#american-metal — Public Fediverse posts

https://www.europesays.com/ie/739201/ Yer Metal Is Olde: Morbid Angel – Gateways to Annihilation #2000 #AmericanMetal #Autopsy #CannibalCorpse #DeathMetal #Demilich #EaracheRecords #Éire #Entertainment #GatewaysToAnnihilation #IE #Ireland #MorbidAngel #Music #YerMetalIsOlde

I guess hip-hop-influenced black metal is commonplace now. It’s not surprising that a generation of musicians raised on artists like Bones would explore further evolutions of the sound, but something about the current social media epoch has really opened the floodgates for dudes in corpse paint to flash menacing hand movements over blown-out industrial beats. Këkht Aräkh is probably the biggest example of this, 1 but the microgenre of “people who like Darkthrone AND Three 6 Mafia” has come a long way since Mora Prokaza. Enter Antania, a California duo with a sizable social media following, and their third full-length, The Unholy 33. They describe their music as “avant-garde industrial black metal,” but it seems to have far more in common with Ghostmane than Dødheimsgard. 2 I’ve yet to hear this style truly win me over, but would The Unholy 33 be the one to break the streak?

Reader, it would not. Antania’s sound on The Unholy 33 is certainly unique, presenting a novel blend of aggressive horrorcore-style, 3 industrial beats with black metal flourishes and vocals, but the execution is monotonous and genuinely difficult to listen to. Beatmaker Dr. Luna serves up cartoonish “spooky” Old Nick-style synths (“33”), blown-out, nü-metal-tinged, guitar-like riffage (“Gloomzday”) and tired, icy hip-hop leads (“Cykl0pZ”). All of it sits over programmed drums so egregiously busy that they never stop flailing between triplet trap hi-hats, blasts and stuttering double-bass gallops. Atop this racket, vocalist Kali Mortem delivers a stock black metal shriek in clipped, staccato bursts, repeating simple, cringeworthy phrases until four-minute songs feel like fourteen. There is variety in the instrumentals, and some fun production flourishes, like a pitched vocal sample (“ThUG33”) or a reverse tape effect (“Flies”), but the record as a whole is intensely one-note and grating.

The sonic aesthetics aren’t helped by the general presentation. You’ve surely noticed the song titles by now, each one an assault of gamer-tag capitalization, and somehow they’re still less annoying than the lyrics. On “Sn0wAnGel,” Kali Mortem repeats such poetic triumphs as “gonna make snow angels out of your blood” over an obnoxious filtered synth line and clipping programmed cymbals, while “AntVniV” gives us gems like “you don’t fuck with me/you’re gonna fucking die.” This seems like obvious tongue-in-cheek, sophomoric braggadocio coated in an edgy veneer, and when combined with some of the incredibly campy synth parts, it could at least come across as stupid fun, but the one-note nature of the black metal vocals makes any charisma or playfulness virtually impossible to discern aurally. I normally wouldn’t harp on a costumed band for a dorky image, 4 but there’s a key mismatch between the ornate, self-serious presentation, the self-description as “avant-garde industrial black metal,” and the jokey content of the songs that betrays a fundamental disconnect at the core of the whole project. It just doesn’t work.

Every time Antania seem to present a good idea, they immediately undercut it with its execution. Take the song “DVHM3R,” for example: what should be an exciting burst of hard-hitting blackened rap instead comes across as grating. The track rides an abrasive, low-end-heavy synth riff for its entirety, with drums oscillating between groovy kick bursts and even blast beats, while the vocals intone a simple chorus line over and over again. There are additions of more organ-like synths here and there, but the whole thing feels like a monotonous exercise in repetition rather than a song. The same could be said for “Frazzledrip,” based around a blaring, horn-like loop, or “Kultz,” built around a repetitive, jumpy synth burble. Rather than manifesting an abrasive, haunting experience, these sounds just repeat ad nauseam and wear out their welcome almost immediately, making a full listen-through of The Unholy 33 feel like an impossible eternity rather than just 45 minutes.

Antania may have cooked up a garish new flavor combination, but nobody should be asked to finish the plate. I respect the ambition, and a handful of beats show real production chops. As an album, though, The Unholy 33 is unfocused, off-putting and neither campy enough to enjoy ironically nor uncomfortable enough to be compelling. Someday a corpse-paint-adorned MC will nail the black metal/horrorcore fusion. That day is not today, and this is not that record.

Rating: 1.0/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: Ampwall | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: October 16th, 2026

As the year begins to transition into the sort of gloomy weather that proves a perfect companion to doom metal, this fall season isn’t quite cooperating. Rather than the gloom pervading the cover art’s beautiful painting by Larisa Brechun, the light is still keeping us. Only a few days before Mother of Graves’s latest take on ’90s-style death/doom, the temps around my parts hit 80°F. Does the good cheer this warmth brings hamper any enjoyment for the music Mother of Graves plays? Hardly. This mid-October release date has become a tradition for the Indiana quintet. Grymm enjoyed their debut over a pumpkin spice latte when they released Where the Shadows Adorn on October 14, 2022. When Carcharodon admired their “sweet, sweet sadboi vibes” in his TYMHM 2024 post, they had released The Periapt of Absence on October 18. Now releasing The Light That Keeps Us on October 16, the promo promises us that, yes, this is still your grandfather’s Mommy Graves.

Mother of Graves continues to hone what made many listeners fall in love with them on their last two records. They hop from an aggressive Paradise Lost-style of death/doom to a slower and thicker shade of My Dying Bride funeral doom with some Swallow the Sun and early Katatonia mixed in. Their transitions between these elements feel effortless thanks to impeccable mixing from Dan Swanö. Mother of Graves shines in their ability to craft evocative melodic doom. The eight-minute opener, “Wingless Soul,” contains a melody so catchy that it’ll stick like a well-loved lollipop that slipped from your hands and tangled itself in your beard hair. And speaking of Swanö, he has a brief part singing cleans on the opener, albeit a little awkwardly.1 “Wingless Soul” displays a little bit of everything the band has to offer, from gentle piano to cleans to heavy doom to up-tempo death. While it’s a strong start, it’s not even the best thing on the album.

Nowhere does Mother of Graves better demonstrate the power of their songwriting prowess than on the final three songs of The Light That Keeps Us. “A Moonlit Tryst” begins like a piece from a Dolven record, complete with nighttime campfire sounds and acoustic guitars. The brutal, slow-moving doom that follows casts a mournful spell that’ll leave you feeling crushed in the most gentle way possible. When “The Beggar’s Allegory” begins with its beautiful gothic piano tune, it feels almost like more of the same thing. Yet the track dives into a speedier death/doom anchored by a killer melody, and there are moments on it where you can hear whispers of early Opeth. “The Endless Climb,” however, comes pretty close to SOTY material, with a terrific melodic lead, some violins, and a gentle classical piano bit, all coalescing into a conclusion that just may be the year’s most powerful.

Yet, The Light That Keeps Us falls just short of the greatness of The Periapt of Absence. It doesn’t as consistently weave its spell, as a few songs in the front half lack the impact of the rest. Mother of Graves also employs some spoken/whispered word bits throughout the record that pull listeners out of their doom-y trance. They rear their ugly head in the already lengthy “Wingless Soul” and also conclude “Through the Pale Shade” with a whimper. The worst section comes from “Eventide Angel,” though that tune at least ends in terrific, aggressive fashion. In a way, these are nitpicks, but they go to show that this album just isn’t as consistently great as its predecessor. With a more pared-back tempo, it’s also not as immediate, though it offers plenty of rewards on repeat spins.

Three records in, Mother of Graves continue to impress with their emotive compositions and incredible performances. Brandon Howe growls with strength and depth, evoking the image of a gentle giant—powerful yet sensitive. Coupled with Ben Sandman and Chris Morrison’s calculated riffs, which effortlessly carry the music from dense heaviness to melodic beauty to tenderness, Mother of Graves writes music that’s comforting in its familiarity yet rewarding in its depth. It wouldn’t surprise me if this ends up on many year-end lists, and maybe with repeat spins it could elevate itself onto mine. Whatever the case, I look forward to their next album to land October 13, 2028.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Profound Lore Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: October 16th, 2026

Iapetus – The Mother Void Review

There’s an art to writing long-form metal albums. Determining how much to write while keeping listeners engaged as…
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Iapetus – The Mother Void Review

There’s an art to writing long-form metal albums. Determining how much to write while keeping listeners engaged as…
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https://www.newsbeep.com/us/882390/

The Law of Diminishing Recordings™ is a cruel mistress. She cares not for the effort put forth into any given work, nor does she show any sympathy for passion or skill. In all endeavors, she looms in shadows, in corners, and in crevices, waiting for a chance to bring down her victims a peg. And sometimes, she misses. So far, Pennsylvania wonky blackened death duo Veilburner evaded her attacks with a slithering swiftness, scrying her every move and staying two steps ahead. Futuristic, primal, and strange, Veilburner’s occult curios always find some portal to an improbable space where identification is immediate but engagement is preserved. Can ninth tome All That Glimmers is Gloam achieve the same feat?

If you’ve heard any Veilburner since Lurkers in the Capsule of Skull, then you know what to expect here. Wiry riffs that bend but never break, cymbals that clink and clang like wind chimes made of bone and brass, morphing utterances as inhuman as they are enticing, and an occult atmosphere that burns the air with devilish spice await in every chamber of Glimmers’ constructs. Familiar song structures build upon the more accessible patterns heard in Longing for Triumph, Reeking of Tragedy but the pace and aggression more closely resemble the animalistic The Duality of Decapitation and Wisdom or A Sire to the Ghouls of Lunacy. Psychedelia still establishes a strong foothold as always, which scaffolds the intensity of Veilburner’s writing with a sinewy fluidity that belies its unhinged personality.

For the first time, however, there aren’t as many deviations from prior installments as I expected, which in turn gives the impression that maybe Veilburner is running out of steam. That comes as no surprise to me, after watching the duo drop an album nearly every year since Lurkers.1 Opening duo “Here is Thine Sabbath, So Mote It Chasm” and “Oblivion Is Yours to Labyrinth,” along with later cuts like “Phænomena Obscura,” “Of Godslave and Blood Mortar,” and to some extent the title track closer stuff themselves with trademark Veilburner riffs and evil vocals heavily modulated with effects and other production wizardry, but don’t offer a voice unique to this release. Consequently, each of these numbers could be swapped into one or more of Veilburner’s other records and effortlessly blend into the crowd. They simultaneously lack memorability. Even if I make a conscious effort to recall a riff, a solo, a hooky vocal refrain, precious few come into focus. True to the Law of Diminishing Recordings, I also noticed Veilburner’s application of repetition in this release to make their measures sticky isn’t as effective as it once was. In stronger cuts like “Vitriolic Hiss,” the twangy refrain that gives the song its core still lacks a mutagenic quality that would allow it to evolve over the course of six minutes, robbing the moment of depth and engagement.

On the other hand, Veilburner still constitute a creative force highly capable and willing to take risks and do things just a bit differently. Album highlights “Dis’ Obedient Woe” and “Golgothic Holocaust” are perfect examples therein. In the former, a focus on gentleness, low-frequency clean vocals, and a lulling atmosphere uncovers a new element to Veilburner’s sound that I haven’t heard before—and the remarkable effectiveness with which it’s delivered is refreshing. The latter cut, on the other hand, is one of Veilburner’s wildest and most daring excursions. Twisting, writhing burls trade blows with a howling falsetto wail that I’ve never heard from Veilburner before. It’s terrifying and exciting in equal measure. Somehow, both of these unusual offshoots from the expected formula still give off an unmistakable scent that draws me in like a fly to fruit. Veilburner could hone in on these tracks, break down and discern exactly what makes them stand apart from the others, and use that data to build another high water mark in their discography down the line.

