in its too ever-present stream, flows at a rate that changes in ways to which we never quite catch up.
As such, there’s a comfort in knowing how much time an album, particularly one you enjoy will take. For the ten-to-twenty minutes it takes for grindcore proper to slap me silly or the forty-to-eighty minutes that it takes for my deepest progressive loves to wring out a moaning confession, I know where my attention lies, even if it’s only half there and half on a task at hand. Time and tasks, day to night, play to stop, music makes my world a better place. And entering my now third year at Angry Metal Guy, an institution that has been a fixture of my musical journey for even longer, I continue to hold a profound gratitude and excitement for another year of discovery.
2024 has had its challenges professionally and personally. 2025 will be no doubt the same, even if some trials we can see forming in the distance. But you want to know about the music, right? On that end, 2024 has yielded a heaping trove of great albums. Heck, even a Rodeö pick scratched at the rungs of an honorable mention. The below list barely scratches the surface of the breadth that the year has offered. Further down you will see Ferox‘s list, which captures a different collection equally rooted in joy. He might be more right than I am. But that matters little. Celebrate with us, your favorite collective of writers on the world wide web! Come hang with some of us on Discord too if you’d like. Most of the people there are certified flea-free. And don’t be too upset if 2025 doesn’t hit you the same at first. It’s just another year, and it’ll be over before you know it.
#ish. Kalandra // A Frame of Mind – At my core, I consider myself a Norwegian sad girl. Usually, this manifests in some sort of weepy, melancholy prog, the likes of Age of Silence or Madder Mortem.1 But Kalandra’s enfolkened an impassioned take on an artsy, progressive collection of empowering tunes hit me square in my aching heart from the moment I heard it. Most importantly, though, Kalandra knows that suffering is just a step on the path of growth and happiness, which is a message that inspires me every day.
#10. Dawnwalker // The Unknowing – The power to dream and envision a world driven by mysticism has an allure that’s hard to ignore. And while we know that more determinable laws guide the happenings of our daily lives, a glimpse of the unknown will always find its way into sequence. Dawnwalker putting this esoteric but ever-present concept into an atmospheric, genre-warped, playfully progressive package hardly surprises me, though. The British troupe has had my number since their unsung classic In Rooms,2 so I’m doing my last in continuing to love them despite Twelve‘s best efforts to underrate them.3
#9. Lizzard // Mesh – Lizzard’s 2021 opus Eroded is my favorite album of this decade so far. The French trio’s ability to warp deep, rhythm-tricky layers into driving and emotional rock songs his me at the core of my musical desire for cathartic hope expressed in an unassuming and lush framework. Mesh doesn’t present any differently in that regard. But its wrinkles on Lizzard’s timeless yet ’90s alternative-rooted oeuvre fuel Mesh’s inherent melancholy with a hope that’s jubilant, like a cracked smile on an overcast day.
#8. Dissimulator // Lower Form Resistance – [INCOMING TRANSMISSION.] “My name is Clyde, and I arrive from beyond with wonderful news. My good friend Ferox has survived this timeline after all, having learned to navigate the Lower Form Resistance assault of fast-twitch rhythms and slow-twitch death metal punctuation. His head, fully intact, sways wildly in its hairless glory—big dives for big skanking breaks, snappy rolls for whiplash accelerations. He may not be as rhythmically gifted in pit-galloping cadence as the virtuoso drum and bass duo that provides life to Dissimulator’s effortless strides, but Ferox is my everything nonetheless.” [END TRANSMISSION.]
#7. Mamaleek // Vida Blue – I couldn’t begin to tell you what has never landed about Mamaleek’s works before with a weird precision. As an act dedicated to sounding only like Mamaleek, their singular expression of tortured black(ish) metal warped by jazzy and slogging attitudes has manifested quite the take-it-or-leave-it musical experience. And while you, dear reader, may assume this is firmly up my alley, it has not been. At least not until Vida Blue served a bottom of the ninth heart-shaker as an ode to a departed friend.4 With a soulful swing, a tortured connection, and an exit velocity powered by equal parts loss and love, Mamaleek has clinched a campaign for my attention.
#6. Defeated Sanity // Chronicles of Lunacy – As an apex predator in the brutal death metal world, Defeated Sanity’s appearance arouses not questions of competency but rather calculations of the carnage wrought. Chronicles of Lunacy does not mark a turning point or novel twist in the Defeated Sanity timeline—its finely tuned lashings hit as inescapable all the same. When neither a beast’s reach, nor mass, nor attack speed goes contested, an exhibition of its might will flash with morbid glee. As such, Defeated Sanity need not surprise to strike mortal wound. Chronicles’ fangs glisten with an aged-imbrued tarnish, tearing at my flesh in every way I would expect. And I want more.
#5. Orgone // Pleroma – Meticulous and constructed as a master-work, Pleroma’s opening notes signal a trance. Acoustic twang and chamber instrument-fueled swoon build an atmosphere of wonder against a fervent and languished march of post-genre swells and death-fueled crescendos. Cycling through its many shades feels less like a fever dream and more of a trial-filled journey. Wielding a demure grandeur, Pleroma’s effortless realization of Orgone’s peerless vision never feels like the epic journey its runtime suggests. Were my time truly infinite, Pleroma would be even harder to rip away from the queue.
#4. Julie Christmas // Ridiculous and Full of Blood – A lady screaming bloody murder shouldn’t go down this smooth, but that’s always been the promise and success of Julie Christmas. Few vocalists leave me slack-jawed and ear-shaken in the wake of piercing cries, raw-throated shrieks, and impassioned lyrical slather. Yet, Ridiculous and Full of Blood cuts track after track out of sonic patterns that do exactly that, all while empowering a full band expression of alternative-laced grooves, post-informed climbs, and punk-tied sneer. The Christmas season sums a flurry of inspired performances under the banner of a madwoman. And I stand at the ready to fray my vocal cords in attempt to crack with the same battle-tested precision that Ms. Christmas has earned from a life hard-worn.
#3. Ingurgitating Oblivion // Ontology of Nought – Though born of minds unrelated, Ontology of Nought exists as an esoteric companion to the Pleroma embodiment. Orgone is the twin that went to conservatory, graduated with honors, and holds an honorable performing chair, all while remembering its young love for death metal. Ingurgitating Oblivion, on the other hand, dropped out, spiraled into entheogenic dissociation, earns a living gigging at jazz clubs—also maintains its youthful lust for the clamoring riff and hammering blast. Maximalism oozes a frothing wonder in the hiss of distorted chatter and rhythmic mastery. An imperfect and breathing construction rises and falls in ethereal inhales and vision-spinning mantras. Ontology of Nought deserves each of its over-budget minutes. Invest time in the freedom that it promises… “and cease to be.”
#2. OU // 蘇醒 II: Frailty – The casualness of OU’s inception belies its profound leap into my necessary rotation. No incumbent love ever has a defined position in the halls of end-of-year accolades,5 and even more so when the act’s very presence rang suspicious in its finely-tuned invasion to my critical wiles. But, as I noted when I first blew my love for 蘇醒 II: Frailty over the pages of Angry Metal Guy, it’s OU’s “idiosyncratic atmosphere” that pulls from a “polyrhythmic hypnosis” and masterful “energetic flow” that continues to chart them deservedly high in the annals of ’20s progressive music. And while this collision of classically-minded, synth-addicted madness slowly expands its universe one OU release at a time, I’m content to sit here and yell their praises at anyone who will listen.
#1. Pyrrhon // Exhaust – You know you’re getting old when an album about modern burnout and the pains of traffic resonates with you all the way from frozen shoulder to radiating lower back to cold-groaning knee. But when Pyrrhon stealth-bombed my aging metalhead mind with a tech-dial riff barrage of noisy and shouting proportions, I had no choice but to surrender. Exhaust demands attention from its initial irony-laced lift-off to its closing brutalist clock-out, swinging skronk-enabled splatters and ache-addled vituperation around every faded line and pothole in its death metal architecture. Though Pyrrhon uses simpler blocks, their construction here defies convention at every step. One fine commenter summed up Exhaust in the most succinct manner in that regard: “Death Metal, Hardcore, Noise Rock, Technical Death Metal. It’s just mathcore.” Except they took away the wrong message from that distillation. The verdict, in fact, is fuck you.
Honorable Mentions:
- Inner Strength // Daydreaming in Moonlight – Another way you know you’re getting old is that you love an album that sounds like it should have released in 1995. Alas, here we are.
- Dysrhythmia // Coffin of Conviction – Instrumental progressive music should be as exciting as Dysrhythmia. Comes for the Martyr riffs. Stay for the Metheny floating.
- Beaten to Death // Sunrise Over Rigor Mortis – Beaten to Death is still the best grindcore band on the planet. They probably won’t ever release a better album than Dødsfest!, but that’s OK. Their discography is now about two hours total. Go listen to it if you haven’t.
- Stygian Crown // Funeral for a King – Doom should always have a guitar tone that feels equally powered by swords and beer alongside vocals that feel soft like bar-stained leather stools.
- Kollapse // AR – I didn’t know KEN mode had a Danish doppelgänger with a frightening, large pink face. But they do, and boy does Kollapse know how to yell and riff.
- Sleepytime Gorilla Museum // of the Last Human Being – Had I infinitely more listening time, I may have been able to parse better this deeply cinematic and wacky slab of no wave emboldened prog. Most don’t actually earn the avant-garde tag the way SGT does.
- Defying // Wadera – Hour-long albums based on old Polish werewolf stories and horror movies shouldn’t be this easy to repeat, but I find myself often falling into Wadera’s unbreakable spell.
- Arthouse Fatso // Sycophantic Seizures: A Double Feature – I didn’t have radically-minded industrial deathgrind about the frustrated escapades of a fictional Orson Welles life on my 2024 bingo, but here I am telling you to listen to it anyway.
- Concrete Winds // Concrete Winds – Just this. And shitloads of riffs.
Disappointments o’ the Year:
- Myrath // Karma – I love Shehili so much. My love for power metal isn’t what it used to be, but Myrath’s exuberance while staying rooted in both the trickier waters of prog and the anthemic cries of power metal gave me hope both that I’d continue to latch on to the kind of playful love it can offer. But the arrangements on Karma, despite Myrath’s still life-affirming messages, do absolutely nothing to bolster that same joy for me. Karma sinks my listening brain. And that hurts.
- Pallbearer // Mind Burns Alive – The continued non-success of Pallbearer and their sleepy-toned take on creaky prog rock hurts the Dolph who fell in love with their weepy doom classic (and still controversial to true doomsters) Heartless. And yet the general blogging population seems to praise them for trying to reinvent sadboi roots rock with worse lyrics. And, for my money, Pallbearer is sounding increasingly thin live. If a return to glory is in store for Pallbearer, it will begin with them finally playing a riff again.
- Polterguts // Nobody Likes You – Okay, this EP actually rips because Polterguts rips. Hard. But, Polterguts, if you’re reading this, please put it on Bandcamp so I can link the shit out of it and give you money. I am disappointed that I have no way to contribute currency to your cause. “Ricky Has a Knife2” is worth the price of admission alone.
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.
Coconut (left), Kiwi (right) in a stylish Adidog sweater.
Ferox
I worked way too much in 2024. I can’t complain; it was meaningful work that I chose to take on, and it got me that much closer to not having to work at all if I don’t want to. Still, that’s what I’ll think of when I think of 2024: lots and lots of work. That had a knock-on effect, especially when it comes to hobbies like lifting, getting out to national parks, and writing here. I did very little of any of that. I kept up with metal as best I could, and embarked on a big end-of-year listening push to have an accurate picture of what came out in 2024. I’m grateful that I got to do a list at all this year, so I took the responsibility seriously… but I’d be lying if I said I was buried in the scene all year.
