#altarsofgrief — Public Fediverse posts

Even with someone as infinitely absorbent as this sponge, things slip through the cracks sometimes. In 2019, I gave a shout to Post Luctum’s debut EP After Mourning, citing its very promising funereal pall as a welcome comrade to contemporary heavy hitters like Altars of Grief and Slow. Somehow, some way, I completely missed not one, not two, but three full-lengths from the Maryland-based solo artist in the span between then and 2026’s Timor Lucis. But it couldn’t have come at a better time, with the inclement weather demanding tunes of a dour, reposed, overcast character. The only variable left is how much Post Luctum changed in the years since my last visit.

Aside from overall recording quality and songwriting polish—both of which have improved significantly over the course of seven years—Post Luctum are exactly as I remember, just more refined. Like a friend for whom time apart never creates a mire of awkwardness at the point of reunion, mastermind Ian Goetchius’ slow and steady despair rings with the same earnestness that made After Mourning such a striking proof of concept. At once, I feel comforted and warmed by Timor Lucis’ Slowed melodies, chilled by its Altars of Grief-like eulogy, and heartened by post-metallic touches that evoke hints of In Mourning or Latitudes. It’s a reliable sound that should be familiar to anyone who partakes of the funeral side of the doom spectrum, and Post Luctum applies it with poise and passion.

Timor Lucis by Post Luctum

As the crooning cleans of “Approaching Light” give way to the lumbering march of the deadly “Shrouded by the Sea,” Timor Lucis envelops me in a kind of sorrow that pulls me into full immersion with an uncanny ease. Almost an autonomic response beyond my control, this immersion feels akin to immediacy in the context of this music, where memorability is found not so much in individual notes and compartmentalized verses, but rather in moods and moments of emotional significance. Even as songs gently coast from a desperate roar to a delicate breeze (“Sunken Fate” into “In Water”) to form notable highlights, I always recall the moment I heard it—where I was, what I felt, what visions these sonic waves summoned from my thoughts—more vividly than the music’s corporeal form. A different impression than what many artists design for their audience, this experience is its own kind of magic. Difficult to conjure and even trickier to master, Post Luctum struck the right balance of texture, timing, and feeling to invoke such magic and impose its power on my mind, revealing Timor Lucis’ greatest strength.

Curious, then, that once the final note fades into the ether, I struggle to find that pull which brings me back into Timor Lucis’ loving, tear-soaked embrace. As I continued my tenure with this record, I wondered if the root of that struggle was familiarity. Songs like “Disavowed,” “A Curse Now A Plague,” and “I Welcome In the Cold” reminded so strongly of the core of my funeral doom rotation (Slow, Un, Woebegone Obscured) that Post Luctum inadvertently guided me directly into their clutches, and I found myself forgetting about Timor Lucis. I realize now that this is the double-edged sword of the aforementioned strength this record holds. Immersive as it undoubtedly is, and as reliable as its writing is in achieving that immersion minute-to-minute, Timor Lucis simply isn’t bold enough as a distinct entity to draw me away from those acts it resembles with which I enjoy a deeper, more established relationship.

This dichotomy exposes one of the greatest challenges not just in reviewership, but also in songwriting from the perspective of the listener. A record is not made unworthy strictly because it is familiar, nor is my enjoyment of this material lessened by my personal history with the genre. Chances are good that I will return to Timor Lucis with a willing and eager heart over the course of the year. Equally, I acknowledge that it will never meaningfully challenge those records I deem the highest order in the style. On the other hand, you, the reader, might find this is your highest order. Regardless, Post Luctum deserves a chance to take you into its heart, and in the spirit of that truth, I offer my warm, albeit moderated, recommendation.

Rating: Good!
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Meuse Music Records
Websites: postluctum.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/postluctum
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

Falling Leaves – The Silence That Binds Us Review

By Twelve

Doom metal and I have not been getting along much lately. I’ve noticed this in recent years—the slow, the sad, the funereal, it just doesn’t have the impact it used to. Even the stuff I used to love has fallen by the wayside a bit. But something about Dubai’s (originally Amman) Falling Leaves has compelled me to dust off my hat and give it another shot. Maybe it’s the gorgeous cover art. Maybe it’s the fact that The Silence That Binds Us is only Falling Leaves’s sophomore full-length, despite having been around since 2009, with their debut released in 2012. Thirteen years is a long time between albums, but few genres benefit from long, careful consideration like doom metal. Suffice to say, I came into this assignment with high expectations—and walked away with new love for the genre.

Strictly speaking, though, Falling Leaves are probably closer to the “doom/death” category than simply doom metal, because their music is so energetic. Still, it is mournful, blending thematic elements from Altars of Grief and Shape of Despair. It includes guest vocals from Paul Kuhr of November’s Doom, which is another likely influence. The pacing for The Silence That Binds Us ranges from the lively (“The Angel on My Shoulder”) to the dismal (“The Everlasting Wounds”), but while the music often feels powerful, it never loses its woeful overtures (Fabio Alessandrini walks a tightrope on drums, but does an exceptional job). Bashar Haroun and Kuhr’s vocal talents are mighty: there is plaintive singing, impassioned roaring, and more narration than I usually care for in my metal, but Falling Leaves pulls it off—often, the sudden clarity on the touching lyrics is welcome and Haroun has a gravitas to his delivery that suits it well. In all, The Silence That Binds Us has a lot going for it, a strong foundation to build some strong songs on.

Fortunately, Falling Leaves can write strong songs. Opener “Carvings” is some of the best death/doom I’ve heard in a long time; its chorus in particular towers over the listener with aching melancholy. Ariel Perchuk’s (Liliumdust) keys do some serious lifting—I could go on for the entire review about well-placed, sweeping keyboard work—but here it’s a simple piano melody that lifts the chorus from something great to something amazing (a similar effect appears in “We Are Alone”). On “Ashes of My Mind,” a heavy, devastating piece that greatly highlights Ala’a Swalha and Fadi Stanboulieh’s talents on guitar, it is Perchuk’s ever-present piano that keeps the music grounded in doom territories, contrasting pained tremolos and heavy riffs that complement baleful roars. Swalha and Stanboulieh’s seamless transitions from hard-hitting riffs to soft notes to weeping tremolos allow Falling Leaves to write with variety, and no two songs on The Silence That Binds Us feel overly similar.

All of this would be for naught—or, at least, for less—if The Silence That Binds Us didn’t sound good, but Falling Leaves has that base covered too. Dan Swanö’s master brings his trademark clarity to every moment. As is perhaps typical for this style of music, Ali M.’s bass is very much a background player, but listen to the stirring pre-chorus of “Carvings” and you can hear it driving the tension. This is a rare moment where the bass gets to shine, but its contribution is exactly what it needs to be. Really, my only issue with The Silence That Binds Us is its pacing. With only one song shorter than six minutes, it feels a touch overlong at fifty-one minutes. If I were to continue nitpicking, I’d say “Shattered Hopes” has such a strong “closer” feel to it that I feel like the songs that follow it meander a touch. That’s not a knock on the songs themselves, mind—just a statement on how much I love “Shattered Hopes.”

Falling Leaves are reigniting my passion for an entire subgenre. You can hear the amount of work that’s gone into The Silence That Binds Us. If it’s not actually thirteen years of painstaking writing and planning, then it sure sounds like it anyway. The songwriting is stellar, the performances are great, and it sounds amazing. Minor issues with pacing aside, I really can’t find much fault here. If you read this, Falling Leaves, please don’t make me wait a decade for the next one! Your music is much too good to keep quiet.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Meuse Music Records
Website: fallingleaves.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: September 5th, 2025

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