For now, All That Glimmers is Gloam is a competent and familiar work from one of the most recognizable and reliable entities in experimental extreme metal. Yet, it might be the weakest installment in their discography simply because most of what you hear they’ve done before, and often better. The exceptions housed inside this work save me from feeling disappointed with the final product. In fact, they stoke a fire of excitement and interest in me that leads me to believe that Veilburner might be on to something special if they capitalize on those riskier choices going forward. A newfound success is in their hands. All Veilburner need to do is firmly grasp it!

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: October 16th, 2026

There’s an art to writing long-form metal albums. Determining how much to write while keeping listeners engaged as their attention inevitably wanes is no easy task. But how long is too long? We will use that question as the launchpad for our journey into the cosmos with death metal duo Iapetus. Multi-instrumentalists Jordan Navarro and Matthew Cerami have been testing the limits of attention spans since 2010, releasing two albums built around epic compositions designed to function as complete works. Thus far, it has worked splendidly. Their 2019 self-released effort, The Body Cosmic, impressed the Eldritch one enough to earn a spot in his Things You Might Have Missed feature, and it appears Iapetus made an equally strong impression on the team at Willowtip Records, which has chosen to release the duo’s new record, The Mother Void. This third effort concludes a trilogy started by 2017 debut, The Long Road Home.

Telling a story about humanity, the cosmos, and the tension between a mortal existence and the vastness of immortal space, The Mother Void largely follows the formula Iapetus established on previous releases while refining it into a compelling odyssey among the stars. Four tracks serve as the record’s focal point across its 69 minutes, with shorter interludes providing the connective tissue between each showstopper. The compositions are seamless and as grandiose as before, seesawing between tremolo-heavy, volatile surges and soft, shimmering moments. Fabienne Erni (Eluveitie) lends her talents to wistful verses (“The Mother Void”), entrancing bridges (“Aniara,” “Parturition”) and bombastic choruses (“Red Giant”), leaving absolutely nothing on the table as she tears through the fabric of space and time.1 Cerami’s coarse growls occupy the death end of the spectrum and provide a powerful counterpoint to Erni’s soothing, soaring melodies, creating a dynamic interplay that helps give The Mother Void its robust character.

From the title track through “Red Giant,” Iapetus forms The Mother Void’s celestial nexus, swelling and expanding like the universe in the wake of the Big Bang. The title track immediately launches the listener into overdrive with a blaze of tremolo picking and relentless blast beats, evoking the melodic black of Wintersun as Erni’s ethereal vocal lines guide the song into a sea of tranquility. “Aniara” is reminiscent of Ne Obliviscaris at their best. Beginning with a crestfallen tone before returning to Iapetus’ trem-picked tendencies, the cut’s knotty yet catchy riffing shines at the bridge, striking an impressive balance between technicality and melodicism. The same can be said of the guitar solo that anchors the track’s closing minutes. Everything reaches its zenith with “Red Giant,” which melds the influences of the prior tracks while injecting Mors Principium Est’s sharp melodeath into the mix. In short, it’s an epic song that never overstays its welcome, despite stretching to nearly twelve minutes. The same can be largely said of The Mother Void’s first half, where the group’s ambitions are matched by a keen sense of pacing.

It’s at this point—as the interlude “Énouement” gives way to “TON”—our initial question comes back into focus. While The Mother Void largely avoids the pitfalls of bloat, “TON,” and, to a lesser extent the dreamlike heart of “Aniara,” find Iapetus exceeding the bounds of The Mother Void’s scale and flow. At nearly nineteen minutes, “TON” initially succeeds, pairing forceful melodeath with Frank Harper’s strong guest vocals while showcasing Iapetus’ knack for complex songwriting. By this stage, their formula has grown somewhat predictable, but that alone is not an issue. The main issue lies in the song’s second half. The track lingers far too long, settling into a tropey Gojira-esque riff that feels out of place amid the song’s otherwise more distinctive traits. The outro only compounds things, sounding as though it’s winding down before pressing on for several more minutes. Similarly, the inclusion of “The World Be Undone” feels unnecessary, as Iapetus could have ended on a stronger note without it.

Like the universe it contemplates, The Mother Void burns brightest when it keeps its ambitions in balance. Though a few songs drift beyond their natural limits, the addition of Erni elevates the duo’s sound, while the songwriting remains ambitious, emotive, and richly textured. Iapetus has delivered an odyssey that serves as a worthy conclusion to the trilogy they began years ago, standing as another impressive achievement from one of progressive death metal’s most promising acts. For death fans of all stripes, The Mother Void is well worth the journey.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Willowtip Records
Websites: iapetus1.bandcamp.com/music | iapetusband.com | facebook.com/Iapetus.Metal
Releases Worldwide: October 16th, 2026

Blood and Sun – Aion’s Light Review

Few bands are as kvlt as Blood and Sun, and they play folk. Luke Tromiczak has toiled away…
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Few bands are as kvlt as Blood and Sun, and they play folk. Luke Tromiczak has toiled away at his dark Americana neofolk project since the mid-2010s, mixing 70s-style folk and black metal atmosphere with the purpose of delving “into the borderlands between song, spell, and memory.” With two albums behind him—most recently 2020’s Love & Ashes—Tromiczak now reaches into Blood and Sun’s deepest history for this year’s Aion’s Light. What he found was a Tascam 414 four-track cassette, the same he used for the project’s earliest demos. On it, he recorded each of Aion’s Light’s songs as they were written and tracked, every decision and mistake put to tape and heard in the same order as they were committed. This stringent, low-tech approach to recording leaves little room for mistake. So, does Aion’s Light capture an artist’s rawest expression in unmasked clarity, or do Blood and Sun capture more recording artifacts than magic?

If you’ve longed to hear Jim Morrison sing Leonard Cohen songs with black metal production, say hello to Aion’s Light. Blood and Sun’s distinct moody Americana and Tromiczak’s booming voice are as puissant as always on Aion’s Light, but now with an even more energetic, organic, and off-the-cuff feel. Blood and Sun weave dark tones and raw production into pensive folk scores, sporting dungeon-like synths and an Aquilusesque rustic, romantic dread. Listeners are treated to strident acoustics and bombastic synths with sprinklings of percussion,1 ranging from simple and aggressive solo guitar (“A Nation Falling”) to full-blown symphonic grandeur (“All Is Bloom All Is Ruin”). “Gifts of Oneiroi” and “Aion’s Light” showcase Tromiczak’s baritone croon at its most sultry, while “Jacob’s Ladder” and “Life Lessons” flex a greater theatrical bombast. At its best, Aion’s Light is a gripping foray into American gothic and western balladry, replete with eerie tales for odder trails.

Blood and Sun set a strong mood on Aion’s Light and write like they have somewhere to be. Like a Giles Corey or Reverend Kristin Michael Hayter record, Aion’s Light often sounds like it’s at the cusp of breaking. Its strings pop and synths waver while its tape crackles under Blood and Sun’s intensity, felt strongest on the haunted “Horrid Host” and “Jacob’s Ladder.” In Aion’s Light’s biggest moments, it feels ready to burst (“Axe and Mistletoe,” “All Is Bloom All Is Ruin”). But Blood and Sun maintain lean form and keep each track tight and economical. Even when spinning harrowing stories on “A Nation Falling” or majestic scenes in “Kiss the Wilds,” Aion’s Light keeps to easily digestible runtimes and only flirts with bloat on the six-and-a-half-minute “Gift of the Oneiroi.” This keeps Aion’s Light immediate, which is largely to its benefit, as the longer songs on Love & Ashes could get away from them. Aion’s Light feels like the work of an expert storyteller, both timeless and timely and deeply enjoyable.

In recording Aion’s Light the way Blood and Sun did, however, comes certain difficulties the record doesn’t completely overcome. For instance, Aion’s Light is relatively back-loaded, with the opening title track and “Kiss the Wilds” lacking the gravitas of later cuts like “Gifts of Oneiroi” or “All Is Bloom All Is Ruin.” None of Aion’s Light is bad, but I think Tromiczak really got rolling about halfway through recording it. Also, though Blood and Sun’s songwriting has never been better than it is on Aion’s Light, they don’t sound as great as they have before. I find myself missing Love & Ashes’ lush soundscape—see “By What Road”—a reality most likely out of the reach of this album’s constraints. Nonetheless, if given the choice of having a more conventionally made rendition of Aion’s Light or the one Blood and Sun gave us, I’d take the latter every time; you’d lose more than you’d gain otherwise.

Blood and Sun rocked that four-track and gave us their best record yet with Aion’s Light. Tromiczak possesses a mightily compelling voice and an ear for song structure, imbuing his newest opus just the right amount of blackened rawness, dreamlike effects, and gothic swoon. It’s an easy listen for uneasy feelings and just what the doctor ordered for these autumn days. If neofolk’s on your horizon, then let the Aion’s Light in at once.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps MP3
Label: Nordvis Produktion
Websites: bloodandsun.net | facebook.com/Blood-and-Sun | bloodandsun.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: October 16th, 2026

https://www.europesays.com/ie/730560/ Golgothan – Offering Review | Angry Metal Guy #25 #2026 #Aborted #AmericanMetal #Benighted #BrutalDeathMetal #DeathMetal #Éire #Entertainment #Golgothan #IE #Ireland #LaceratedEnemyRecords #Music #offering #Review #Reviews #Sep26 #Vulvodynia

Golgothan hails from Lafayette, Louisiana, and they ply their brand of brutal death metal with murderous verve. After releasing a string of EPs between 2014 and 2020, these bayou brutes dropped debut, Leech in 2022. Four years later, Golgothan returns with sophomore Offering, and it picks up where Leech left off—by making your earholes beg for mercy. At a lean thirty-six minutes, Offering doesn’t faff about. Brutal death metal usually necessitates trim runtimes, as overwhelming the senses with bloated barbarity floods systems with too much br00tal juice. Golgothan certainly delivers on that front, and Offering hums with vile vitality as it rips and rends through nine tracks of unrelenting mayhem. Yet in the end, more than wicked savagery is required to sustain memorability past an album’s runtime. Does Golgothan muster an Offering fit for brutal backwaters?

Golgothan operates at their best and most distinctive when they bludgeon with melodious intent. This might seem odd in a genre notorious for crushing listeners into meat paste, but it helps Golgothan stand out amongst their peers. Tracks like “Suck the Fluid from Their Heads” and “Sal[i]vation” rush out the gate with gnarly through-lines that imbue Offering with the catchy nastiness of Aborted, Benighted, and Vulvodynia. And like these outfits, Golgothan does a swell job of saturating compositions with stank while also sloughing heaps of hooks that imbue songs with techy personality (“Human Lunchable,” “Sal[i]vation”). Other moments get stuck in the muck, dredging up blood-soaked slogs befitting Golgothan’s swampy surroundings (“Golgothan Offering,” “Down into the Gullet”). The deft balance of all these elements unites into a varied but cohesive record.

Throughout Offering, Golgothan supplies ample proof that their bilious coffers ooze with talent. Guitarists John LeBlanc and Jesse Majors flay fretboards with frantic riffing and feverish chugs, caroming between blistering blasts of bloodthirst (“Red Desert”) and polished leads that seep into tech death territory (“Down into the Gullet”). Drummer Eddie Jacobs discharges snappy kitwork that pummels without overpowering songs, engendering a nuanced and impactful performance. Bassist Jerik Thibodeaux rounds out the instrumentation, and while the mix often distracts from his performance, he cuts through every now and again to round out the low end. And throughout Offering, vocalist Jai Benoit scrapes together a feral performance as he shreds his throat across its runtime.1 From death roars (“Onslaught of Teeth”) to squelching rasps (“Human Lunchable”), Benoit exhibits a versatility that enhances the diversity of Golgothan’s individual tracks.