One of the highlights of my 2024 was meeting a whole slew of staffers in person. I traveled a bunch this year, both for work and for my daughter’s ballet pursuits, and with that came the chance to hang with some of the people who make this place go. My body count of staffers met this year: Steel Druhm, Madam X, Cherd, Twelve, Dr. Wyrm, Thus Spoke, El Cuervo, Doom et al, and Holdeneye. It was a veritable orgy of almost entirely chaste fellowship, and only one (1) bad hang among the lot!6
I’m grateful to Steel Druhm and Angry Metal Guy for indulging my schedule, and for the real leadership they provide at my fake job. I found this unique community because it had the best music writing on the internet, and that remains true today thanks to the talented people who contribute their time and enthusiasm to keeping the machinery humming. I’m lucky to be a small part of it, and hopeful that 2025 will give me more time to spend in the Hall.
#ish. Mother of Graves // The Periapt of Absence – My “-ish” spot typically goes to an album that might have listed if I just had more time with it. That holds true of the sophomore effort from Indianapolis’s Mother of Graves, which landed on my radar by way of Carcharadon‘s excellent TYHMHM piece. This slab of classic sadboi death doom transcends any tribcore concerns through sheer quality of execution. From opener “Gallows” through final track “Like Darkness to a Dying Flame,” The Periapt of Absence guides the listener through the stages of grief with varied compositions that maintain a consistent mood throughout. Classic death doom is alive and well.
#10. Wormed // Omegon – Maddog‘s compelling rave for Omegon is my personal Review o’ the Year; fortunately, the prose was well spent on this efficient and brutal riff delivery system. Wormed has been creating slam-adjacent otherworldly death metal for a good while now, and Omegon is a distillation of everything the band has learned over the past two decades. 2024 is the year I realized I’ve been a brutal death metal guy all along. With songs like “Pareidolia Robotica” and “Virtual Teratogenesis,” Wormed took me by the hand and guided me through this journey of self-discovery… all while the people in the offices around me called in noise complaints.
#9. Ripped to Shreds // Sanshi – The already impressive Ripped to Shreds leveled up with Sanshi, a blast of aggressive but technically adept death metal that never left my rotation after its release. The guitar hero shredding plays like a release valve to the vicious and punky energy that Andrew Lee injects into his compositions. This cycle of tension and release makes for an addictive listen that feels like it ends mere moments after you hit play. The thrash elements of the R2S sounds are more prevalent on Sanshi, meaning the band now scratches the same itch for me that Horrendous did with their last killer slab.
#8. Scumbag // Homicide Cult – Scumbag! SCUUUMMMMBAGGGG. This nasty bit of business, with its deathgrind touches and morbid sense of humor (“Pure Adrenaline Hard-On,” “The Meating”), was tailor-made for the Ferox sensibility. Herein lie twenty-eight minutes of death metal that never slams but still walks the same line that Wormhole managed to last year: brutal but somehow cheerful, and stoopid without being remotely dumb. Dylan Cruz, of this band and Noxis, came out of nowhere to occupy a huge chunk of my limited listening time this year.
#7. Black Curse // Burning in Celestial Poison – With Burning in Celestial Poison, Black Curse stages a forty-five-minute takeover of your central nervous system. Eldritch Elitist captured the elemental power of these five compositions better than I ever could, but this album gave me exactly what I needed in a 2024 that was characterized by an extreme lack of work-life balance. Metal can provide a safe outlet for less-than-savory feelings, and Black Curse expressed a lot of things for me that I couldn’t express myself and stay employed. Lose yourself in these five tracks and emerge scoured but smarter.
#6. Spectral Wound // Songs of Blood and Mire – The hot streak continues; Songs of Blood and Mire, Spectral Wound’s fourth album, is their best effort yet. Carcharadon capably cataloged crisp new cross-currents in the band’s sound, but the song quality remains the same. Tracks like “At Wine-Dark Midnight in the Mouldering Halls” and Song o’ the Year “Aristocratic Suicidal Black Metal” showcase the band’s gift for coupling aggression with sweeping melody. In this way, Spectral Wound recalls Watain without so much distracting ooga-booga. Songs of Blood and Mire finds them continuing to refine their sound and grow in confidence.
#5. Endonomos // Endonomos II – Enlightenment – Endonomos carried the torch for doom in 2024. Enlightenment is a stately procession, its six long tracks blending influences from all across the doom spectrum. This is music that soars as it plods. Steel Druhm noted similarities to both Khemmis and Fvneral Fvkk. Those comps are perfect; not since Carnal Confessions has a doom album so effectively cut through the clutter of genre tropes to evoke genuine emotion.
#4. Pyrrhon // Exhaust – I hate it when the promotional push for an album ties a record too strongly to the narrative of its creation. It’s like the record company is trying to force a reaction that the album itself might or might not evoke. So when Exhaust arrived with heavy-handed descriptions of process and what Pyrrhon went through trying to make the album happen, I bristled and stopped reading. Fortunately, the music on Exhaust speaks for itself. This is a bitter and blistering record that finds the band raging against their rage’s inability to change even a single thing. I’ve always appreciated Pyrrhon, but I’ve never connected with their music as immediately as I did on Exhaust.
#3. Defeated Sanity // Chronicles of Lunacy – Defeated Sanity has had quite the AMG journey. They’ve gone from being brushed aside by a n00b named Potato Jim to being on the receiving end of a double-4.0 fellating from the tenured likes of Dolphin Whisperer and Maddog. Chronicles of Lunacy finds Defeated Sanity extending the Colin Marston-enabled peak that they hit on 2020’s The Sanguinary Impetus. It takes extreme skill to weaponize the base and the stoopid this effectively. Defeated Sanity is more than up for the job.
#2. Inter Arma // New Heaven – Here’s another band that could be wrestling with The Law of Diminishing Recordings by now, but instead persists with quality release after quality release. Inter Arma never repeats themselves, but each of their albums could only come from them. Hot take: Sky Funeral has remained my favorite Inter Arma album even as they’ve racked up an epic run of excellence. New Heaven makes a run at unseating it. This is a slab that rewards the many repeated listens I gave it in 2024; it sat in my top slot for much of the year until a late-breaking favorite pushed it aside.
#1. Noxis // Violence Inherent in the System – This is my third time publishing a list at AMG; each previous year, I had clear Album o’the Year winners in Immolation’s Acts of God and Afterbirth’s In But Not Of. 2024 marked the first Listurnalia that began with an opening for my top slot. But as I weeded through my favorite music of the year, I realized: Noxis drew me in with the bass flourish at the beginning of album opener “Skullcrushing Defilement,” and they still haven’t let go. The Pittsburgher in me hates to credit anything from Cleveland, but Noxis weeded out that deeply rooted prejudice with their inventive and fresh take on death metal. Every track on Violence Inherent in the System is a wild ride that alternately crushes, challenges, and tickles. The only break from the madcap pace comes on mid-album interlude “Excursion,” but that just prepares you for the utter barking lunacy of “Horns Echo Over Chorazim.” That song incorporates strange arrangements that include various woodwind instruments, and somehow they do it with zero pretension and abundant commitment to brutality. Listurnalia may have begun with a blank space atop my list, but it ended with Noxis firmly entrenched as the winner of 2024.
Honorable Mentions:
- Stenched // Purulence Gushing from the Coffin – This one-man outfit captured that elusive filthy magic and spewed out the annum’s premiere filthy wallow.
- Aborted // Vault of Horrors – These Belgian veterans, long under-appreciated in the Hall, finally found their champion in Grier. They hooked themselves up to the juvenation machine by leaning into the melodeath that has been creeping into their sound, and cranked out their best set in years.
- Vitriol // Suffer and Become – Here’s a mean and heavy slab that seemed to fade from the general consciousness as the year wore on, but remains worthy of note.
Disappointment o’the Year:
Ferox! I just didn’t have time to make a meaningful contribution here this year. It has been a pleasure to watch other members of my n00b class like Dolph and Maddog and Thus become AMG institutions, even as I mostly watch from the sidelines and come out to play when I can.
Song o’the Year:
Imagine being asked to name your favorite song of the year, and responding with a twenty-seven song playlist!7
Show 7 footnotes
- Whose very good outing is another in a long line of successes. Old Eyes, New Heart missing the cut should ring testament to how wonderful 2024 has been. ↩
- In case you don’t know, Ampwall is a music e-commerce hub built by members of Woe as an alternative experience to Bandcamp. Vowing to maintain an artist-first and community-influenced direction, Ampwall holds a lot of promise to the musical underground. And the whole Dawnwalker discography digitally! ↩
- Seems like a 4.0 innit. ilu Twelve. <3 ↩
- Former Mamaleek keys maestro Eric Livingston. RIP. ↩
- Pain of Salvation, feel free to read this and prove me a liar. ↩
- It was Grier, right? – Steel ↩
- Who would do such a thing? Surely, if one were to commit such a heinous act, they’d at least provide a cute dog picture to atone. – Dolph ↩
#2024 #AFrameOfMind #Aborted #AR #ArthouseFatso #BeatenToDeath #BlackCurse #BurningInCelestialPoison #ChroniclesOfLunacy #CoffinOfConviction #ConcreteWinds #Dawnwalker #DaydreamingInMoonlight #DefeatedSanity #Defying #Dissimulator #Dysrhythmia #Endonomos #EndonomosIIEnlightenment #Exhaust #FuneralForAKing #GodsOverBrokenPeople #HomicideCult #Horrendous #IngurgitatingOblivion #InnerStrength #InterArma #JulieChristmas #Kalandra #Khemmis #Kollapse #Lists #Listurnalia #Listurnalia2024 #Lizzard #LowerFormResistance #Mamaleek #Mesh #MotherOfGraves #Myrath #NewHeaven #NobodyLikesYou #Noxis #OfTheLastHumanBeing #Omegon #OntologyOfNought #Orgone #OU #Pallbearer #Pleroma #Polterguts #PurulenceGushingFromTheCoffin #Pyrrhon #RidiculousAndFullOfBlood #RippedToShreds #Sanshi #SaveThisUtility #Scumbag #SleepytimeGorillaMuseum #SongsOfBloodAndMire #SpectralWound #Stenched #StygianCrown #SufferAndBecome #SunriseOverRigorMortis #SycophanticSeizuresADoubleFeature #ThePeriaptOfAbsence #TheUnknowing #VaultOfHorrors #VidaBlue #ViolenceInherentInTheSystem #Vitriol #Wadera #Watain #Wormed #蘇醒IIFrailty
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Sijjin – Helljjin Combat Review
By Mark Z.
I’ve heard people say that today’s music has nothing new to offer, but I actually think it has the opposite problem. To me, there are too many fucking bands out there playing technical blackened dissodeath with a tuba or some shit and not enough who simply take a tried-and-true style and execute it well. Such was what initially drew me to Sijjin. Right around the time their infamous doom-death band Necros Christos dissolved in 2021, bassist/vocalist Malte Gericke and drummer Iván Hernández joined forces with guitarist Ekaitz Garmendia (Legen Beltza) to pay homage to the earliest years of death metal with Sijjin’s full-length debut, Sumerian Promises. With its twisted tremolos and thrashy undercurrents, Sumerian Promises was a fun throwback that reeked with the archaic death stench of bands like Sadistic Intent, Mortem, Atomic Aggressor, and early Morbid Angel. Almost four years later, the group have now finally delivered their second album, Helljjin Combat. But is this a triumphant victory or yet another casualty of the heavy metal battlefield?
One thing is clear: Helljjin Combat is quite a bit different than its predecessor. The change in approach is apparent right from the opener, “Fear Not the Tormentor,” which begins with an extended instrumental opening that uses technical riffing and lively bass guitar in a way that almost sounds like Voivod. The tech-thrash vibe continues throughout the songs’s eight-and-a-half minute runtime, with dexterous fretwork trading off with quick, chunky chords and twirling tremolos, all anchored by a refrain that consists of a staccato shout of the track title. While it’s not the primitive death-thrash I was looking for, it’s a fine song in its own right.
Unfortunately, the rest of the album isn’t quite as successful in executing the band’s new style. It soon becomes apparent that many of these eight tracks spend less time delivering sharp hooks and memorable riffs and more time simply lurching forward on mid-paced pseudo-grooves that only occasionally get the head bobbing. Sometimes, interesting ideas will crop up, like when “Religious Insanity Denies Slavery” evokes old Metallica with a dusty, cleanly-picked midsection that builds into Old West-style lead guitars. Yet moments like this only make it more apparent how so much of the surrounding material fails to stand out. It doesn’t help that none of these songs are under five minutes, and it’s also unfortunate how many of them open with similar-sounding semi-technical riffs that make me contemplate hitting the stop button well before the album’s 49 minutes are over. Malte’s vocals also sound throatier and less raspy than on Sumerian Promises, which is fitting for the band’s new approach but still isn’t the most welcome change.
Fortunately, there’s some stuff to enjoy here. The two pre-release songs, “Dakhma Curse” and “Five Blades,” probably won’t make anyone’s Song ‘O the Year List, but at least their nimble riffing and quicker rhythms offer the album a nice shot of energy. “The Southern Temple” serves as a decent closer with the more powerful riffing in its second half, and the band’s instrumental prowess is more impressive than ever (especially Ekaitz’s adept riffing and solos). Ekaitz recorded the album in his own studio in the Basque Country, and the result is fantastic. The sound is clear and powerful, with the guitars roaring confidently and the bass guitar maintaining an active and distinct presence below the riffing. And while the atmosphere isn’t as strong as the debut, there’s still a whiff of ancient evil here that I find most welcome.
Yet ultimately, Helljjin Combat is the epitome of a Mixed bag. While the production and the instrumental performances are great, the songwriting is less compelling. With a few sharper hooks, tighter track lengths, and a couple of faster songs, Helljjin Combat could have easily been better than Sumerian Promises. As it is, I can’t help but be a bit disappointed that not only did Sijjin choose to move away from death metal and into a more technical thrash metal sound, but also that they didn’t do the best job executing this new style. While there are a couple of decent songs and some impressive things here, I don’t see Helljjin Combat as an album I’ll be returning to often.
Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Sepulchral Voice Records
Websites: sijjin.bandcamp.com | Facebook | instagram.com/sijjin_official
Releases Worldwide: April 25th, 2025#25 #2025 #Apr25 #AtomicAggressor #DeathMetal #HelljjinCombat #InternationalMetal #LegenBeltza #Metallica #MorbidAngel #Mortem #NecrosChristos #Review #Reviews #SadisticIntent #SepulchralVoiceRecords #Sijjin #ThrashMetal #Voivod
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Jordfäst – Blodsdåd Och Hor Review
By Killjoy
Sweden is a metal country in more ways than one. As I just learned from the promo blurb for Blodsdåd Och Hor, the iron and steel industry has been an integral component of its economy and culture for centuries. Of course, Sweden is not lacking in metal from a musical standpoint either. Jordfäst is the latest of these purveyors, whose brand of melancholic black metal seeks to honor their country’s long history of metalwork and warfare, mixed with a healthy dose of Norse mythology from the poem “Völuspá”. Blodsdåd Och Hor marks Jordfäst’s third full-length record since its formation in 2017. Time has proved Swedish metal to be extremely high quality, but what about Jordfäst’s?
The music may be melancholic, but Jordfäst gravitates towards the action-packed side of black metal rather than the atmospheric. Guitarist Elis Markskog prefers keen riffs and epic solos over icy tremolo picking and ambient synths, like a more sullen version of Havukruunu. There are more than a few nods to forebear Bathory’s Viking era in the form of pagan folk tunes and deep, resonant male singing (also by Markskog) to complement Olof Bengtsson’s sharp, staccato barks. Jocke Unger, now Jordfäst’s permanent drummer, buoys up the music even further with aggressive and bouncy rhythms. With a tight runtime of 35 minutes, Blodsdåd Och Hor is both lean and mean.
Blodsdåd Och Hor is quite literally a tale of two halves. Jordfäst does not break tradition with prior albums in that there are only two songs, each 17 minutes and sectioned into four separate tracks. The first half (“Ett altare av skärvor”) is steely and frigid, a harsh dissonant edge gleaming from the guitars. Jordfäst adeptly straddles the line between dissonance and melody, like in “Ett altare av skärvor, pt. 3” when clanging chords morph into a sinister, crooked tune. Blodsdåd Och Hor gradually warms up as it progresses through the second half (“Dit gudarna trälar är”), with more frequent Istapp-style clean singing and technical guitar solos to blast away the frost of the first half. “Dit gudarna trälar är, pt. 4” culminates with a hearty folk tune that hits like a blazing hearth fire after coming home from a cold mountain trip, a gratifying conclusion to the album. Even though, to my knowledge, no actual folk instruments are present, the Nordic roots are apparent in the robust musical compositions.
But, aside from these isolated noteworthy moments, Blodsdåd Och Hor tends to resist memorability as a whole for some reason. On paper, it has many qualities that I value in a record: dynamic songwriting, meaningful melodies, passionate ferocity, and a trim runtime. But maybe that’s part of why it’s not completely grabbing me—like a jack of all trades, Jordfäst is good at many things, but doesn’t feel quite exceptional in any. Or maybe (perhaps more likely) my taste is simply fickle. It might help if the volume were balanced more evenly between the principal harsh vocals and the clean backing vocals, as the former often feel too loud in the mix while the latter are often too faint. I’d also like to hear more Scandinavian folk influence seep into the guitars. It would likely go a long way to making Jordfäst stand out amongst their peers in this monochromatic genre we call black metal.
Jordfäst strikes a good balance between modernity and centuries of cultural heritage. Their melancholy approach to riffs ought to appeal to a wide variety of listeners; fans of second-wave black metal, dissoblack, and folk should find something here to enjoy. Though there aren’t too many standout moments that really resonate with me, Blodsdåd Och Hor is nevertheless very solid. I like Jordfäst’s practice of writing only two long-form songs per album, as it allows for ample development of ideas without blowing up the entire runtime. Make sure to pack winter gear if you choose to embark on this trek because it will be cold!
Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Black Lion Records
Websites: jordfst.bandcamp.com | jordfast.net | facebook.com/jordfastband
Releases Worldwide: July 25th, 2025#2025 #30 #Bathory #BlackLionRecords #BlackMetal #BlodsdådOchHor #FolkMetal #Havukruunu #Istapp #Jordfäst #Jul25 #Review #Reviews #SwedishMetal #VikingMetal
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Dolphin Whisperer’s and Ferox’s Top Ten(ish) of 2024
By Dolphin Whisperer
Dolphin Whisperer
Every year, its end becomes more shocking and swift. Once, some guy told me, simply, “it only gets worse.” Not life though—attributing a better or worse or any sort of constant determination of our passage leaves a lot of room for falling into a void of enjoyment—life is, after all, a constant until its not. But time, or our sense of being in its too ever-present stream, flows at a rate that changes in ways to which we never quite catch up.
As such, there’s a comfort in knowing how much time an album, particularly one you enjoy will take. For the ten-to-twenty minutes it takes for grindcore proper to slap me silly or the forty-to-eighty minutes that it takes for my deepest progressive loves to wring out a moaning confession, I know where my attention lies, even if it’s only half there and half on a task at hand. Time and tasks, day to night, play to stop, music makes my world a better place. And entering my now third year at Angry Metal Guy, an institution that has been a fixture of my musical journey for even longer, I continue to hold a profound gratitude and excitement for another year of discovery.
2024 has had its challenges professionally and personally. 2025 will be no doubt the same, even if some trials we can see forming in the distance. But you want to know about the music, right? On that end, 2024 has yielded a heaping trove of great albums. Heck, even a Rodeö pick scratched at the rungs of an honorable mention. The below list barely scratches the surface of the breadth that the year has offered. Further down you will see Ferox‘s list, which captures a different collection equally rooted in joy. He might be more right than I am. But that matters little. Celebrate with us, your favorite collective of writers on the world wide web! Come hang with some of us on Discord too if you’d like. Most of the people there are certified flea-free. And don’t be too upset if 2025 doesn’t hit you the same at first. It’s just another year, and it’ll be over before you know it.
#ish. Kalandra // A Frame of Mind – At my core, I consider myself a Norwegian sad girl. Usually, this manifests in some sort of weepy, melancholy prog, the likes of Age of Silence or Madder Mortem.1 But Kalandra’s enfolkened an impassioned take on an artsy, progressive collection of empowering tunes hit me square in my aching heart from the moment I heard it. Most importantly, though, Kalandra knows that suffering is just a step on the path of growth and happiness, which is a message that inspires me every day.
#10. Dawnwalker // The Unknowing – The power to dream and envision a world driven by mysticism has an allure that’s hard to ignore. And while we know that more determinable laws guide the happenings of our daily lives, a glimpse of the unknown will always find its way into sequence. Dawnwalker putting this esoteric but ever-present concept into an atmospheric, genre-warped, playfully progressive package hardly surprises me, though. The British troupe has had my number since their unsung classic In Rooms,2 so I’m doing my last in continuing to love them despite Twelve‘s best efforts to underrate them.3
#9. Lizzard // Mesh – Lizzard’s 2021 opus Eroded is my favorite album of this decade so far. The French trio’s ability to warp deep, rhythm-tricky layers into driving and emotional rock songs his me at the core of my musical desire for cathartic hope expressed in an unassuming and lush framework. Mesh doesn’t present any differently in that regard. But its wrinkles on Lizzard’s timeless yet ’90s alternative-rooted oeuvre fuel Mesh’s inherent melancholy with a hope that’s jubilant, like a cracked smile on an overcast day.
#8. Dissimulator // Lower Form Resistance – [INCOMING TRANSMISSION.] “My name is Clyde, and I arrive from beyond with wonderful news. My good friend Ferox has survived this timeline after all, having learned to navigate the Lower Form Resistance assault of fast-twitch rhythms and slow-twitch death metal punctuation. His head, fully intact, sways wildly in its hairless glory—big dives for big skanking breaks, snappy rolls for whiplash accelerations. He may not be as rhythmically gifted in pit-galloping cadence as the virtuoso drum and bass duo that provides life to Dissimulator’s effortless strides, but Ferox is my everything nonetheless.” [END TRANSMISSION.]
#7. Mamaleek // Vida Blue – I couldn’t begin to tell you what has never landed about Mamaleek’s works before with a weird precision. As an act dedicated to sounding only like Mamaleek, their singular expression of tortured black(ish) metal warped by jazzy and slogging attitudes has manifested quite the take-it-or-leave-it musical experience. And while you, dear reader, may assume this is firmly up my alley, it has not been. At least not until Vida Blue served a bottom of the ninth heart-shaker as an ode to a departed friend.4 With a soulful swing, a tortured connection, and an exit velocity powered by equal parts loss and love, Mamaleek has clinched a campaign for my attention.
#6. Defeated Sanity // Chronicles of Lunacy – As an apex predator in the brutal death metal world, Defeated Sanity’s appearance arouses not questions of competency but rather calculations of the carnage wrought. Chronicles of Lunacy does not mark a turning point or novel twist in the Defeated Sanity timeline—its finely tuned lashings hit as inescapable all the same. When neither a beast’s reach, nor mass, nor attack speed goes contested, an exhibition of its might will flash with morbid glee. As such, Defeated Sanity need not surprise to strike mortal wound. Chronicles’ fangs glisten with an aged-imbrued tarnish, tearing at my flesh in every way I would expect. And I want more.