With all the positive momentum built by Golgothan’s kinetic bluster, a couple of factors dampen Offering’s impact. Foremost, the record’s compression renders it a chore to listen to. Of all the ways I played it, Offering sounds best on my car stereo with the windows down. With earbuds, cans, or even on my laptop speakers, the mix is overloud and busy. This is most telling by the distorted drums, especially at the beginning of songs where they’re the only thing playing (“Forest vs. Children,” “Suck the Fluid from Their Heads”). And while slam jams don’t often warrant much sonic space to do their jobs, Golgothan unfairly hinders their music by not allowing individual performances more separation. Besides the production woes, Offering mostly shines with aggressively compelling death metal, but a few songs feel underbaked and lack the zip of the album’s best material. Specifically, “Zed” and the first halves of “Red Desert” and “Onslaught of Teeth” underwhelm compared to other tracks, although the back halves of those tracks sport some killer solos and are essential listening on the album—they just need fine-tuning early on.

In total, Golgothan delivers a rousing slab of brutal death metal on Offering. A more nuanced production would immediately elevate the outcome, but even as-is these Pelican State punks promise big potential. Inspired axework, gurgling vocals, and a boisterous rhythm section enliven a fun time full of noxious spunk that goes down quick if not easy. Even so, the cream of the crop hits hard enough to preserve for select playlists and will keep me interested in what Golgothan decides to with their next Offering.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Lacerated Enemy Records
Websites: Bandcamp2 | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 4th, 20263

Finally the rain has stopped falling and the ducts are dry. Musty and filled with bodies of lost minions, maybe, but dry. This means that I can send my remaining minions in to trudge for gems and nuggets on double time—same pay of course. And for a great cause!

Okay maybe not a great cause, but at least a decently good cause. Someone’s got to let the people know what decently good things came out in July, after all. BEHOLD!

ClarkKent’s House of Horrors

Mourir // Nous, le Venin [July 10th, 2026 – Self Released]

The French have proven to be masters at writing spine-tingling black metal, from Blut Aus Nord’s Disharmonium albums to Hasard’s horrifying symphonic soundscapes. Add to that list the atmoblack group Mourir, with their third record, Nous, le Venin, a work that unsettles with dissonant riffs and deranged shrieks and shouts. They combine DSBM-style vocals with the sort of melodic tremolos played by Pure Wrath in a sinister concoction that’s simultaneously entertaining and horrifying. Dissonance creates a Veilburner topsy-turvy effect that catches listeners off-guard, as evidenced late on “Mon Rêve Animal,” which drifts into an improvisational, jazzy drum solo that’s weird but also cool. Similar to Hasard, Mourir play with tons of energy, running blast beats in breathless suicide sprints that barely give you time to find your bearings. Yet Mahell’s kit work also demonstrates plenty of diversity. “Ennui Ennemi” is a case study, from the opening fits and starts to furious blast beats to a complete cessation of drums as suspense builds from slow, discordant chords. There are plenty of artsy touches utilizing lengthy passages of silence—”Je Est Absent” contains notes of chilling riffs that break the fragile peace. The riffs are no slouch either, wavering between enjoyable melodic tremolos and hair-raising chords of terror. If you like your black metal unconventional, you’ll find plenty to enjoy, and to unsettle, on Nous, le Venin, which may or may not leave your sanity intact.

Profane Burial // Desolate Echoes of Turmoil [July 24th, 2026 – These Hands Melt]

Not wanting to be outdone by the French, Norway’s Profane Burial throw their hat in the ring for some bone-chilling tunes on their third full-length album, Desolate Echoes of Turmoil. Dear Hollow enjoyed their prior release, 2024’s My Plateau, calling it “scatterbrained and wonky” and “a fun-as-hell symphonic black metal foray.” The orchestral music combined with the unsettling guitar work has the feel of a cinematic score, something that could accompany the whimsical horror of Sweeney Todd. The record has touches of Dimmu Borgir, but with the sinister discordance of this year’s other symphonic horror black metal release from Vesseles. Profane Burial seeks to challenge, with dense layers of chugging guitars underpinning the sound, but additional layers of guitar allow for some noodling to creep in so the music doesn’t leave you completely cold. While Desolate Echoes of Turmoil doesn’t lure you in with hooks, it’s still plenty mesmerizing in its atmospheric guitar work and icy blast beats. The symphonic portions often play second fiddle to the guitars and drums, but prove exhilarating on the likes of “Triumph of Dreadful Aftermath,” a true symphony of horrors. It’s challenging, it’s avant-garde, and it’s dense, yet something about Desolate Echoes of Turmoil weaves a spell that lures listeners into its twisted cinematic soundscape.

Creeping Ivy’s Varied Velocities

Frolic // Legacies of Cybernetica [July 3rd, 2026 – Hectic Records]

Initially, I thought thrash could only rage through hellscapes, warscapes, and other such scary ‘scapes. But then I finally heard Death Angel’s Frolic Through the Park (1988), which showed me that the genre could happily move in a carefree way through natural spaces. I have to think that Frolic, a thrash band from the Bay Area, derived its name from the imperative verb found on the classic sophomore album by the Bay Area thrash legends. After all, this Hayward foursome forge a fun thrash core, consisting of frenzied finger-tapping, technical gallops, and glorious guitarmonies (“Legacies of Cybernetica”). There’s nothing natural, however, about the seven Legacies of Cybernetica Frolic bequeath to listeners, in the form of their own sophomore effort. Indeed, “Disasters of Experiments” shows guitarists Edgar Sánchez and Lenny “Real Steel” Ramirez ripping riffs and solos at ungodly speeds, while “Living in Virtuality” leads bassist Zak Kufeld to strut his highly active bass tone, supported by the dexterous drumming of Elijah Post. “A Shattered Soul” perfectly encapsulates the band’s talent for making tasty, tight jams feel adventurous. Sánchez’s rasps overlay a blackened exterior onto modern, technical thrash that should excite fans of Warbringer, Havok, and the like. The rhythm guitar tone is a bit wetter than I’d like, and the nine-minute title track does stall the album somewhat out the gate. But overall, Legacies of Cybernetica strolls along at 38 minutes, consistently kicking ass and heralding a promising voice in thrash.

Slow Goat // Where the Wisest Fear to Tread [July 10th, 2026 – Self Released]

I had no idea goats were fast creatures. Apparently, they can travel anywhere between 15 and 40 miles per hour, depending on whether they’re domesticated or wild. Their sprightliness isn’t a reason why goats are so heavily associated with black metal, but it’s a happy accident, at the very least. Given their surprising speed (at least to me), it makes sense that a metal band named Slow Goat would play stoner-doom. On Where the Wisest Fear to Tread, this Portland, OR foursome’s debut, stoner-doom comes in an assortment of flavors. In their most domesticated moments, Slow Goat deal in straightforward bangers that let the sultry mid-range of vocalist Rosie Peterson shine, recalling the skulking and skittering of a Castle Rat (“Fallen Child”). On the untamed side of things, bassist Adam Carter and drummer Eric Bloombaum become more central, initiating jammy slow burns that waft like a waving Windhand (“Visions/Fell Ritual”). Feeling more like domesticated wildness is a track like “Sisyphus,” where guitarist Dan Black conjures classic Khemmis via fuzzy melodic riffs with some get up n’ go. Where the Wisest Fear to Tread may be a bit overlong at 46 minutes, but there’s enough variety within a limited paradigm to keep things interesting. The doomy descent of closer “Under the Glass,” coupled with Peterson’s dynamic vocal performance and Black’s concluding shreddery, leaves me happily wanting more from these Portlanders. If and when it drops, I’ll be hurtling towards Slow Goat’s sophomore album with goat-like speed.

Grin Reaper’s Melodic Mistreaters

Sigyn // From Nation to Chaos [July 10th, 2026 – Noble Demon]

Generally speaking, Finnish melodeath is my favorite melodeath,1 and Sigyn’s sophomore effort From Nation to Chaos brims with all the goodies I love. Key-forward compositions adorned with soaring guitars and hooks sharp enough to pierce iron2 litter From Nation’s runtime with ear candy galore. Echoing Finnish titans Omnium Gatherum and Children of Bodom, Sigyn clearly understands how to weave ultra-sticky melodies into tightly crafted tracks that teem with slick production and toothsome bite. “Break These Chains” shimmers with chilling synths à la I Worship Chaos, and the key-bleating from “Blind Prophet” would sound at home on The Burning Cold or Origin. Besides luxuriating in honey-sweet melodeath, Sigyn dabbles with Nightwish-informed orchestrations that call to mind Imaginaerum (“The Crawlers”) and Endless Forms Most Beautiful (“World in Flames”). Although the influences ring clearly, Sigyn mixes them together in a way that sounds inspired and honed to lodge in your memory bank for days on end. In a month that had fewer quality releases than the bounty that graced us earlier in the year, From Nation to Chaos embodies a Sigyn of better things to come.

Galneryus // A Cry from the Sky Above [July 15th, 2026 – Warner Music Japan]

The quality of Galneryus records may fluctuate from release to release, but the Japanese export has one of the most consistently high floors in all of metal. Galneryus returned in July with their sixteenth album, and even if it doesn’t assail listeners with any new tricks, A Cry from the Sky Above delivers a bevy of raucous moments that inspire air guitar heroics and singalong anthems. Harnessing the hard-rocking sensibilities of X Japan and straining them through the technical ecstasy of Symphony X, Galneryus once again captivates with their grasp of how fun power metal can be. “The Light of Hope” starts off with an 80s synth intro ripped straight out of Europe3 before giving way to Syu’s six-string capers and Masatoshi Ono’s velvety tenor. “Beyond the Sunrise” unleashes Rhapsody-reminiscent neoclassical licks, “Break the Silence!” allows Yuhki to discharge unhinged key theatrics, and “To the Last Breath” roars with Angrafied thunder. Sure, maybe A Cry from the Sky Above sports some warts considering the final two tracks’ excessive runtimes or a diminished adventurousness compared to earlier albums, but Galneryus also forges another satisfying platter that should please longtime fans and give newcomers a taste of the band’s enduring longevity and potency.

The Scepter // Shadows in the Tower [July 24th, 2026 – No Remorse Records]

Clocking in at a shade under half an hour,4 Canadian collective The Scepter discharged their full-length debut back in July. Around the time of Shadows in the Tower’s release, The Scepter caught a nice bit of press for playing a heavy metal show at a hospital for a patient unable to see any. And while they deserve credit for headlining such a great cause, this is no sympathy plug—The Scepter strikes hard and trve. “Riding Out” kicks off the album with self-assured swagger and BIG Maiden Energy (BME), where the main riff echoes “Aces High” to thrilling effect. Meanwhile, “Where Art Thou” doubles down on BME with calls to “Losfer Words (Big ‘Orra)” and “The Duelists.” Despite the obvious Powerslave influence, though, Shadows in the Tower does plenty to separate itself from simply being a clone. The Scepter also reminds me of Fili Bibiano’s Fortress and fellow hosers Ültra Raptör, balancing glossy guitar work with chest-thumping choruses. The production sports retro grit without feeling dated, the snappy solos flash with blitzkrieg brevity, and the ending dyad of “Taarakian Blood” and “Shadows in the Tower” blaze with anthemic glory and are worth the price of admission alone. Now go, step into the Shadows in the Tower and activate your pleasure reScepters.

Show 4 footnotes

1. With notable exceptions. ↩
2. Their ability to penetrate Steel remains… woefully undetermined. ↩
3. “Carrie,” specifically. ↩
4. Less the thrashy Journey cover, which is a pretty fun bonus track. ↩

Since forming in 2019, Portland, Oregon duo Spirit Possession has peddled sinsational thrashy black metal. Released in 2020, their self-titled debut supplied a solid if one-note dose of chaotic metal madness, but it was 2023 follow-up Of the Sign… that nabbed my attention. On it, Spirit Possession funneled their blackened anarchy into tighter compositions that slithered and snaked with lithe technicality. Now Spirit Possession returns with third album Cathedral Speech, and it flits and flutters with the band’s signature blend of restless riffage and garage rock aesthetics. When all is said and done, does Cathedral Speech conjure hymns of a higher power?

Black metal often gets associated with trem-heavy guitar lines, but the genre rarely exhibits the riff-forward vitality that Spirit Possession harnesses. Guitarist and vocalist S. looses family-style platters of noodles on Cathedral Speech, taking listeners through a serpentine journey of lawless leads (“The Sharpening”), frenetic hammer-ons (“Hanged Angels as Patternwalls”), and thrash-forward chug-a-lugs (“Cathedral Speech”). Meanwhile, drummer A. attacks her kit with a like-minded, organic philosophy as she tumbles across snares, toms and cymbals with a nimble grace that unfurls in chaotic spurts (“Second Liturgy”) before receding into restrained timekeeping (“Trinity Possessor”). Together, the dual forces behind Spirit Possession radiate the aura of DIY music, steeping Cathedral Speech’s atmospheres in primitively boisterous black metal while simultaneously retaining a firm melodic footing.

Cathedral Speech sees Spirit Possession dart between tracks and tempos with wile and guile, restlessly plunging into assorted paces while maintaining cohesion through the album’s forty-three minutes. Of the Sign… explored slightly rowdier compositions that injected more Venom compared to Cathedral Speech, which (relatively speaking) spools out a little more slowly. Still, Venom supplies an apt comparison for Spirit Possession’s raw energy, especially at Cathedral Speech’s peak energy. “Hanged Angels as Patternwalls” buzzes with an unrefined air that harkens back to Welcome to Hell, “Cathedral Speech” bounces and squeals with Devil Master’s punk-fueled mischief, and the ending triad of “First Levitation,” “Second Liturgy,” and “Trinity Possessor” recalls Negative Plane and Aura Noir’s slow-burn acidity. Altogether, Cathedral Speech elicits a rollicking good time that preserves Spirit Possession’s core charm while advancing their songwriting to promote a stronger sense of unity during its runtime.

With Cathedral Speech succeeding on so many fronts, the only sin holding it back is Spirit Possession’s dedication to their sonic palette. Not to suggest the record is one-note, because Cathedral Speech teems with interesting pockets of riffs and ideas. It’s only that I find myself occasionally getting lost in the album’s folds, and while I don’t mind the journey through Spirit Possession’s songs, they would benefit from more distinct personalities to differentiate them. The final three tracks in particular can run together, and crafting hooks and anchors to center listeners would help orient them in such turbulent, free-form arrangements. Of the Sign… combatted this with a more diverse range of track lengths, and having a concise, snappy track or two to latch onto may have helped break up some of Cathedral Speech’s evenness. More positively, the production nails the primal style of Spirit Possession’s trademark hubbub without ever losing sight of individual performances, and the overall duration feels just right.

Album number three finds Spirit Possession exerting more control over their tumultuous brand of black metal, and immense promise lurks in this direction. Spirit Possession established a successful template for the duo before Of the Sign… cranked the dials up and delved into bedlam with renewed focus and fury. The songwriting on Cathedral Speech sounds more mature than on earlier releases, but trades that for a smidge of Spirit Possession’s eagerness and pluck. Even so, I greatly enjoyed my time with Cathedral Speech, and with a little more fine-tuning I think that Spirit Possession’s next platter can fully realize the band’s potential. Until then, I’ll keep spinning the good word and communing with Spirits.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Sepulchral Voice Records / Profound Lore Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: October 2nd, 2026

It’s October, a month whose suitability for seasonal comments is eclipsed only, perhaps, by December. Pumpkins and their spiced lattes, sweaters, lawn decorations, and costumes provide a nearly bottomless well of small talk from sea to shining sea. Searching for a timely promo to review as a chill worms its way into the air and the leaves blaze in the weeks before death, I stumbled across Los Angeles-based trio Pegzilla and their debut LP, Disobedience. This follows an EP in 2022 and a slew of singles in the intervening years. If the promise of witchy stoner rock and riot grrrl energy didn’t sell me, reading their Spotify bio did.1 Will Disobedience be the album of this year’s all-too-short spooky season?

After nostalgic intro, “Pay the Toll,” Pegzilla pop the clutch and burn rubber on first proper track “Troll on Speed.” With a lip-snarling opening riff, hopes are set quite high. If Joan Jett joined Queens of the Stone Age, you’d get something very like Pegzilla. Vocalist/guitarist Olivia Saperstein rips riffs fit for both endless road trips (“Troll on Speed,” “Bootlicker”) and western shootouts (“Virginia Werewolf”) while her crooning vocals tempt and coax you past the underlying danger that suffuses all of Disobedience. Far from a simple bass walker, Juan Barsse drives the crime noir atmosphere of “Pistola” and the aquatic psychedelics of penultimate track “Hell Ya Brother.” Together, Saperstein and Barsse brew a delightful, soulful groove, best heard on “Troll on Speed” and “Pistola.” Of course, were it not for drummer Ryan Swain muscular fills and impressive pacing, much of Pegzilla’s weight and intensity would evaporate like an early fall morning fog.

Each member of Pegzilla plays well, and each section of each song lands anywhere from fine to very good in a vacuum, but on the track level and as a whole, Disobedience struggles for cohesion. The album often feels like a puzzle with nice pieces that’s put together in the most flabbergasting way possible. With the exception of “Chelsea,” every track on Disobedience abruptly shifts from fast to slow and back again with little to no warning. It’s a lot like riding shotgun with someone who hasn’t driven a manual in a decade. That riffs or passages struggle to relate to each other tonally or in pacing further hampers Disobedience’s ability to build momentum and inertia, making this 29-minute album feel much longer. This is exacerbated by a couple of tracks that overstay their welcome (“Pistola,” “Virginia Werewolf”) and a baffling outro track (“Troll Reprise”). Instrumental “Hell Ya Brother” isn’t the strongest album closer, but “Troll Reprise” feels like a directionless add-on that’s only made me think, “hey, remember 27 minutes ago when you had high hopes for this album?”

For all this criticism though, I still think Pegzilla shows a lot of promise. While the chorus on “Chelsea” is pretty clunky, the song keeps on the gas all the way through, and the bridge after has a great Nirvanan flair to it. Saperstein’s solo work on “Troll on Speed,” “Pistola,” and “Virginia Werewolf” are all great, and “Bootlicker” is probably the album high point with its punky riot grrrl bent that wouldn’t be out of place in Joan Jett’s more aggressive work. We don’t hear Swain really let loose until it’s almost too late, but his kit work on “Hell Ya Brother” is nothing short of stellar. And while the faster instrumental section of “Pistola” loses its novelty when it’s repeated a minute later, it’s got some kick and launches well out of the track’s noir-tinged beginnings.

The score below may be a little misleading. As a whole, so many of Pegzilla’s decisions, from a compositional or flow-minded perspective, leave me scratching my head. The majority of the tracks on Disobedience lack a cohesive identity, leaving them to feel haphazardly or hastily glued together. But all throughout Disobedience, I see the flashes of a very good record. Pegzilla’s got the ingredients to a winning formula, and even though they didn’t come together right on Disobedience, I’ll be keeping an eye out for the sophomore effort.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Ripple Music
Websites: Official | Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: October 2nd, 2026

Kentucky’s veteran death metal crew, Tombstalker, offer a blast from the past in a couple of ways. Firstly, after dropping their solidly impressive debut album Black Crusades back in 2015, Tombstalker continued touring before hitting roadblocks, going on hiatus, and rejigging their line-up. Releasing a couple of EPs in the intervening years, the rejuvenated line-up now unleash their long-gestating sophomore album, Chaos Monolith. Boasting a hulking, extra beefy sound rooted in rank old school values and influences, Tombstalker are not seeking to reinvent the wheel, remaining content to crush the weak through a meaty concoction of throwback old school death, armed with thorny, uncompromisingly brutal bursts of d-beaten violence, charred blackened melodies and rugged doom-death heft, wearing their crust and classic Swedish death influences proudly upon weathered sleeves. Yet does Tombstalker possess the songwriting tools to reawaken and level up in the crowded modern death metal scene?

While the guts of Tombstalker’s trusty formula remain largely intact, Chaos Monolith sounds recharged and revitalized. Despite residing in the retro realms of old school death, Tombstalker plant a muddied boot into the here and now, spiking their buzzsawing Stockholm influences (early Entombed, Dismember) with blackened and crust elements, topped by a chunky modern production. Like any good death metal album relishing in the rotten values of yesteryear, Chaos Monolith comes armed with an endearingly crude graveyard atmosphere and sinister melodicism, shadowing the infectiously beefy riffs, dual harmonies, thrashing rhythms and insidious, knuckle-dragging grooves. Cutting through the mix and leaving a feral imprint on proceedings sit the dominating bellows and sick lower growls of axe-wielding frontman Conqueror Horus.

Fresh out the blocks Tombstalker throw a curveball, dabbling in ominous soundscapes and an extended, slow-burning intro, gradually ratcheting up the tension and momentum before, several minutes in, they finally get cooking, punching out d-beaten rhythms, punky death riffs held together by a prominent doom-laden swagger. Arguably the extended intro could use some trimming, but the remainder of the song hits the mark, creating an ambitious opening impact. Chaos Monolith’s remaining cuts are condensed into more palatable nuggets. Built on a bedrock of burly, crunchy riffs, Tombstalker season their formula with generous sprinklings of blackened, crust, and ingredients, reinforced by steamrolling Bolt Thrower heft, the songwriting maintaining its peppy, deceptively versatile flow. Classic Stockholm melodies infiltrate the heavyweight death-doom haymakers and lurking menace of “Unto the Anvil of War,” “Inexorable Slaughter” rips through their bread-and-butter Swedeath template with punky, blasty results, while blackened thrash meets buzzing death on the horns throwing delight “Fully Armed and Filthy,” complete with gang shouts and an ear-catching chorus.

Later in the piece Tombstalker keep momentum and energy cranked, deftly handling their versatile mix of throwback zest and modern crunch. Crushing, spacey, and sinister, “Penitent Engine” adds tasteful, atmospheric synth work into the song’s rough and rowdy mix, and penultimate cut “Iron Within Iron Without” shifts tempos effortlessly, riding waves of hammering intensity, hacksawing riffs, and bulldozing grooves. Nailing the aesthetics of retro-infected death is one thing, but it would amount to little without the musical and songwriting chops to back up their old school punch. Tombstalker’s experienced craftsman shy away from flashier fretwork or other compositional complexities, instead relying on sturdy, infectious riffs, crafty integration of outside influences into their classic Swedeath core, and skilled threading of nifty solos and foreboding, nostalgic melodies into the fray. The slightly overcooked opening and solid if underwhelming closing track are the main detractors to what is otherwise a consistently entertaining and wickedly addictive platter. On the production front, Chaos Monolith packs a sonic punch but is a loud listen and the guitar tone could use a dirtier edge.