#5. Orgone // Pleroma – Meticulous and constructed as a master-work, Pleroma’s opening notes signal a trance. Acoustic twang and chamber instrument-fueled swoon build an atmosphere of wonder against a fervent and languished march of post-genre swells and death-fueled crescendos. Cycling through its many shades feels less like a fever dream and more of a trial-filled journey. Wielding a demure grandeur, Pleroma’s effortless realization of Orgone’s peerless vision never feels like the epic journey its runtime suggests. Were my time truly infinite, Pleroma would be even harder to rip away from the queue.
#4. Julie Christmas // Ridiculous and Full of Blood – A lady screaming bloody murder shouldn’t go down this smooth, but that’s always been the promise and success of Julie Christmas. Few vocalists leave me slack-jawed and ear-shaken in the wake of piercing cries, raw-throated shrieks, and impassioned lyrical slather. Yet, Ridiculous and Full of Blood cuts track after track out of sonic patterns that do exactly that, all while empowering a full band expression of alternative-laced grooves, post-informed climbs, and punk-tied sneer. The Christmas season sums a flurry of inspired performances under the banner of a madwoman. And I stand at the ready to fray my vocal cords in attempt to crack with the same battle-tested precision that Ms. Christmas has earned from a life hard-worn.
#3. Ingurgitating Oblivion // Ontology of Nought – Though born of minds unrelated, Ontology of Nought exists as an esoteric companion to the Pleroma embodiment. Orgone is the twin that went to conservatory, graduated with honors, and holds an honorable performing chair, all while remembering its young love for death metal. Ingurgitating Oblivion, on the other hand, dropped out, spiraled into entheogenic dissociation, earns a living gigging at jazz clubs—also maintains its youthful lust for the clamoring riff and hammering blast. Maximalism oozes a frothing wonder in the hiss of distorted chatter and rhythmic mastery. An imperfect and breathing construction rises and falls in ethereal inhales and vision-spinning mantras. Ontology of Nought deserves each of its over-budget minutes. Invest time in the freedom that it promises… “and cease to be.”
#2. OU // 蘇醒 II: Frailty – The casualness of OU’s inception belies its profound leap into my necessary rotation. No incumbent love ever has a defined position in the halls of end-of-year accolades,5 and even more so when the act’s very presence rang suspicious in its finely-tuned invasion to my critical wiles. But, as I noted when I first blew my love for 蘇醒 II: Frailty over the pages of Angry Metal Guy, it’s OU’s “idiosyncratic atmosphere” that pulls from a “polyrhythmic hypnosis” and masterful “energetic flow” that continues to chart them deservedly high in the annals of ’20s progressive music. And while this collision of classically-minded, synth-addicted madness slowly expands its universe one OU release at a time, I’m content to sit here and yell their praises at anyone who will listen.
#1. Pyrrhon // Exhaust – You know you’re getting old when an album about modern burnout and the pains of traffic resonates with you all the way from frozen shoulder to radiating lower back to cold-groaning knee. But when Pyrrhon stealth-bombed my aging metalhead mind with a tech-dial riff barrage of noisy and shouting proportions, I had no choice but to surrender. Exhaust demands attention from its initial irony-laced lift-off to its closing brutalist clock-out, swinging skronk-enabled splatters and ache-addled vituperation around every faded line and pothole in its death metal architecture. Though Pyrrhon uses simpler blocks, their construction here defies convention at every step. One fine commenter summed up Exhaust in the most succinct manner in that regard: “Death Metal, Hardcore, Noise Rock, Technical Death Metal. It’s just mathcore.” Except they took away the wrong message from that distillation. The verdict, in fact, is fuck you.
Honorable Mentions:
- Inner Strength // Daydreaming in Moonlight – Another way you know you’re getting old is that you love an album that sounds like it should have released in 1995. Alas, here we are.
- Dysrhythmia // Coffin of Conviction – Instrumental progressive music should be as exciting as Dysrhythmia. Comes for the Martyr riffs. Stay for the Metheny floating.
- Beaten to Death // Sunrise Over Rigor Mortis – Beaten to Death is still the best grindcore band on the planet. They probably won’t ever release a better album than Dødsfest!, but that’s OK. Their discography is now about two hours total. Go listen to it if you haven’t.
- Stygian Crown // Funeral for a King – Doom should always have a guitar tone that feels equally powered by swords and beer alongside vocals that feel soft like bar-stained leather stools.
- Kollapse // AR – I didn’t know KEN mode had a Danish doppelgänger with a frightening, large pink face. But they do, and boy does Kollapse know how to yell and riff.
- Sleepytime Gorilla Museum // of the Last Human Being – Had I infinitely more listening time, I may have been able to parse better this deeply cinematic and wacky slab of no wave emboldened prog. Most don’t actually earn the avant-garde tag the way SGT does.
- Defying // Wadera – Hour-long albums based on old Polish werewolf stories and horror movies shouldn’t be this easy to repeat, but I find myself often falling into Wadera’s unbreakable spell.
- Arthouse Fatso // Sycophantic Seizures: A Double Feature – I didn’t have radically-minded industrial deathgrind about the frustrated escapades of a fictional Orson Welles life on my 2024 bingo, but here I am telling you to listen to it anyway.
- Concrete Winds // Concrete Winds – Just this. And shitloads of riffs.
Disappointments o’ the Year:
- Myrath // Karma – I love Shehili so much. My love for power metal isn’t what it used to be, but Myrath’s exuberance while staying rooted in both the trickier waters of prog and the anthemic cries of power metal gave me hope both that I’d continue to latch on to the kind of playful love it can offer. But the arrangements on Karma, despite Myrath’s still life-affirming messages, do absolutely nothing to bolster that same joy for me. Karma sinks my listening brain. And that hurts.
- Pallbearer // Mind Burns Alive – The continued non-success of Pallbearer and their sleepy-toned take on creaky prog rock hurts the Dolph who fell in love with their weepy doom classic (and still controversial to true doomsters) Heartless. And yet the general blogging population seems to praise them for trying to reinvent sadboi roots rock with worse lyrics. And, for my money, Pallbearer is sounding increasingly thin live. If a return to glory is in store for Pallbearer, it will begin with them finally playing a riff again.
- Polterguts // Nobody Likes You – Okay, this EP actually rips because Polterguts rips. Hard. But, Polterguts, if you’re reading this, please put it on Bandcamp so I can link the shit out of it and give you money. I am disappointed that I have no way to contribute currency to your cause. “Ricky Has a Knife2” is worth the price of admission alone.
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.
Coconut (left), Kiwi (right) in a stylish Adidog sweater.
Ferox
I worked way too much in 2024. I can’t complain; it was meaningful work that I chose to take on, and it got me that much closer to not having to work at all if I don’t want to. Still, that’s what I’ll think of when I think of 2024: lots and lots of work. That had a knock-on effect, especially when it comes to hobbies like lifting, getting out to national parks, and writing here. I did very little of any of that. I kept up with metal as best I could, and embarked on a big end-of-year listening push to have an accurate picture of what came out in 2024. I’m grateful that I got to do a list at all this year, so I took the responsibility seriously… but I’d be lying if I said I was buried in the scene all year.
One of the highlights of my 2024 was meeting a whole slew of staffers in person. I traveled a bunch this year, both for work and for my daughter’s ballet pursuits, and with that came the chance to hang with some of the people who make this place go. My body count of staffers met this year: Steel Druhm, Madam X, Cherd, Twelve, Dr. Wyrm, Thus Spoke, El Cuervo, Doom et al, and Holdeneye. It was a veritable orgy of almost entirely chaste fellowship, and only one (1) bad hang among the lot!6
I’m grateful to Steel Druhm and Angry Metal Guy for indulging my schedule, and for the real leadership they provide at my fake job. I found this unique community because it had the best music writing on the internet, and that remains true today thanks to the talented people who contribute their time and enthusiasm to keeping the machinery humming. I’m lucky to be a small part of it, and hopeful that 2025 will give me more time to spend in the Hall.
#ish. Mother of Graves // The Periapt of Absence – My “-ish” spot typically goes to an album that might have listed if I just had more time with it. That holds true of the sophomore effort from Indianapolis’s Mother of Graves, which landed on my radar by way of Carcharadon‘s excellent TYHMHM piece. This slab of classic sadboi death doom transcends any tribcore concerns through sheer quality of execution. From opener “Gallows” through final track “Like Darkness to a Dying Flame,” The Periapt of Absence guides the listener through the stages of grief with varied compositions that maintain a consistent mood throughout. Classic death doom is alive and well.
#10. Wormed // Omegon – Maddog‘s compelling rave for Omegon is my personal Review o’ the Year; fortunately, the prose was well spent on this efficient and brutal riff delivery system. Wormed has been creating slam-adjacent otherworldly death metal for a good while now, and Omegon is a distillation of everything the band has learned over the past two decades. 2024 is the year I realized I’ve been a brutal death metal guy all along. With songs like “Pareidolia Robotica” and “Virtual Teratogenesis,” Wormed took me by the hand and guided me through this journey of self-discovery… all while the people in the offices around me called in noise complaints.
#9. Ripped to Shreds // Sanshi – The already impressive Ripped to Shreds leveled up with Sanshi, a blast of aggressive but technically adept death metal that never left my rotation after its release. The guitar hero shredding plays like a release valve to the vicious and punky energy that Andrew Lee injects into his compositions. This cycle of tension and release makes for an addictive listen that feels like it ends mere moments after you hit play. The thrash elements of the R2S sounds are more prevalent on Sanshi, meaning the band now scratches the same itch for me that Horrendous did with their last killer slab.
#8. Scumbag // Homicide Cult – Scumbag! SCUUUMMMMBAGGGG. This nasty bit of business, with its deathgrind touches and morbid sense of humor (“Pure Adrenaline Hard-On,” “The Meating”), was tailor-made for the Ferox sensibility. Herein lie twenty-eight minutes of death metal that never slams but still walks the same line that Wormhole managed to last year: brutal but somehow cheerful, and stoopid without being remotely dumb. Dylan Cruz, of this band and Noxis, came out of nowhere to occupy a huge chunk of my limited listening time this year.
#7. Black Curse // Burning in Celestial Poison – With Burning in Celestial Poison, Black Curse stages a forty-five-minute takeover of your central nervous system. Eldritch Elitist captured the elemental power of these five compositions better than I ever could, but this album gave me exactly what I needed in a 2024 that was characterized by an extreme lack of work-life balance. Metal can provide a safe outlet for less-than-savory feelings, and Black Curse expressed a lot of things for me that I couldn’t express myself and stay employed. Lose yourself in these five tracks and emerge scoured but smarter.
#6. Spectral Wound // Songs of Blood and Mire – The hot streak continues; Songs of Blood and Mire, Spectral Wound’s fourth album, is their best effort yet. Carcharadon capably cataloged crisp new cross-currents in the band’s sound, but the song quality remains the same. Tracks like “At Wine-Dark Midnight in the Mouldering Halls” and Song o’ the Year “Aristocratic Suicidal Black Metal” showcase the band’s gift for coupling aggression with sweeping melody. In this way, Spectral Wound recalls Watain without so much distracting ooga-booga. Songs of Blood and Mire finds them continuing to refine their sound and grow in confidence.
#5. Endonomos // Endonomos II – Enlightenment – Endonomos carried the torch for doom in 2024. Enlightenment is a stately procession, its six long tracks blending influences from all across the doom spectrum. This is music that soars as it plods. Steel Druhm noted similarities to both Khemmis and Fvneral Fvkk. Those comps are perfect; not since Carnal Confessions has a doom album so effectively cut through the clutter of genre tropes to evoke genuine emotion.