Chaos Monolith marks a killer return from an experienced underground act that has done the hard yards and taken the long-winded route to finally unleashing their second LP. The intervening years have been kind to Tombstalker. Chaos Monolith surpasses their impressive debut and provides a retro-inspired blast of old school death metal goodness. While not quite matching the best death metal of 2026, Chaos Monolith stands out as one of the pure outright fun death platters you will hear this year.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Awakening Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: September 25th, 2026

Chelsea Wolfe – The Dark Review

Long sharing an affiliation with the broader metal community, Chelsea Wolfe has carved out an eclectic, compelling career…
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Long sharing an affiliation with the broader metal community, Chelsea Wolfe has carved out an eclectic, compelling career arc. From minimalist drone, folk, and experimental leanings of her early work to her blockbuster doom and metal-tinged explosions on top-shelf albums like Abyss and Hiss Spun. Wolfe has traversed interesting pathways across a career which has elevated the gifted songstress from cult status to a deservedly higher profile. Wolfe continues challenging her songwriting by examining the darkest corners within the goth, folk, and metal-verses. Aided by a host of collaborators, including Ben Chisolm, Jennifer Declveo, prolific drummer Matt Chamberlain, Queens of the Stone Age’s Troy Van Leeuwen, and Robin Finck (Nine Inch Nails), Wolfe revisits the goth-folk stylings and ominous, melancholic atmospheres forming the cornerstone of her career. Ninth LP The Dark signals the latest Wolfe offering, an addictive gem worth exploring for listeners new and old.

Firstly, The Dark largely strips away the doomy and industrial layers that coat her heavier material, including 2024’s solid if uneven, She Reaches Out to She Reaches Out to She, returning to the more subdued, folk and acoustic-driven work featured on albums such as 2019’s Birth of Violence. Borrowing pieces from Wolfe’s versatile career, including the synth-driven electronic thrums of 2013’s breakthrough album, Pain is Beauty, The Dark showcases an artist with ambitions to continue pushing her boundaries. Though listeners who prefer her more challenging, heavier experimental works (Abyss and Hiss Spun), may be disappointed in the album’s mellower, sedate flow.

While not one of Wolfe’s heaviest or most experimental albums, The Dark excels through a tighter, more straightforward songwriting approach, without falling into formulaic traps or repetition. Lush and stormy opener “Cold” and stripped acoustic gems ‘The Dark” and “Death is not the End” stir the emotions and straddle Wolfe’s masterful balance between frosted beauty and brooding melancholy, featuring strong hooks to boot and tearjerking melodies. A succinct and breezy listen, The Dark delivers infectious hooks and impactful melodies and is possibly Wolfe’s most accessible work to date. However, Wolfe’s songwriting is anything but one-dimensional, highlighted by the album’s shifting shades and more energetic, upbeat moments. Electro pulses and darkly sparkling hooks glitter on brooding rock-centric tracks (“Seethe,” “Swallower”), while the seductive earworms on “Halo” get easily lodged in the noggin’, enriched by Wolfe’s strikingly emotive vocals. “Turn the Key” ups the ante, cleverly demonstrating Wolfe’s tension-building and soft-loud dynamics through a brooding, industrial rock and synth-pop lens.

Vocally, Wolfe sounds as confident and comfortable as ever in her skin, her haunting, longing and ghostly tones a slice of liquid gold at the forefront of the album. Driving delicate yet powerful vocal melodies carrying lushly produced and arranged songs, like all her works, you can really feel the pain, sorrow, hint of hope, and scarred emotion bleeding from Wolfe’s voice, the raw emotional depth leaving a lasting impact, such as the solemn beauty and orchestral flair of closer “Dancer in the Sky.” Although less sonically dense and heavy than past efforts, the compositions are meticulously detailed and layered with numerous elements, from stripped-back acoustic forays and traditional rock instrumentation to the prominent use of synths and piano, creating a deceptively rich foundation for the listener to unpack. Occasional dips in album flow, lack of heavier, challenging fare, and a polished though disappointingly compressed master are the main drawbacks to an otherwise consistently solid and catchy front-to-back listen.

Wolfe rarely misses, and The Dark is no exception. Bolstered by tighter, more cohesive songwriting compared to her predecessor, The Dark maintains Wolfe’s stellar track record without resting on her laurels, though mileage will vary depending on listeners’ preference towards Wolfe’s songwriting styles and those enamored with Wolfe’s more sonically and musically daring career twists. A neatly crafted, addictive platter of goth, synth, and folk-tinged alternative rock, The Dark’s addictive, accessible streak demands repeat listens and often teeters on the edge of greatness. And I get the feeling this album will be a grower over time.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Lorna Vista Recordings
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: August 21st, 2026

Deathcore is having an identity crisis; Lorna Shore’s breakout popularity influenced a horde of homogeneous blackened deathcore bands and became a tipping point for a genre more than happy to never evolve. As the glut of technically talented but melodically stunted bands continue fighting for second place in the Lorna Shore soundalikes competition, a few try to break out, but rarely have the chops to bring anything new or interesting. As if by a mandate from Hell, Crown Magnetar truly take to the deathcore moniker in a way few bands even attempt to; by drawing from the roots of death metal and hardcore, combining them to create a blender of bludgeoning worthy of a genre that combines two of the beefiest slabs of metal in terms of their sonic footprint. For a band relatively new to the game, Crown Magnetar’s third LP, The Hollowing of Godflesh, couldn’t have come at a better time, but whether it is a bona fide modern classic or another uninspired attempt will depend on how willing the band is to step out of the genre’s shadow and pummel a new path to devastation.

Crown Magnetar offers an eviscerating combination of brutal death metal, deathcore, and tech-death. The band excises overblown theatrics, snarl-fueled vocal tangents, and reliance on machine-gun breakdowns. Instead, they trade them for brutal death vocals, slamming riffs, and tech-death chainsaw riffage that would make Archspire blush. Dan Tucker’s vocals quickly stand out, drawing more from death metal and brutal death than the aforementioned blackened deathcore. He even cites brutal death as his major influence in recent years, especially bands like Defeated Sanity and Brodequin. This isn’t just lip service; The Hollowing of Godflesh is stuffed with brutal death and slam influences, making it one of the heaviest records in recent memory, a feat rare for the shock-focused banal heaviness typical of modern deathcore.

Not to be one-upped, new guitarist Rob Maramonte (ex-Fallujah, ex-The Zenith Passage) is the sleeper star of the affair. Crown Magnetar’s latest is their technical pinnacle and for an album so relentlessly devastating, Maramonte finds plenty of time to impress. Blinding speed bolsters songs that suplex you from beat to beat as he taps through leads or drops chainsaw-riff after riff of hooks, worthy of Aborted. Clearly, the group’s tour mates inspired their latest, with obvious influences from Archspire and Aborted as well as Dying Fetus and fellow core crushers Spite. As initially overwhelming as The Hollowing of Godflesh can be, repeated listens revealed the depth of Maramonte’s guitar work. Every song has riffs that will stick with you or multiple moments of creative destruction. Drummer Matt Kilner (ex-Vitriol) offers technical chops to match Maramonte, while still sounding natural in a way so few modern metal drummers do. The raucous snare sits right at home with the intensity of Crown Magnetar’s sound, and The Hollowing of Godflesh feels cohesive and consequential as a result.

The Hollowing of Godflesh is a rare beast, and Crown Magnetar took to the record with a surgeon’s scalpel. At ten tracks and just under thirty minutes, not a single one breaks the four-minute mark. The most egregious being the album’s introduction, the subtly titled “Gun Eater,” which wallows in deathcore staples and silliness, as if to get it out of the band’s system before the record can truly begin. Still, it hits like a truck thanks to the talent on hand and the clarity of production. While it isn’t perfect, The Hollowing of Godflesh mostly avoids the horrible compression of modern deathcore, especially on many of Unique Leader’s records. Having your longtime producer also become your bassist likely helps, as Michael Sahm clearly understands how to bring out the best in Crown Magnetar’s sound. “Gun Eater” aside, every track on the record feels vital and stuffed with memorable moments. The mid-record trio of “Impaled Genesis,” “The Hollowing of Godflesh,” and “Godkiller” offer up a manifesto of mutilation that should put the stank-face on any earnest listener.

I came into The Hollowing of Godflesh wary of yet another deathcore band with comically dark anti-religious theming and over-the-top names. Luckily for us all, there is no “Ov” in sight. Only miles of breakneck, grinding riffage, slamming breakdowns, and genuine heaviness that would make an elephant blush. With The Hollowing of Godflesh, Crown Magnetar have established themselves as modern masters of deathcore debauchery and set a new standard for other upcoming bands wanting to break away from blackened death and bring back the brutal.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Unique Leader Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 25th, 2026

https://www.europesays.com/ie/700840/ Sea Sleeper – Burden of Antlers Review #20 #2026 #AmericanMetal #BurdenOfAntlers #DeathMetal #Dysgnostic #Éire #Entertainment #Gojira #IE #Ireland #Mastodon #Music #ProgressiveDeathMetal #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #SeaSleeper #SelfReleased #Sep26 #Veilburner

https://www.europesays.com/uk/1217329/ Sea Sleeper – Burden of Antlers Review #20 #2026 #AmericanMetal #BurdenOfAntlers #DeathMetal #Dysgnostic #Entertainment #Gojira #Mastodon #music #ProgressiveDeathMetal #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #SeaSleeper #SelfReleased #Sep26 #UK #UnitedKingdom #Veilburner

The good doctor, Seuss, that is, also considered the burden of antlers. In his signature rhyming voice, Dr. Seuss tells the story of a boy imagining himself with “deer horns.” He could wear more hats! He could hang school supplies from them! He’d be the star of the football team! Yet their burdensome nature soon became apparent. With unwieldy antlers, he could no longer ride the bus, and his mom couldn’t possibly let someone with deer horns live in her impeccably clean house. In the end, he learned to accept his own body for what it was.1 Portland, Oregon’s Sea Sleeper tell their own tale of a Burden of Antlers, and they convey their message in just about an anti-Seussian a way as possible. No easy morals or rhythmic storytelling here. Gardenstale found their debut, Nostophobia, underwhelming, with its laughable lyrics and lack of memorable hooks. Yet, the debut received high year-end accolades elsewhere and was a top seller on Bandcamp in 2021. Burden of Antlers sees a honing of their “mileage may vary” approach to songcrafting, for better or worse.

In contrast to the pleasing cadence of Dr. Seuss, Sea Sleeper play an impenetrably dense, harsh brand of progressive death metal. Zoom in from the forest to the trees and you’ll hear some psychedelic influences from Mastodon as well as Gojira-style harmonics and riffs. Distortion adds layers of density, creating a maelstrom of noise early on opener “Machines of the Bombing Runs.” Their goal, it seems to me at least, is to keep listeners uncomfortable and off-guard from start to finish, and they accomplish this with frequent tonal and tempo shifts, rarely allowing musical passages to develop into anything resembling melodicism. The lengthy “Manifestor” contains many such shifts. This song mixes high energy blast beats, melodic riffs, discordant riffs, a great bass bit, an awesome solo, and significant passages where the tempo slows to allow for some grungy cleans that are kind of catchy but also kind of bad. It’s an approach that’ll leave you breathless trying to figure out whether you like it or not.

Much as Sea Sleeper love the arrhythmic approach, they do reveal a knack for some melodic death, at least in small chunks. “Burden of Antlers” most memorably establishes these melodic hooks in a very cool opener and even has a catchy chorus, sung in Jesse Cooley’s warbly, off-key cleans. “They’ll Miss You” displays some early Mastodon-style riffs, and there are more sightings of melody later on “Abysmal Trench.” Yet these melodies disappear into a morass of noise before they have time to properly develop and worm their way into your brain. They’re just one ingredient among countless others in Sea Sleeper’s varied guitar diet. Where the melodic riffs quickly fade away, Sea Sleeper has no issue allowing slower segments with melodic cleans to linger. However, the enjoyment of these portions comes with an asterisk—Cooley’s off-pitch performance leaves one cringing rather than wanting to sing along.

Burden of Antlers utilizes harsh tones and loud production values to unnerve their listeners. Cooley growls in a pained rasp that’s discomforting, yet also admittedly effective. Combined with dissonant and constantly shifting riffs, Sea Sleeper nail a style of music that’s purposely meant to deliver pain rather than pleasure. Their quest to challenge is admirable, though I wish I had a better idea as to what, thematically, they’re attempting to accomplish. When the vocals are incomprehensible and the lyrics sheet is missing, it’s difficult to know exactly what I’m being made uncomfortable about. Yet the larger problem is the production, whose loudness negatively contributes to the cacophony. While the harshness delivers pain and discomfort in more interesting ways, the high volume is just unpleasant.

While I do tend to gravitate towards more melodic music, that’s not to say the dissonant stuff doesn’t work for me. Veilburner creates weird yet entertaining music, and this year’s Dysgnostic has made a strong impression. What these acts succeed at that Sea Sleeper misses is that they write focused, well-developed songs. It’s a frustration to hear the talent from these musicians marred by purposely obtuse music and poor production choices. Sprouting a pair of deer horns, for me, wouldn’t be a burden, but a boon so long as they protect my ears from the onslaught that is Burden of Antlers.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: September 18th, 2026

Show 1 footnote

1. From I Wish that I Had Duck Feet, by Theo. LeSieg, Dr. Seuss’s pre-Seuss pseudonym. ↩

https://www.europesays.com/ie/699506/ Valkyrie’s Fire – Out of Darkness Review #2026 #30 #AmericanMetal #DiabloSwingOrchestra #EclipseRecords #Éire #Entertainment #IE #Ireland #Music #Nightwish #OutOfDarkness #PowerMetal #Review #Reviews #Rhapsody #Sep26 #SymphonicMetal #SymphonicPowerMetal #Valkyrie'sFire

Most of my AMG time recently has gone to tech issues 1, but I’ve been wanting to write again. Valkyrie’s Fire’s debut Out of Darkness lured me back with a Nightwish namedrop, which is a dangerous promise, for all that it sounds enticing. In principle, I’m a big fan of power metal, symphonic metal, and indeed symphonic power metal. Alas, as I wrote in my section of the Nightwish ranking, symphonic metal is plagued by terrible, boring bands. It’s much easier to ape the style than it is to write great songs. I don’t know why this is such a problem for this genre in particular, but it doesn’t need to be this way, and so hope springs eternal.

Valkyrie’s Fire avoid this problem on two axes. First, Out of Darkness isn’t actually that beholden to Nightwish tropes, with the possible exception of “Skylark.”2 Yes, they do the duet vocal thing a lot and one of them is a soprano. But the core style they establish early on (“Evermore,” “Valkyrie’s Fire,” etc.) reminds me a lot more of Rhapsody’s many iterations, replete with neoclassical twiddling. Second, and more importantly, this is good actually. It’s fun in a way that doesn’t feel forced. The songs are well-written and memorable. They experiment with a variety of genre embellishments. Some songs have a core-y twist that evokes a little Avenged Sevenfold (meant positively!—”Burning Sky,” “I Will Rise Again”). Others use cello and acoustic guitar to add a folky feel (“Bone and Thorn”), or more delicate piano (“Shattered,” “I see the Angels Fly”). This keeps things fresh and stops any one song sounding too much like all the others.

There is one classic symphonic metal trap Valkyrie’s Fire do fall solidly into, though: a regrettable inability to edit. Out of Darkness is over 70 minutes long, and it really doesn’t need to be. By track twelve, my attention span is definitely strained, and there are still fifteen minutes left of the record. With tighter editing, there’d be a punchy 45-minute album here. I get that it’s hard, as none of the tracks here are total clangers. I probably wouldn’t miss “Valkyrie’s Fire” or “Nocturne,” and many others could use editing down (“Bone and Thorn” is a pretty folk piece but doesn’t need to be seven minutes, “Cascade” could shed a couple of minutes, ten-minute closer “I Will Rise Again” gets a bit too theatrical). This isn’t universal—”Dark Moon” is nearly seven minutes but carries its length well, “Burning Sky” is a neat four—but it does affect most of the record.

I’ve mentioned before being drawn to well-performed duet vocals, and Valkyrie’s Fire are excellent here, with Bettie Floyd on soprano and Adam Sanders on baritone. The vocal melody writing is really good. They use alternating phrases, harmonies, and counterpoint to great effect. This works particularly well combined with Salem Belladonna’s piano and cello on the Clair Obscur-via-doom-metal “Shattered,” where Floyd is at her best. Her range spans from the symphonic metal standard soprano to a poppy tone that reminds me a little of Diablo Swing Orchestra’s current vocalist (“Labyrinth”). There’s one or two bits of vocal direction I don’t quite get on with (just a couple of phrases in “Evermore” and “Valkyrie’s Fire”), but it’s a very minor blip.

I’m really pleasantly surprised by Out of Darkness. My genre cynicism was mostly unfounded. I often find the mark of a good record is finding lots of bits of it slipping into my head when I’m doing other things (versus having one line going irritatingly round and round). Out of Darkness has done that. Most years, there’s at least one record that reminds me I still love symphonic/power metal. This is very nearly that record for 2026, but the marathon length just adds a tiny bit too much mental effort to listening to it. If Valkyrie’s Fire can kill their darlings next time around, I’m sold.

Rating: Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Eclipse Records
Websites: valkyriesfire.com | facebook.com/valkyriesfireofficial
Releases Worldwide: September 18th, 2026

Between reckless grooves, shimmering leads, and Byzantine riffs, those familiar with Dylan Cruz’s projects should have some idea of what Hanging Garden offers. Sophomore album Dream Death once again features New York’s Cruz as the band’s sole musical contributor, and while he’s acted as guitarist, bassist, and vocalist across various projects (Scumbag, Dissonance, and formerly Noxis), solo project Hanging Garden finds him supplying every piece of the sonic gamut. While Scumbag’s Homicide Cult featured Cruz’s low-end, knuckle-dragging heft, what usually stands out about his performances are the progressive-leaning, riff-centric guitar displays. Throughout Cruz’s projects,1 his creative application of six-string shenanigans never fails to cook up hooks, and Dream Death proves another worthy notch in his belt. Yet you need more than a few sick licks to keep listeners coming back for more. Does Dream Death offer enough to keep folks Hanging around?

Hanging Garden trades in densely clustered, bone-rattling compositions that whip and seethe in unpredictable paroxysms of melody and br00tality. In this way, it’s clear that Noxis’s Violence Inherent in the System shares DNA with Hanging Garden, as both walk the line between bursts of frenzied riffing and snaking leads. Second track “Ondine” most reminds me of Noxis as it cruises and bruises with a punchy intro and continues throwing haymakers throughout. Opener “Arete” leans closer to Scumbag early on, storming the Garden gates with an adrenalized ferocity that should set your headbangometer to ‘breakneck’ tout de suite. Unlike Cruz’s aforementioned projects, though, Dream Death ups the ante from Hanging Garden’s debut, The God That Made Them Bow, and emphasizes melodic backdrops and gazey layers alongside the whiplashing punishments of their deathly wares.

Though Cruz excels at master-crafting wicked riffs and searing solos, Hanging Garden gives him an arena to develop dimensions outside his other current and former projects. It’s no cause for alarm—the riffs and solos still thrill on Dream Death—it’s just that here they collide with vibrant textures, bestowing dynamic stratifications of sounds woven into an aural tapestry that billows and ripples with audacity. Though hinted at early on, swells of euphony unfurl as listeners delve deeper into Dream Death. “Dreamwoven” begins with beefy, slug ‘n’ chug tactics that’ll slap the stank right on your face. Then a jangle of notes rings out atop filthy grooves and blossoms over the course of the track, where almost-but-not-quite mellifluousness jostles against nasty barbarity. This give and take persists throughout Dream Death, where melody asserts more control through the back half, especially on closer “Suffering Radiant Memories,” even though the thuggery never dissipates completely.

Though Hanging Garden marshals forces primal and sophisticated on Dream Death, a few modifications could have commanded an even greater impact. Given the relatively compact instrumentation,2 the production doesn’t necessitate a huge dynamic range to let organic timbres and resonances through, yet the busy compositions occasionally ache for more space. The walls of sound, like those heard on “Arete” and “Endymion,” exact their toll across a tidy forty-one minutes, and while this isn’t a huge knock against, a little extra breathing room would allow Hanging Garden’s arrangements to cut deeper. More positively, Cruz presents a wide variety of atmospheres and riffs without anything ever feeling out of place. Considering the ground covered on Dream Death, this is no mean feat. And though I appreciate the assortment of sonic elements on tap, I wish there was a tad more cohesion amongst the bump and scrape of melody and wiolence. Not to suggest none exists, mind, as everything blooming in Hanging Garden bears fruit—only that putting a finer point on the balance between the two would take Dream Death to even greater heights.

Once again, Dylan Cruz makes his presence immediately known and appreciated, delivering a big success with Hanging Garden’s second platter. Dream Death takes a few listens to dig into and get a sense of what’s happening, but doing so is well worth the time. From the thrash-driven leads on “Tears of Lustful, Secret Desire” that collapse into post-addled textures to the tech death soloing and battery on “Carambola,” Cruz plants his prog death seeds deep enough to let your Garden groan. Amidst a rising tide of quality releases, Hanging Garden remains rooted in relevance and entreats you to dare to Dream Death.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 18th, 2026

With the definitive Anthrax ranking done and dusted (I mean my ranking), I finally get my ape ears on the entirety of their 12th album, Cursum Perficio (Latin for “I finish the journey”). It’s been a long wait for something new from the band too, since For All Kings came out over 10 years ago in what now seems like an entirely different world. In the span of time that’s passed since then, both Slayer and Megadeth closed up shop, the world suffered a pandemic that forever changed the way societies function, and Metallica dropped an album that nobody really loved as they too likely headed toward a final exit. For all intents and purposes, that makes Anthrax the last band standing from the Big Four. How many expected this outcome back when Thrax was dropping duds like We’ve Come for You All and Vol. 8? I certainly wouldn’t have bet on them in a survivor pool, but here we are. Looking back, the smart money probably should have been on the little band from Queens, since For All Kings smoked anything the Big Four members released in ages. But can Anthrax pull another rabbit out of their magic hat so late in their career? Based on that wild cover art, they seem to be telegraphing that rabbits will be forthcoming. With the same lineup as last time, let’s hope they can still make the fur fly.

Cursum Perficio revisits various eras of their career while also offering new wrinkles and at least one big surprise. After moody intro “Persistence of Memory,” they drop a big, emotional number called “The Long Goodbye,” highlighting the horrors of dementia. It’s a grim, unsettling song that easily could have fit on Persistence of Time, and the lyrics resonate emotionally and really harsh your mellow. Thankfully, this Debbie Downer is immediately followed by the traditional Thrax tune “It’s for the Kids,” which is more upbeat and punk-thrashy.1 Even more classically Thraxified is “Everybody’s Got a Plan,” which is the most New York song I’ve heard since Biohazard’s last brainless release. The chorus will stick in your brainpan and torment you for days. The classic gang shouts are back everything feels like 1988 all over again. Then comes the song that will divide listeners the most. Yes, “The Edge of Perfection” features trem riffs, blast beats, and atmo-black elements. I admit I was put off by it on first spin, but in the context of the album, it’s a cool changeup. It’s a grower of a song, and though it’s maybe a minute or so too long, it has a weird addictive quality that grows with consumption. It also shows olde dawgs can learn new tricks in the fullness of time. I don’t necessarily need more Blackthrax in my life, but I kinda like what we got here.