#4. Pyrrhon // Exhaust – I hate it when the promotional push for an album ties a record too strongly to the narrative of its creation. It’s like the record company is trying to force a reaction that the album itself might or might not evoke. So when Exhaust arrived with heavy-handed descriptions of process and what Pyrrhon went through trying to make the album happen, I bristled and stopped reading. Fortunately, the music on Exhaust speaks for itself. This is a bitter and blistering record that finds the band raging against their rage’s inability to change even a single thing. I’ve always appreciated Pyrrhon, but I’ve never connected with their music as immediately as I did on Exhaust.
#3. Defeated Sanity // Chronicles of Lunacy – Defeated Sanity has had quite the AMG journey. They’ve gone from being brushed aside by a n00b named Potato Jim to being on the receiving end of a double-4.0 fellating from the tenured likes of Dolphin Whisperer and Maddog. Chronicles of Lunacy finds Defeated Sanity extending the Colin Marston-enabled peak that they hit on 2020’s The Sanguinary Impetus. It takes extreme skill to weaponize the base and the stoopid this effectively. Defeated Sanity is more than up for the job.
#2. Inter Arma // New Heaven – Here’s another band that could be wrestling with The Law of Diminishing Recordings by now, but instead persists with quality release after quality release. Inter Arma never repeats themselves, but each of their albums could only come from them. Hot take: Sky Funeral has remained my favorite Inter Arma album even as they’ve racked up an epic run of excellence. New Heaven makes a run at unseating it. This is a slab that rewards the many repeated listens I gave it in 2024; it sat in my top slot for much of the year until a late-breaking favorite pushed it aside.
#1. Noxis // Violence Inherent in the System – This is my third time publishing a list at AMG; each previous year, I had clear Album o’the Year winners in Immolation’s Acts of God and Afterbirth’s In But Not Of. 2024 marked the first Listurnalia that began with an opening for my top slot. But as I weeded through my favorite music of the year, I realized: Noxis drew me in with the bass flourish at the beginning of album opener “Skullcrushing Defilement,” and they still haven’t let go. The Pittsburgher in me hates to credit anything from Cleveland, but Noxis weeded out that deeply rooted prejudice with their inventive and fresh take on death metal. Every track on Violence Inherent in the System is a wild ride that alternately crushes, challenges, and tickles. The only break from the madcap pace comes on mid-album interlude “Excursion,” but that just prepares you for the utter barking lunacy of “Horns Echo Over Chorazim.” That song incorporates strange arrangements that include various woodwind instruments, and somehow they do it with zero pretension and abundant commitment to brutality. Listurnalia may have begun with a blank space atop my list, but it ended with Noxis firmly entrenched as the winner of 2024.
Honorable Mentions:
- Stenched // Purulence Gushing from the Coffin – This one-man outfit captured that elusive filthy magic and spewed out the annum’s premiere filthy wallow.
- Aborted // Vault of Horrors – These Belgian veterans, long under-appreciated in the Hall, finally found their champion in Grier. They hooked themselves up to the juvenation machine by leaning into the melodeath that has been creeping into their sound, and cranked out their best set in years.
- Vitriol // Suffer and Become – Here’s a mean and heavy slab that seemed to fade from the general consciousness as the year wore on, but remains worthy of note.
Disappointment o’the Year:
Ferox! I just didn’t have time to make a meaningful contribution here this year. It has been a pleasure to watch other members of my n00b class like Dolph and Maddog and Thus become AMG institutions, even as I mostly watch from the sidelines and come out to play when I can.
Song o’the Year:
Imagine being asked to name your favorite song of the year, and responding with a twenty-seven song playlist!7
#2024 #AFrameOfMind #Aborted #AR #ArthouseFatso #BeatenToDeath #BlackCurse #BurningInCelestialPoison #ChroniclesOfLunacy #CoffinOfConviction #ConcreteWinds #Dawnwalker #DaydreamingInMoonlight #DefeatedSanity #Defying #Dissimulator #Dysrhythmia #Endonomos #EndonomosIIEnlightenment #Exhaust #FuneralForAKing #GodsOverBrokenPeople #HomicideCult #Horrendous #IngurgitatingOblivion #InnerStrength #InterArma #JulieChristmas #Kalandra #Khemmis #Kollapse #Lists #Listurnalia #Listurnalia2024 #Lizzard #LowerFormResistance #Mamaleek #Mesh #MotherOfGraves #Myrath #NewHeaven #NobodyLikesYou #Noxis #OfTheLastHumanBeing #Omegon #OntologyOfNought #Orgone #OU #Pallbearer #Pleroma #Polterguts #PurulenceGushingFromTheCoffin #Pyrrhon #RidiculousAndFullOfBlood #RippedToShreds #Sanshi #SaveThisUtility #Scumbag #SleepytimeGorillaMuseum #SongsOfBloodAndMire #SpectralWound #Stenched #StygianCrown #SufferAndBecome #SunriseOverRigorMortis #SycophanticSeizuresADoubleFeature #ThePeriaptOfAbsence #TheUnknowing #VaultOfHorrors #VidaBlue #ViolenceInherentInTheSystem #Vitriol #Wadera #Watain #Wormed #蘇醒IIFrailty
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Dolphin Whisperer’s and Ferox’s Top Ten(ish) of 2024
By Dolphin Whisperer
Dolphin Whisperer
Every year, its end becomes more shocking and swift. Once, some guy told me, simply, “it only gets worse.” Not life though—attributing a better or worse or any sort of constant determination of our passage leaves a lot of room for falling into a void of enjoyment—life is, after all, a constant until its not. But time, or our sense of being in its too ever-present stream, flows at a rate that changes in ways to which we never quite catch up.
As such, there’s a comfort in knowing how much time an album, particularly one you enjoy will take. For the ten-to-twenty minutes it takes for grindcore proper to slap me silly or the forty-to-eighty minutes that it takes for my deepest progressive loves to wring out a moaning confession, I know where my attention lies, even if it’s only half there and half on a task at hand. Time and tasks, day to night, play to stop, music makes my world a better place. And entering my now third year at Angry Metal Guy, an institution that has been a fixture of my musical journey for even longer, I continue to hold a profound gratitude and excitement for another year of discovery.
2024 has had its challenges professionally and personally. 2025 will be no doubt the same, even if some trials we can see forming in the distance. But you want to know about the music, right? On that end, 2024 has yielded a heaping trove of great albums. Heck, even a Rodeö pick scratched at the rungs of an honorable mention. The below list barely scratches the surface of the breadth that the year has offered. Further down you will see Ferox‘s list, which captures a different collection equally rooted in joy. He might be more right than I am. But that matters little. Celebrate with us, your favorite collective of writers on the world wide web! Come hang with some of us on Discord too if you’d like. Most of the people there are certified flea-free. And don’t be too upset if 2025 doesn’t hit you the same at first. It’s just another year, and it’ll be over before you know it.
#ish. Kalandra // A Frame of Mind – At my core, I consider myself a Norwegian sad girl. Usually, this manifests in some sort of weepy, melancholy prog, the likes of Age of Silence or Madder Mortem.1 But Kalandra’s enfolkened an impassioned take on an artsy, progressive collection of empowering tunes hit me square in my aching heart from the moment I heard it. Most importantly, though, Kalandra knows that suffering is just a step on the path of growth and happiness, which is a message that inspires me every day.
#10. Dawnwalker // The Unknowing – The power to dream and envision a world driven by mysticism has an allure that’s hard to ignore. And while we know that more determinable laws guide the happenings of our daily lives, a glimpse of the unknown will always find its way into sequence. Dawnwalker putting this esoteric but ever-present concept into an atmospheric, genre-warped, playfully progressive package hardly surprises me, though. The British troupe has had my number since their unsung classic In Rooms,2 so I’m doing my last in continuing to love them despite Twelve‘s best efforts to underrate them.3
#9. Lizzard // Mesh – Lizzard’s 2021 opus Eroded is my favorite album of this decade so far. The French trio’s ability to warp deep, rhythm-tricky layers into driving and emotional rock songs his me at the core of my musical desire for cathartic hope expressed in an unassuming and lush framework. Mesh doesn’t present any differently in that regard. But its wrinkles on Lizzard’s timeless yet ’90s alternative-rooted oeuvre fuel Mesh’s inherent melancholy with a hope that’s jubilant, like a cracked smile on an overcast day.
#8. Dissimulator // Lower Form Resistance – [INCOMING TRANSMISSION.] “My name is Clyde, and I arrive from beyond with wonderful news. My good friend Ferox has survived this timeline after all, having learned to navigate the Lower Form Resistance assault of fast-twitch rhythms and slow-twitch death metal punctuation. His head, fully intact, sways wildly in its hairless glory—big dives for big skanking breaks, snappy rolls for whiplash accelerations. He may not be as rhythmically gifted in pit-galloping cadence as the virtuoso drum and bass duo that provides life to Dissimulator’s effortless strides, but Ferox is my everything nonetheless.” [END TRANSMISSION.]
#7. Mamaleek // Vida Blue – I couldn’t begin to tell you what has never landed about Mamaleek’s works before with a weird precision. As an act dedicated to sounding only like Mamaleek, their singular expression of tortured black(ish) metal warped by jazzy and slogging attitudes has manifested quite the take-it-or-leave-it musical experience. And while you, dear reader, may assume this is firmly up my alley, it has not been. At least not until Vida Blue served a bottom of the ninth heart-shaker as an ode to a departed friend.4 With a soulful swing, a tortured connection, and an exit velocity powered by equal parts loss and love, Mamaleek has clinched a campaign for my attention.
#6. Defeated Sanity // Chronicles of Lunacy – As an apex predator in the brutal death metal world, Defeated Sanity’s appearance arouses not questions of competency but rather calculations of the carnage wrought. Chronicles of Lunacy does not mark a turning point or novel twist in the Defeated Sanity timeline—its finely tuned lashings hit as inescapable all the same. When neither a beast’s reach, nor mass, nor attack speed goes contested, an exhibition of its might will flash with morbid glee. As such, Defeated Sanity need not surprise to strike mortal wound. Chronicles’ fangs glisten with an aged-imbrued tarnish, tearing at my flesh in every way I would expect. And I want more.
#5. Orgone // Pleroma – Meticulous and constructed as a master-work, Pleroma’s opening notes signal a trance. Acoustic twang and chamber instrument-fueled swoon build an atmosphere of wonder against a fervent and languished march of post-genre swells and death-fueled crescendos. Cycling through its many shades feels less like a fever dream and more of a trial-filled journey. Wielding a demure grandeur, Pleroma’s effortless realization of Orgone’s peerless vision never feels like the epic journey its runtime suggests. Were my time truly infinite, Pleroma would be even harder to rip away from the queue.
#4. Julie Christmas // Ridiculous and Full of Blood – A lady screaming bloody murder shouldn’t go down this smooth, but that’s always been the promise and success of Julie Christmas. Few vocalists leave me slack-jawed and ear-shaken in the wake of piercing cries, raw-throated shrieks, and impassioned lyrical slather. Yet, Ridiculous and Full of Blood cuts track after track out of sonic patterns that do exactly that, all while empowering a full band expression of alternative-laced grooves, post-informed climbs, and punk-tied sneer. The Christmas season sums a flurry of inspired performances under the banner of a madwoman. And I stand at the ready to fray my vocal cords in attempt to crack with the same battle-tested precision that Ms. Christmas has earned from a life hard-worn.
#3. Ingurgitating Oblivion // Ontology of Nought – Though born of minds unrelated, Ontology of Nought exists as an esoteric companion to the Pleroma embodiment. Orgone is the twin that went to conservatory, graduated with honors, and holds an honorable performing chair, all while remembering its young love for death metal. Ingurgitating Oblivion, on the other hand, dropped out, spiraled into entheogenic dissociation, earns a living gigging at jazz clubs—also maintains its youthful lust for the clamoring riff and hammering blast. Maximalism oozes a frothing wonder in the hiss of distorted chatter and rhythmic mastery. An imperfect and breathing construction rises and falls in ethereal inhales and vision-spinning mantras. Ontology of Nought deserves each of its over-budget minutes. Invest time in the freedom that it promises… “and cease to be.”
#2. OU // 蘇醒 II: Frailty – The casualness of OU’s inception belies its profound leap into my necessary rotation. No incumbent love ever has a defined position in the halls of end-of-year accolades,5 and even more so when the act’s very presence rang suspicious in its finely-tuned invasion to my critical wiles. But, as I noted when I first blew my love for 蘇醒 II: Frailty over the pages of Angry Metal Guy, it’s OU’s “idiosyncratic atmosphere” that pulls from a “polyrhythmic hypnosis” and masterful “energetic flow” that continues to chart them deservedly high in the annals of ’20s progressive music. And while this collision of classically-minded, synth-addicted madness slowly expands its universe one OU release at a time, I’m content to sit here and yell their praises at anyone who will listen.
#1. Pyrrhon // Exhaust – You know you’re getting old when an album about modern burnout and the pains of traffic resonates with you all the way from frozen shoulder to radiating lower back to cold-groaning knee. But when Pyrrhon stealth-bombed my aging metalhead mind with a tech-dial riff barrage of noisy and shouting proportions, I had no choice but to surrender. Exhaust demands attention from its initial irony-laced lift-off to its closing brutalist clock-out, swinging skronk-enabled splatters and ache-addled vituperation around every faded line and pothole in its death metal architecture. Though Pyrrhon uses simpler blocks, their construction here defies convention at every step. One fine commenter summed up Exhaust in the most succinct manner in that regard: “Death Metal, Hardcore, Noise Rock, Technical Death Metal. It’s just mathcore.” Except they took away the wrong message from that distillation. The verdict, in fact, is fuck you.
Honorable Mentions:
- Inner Strength // Daydreaming in Moonlight – Another way you know you’re getting old is that you love an album that sounds like it should have released in 1995. Alas, here we are.
- Dysrhythmia // Coffin of Conviction – Instrumental progressive music should be as exciting as Dysrhythmia. Comes for the Martyr riffs. Stay for the Metheny floating.
- Beaten to Death // Sunrise Over Rigor Mortis – Beaten to Death is still the best grindcore band on the planet. They probably won’t ever release a better album than Dødsfest!, but that’s OK. Their discography is now about two hours total. Go listen to it if you haven’t.
- Stygian Crown // Funeral for a King – Doom should always have a guitar tone that feels equally powered by swords and beer alongside vocals that feel soft like bar-stained leather stools.
- Kollapse // AR – I didn’t know KEN mode had a Danish doppelgänger with a frightening, large pink face. But they do, and boy does Kollapse know how to yell and riff.
- Sleepytime Gorilla Museum // of the Last Human Being – Had I infinitely more listening time, I may have been able to parse better this deeply cinematic and wacky slab of no wave emboldened prog. Most don’t actually earn the avant-garde tag the way SGT does.
- Defying // Wadera – Hour-long albums based on old Polish werewolf stories and horror movies shouldn’t be this easy to repeat, but I find myself often falling into Wadera’s unbreakable spell.
- Arthouse Fatso // Sycophantic Seizures: A Double Feature – I didn’t have radically-minded industrial deathgrind about the frustrated escapades of a fictional Orson Welles life on my 2024 bingo, but here I am telling you to listen to it anyway.
- Concrete Winds // Concrete Winds – Just this. And shitloads of riffs.
Disappointments o’ the Year:
- Myrath // Karma – I love Shehili so much. My love for power metal isn’t what it used to be, but Myrath’s exuberance while staying rooted in both the trickier waters of prog and the anthemic cries of power metal gave me hope both that I’d continue to latch on to the kind of playful love it can offer. But the arrangements on Karma, despite Myrath’s still life-affirming messages, do absolutely nothing to bolster that same joy for me. Karma sinks my listening brain. And that hurts.
- Pallbearer // Mind Burns Alive – The continued non-success of Pallbearer and their sleepy-toned take on creaky prog rock hurts the Dolph who fell in love with their weepy doom classic (and still controversial to true doomsters) Heartless. And yet the general blogging population seems to praise them for trying to reinvent sadboi roots rock with worse lyrics. And, for my money, Pallbearer is sounding increasingly thin live. If a return to glory is in store for Pallbearer, it will begin with them finally playing a riff again.
- Polterguts // Nobody Likes You – Okay, this EP actually rips because Polterguts rips. Hard. But, Polterguts, if you’re reading this, please put it on Bandcamp so I can link the shit out of it and give you money. I am disappointed that I have no way to contribute currency to your cause. “Ricky Has a Knife2” is worth the price of admission alone.
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.
Coconut (left), Kiwi (right) in a stylish Adidog sweater.
Ferox
I worked way too much in 2024. I can’t complain; it was meaningful work that I chose to take on, and it got me that much closer to not having to work at all if I don’t want to. Still, that’s what I’ll think of when I think of 2024: lots and lots of work. That had a knock-on effect, especially when it comes to hobbies like lifting, getting out to national parks, and writing here. I did very little of any of that. I kept up with metal as best I could, and embarked on a big end-of-year listening push to have an accurate picture of what came out in 2024. I’m grateful that I got to do a list at all this year, so I took the responsibility seriously… but I’d be lying if I said I was buried in the scene all year.
One of the highlights of my 2024 was meeting a whole slew of staffers in person. I traveled a bunch this year, both for work and for my daughter’s ballet pursuits, and with that came the chance to hang with some of the people who make this place go. My body count of staffers met this year: Steel Druhm, Madam X, Cherd, Twelve, Dr. Wyrm, Thus Spoke, El Cuervo, Doom et al, and Holdeneye. It was a veritable orgy of almost entirely chaste fellowship, and only one (1) bad hang among the lot!6
I’m grateful to Steel Druhm and Angry Metal Guy for indulging my schedule, and for the real leadership they provide at my fake job. I found this unique community because it had the best music writing on the internet, and that remains true today thanks to the talented people who contribute their time and enthusiasm to keeping the machinery humming. I’m lucky to be a small part of it, and hopeful that 2025 will give me more time to spend in the Hall.
#ish. Mother of Graves // The Periapt of Absence – My “-ish” spot typically goes to an album that might have listed if I just had more time with it. That holds true of the sophomore effort from Indianapolis’s Mother of Graves, which landed on my radar by way of Carcharadon‘s excellent TYHMHM piece. This slab of classic sadboi death doom transcends any tribcore concerns through sheer quality of execution. From opener “Gallows” through final track “Like Darkness to a Dying Flame,” The Periapt of Absence guides the listener through the stages of grief with varied compositions that maintain a consistent mood throughout. Classic death doom is alive and well.
#10. Wormed // Omegon – Maddog‘s compelling rave for Omegon is my personal Review o’ the Year; fortunately, the prose was well spent on this efficient and brutal riff delivery system. Wormed has been creating slam-adjacent otherworldly death metal for a good while now, and Omegon is a distillation of everything the band has learned over the past two decades. 2024 is the year I realized I’ve been a brutal death metal guy all along. With songs like “Pareidolia Robotica” and “Virtual Teratogenesis,” Wormed took me by the hand and guided me through this journey of self-discovery… all while the people in the offices around me called in noise complaints.
#9. Ripped to Shreds // Sanshi – The already impressive Ripped to Shreds leveled up with Sanshi, a blast of aggressive but technically adept death metal that never left my rotation after its release. The guitar hero shredding plays like a release valve to the vicious and punky energy that Andrew Lee injects into his compositions. This cycle of tension and release makes for an addictive listen that feels like it ends mere moments after you hit play. The thrash elements of the R2S sounds are more prevalent on Sanshi, meaning the band now scratches the same itch for me that Horrendous did with their last killer slab.
#8. Scumbag // Homicide Cult – Scumbag! SCUUUMMMMBAGGGG. This nasty bit of business, with its deathgrind touches and morbid sense of humor (“Pure Adrenaline Hard-On,” “The Meating”), was tailor-made for the Ferox sensibility. Herein lie twenty-eight minutes of death metal that never slams but still walks the same line that Wormhole managed to last year: brutal but somehow cheerful, and stoopid without being remotely dumb. Dylan Cruz, of this band and Noxis, came out of nowhere to occupy a huge chunk of my limited listening time this year.
#7. Black Curse // Burning in Celestial Poison – With Burning in Celestial Poison, Black Curse stages a forty-five-minute takeover of your central nervous system. Eldritch Elitist captured the elemental power of these five compositions better than I ever could, but this album gave me exactly what I needed in a 2024 that was characterized by an extreme lack of work-life balance. Metal can provide a safe outlet for less-than-savory feelings, and Black Curse expressed a lot of things for me that I couldn’t express myself and stay employed. Lose yourself in these five tracks and emerge scoured but smarter.
#6. Spectral Wound // Songs of Blood and Mire – The hot streak continues; Songs of Blood and Mire, Spectral Wound’s fourth album, is their best effort yet. Carcharadon capably cataloged crisp new cross-currents in the band’s sound, but the song quality remains the same. Tracks like “At Wine-Dark Midnight in the Mouldering Halls” and Song o’ the Year “Aristocratic Suicidal Black Metal” showcase the band’s gift for coupling aggression with sweeping melody. In this way, Spectral Wound recalls Watain without so much distracting ooga-booga. Songs of Blood and Mire finds them continuing to refine their sound and grow in confidence.
#5. Endonomos // Endonomos II – Enlightenment – Endonomos carried the torch for doom in 2024. Enlightenment is a stately procession, its six long tracks blending influences from all across the doom spectrum. This is music that soars as it plods. Steel Druhm noted similarities to both Khemmis and Fvneral Fvkk. Those comps are perfect; not since Carnal Confessions has a doom album so effectively cut through the clutter of genre tropes to evoke genuine emotion.
#4. Pyrrhon // Exhaust – I hate it when the promotional push for an album ties a record too strongly to the narrative of its creation. It’s like the record company is trying to force a reaction that the album itself might or might not evoke. So when Exhaust arrived with heavy-handed descriptions of process and what Pyrrhon went through trying to make the album happen, I bristled and stopped reading. Fortunately, the music on Exhaust speaks for itself. This is a bitter and blistering record that finds the band raging against their rage’s inability to change even a single thing. I’ve always appreciated Pyrrhon, but I’ve never connected with their music as immediately as I did on Exhaust.
#3. Defeated Sanity // Chronicles of Lunacy – Defeated Sanity has had quite the AMG journey. They’ve gone from being brushed aside by a n00b named Potato Jim to being on the receiving end of a double-4.0 fellating from the tenured likes of Dolphin Whisperer and Maddog. Chronicles of Lunacy finds Defeated Sanity extending the Colin Marston-enabled peak that they hit on 2020’s The Sanguinary Impetus. It takes extreme skill to weaponize the base and the stoopid this effectively. Defeated Sanity is more than up for the job.
#2. Inter Arma // New Heaven – Here’s another band that could be wrestling with The Law of Diminishing Recordings by now, but instead persists with quality release after quality release. Inter Arma never repeats themselves, but each of their albums could only come from them. Hot take: Sky Funeral has remained my favorite Inter Arma album even as they’ve racked up an epic run of excellence. New Heaven makes a run at unseating it. This is a slab that rewards the many repeated listens I gave it in 2024; it sat in my top slot for much of the year until a late-breaking favorite pushed it aside.