The first half of Cursum is pretty righteous, but it’s a somewhat front-loaded album. Good things do appear on the album’s back half, though. “Infectious” is like Anthrax trying to write a song that would fit on Load, and they pretty much nail it. There’s a cool, laid-back rock swagger here with a simple grinding riff. The lyrics reference Stephen King’s The Stand to make for a nice callback to “Among the Living,” and this one is a simple but stealthy grower. “NYC 93” is a rowdy, punky ode to life in the Big Apple back in the crazy 90s, and it’s hard to hear this and not think that Anthrax stole it from Overkill. If so, Bobby Blitz is gonna beat somebody’s ass for this. The last third of Cursum is good, and no song falls flat, but nothing will blow your doors off either. The title track is catchy but about 2 minutes too long, and it gets pretty repetitive by the end. The rest of the material is shockingly bloat-free, so that’s a big win. At 53-plus minutes, it feels like a track could be dropped, but no cut screams to be dumped.

I’d heard mixed reviews about how Joey sounded on the album, but to my ears he does fine. His voice has changed over the decades as one would expect, but he still sounds strong and clear and, well, like Joey! His delivery reminds me of his Persistence of Time days on some tracks, and on others more like his rougher, grittier performance on Worship Music. He can still bring it and command the room, and that’s impressive after so long in the game. Legendary thrash axe Scott Ian and newish addition Jonathan Donais offer a plethora of classic Thrax riffs while also dabbling in prog, groove rock, and, of course, they veer into atmo-black darkness. Charlie Benante is his usual sick beast on the kit and Frank Bello joins him to form one of the best backlines in thrash history. Everyone sounds good, and the material feels lively, fresh and vital. That in and of itself is a win for a band in their 4th decade of existence.

With most members of Anthrax in their 60s and many of their contemporaries aging out of the speed circuit, there will inevitably come a time when these guys just don’t want to thrash anymore. They’ve been claiming this is not their last album, but if it is, they went out on a good note and did their legacy proud. Cursum Perficio may not reach the same highs as For All Kings, but it’s a very good album from a band that’s been written off so many times over the years. Rabbits have been pulled, so all hail the survivors of the Big Four tontine!

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast
Websites: anthrax.com | facebook.com/anthrax | instagram.com/anthrax
Releases Worldwide: September 18th, 2026

The life of the unpaid, overworked metal reviewer is not an easy one. The reviewing collective at AMG lurches from one new release to the next, errors and n00bs strewn in our wake. But what if, once in a while, the collective paused to take stock and consider the discography of those bands that shaped many a taste? What if multiple aspects of the AMG collective personality shared with the slavering masses their personal rankings of that discography, and what if the rest of the personality used a Google sheet some kind of dark magic to produce an official guide to, and an all-around definitive aggregated ranking of, that band’s entire discography? Well, if that happened, we imagine it would look something like this…

Growing up in New York during the heat of the thrash metal explosion, it seemed like every speed merchant hailed from either California or Germany. Maybe that’s why New Yorkers latched onto Queens-based Anthrax so hard when they hit the scene and challenged the West Coast for thrash supremacy. Sure, they weren’t as evil as Slayer, and they lacked the mammoth highs like Metallica, but Thrax had their own special thing going on, and it smelled like NYC hot dog water and urine-soaked subways. Albums like Spreading the Disease and Among the Living became timeless pieces of my teen years, and while I didn’t support Thrax dabbling in rap and sporting those ridiculous Jams shorts on stage, they were my local idiots for better or worse. Nowadays, everyone questions whether they ever deserved their place in the Big Four, but they earned it with those essential early releases, and now Anthrax is the last one left standing.1 Funny how life works, isn’t it? If this was too long for you to read, here’s the pithy placeholder blurb Grin Reaper left for my intro: New York rulez, New Jersey sux. Incoherent monkey noises.

– Steel Druhm

The Rankings

Steel Druhm, Gung-Hobo

Anthrax and I have had our ups and downs over the decades. Their early albums were foundational staples of my teen years, and State of Euphoria and Persistence of Time were part of my drunken college years. With the advent of the John Bush era, things got dicey and my interest waxed and waned greatly. I never completely lost faith in the band, though I came close several times. Recent years have been very kind to Thrax, even as other once-great thrash luminaries aged out or degenerated into wet sacks of absolute garbage. Through the good, the bad, and the ugly, Anthrax never sold as many albums as Metallica, but they also never sold out as hard as Metallica did. That’s a feather in their cap no one can ever remove. Onward!

#11. Vol. 8 – The Threat is Real (1998) — The 90s saw Anthrax struggle for identity like most metal acts did. It was a decade that became unfriendly to metal as a genre, with grunge and alt-rock being the only things labels and radio stations wanted to know about. This forced bands to try to find their place in this new world order, and some managed better than others. Vol. 8 was the third album helmed by John Bush, and it was a troubled time for the band. The album very much sounds like the work of a group in search of a new direction, with various styles and ideas clashing badly. There are groove metal elements rubbing against straight-up thrash, alt-metal ideas, and nods to country rock for some unknown reason. Very little of it worked, and seriously, what the holy fook is with the country edge here? There are a few “hits” that stuck with me, like “Crush” and “Catharsis,” but so much of Vol. 8 is just forgettable filler, and this album still makes me scratch my head and wonder what the band was thinking. This barely qualifies as a demo, let alone an actual release from a band of their stature.

#10. We’ve Come for You All (2003) — This was the final release with Bush on vocals. At times it sounds like a flashback to The Sound of White Noise, and at others, it sounds tired and confused. It’s a slightly better showing than Vol. 8, though that isn’t saying much. You get a burner like “What Doesn’t Die” that makes you remember why you loved Anthrax in the first place, and “Safe Home” is a sneaky underdog that’s become one of my favorite metal anthems over the last 20 years. Sadly, the rest of the album sounds more like generic hard/alt rock akin to Audioslave or Seether than anything Anthrax-related. Be honest, do you ever want to hear any track off here besides the 2 mentioned prior? There are so many non-essential entries present that the whole thing ends up feeling washed out and badly forced. It was sad to see Bush go out like this, but things just weren’t working, and life is tough for him outside of Armored Saint.

#9. Stomp 442 (1995) — Since I came around on Sound of White Noise and learned to like, if not love, the Bush era of Anthrax, I came into Stomp 442 with a fairly open mind. I loved “Fueled” from jump, and it still sits on my workout and cardio playlists. It’s the superior “fuel” song to that other Big Four product, and it has way more punch and scrotal wattage. In fact, the directional shift in tone toward Pantera paid dividends for Anthrax, and there are a bunch of cuts here that are mean and gritty enough to win you over. “Random Acts of Senseless Violence” is a legit killer tune, “In a Zone” feels mean and hungry, and “Tester” would be a good song on any Thrax album. I even like the way things end on a tender note with “Bare.” It just feels right after all the raging, beefbrained riffing. This album gets way more hate than it deserves, and it’s only slightly lower in quality than Sound of White Noise. Give this another chance, and you might be surprised. Do it for Dimebag!

#8. Sound of White Noise (1993) — I remember hating the idea of John Bush joining Anthrax when it was announced. As a big fan of Armored Saint, I didn’t want to see them get wrecked to keep Anthrax aloft. When the lead single “Only” dropped, I was utterly unimpressed. I was working a night shift job when the album dropped, and the Siena College radio station ran a metal show after 11 PM that played the living hell out of Sound. Said airplay slowly wore me down to the point where I grudgingly accepted and ultimately enjoyed the album. It’s a consistent and entertaining record with a few big-ticket moments like “Room for One More” and “1000 Points of Hate.” “Black Lodge” has had legs over the years, and “C11 H17 N2 O2 S Na” is a very good tune as well. I don’t go back to Sound much these days since my true love is the Belladonna eras of Anthrax, but I do respect what the band pulled off here.

#7. Persistence of Time (1990) — I’m of the opinion that Persistence of Time may be one of the most overrated albums in metal history. It seems to be universally beloved, even by those who aren’t much into Anthrax, and I never understood why this one got placed so high on a pedestal. Yes, it’s the last release in the original Belladonna era, and yes, it’s darker than the prior Thrax albums, and sure, it’s good, but is it a great album? Not really. It has its good moments like “In My World” and “Belly of the Beast,” and their cover of Joe Jackson’s “Got the Time” has become an enduring staple of live shows. None of these are really “prime” Anthrax though, and the rest of Persistence is pretty middling and overly bloated. The longer track times don’t always work in the band’s favor, and the added darkness doesn’t help if the material feels flat. Too many of the cuts here are just passable. Case in point, “Keep it in the Family” sounds like 4 songs duct-taped together, and none of them work well alone or together. Who knows, maybe I’m the strange one. No, it’s the masses who are wrong.

#6. Worship Music (2011) — With all the drama surrounding the recording of this one, it’s beyond amazing we got anything worthwhile at all. Anthrax recorded one version with Bush, then another with some unknown dude from Long Island, before finally bringing Joey Belladonna back to lay down the vocals. And you can quickly tell these songs were written with Bush in mind, and Joey really worked to make them fit his voice. Despite all that, Worship Music was one helluva comeback for a band most everyone had written off as extremely fucking dead. Since I was slated to review this, I dreaded another Vol. 8-level bomb landing at my feet and forcing me to kick a dead horse. To my surprise (and everyone else’s), this thing kicks a shocking amount of ass. It often sounds like the natural follow-up to Among the Living, and some of the cuts are pretty damn heavy. “The Devil You Know” and “Fight Em Til You Can’t” are classic Thrax from soup to nuts, and “I’m Alive” and “In the End” show a different side to the band without sounding like shitty radio rock. The back half has some issues, but overall this is way better than it had a right to be. Thanks, Joey!

#5. Fistful of Metal (1984) — Ah, the mostly forgotten debut. This one is often overlooked since it doesn’t sound like the version of Anthrax most folks know, as this is basically a classic heavy metal album. That all said, this is a righteous slab o’ metal in its own right with a series of classic songs that Thrax still break out live now and then. There’s no disputing that “Deathrider” is a great song full of 80s power and one of the best the band ever penned. It’s like Motörhead meeting Exciter and Omen in battle, and only the listener survives. “Metal Thrashing Mad” went on to become a pillar of their live sets, and “Soldiers of Metal” is so 80s it hurts right in that 80s place. Neil Turbin’s rough, battle-ready vocals channel Paul Di’Anno, and the material feels mean, gritty, and street-lethal. Deep cut “Howling Furies” is one of my favorite metal tunes ever, and that line about the butcher knife is pure fucking poetry. This one deserves your love, but do YOU deserve a Fistful of Metal?

#4. State of Euphoria (1988) — This is what I consider the last release of the band’s golden age. It was the logical sequel to the surprisingly successful Among the Living, and I admired Anthrax for not trying to sell out here when they so easily could have given their newfound fame. Euphoria has their classic sound and energy, but with a darker edge which they would continue to explore on Persistence of Time; the hooks here are still razor-sharp and plentiful. The writing is geared toward memorable moments with big choruses, and they all land, but it never feels like Anthrax is writing for greater radio play since they included a cover of Trust’s punk anthem “Antisocial” to lube the airwaves for them instead. Tracks like “Now It’s Dark” and Misery Loves Company” were plenty dark, but you could sing those catchy choruses loudly in a grocery store or at the local church. Did the lyrics get too cutesy and try-hard clever at times? Absolutely, and there are some truly cringe-worthy lines, especially on “Finale,” but that’s part of the Anthrax experience. Take it or leave it, chumbo.