#1. Noxis // Violence Inherent in the System – This is my third time publishing a list at AMG; each previous year, I had clear Album o’the Year winners in Immolation’s Acts of God and Afterbirth’s In But Not Of. 2024 marked the first Listurnalia that began with an opening for my top slot. But as I weeded through my favorite music of the year, I realized: Noxis drew me in with the bass flourish at the beginning of album opener “Skullcrushing Defilement,” and they still haven’t let go. The Pittsburgher in me hates to credit anything from Cleveland, but Noxis weeded out that deeply rooted prejudice with their inventive and fresh take on death metal. Every track on Violence Inherent in the System is a wild ride that alternately crushes, challenges, and tickles. The only break from the madcap pace comes on mid-album interlude “Excursion,” but that just prepares you for the utter barking lunacy of “Horns Echo Over Chorazim.” That song incorporates strange arrangements that include various woodwind instruments, and somehow they do it with zero pretension and abundant commitment to brutality. Listurnalia may have begun with a blank space atop my list, but it ended with Noxis firmly entrenched as the winner of 2024.
Honorable Mentions:
- Stenched // Purulence Gushing from the Coffin – This one-man outfit captured that elusive filthy magic and spewed out the annum’s premiere filthy wallow.
- Aborted // Vault of Horrors – These Belgian veterans, long under-appreciated in the Hall, finally found their champion in Grier. They hooked themselves up to the juvenation machine by leaning into the melodeath that has been creeping into their sound, and cranked out their best set in years.
- Vitriol // Suffer and Become – Here’s a mean and heavy slab that seemed to fade from the general consciousness as the year wore on, but remains worthy of note.
Disappointment o’the Year:
Ferox! I just didn’t have time to make a meaningful contribution here this year. It has been a pleasure to watch other members of my n00b class like Dolph and Maddog and Thus become AMG institutions, even as I mostly watch from the sidelines and come out to play when I can.
Song o’the Year:
Imagine being asked to name your favorite song of the year, and responding with a twenty-seven song playlist!7
#2024 #AFrameOfMind #Aborted #AR #ArthouseFatso #BeatenToDeath #BlackCurse #BurningInCelestialPoison #ChroniclesOfLunacy #CoffinOfConviction #ConcreteWinds #Dawnwalker #DaydreamingInMoonlight #DefeatedSanity #Defying #Dissimulator #Dysrhythmia #Endonomos #EndonomosIIEnlightenment #Exhaust #FuneralForAKing #GodsOverBrokenPeople #HomicideCult #Horrendous #IngurgitatingOblivion #InnerStrength #InterArma #JulieChristmas #Kalandra #Khemmis #Kollapse #Lists #Listurnalia #Listurnalia2024 #Lizzard #LowerFormResistance #Mamaleek #Mesh #MotherOfGraves #Myrath #NewHeaven #NobodyLikesYou #Noxis #OfTheLastHumanBeing #Omegon #OntologyOfNought #Orgone #OU #Pallbearer #Pleroma #Polterguts #PurulenceGushingFromTheCoffin #Pyrrhon #RidiculousAndFullOfBlood #RippedToShreds #Sanshi #SaveThisUtility #Scumbag #SleepytimeGorillaMuseum #SongsOfBloodAndMire #SpectralWound #Stenched #StygianCrown #SufferAndBecome #SunriseOverRigorMortis #SycophanticSeizuresADoubleFeature #ThePeriaptOfAbsence #TheUnknowing #VaultOfHorrors #VidaBlue #ViolenceInherentInTheSystem #Vitriol #Wadera #Watain #Wormed #蘇醒IIFrailty
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Dolphin Whisperer’s and Ferox’s Top Ten(ish) of 2024
By Dolphin Whisperer
Dolphin Whisperer
Every year, its end becomes more shocking and swift. Once, some guy told me, simply, “it only gets worse.” Not life though—attributing a better or worse or any sort of constant determination of our passage leaves a lot of room for falling into a void of enjoyment—life is, after all, a constant until its not. But time, or our sense of being in its too ever-present stream, flows at a rate that changes in ways to which we never quite catch up.
As such, there’s a comfort in knowing how much time an album, particularly one you enjoy will take. For the ten-to-twenty minutes it takes for grindcore proper to slap me silly or the forty-to-eighty minutes that it takes for my deepest progressive loves to wring out a moaning confession, I know where my attention lies, even if it’s only half there and half on a task at hand. Time and tasks, day to night, play to stop, music makes my world a better place. And entering my now third year at Angry Metal Guy, an institution that has been a fixture of my musical journey for even longer, I continue to hold a profound gratitude and excitement for another year of discovery.
2024 has had its challenges professionally and personally. 2025 will be no doubt the same, even if some trials we can see forming in the distance. But you want to know about the music, right? On that end, 2024 has yielded a heaping trove of great albums. Heck, even a Rodeö pick scratched at the rungs of an honorable mention. The below list barely scratches the surface of the breadth that the year has offered. Further down you will see Ferox‘s list, which captures a different collection equally rooted in joy. He might be more right than I am. But that matters little. Celebrate with us, your favorite collective of writers on the world wide web! Come hang with some of us on Discord too if you’d like. Most of the people there are certified flea-free. And don’t be too upset if 2025 doesn’t hit you the same at first. It’s just another year, and it’ll be over before you know it.
#ish. Kalandra // A Frame of Mind – At my core, I consider myself a Norwegian sad girl. Usually, this manifests in some sort of weepy, melancholy prog, the likes of Age of Silence or Madder Mortem.1 But Kalandra’s enfolkened an impassioned take on an artsy, progressive collection of empowering tunes hit me square in my aching heart from the moment I heard it. Most importantly, though, Kalandra knows that suffering is just a step on the path of growth and happiness, which is a message that inspires me every day.
#10. Dawnwalker // The Unknowing – The power to dream and envision a world driven by mysticism has an allure that’s hard to ignore. And while we know that more determinable laws guide the happenings of our daily lives, a glimpse of the unknown will always find its way into sequence. Dawnwalker putting this esoteric but ever-present concept into an atmospheric, genre-warped, playfully progressive package hardly surprises me, though. The British troupe has had my number since their unsung classic In Rooms,2 so I’m doing my last in continuing to love them despite Twelve‘s best efforts to underrate them.3
#9. Lizzard // Mesh – Lizzard’s 2021 opus Eroded is my favorite album of this decade so far. The French trio’s ability to warp deep, rhythm-tricky layers into driving and emotional rock songs his me at the core of my musical desire for cathartic hope expressed in an unassuming and lush framework. Mesh doesn’t present any differently in that regard. But its wrinkles on Lizzard’s timeless yet ’90s alternative-rooted oeuvre fuel Mesh’s inherent melancholy with a hope that’s jubilant, like a cracked smile on an overcast day.
#8. Dissimulator // Lower Form Resistance – [INCOMING TRANSMISSION.] “My name is Clyde, and I arrive from beyond with wonderful news. My good friend Ferox has survived this timeline after all, having learned to navigate the Lower Form Resistance assault of fast-twitch rhythms and slow-twitch death metal punctuation. His head, fully intact, sways wildly in its hairless glory—big dives for big skanking breaks, snappy rolls for whiplash accelerations. He may not be as rhythmically gifted in pit-galloping cadence as the virtuoso drum and bass duo that provides life to Dissimulator’s effortless strides, but Ferox is my everything nonetheless.” [END TRANSMISSION.]
#7. Mamaleek // Vida Blue – I couldn’t begin to tell you what has never landed about Mamaleek’s works before with a weird precision. As an act dedicated to sounding only like Mamaleek, their singular expression of tortured black(ish) metal warped by jazzy and slogging attitudes has manifested quite the take-it-or-leave-it musical experience. And while you, dear reader, may assume this is firmly up my alley, it has not been. At least not until Vida Blue served a bottom of the ninth heart-shaker as an ode to a departed friend.4 With a soulful swing, a tortured connection, and an exit velocity powered by equal parts loss and love, Mamaleek has clinched a campaign for my attention.
#6. Defeated Sanity // Chronicles of Lunacy – As an apex predator in the brutal death metal world, Defeated Sanity’s appearance arouses not questions of competency but rather calculations of the carnage wrought. Chronicles of Lunacy does not mark a turning point or novel twist in the Defeated Sanity timeline—its finely tuned lashings hit as inescapable all the same. When neither a beast’s reach, nor mass, nor attack speed goes contested, an exhibition of its might will flash with morbid glee. As such, Defeated Sanity need not surprise to strike mortal wound. Chronicles’ fangs glisten with an aged-imbrued tarnish, tearing at my flesh in every way I would expect. And I want more.
#5. Orgone // Pleroma – Meticulous and constructed as a master-work, Pleroma’s opening notes signal a trance. Acoustic twang and chamber instrument-fueled swoon build an atmosphere of wonder against a fervent and languished march of post-genre swells and death-fueled crescendos. Cycling through its many shades feels less like a fever dream and more of a trial-filled journey. Wielding a demure grandeur, Pleroma’s effortless realization of Orgone’s peerless vision never feels like the epic journey its runtime suggests. Were my time truly infinite, Pleroma would be even harder to rip away from the queue.
#4. Julie Christmas // Ridiculous and Full of Blood – A lady screaming bloody murder shouldn’t go down this smooth, but that’s always been the promise and success of Julie Christmas. Few vocalists leave me slack-jawed and ear-shaken in the wake of piercing cries, raw-throated shrieks, and impassioned lyrical slather. Yet, Ridiculous and Full of Blood cuts track after track out of sonic patterns that do exactly that, all while empowering a full band expression of alternative-laced grooves, post-informed climbs, and punk-tied sneer. The Christmas season sums a flurry of inspired performances under the banner of a madwoman. And I stand at the ready to fray my vocal cords in attempt to crack with the same battle-tested precision that Ms. Christmas has earned from a life hard-worn.
#3. Ingurgitating Oblivion // Ontology of Nought – Though born of minds unrelated, Ontology of Nought exists as an esoteric companion to the Pleroma embodiment. Orgone is the twin that went to conservatory, graduated with honors, and holds an honorable performing chair, all while remembering its young love for death metal. Ingurgitating Oblivion, on the other hand, dropped out, spiraled into entheogenic dissociation, earns a living gigging at jazz clubs—also maintains its youthful lust for the clamoring riff and hammering blast. Maximalism oozes a frothing wonder in the hiss of distorted chatter and rhythmic mastery. An imperfect and breathing construction rises and falls in ethereal inhales and vision-spinning mantras. Ontology of Nought deserves each of its over-budget minutes. Invest time in the freedom that it promises… “and cease to be.”
#2. OU // 蘇醒 II: Frailty – The casualness of OU’s inception belies its profound leap into my necessary rotation. No incumbent love ever has a defined position in the halls of end-of-year accolades,5 and even more so when the act’s very presence rang suspicious in its finely-tuned invasion to my critical wiles. But, as I noted when I first blew my love for 蘇醒 II: Frailty over the pages of Angry Metal Guy, it’s OU’s “idiosyncratic atmosphere” that pulls from a “polyrhythmic hypnosis” and masterful “energetic flow” that continues to chart them deservedly high in the annals of ’20s progressive music. And while this collision of classically-minded, synth-addicted madness slowly expands its universe one OU release at a time, I’m content to sit here and yell their praises at anyone who will listen.
#1. Pyrrhon // Exhaust – You know you’re getting old when an album about modern burnout and the pains of traffic resonates with you all the way from frozen shoulder to radiating lower back to cold-groaning knee. But when Pyrrhon stealth-bombed my aging metalhead mind with a tech-dial riff barrage of noisy and shouting proportions, I had no choice but to surrender. Exhaust demands attention from its initial irony-laced lift-off to its closing brutalist clock-out, swinging skronk-enabled splatters and ache-addled vituperation around every faded line and pothole in its death metal architecture. Though Pyrrhon uses simpler blocks, their construction here defies convention at every step. One fine commenter summed up Exhaust in the most succinct manner in that regard: “Death Metal, Hardcore, Noise Rock, Technical Death Metal. It’s just mathcore.” Except they took away the wrong message from that distillation. The verdict, in fact, is fuck you.
Honorable Mentions:
- Inner Strength // Daydreaming in Moonlight – Another way you know you’re getting old is that you love an album that sounds like it should have released in 1995. Alas, here we are.
- Dysrhythmia // Coffin of Conviction – Instrumental progressive music should be as exciting as Dysrhythmia. Comes for the Martyr riffs. Stay for the Metheny floating.
- Beaten to Death // Sunrise Over Rigor Mortis – Beaten to Death is still the best grindcore band on the planet. They probably won’t ever release a better album than Dødsfest!, but that’s OK. Their discography is now about two hours total. Go listen to it if you haven’t.
- Stygian Crown // Funeral for a King – Doom should always have a guitar tone that feels equally powered by swords and beer alongside vocals that feel soft like bar-stained leather stools.
- Kollapse // AR – I didn’t know KEN mode had a Danish doppelgänger with a frightening, large pink face. But they do, and boy does Kollapse know how to yell and riff.
- Sleepytime Gorilla Museum // of the Last Human Being – Had I infinitely more listening time, I may have been able to parse better this deeply cinematic and wacky slab of no wave emboldened prog. Most don’t actually earn the avant-garde tag the way SGT does.
- Defying // Wadera – Hour-long albums based on old Polish werewolf stories and horror movies shouldn’t be this easy to repeat, but I find myself often falling into Wadera’s unbreakable spell.
- Arthouse Fatso // Sycophantic Seizures: A Double Feature – I didn’t have radically-minded industrial deathgrind about the frustrated escapades of a fictional Orson Welles life on my 2024 bingo, but here I am telling you to listen to it anyway.
- Concrete Winds // Concrete Winds – Just this. And shitloads of riffs.
Disappointments o’ the Year:
- Myrath // Karma – I love Shehili so much. My love for power metal isn’t what it used to be, but Myrath’s exuberance while staying rooted in both the trickier waters of prog and the anthemic cries of power metal gave me hope both that I’d continue to latch on to the kind of playful love it can offer. But the arrangements on Karma, despite Myrath’s still life-affirming messages, do absolutely nothing to bolster that same joy for me. Karma sinks my listening brain. And that hurts.
- Pallbearer // Mind Burns Alive – The continued non-success of Pallbearer and their sleepy-toned take on creaky prog rock hurts the Dolph who fell in love with their weepy doom classic (and still controversial to true doomsters) Heartless. And yet the general blogging population seems to praise them for trying to reinvent sadboi roots rock with worse lyrics. And, for my money, Pallbearer is sounding increasingly thin live. If a return to glory is in store for Pallbearer, it will begin with them finally playing a riff again.
- Polterguts // Nobody Likes You – Okay, this EP actually rips because Polterguts rips. Hard. But, Polterguts, if you’re reading this, please put it on Bandcamp so I can link the shit out of it and give you money. I am disappointed that I have no way to contribute currency to your cause. “Ricky Has a Knife2” is worth the price of admission alone.
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.
Coconut (left), Kiwi (right) in a stylish Adidog sweater.
Ferox
I worked way too much in 2024. I can’t complain; it was meaningful work that I chose to take on, and it got me that much closer to not having to work at all if I don’t want to. Still, that’s what I’ll think of when I think of 2024: lots and lots of work. That had a knock-on effect, especially when it comes to hobbies like lifting, getting out to national parks, and writing here. I did very little of any of that. I kept up with metal as best I could, and embarked on a big end-of-year listening push to have an accurate picture of what came out in 2024. I’m grateful that I got to do a list at all this year, so I took the responsibility seriously… but I’d be lying if I said I was buried in the scene all year.
One of the highlights of my 2024 was meeting a whole slew of staffers in person. I traveled a bunch this year, both for work and for my daughter’s ballet pursuits, and with that came the chance to hang with some of the people who make this place go. My body count of staffers met this year: Steel Druhm, Madam X, Cherd, Twelve, Dr. Wyrm, Thus Spoke, El Cuervo, Doom et al, and Holdeneye. It was a veritable orgy of almost entirely chaste fellowship, and only one (1) bad hang among the lot!6
I’m grateful to Steel Druhm and Angry Metal Guy for indulging my schedule, and for the real leadership they provide at my fake job. I found this unique community because it had the best music writing on the internet, and that remains true today thanks to the talented people who contribute their time and enthusiasm to keeping the machinery humming. I’m lucky to be a small part of it, and hopeful that 2025 will give me more time to spend in the Hall.
#ish. Mother of Graves // The Periapt of Absence – My “-ish” spot typically goes to an album that might have listed if I just had more time with it. That holds true of the sophomore effort from Indianapolis’s Mother of Graves, which landed on my radar by way of Carcharadon‘s excellent TYHMHM piece. This slab of classic sadboi death doom transcends any tribcore concerns through sheer quality of execution. From opener “Gallows” through final track “Like Darkness to a Dying Flame,” The Periapt of Absence guides the listener through the stages of grief with varied compositions that maintain a consistent mood throughout. Classic death doom is alive and well.
#10. Wormed // Omegon – Maddog‘s compelling rave for Omegon is my personal Review o’ the Year; fortunately, the prose was well spent on this efficient and brutal riff delivery system. Wormed has been creating slam-adjacent otherworldly death metal for a good while now, and Omegon is a distillation of everything the band has learned over the past two decades. 2024 is the year I realized I’ve been a brutal death metal guy all along. With songs like “Pareidolia Robotica” and “Virtual Teratogenesis,” Wormed took me by the hand and guided me through this journey of self-discovery… all while the people in the offices around me called in noise complaints.
#9. Ripped to Shreds // Sanshi – The already impressive Ripped to Shreds leveled up with Sanshi, a blast of aggressive but technically adept death metal that never left my rotation after its release. The guitar hero shredding plays like a release valve to the vicious and punky energy that Andrew Lee injects into his compositions. This cycle of tension and release makes for an addictive listen that feels like it ends mere moments after you hit play. The thrash elements of the R2S sounds are more prevalent on Sanshi, meaning the band now scratches the same itch for me that Horrendous did with their last killer slab.
#8. Scumbag // Homicide Cult – Scumbag! SCUUUMMMMBAGGGG. This nasty bit of business, with its deathgrind touches and morbid sense of humor (“Pure Adrenaline Hard-On,” “The Meating”), was tailor-made for the Ferox sensibility. Herein lie twenty-eight minutes of death metal that never slams but still walks the same line that Wormhole managed to last year: brutal but somehow cheerful, and stoopid without being remotely dumb. Dylan Cruz, of this band and Noxis, came out of nowhere to occupy a huge chunk of my limited listening time this year.
#7. Black Curse // Burning in Celestial Poison – With Burning in Celestial Poison, Black Curse stages a forty-five-minute takeover of your central nervous system. Eldritch Elitist captured the elemental power of these five compositions better than I ever could, but this album gave me exactly what I needed in a 2024 that was characterized by an extreme lack of work-life balance. Metal can provide a safe outlet for less-than-savory feelings, and Black Curse expressed a lot of things for me that I couldn’t express myself and stay employed. Lose yourself in these five tracks and emerge scoured but smarter.
#6. Spectral Wound // Songs of Blood and Mire – The hot streak continues; Songs of Blood and Mire, Spectral Wound’s fourth album, is their best effort yet. Carcharadon capably cataloged crisp new cross-currents in the band’s sound, but the song quality remains the same. Tracks like “At Wine-Dark Midnight in the Mouldering Halls” and Song o’ the Year “Aristocratic Suicidal Black Metal” showcase the band’s gift for coupling aggression with sweeping melody. In this way, Spectral Wound recalls Watain without so much distracting ooga-booga. Songs of Blood and Mire finds them continuing to refine their sound and grow in confidence.
#5. Endonomos // Endonomos II – Enlightenment – Endonomos carried the torch for doom in 2024. Enlightenment is a stately procession, its six long tracks blending influences from all across the doom spectrum. This is music that soars as it plods. Steel Druhm noted similarities to both Khemmis and Fvneral Fvkk. Those comps are perfect; not since Carnal Confessions has a doom album so effectively cut through the clutter of genre tropes to evoke genuine emotion.
#4. Pyrrhon // Exhaust – I hate it when the promotional push for an album ties a record too strongly to the narrative of its creation. It’s like the record company is trying to force a reaction that the album itself might or might not evoke. So when Exhaust arrived with heavy-handed descriptions of process and what Pyrrhon went through trying to make the album happen, I bristled and stopped reading. Fortunately, the music on Exhaust speaks for itself. This is a bitter and blistering record that finds the band raging against their rage’s inability to change even a single thing. I’ve always appreciated Pyrrhon, but I’ve never connected with their music as immediately as I did on Exhaust.
#3. Defeated Sanity // Chronicles of Lunacy – Defeated Sanity has had quite the AMG journey. They’ve gone from being brushed aside by a n00b named Potato Jim to being on the receiving end of a double-4.0 fellating from the tenured likes of Dolphin Whisperer and Maddog. Chronicles of Lunacy finds Defeated Sanity extending the Colin Marston-enabled peak that they hit on 2020’s The Sanguinary Impetus. It takes extreme skill to weaponize the base and the stoopid this effectively. Defeated Sanity is more than up for the job.
#2. Inter Arma // New Heaven – Here’s another band that could be wrestling with The Law of Diminishing Recordings by now, but instead persists with quality release after quality release. Inter Arma never repeats themselves, but each of their albums could only come from them. Hot take: Sky Funeral has remained my favorite Inter Arma album even as they’ve racked up an epic run of excellence. New Heaven makes a run at unseating it. This is a slab that rewards the many repeated listens I gave it in 2024; it sat in my top slot for much of the year until a late-breaking favorite pushed it aside.
#1. Noxis // Violence Inherent in the System – This is my third time publishing a list at AMG; each previous year, I had clear Album o’the Year winners in Immolation’s Acts of God and Afterbirth’s In But Not Of. 2024 marked the first Listurnalia that began with an opening for my top slot. But as I weeded through my favorite music of the year, I realized: Noxis drew me in with the bass flourish at the beginning of album opener “Skullcrushing Defilement,” and they still haven’t let go. The Pittsburgher in me hates to credit anything from Cleveland, but Noxis weeded out that deeply rooted prejudice with their inventive and fresh take on death metal. Every track on Violence Inherent in the System is a wild ride that alternately crushes, challenges, and tickles. The only break from the madcap pace comes on mid-album interlude “Excursion,” but that just prepares you for the utter barking lunacy of “Horns Echo Over Chorazim.” That song incorporates strange arrangements that include various woodwind instruments, and somehow they do it with zero pretension and abundant commitment to brutality. Listurnalia may have begun with a blank space atop my list, but it ended with Noxis firmly entrenched as the winner of 2024.
Honorable Mentions:
- Stenched // Purulence Gushing from the Coffin – This one-man outfit captured that elusive filthy magic and spewed out the annum’s premiere filthy wallow.
- Aborted // Vault of Horrors – These Belgian veterans, long under-appreciated in the Hall, finally found their champion in Grier. They hooked themselves up to the juvenation machine by leaning into the melodeath that has been creeping into their sound, and cranked out their best set in years.
- Vitriol // Suffer and Become – Here’s a mean and heavy slab that seemed to fade from the general consciousness as the year wore on, but remains worthy of note.
Disappointment o’the Year:
Ferox! I just didn’t have time to make a meaningful contribution here this year. It has been a pleasure to watch other members of my n00b class like Dolph and Maddog and Thus become AMG institutions, even as I mostly watch from the sidelines and come out to play when I can.
Song o’the Year:
Imagine being asked to name your favorite song of the year, and responding with a twenty-seven song playlist!7
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