#3. For All Kings (2016) — It kills a small part of my rusted, raged soul to rank this above enduring classics like Fistful and State of Euphoria, but truth must be spoken to the filthy, rotting masses. Yes, the second installment of the Joey Belladonna redemption arc is that good. I hoped for something as solid as Worship Music, and got clobbered by a vital, adventurous version of Anthrax that sounds like the 80s are back, but the band is older, wiser, and better able to expand their sound in smart ways. From how they come out swinging on “You Gotta Believe” and into “Monster at the End,” you can’t help but be impressed by just how classically Anthrax the material is. What seals the deal for me is how the album sounds like classic Thrax, but a more mature, world-weary version of the band. The 80s/90s version could never have pulled off a massive mood piece like “Blood Eagle Wings,” but now they can. They even inject wistful melancholy into cuts like “Breathing Lightning” without disrupting the album’s identity. For All Kings isn’t perfect, but it’s light-years better than anything the Big Four released since the early 90s. Look who had the last laugh!

#2. Among the Living (1987) — This is likely to be the winner in most Anthrax catalog rankings, and I certainly understand why. This was the album that truly broke the band through to mainstream consciousness with MTV running “hit” single “Indians” heavily outside of Headbangers Ball. The track listing reads like a who’s who of their best-known cuts like the title track, “Caught in a Mosh,” and “I Am the Law.” This is the sound of a band sure of their identity and writing from a place of confident inspiration. The material has a rowdy, carefree vibe that could only come from a New York upbringing, as if they’re poking you in the chest and daring you to find fault with what they were doing. My friends and I beat this album to absolute death the year it came out as we watched Anthrax’s public profile rise and escape the confines of underground metal. It seemed like the world was their oyster and that these cats would be bigger than Jesus. I still love this one and always will, but the back half is less amazing than the front, and I’ll never think of it as their best output.

#1. Spreading the Disease (1985) — This is the real magic bullet in the Thrax arsenal. Coming off the decidedly different Fistful of Metal debut, Neil Turbin was streeted, and in came Joey Belladonna with his much larger range and charisma. The sound shifted to a more thrashed out focus with a punk energy under the surface, and the writing was sharp and tight. Opener “A.I.R” grabs you around the neck and holds you in place as the band introduces you to the new sound, and there’s no denying they found the secret recipe here. Even the clunky, chunky production by Carl Canedy works somehow, giving everything a loveably rough, unfinished sound. Joey blows the doors off on eternal classics like “Madhouse,” “Aftershock,” “Armed and Dangerous,” and “Medusa,” and Thrax even dabble in moody prog on the brilliant cut “The Enemy.” Then there’s the closer “Gung Ho,” which at the time was the fastest shit anyone had ever heard. This is a flawless album that successfully marries the classic heavy metal sound of Fistful of Metal with thrash, and this is where Anthrax was and always will be at their very best. Blast “Medusa” at ear-bleeding volumes and tell me I’m wrong. Yeah, I thought so. Everything is in the right place at exactly the right time here, and it will forever go down as one of the best albums of the 80s. There is no other correct choice, folks.

Grin Reaper, Charmed and Dangerous

Although Anthrax took the longest of the Big Four to click with me, their discography, along with Megadeth’s, is the one I revisit most. My first forays into Thraxland were by way of non-album tracks like “Bring the Noise” and “I’m the Man,” and while I’ve come around on those songs, they didn’t compel me to explore any further at the time. Eventually, though, I caught wind of Anthrax’s potent rhythm section, riveting me to tracks like “Caught in a Mosh” and “Got the Time,” as well as the one-man riff engine known as Scott Ian. The rest, as they say, is history. With new album Cursio Perficio just around the corner, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed revisiting the Not Men and their back catalog. So make sure you take the Time to check out my End All, Be All list, and if you disagree with any of it then head to the comments and Make Me Laugh.

#11. Volume 8 – The Threat Is Real (1998) — Most Bush-era Anthrax output would have fared better if they’d formed a new band like Audioslave did after de la Rocha left Rage Against the Machine. As is, the albums between The Persistence of Time and Worship Music sound like a product of the times, and even though Anthrax recorded some strong tracks during this time, Volume 8 never threatens to rise higher than the bottom of the barrel. Every time I start Volume 8 I feel my hopes rise, thinking it might be better than I remember. Such is the power of “Crush.” The main riff and animated drumming drive momentum across the Volume 8’s opener, which proves a fantastic at hype song and a song I revisit regularly. “Piss N Vinegar” sports burly, ass-kicking crunch and “Born Again Idiot” reminds me a bit of Clutch’s “Milk of Human Kindness,” but mostly Volume 8 sounds like late 90s alternative rock filler—the bloat is real.

#10. Stomp 442 (1995) — Though Stomp 442 starts promisingly enough, Anthrax’s seventh album wears thin ahead of its midpoint. More economical than Volume 8 at a still overlong fifty minutes,2 Stomp 442 kicks off with “Random Acts of Senseless Violence,” “Fueled,” and “King Size,” all of which feel urgent and pissed off. “Riding Shotgun” bats clean-up, and though the song is fine enough, the uniformity of Stomp 442 starts to set in here and never relents. I attribute the diminished returns to the absence of longtime lead guitarist Dan Spitz. Scott Ian is a metal icon and a maestro of riffs, but where Sound of White Noise proved Anthrax could still put out bruising cuts under a new musical direction, Stomp 442 struggles to sustain that success.

#9. We’ve Come for You All (2003) — Five years after releasing Volume 8, Anthrax bounced back with We’ve Come for You All. Where Stomp starts strong and peters out, We’ve Come for You All more evenly distributes its load, coaxing a more balanced experience that maintains a safe home floor of quality. Nothing on We’ve Come for You All hits the same highs as Stomp’s opening triad, but “Refuse to Be Denied,” “Safe Home,” and “Strap It On” prove solid enough singalong fodder while “Cadillac Rock Box” features Dimebag and Bush engaging in reckless country swagger. The album also ends with a strong duo in “Think About an End” and the title track, and while these songs would never wind up on a best-of compilation, they’re a satisfying send-off for what would be John Bush’s final original contributions with Anthrax.3

#8. Sound of White Noise (1993) — Unequivocally the best album of Anthrax’s Bush years, Sound of White Noise flaunts some killer tracks that might rank higher if they fit better within Anthrax’s milieu. After Joey Belladonna was dismissed in 1992 for creative differences, Anthrax recruited John Bush for his more aggressive vocal delivery that the band felt meshed better with their desired direction. Though Anthrax’s signature sound is a far cry from Belladonna’s reign, Sound of White Noise captured the angst and contempt of the 90s with bangers like “Only,” “Hy Pro Glo,” and “Sodium Pentothal.” While even the best songs here never threaten to outdo what Belladonna accomplished with the band, Sound of White Noise teems with satisfying tunes that serve as obvious highlights from John Bush’s time with Thrax.

#7. Worship Music (2011) — Belladonna’s return on Worship Music heralded a triumphant return to Anthrax’s classic sound and energy. “Earth on Hell,” “The Devil You Know,” and “Fight ‘em ‘til You Can’t” remain some of my favorite tracks in Anthrax’s arsenal, and deeper cuts like “Judas Priest,” “The Giant,” and “In the End” qualify as certified bops, as well. The separation between Worship Music, Fistful of Metal, and For All Kings is razor thin and might change by the day, but ultimately I give the edge to the other two because “Hymn 2” doesn’t do enough to justify its own dedicated track, and there’s just a teensy hint of unevenness in the album’s back third. Even so, Worship Music still sounds vibrant fifteen years later, and its placement in the ranking stands as a testament to the strength of the rest of their output. Eight long years after We’ve Come for You All, Thrax crawled out from the shadows and restored faith that they’re still the sleazy devils you know.

#6. Fistful of Metal (1984) — Anthrax’s debut leans heavily into thrash metal’s roots as the nascent movement synthesized influences from NWoBHM, speed metal, hardcore and punk. “Deathrider” and “Panic” evince bruising blends of Motörhead and Priest, with Benante’s double-bass fusillade recalling “Overkill” and the soaring, melodic leads and spry riffing suggesting Screaming for Vengeance. “Metal Thrashing Mad” meshes New York hardcore and punk influences with sinewy riffcraft while “Soldiers of Metal” and “Death from Above” sound like early Saxon trading in their slinky sways for higher velocities. The entire album coalesces into a curiosity within Anthrax’s discography—a stepping stone with its influences on its sleeve that sounds both fresh for its time and righteous on its own. Though I rarely reach for Fistful of Metal as a standalone listen, every time I spin it I’m delighted at just how metal thrashing rad it is.

#5. For All Kings (2016) — I’ve mentioned it before, but 2016 evidenced a ridiculously strong year for thrash metal titans. Megadeth and Testament put out very strong records, and Anthrax also carried the torch with For All Kings. The continuity of quality from Worship Music to For All Kings satisfies in every way, and the album is laden with earworms and creative riffing bolstered by a sense of drama Anthrax never previously deployed. Outside the band’s elite material, For All Kings is the album I return to most often, and that’s largely thanks to “Breathing Lightning.” This tune unabashedly rips and remains a staple in my road trip playlists, and the Dark Tower references intensify my affection even further. Several other tracks draw me back as well, including “Monster at the End,” “Blood Eagle Wings,” and especially “All of Them Thieves.” For a band thirty-five years in,4 For All Kings shines like a beacon, highlighting that age is only a number.

#4. Persistence of Time (1990) — Many folks may have Persistence of Time ranked even higher. Honestly, there are killer tracks on this album that come close to pushing it up, but too many of them suffer from too much bloat. “Blood,” “Keep It in the Family,” and “In My World” survive as stone-cold classics, yet they’d pack even more punch if Anthrax shaved a minute from their runtimes. Even so, Persistence of Time takes a direct approach that bursts with earnestness, consistently sweeping me away despite any faults. “Got the Time” supplies a relevant cover that’s as improbable as it is effective, and really Persistence of Time’s theme is more poignant and charged than anything Anthrax had written up until this point. Though it has some warts, Persistence of Time is an enduring thrash album that deserves your attention.

#3. State of Euphoria (1988) — Riding the success of Among the Living, State of Euphoria retains the bravado and infectiousness of Anthrax’s preceding couple of albums and layers in more blunted social commentary on tracks like “Make Me Laugh” and “Schism,” seeming as relevant today as they did nearly forty years ago. In classic Anthrax fashion, the band holds a mirror up to ugly truths without feeling too preachy while surrounding them with riffs and moxie. Additionally, State of Euphoria demonstrates subtly slick melodicism. “Be All, End All” sports super-sticky vocal lines, and variations of the motifs introduced here persist through “Now It’s Dark” and “Misery Loves Company,” giving the album a depth and continuity I admire. Frank Bello also lays down grade-A grooves on State of Euphoria, endowing a brawny richness to its compositions. While the heights here don’t quite reach the pinnacle of Anthrax’s heap, State of Euphoria is a potent and overlooked album in their discography.

#2. Spreading the Disease (1985) — Spreading the Disease wasn’t Belladonna’s introduction to fans, as the Armed and Dangerous EP did that months earlier, but what a convincing and impressive slab it is. “Madhouse,” “A.I.R.,” and “Medusa” foreshadow the indelible hooks Anthrax would bring to life on their following album, but deeper cuts like “Lone Justice” and “Aftershock” galvanize me to raise the horns by instinct. Anthrax accomplishes all of this within a respectable forty-four minutes and ends Spreading the Disease with an implacable blitzkrieg of thrash metal thunder. I had this album in constant combat with Among the Living for my #1 spot, and although the latter eventually won out, the battle proved fierce and endlessly engaging. The truth is that neither of these Anthrax albums disappoint, and regardless of which one tops your own personal list, both of them leave you itching to Spread the Disease with libertine recklessness.

#1. Among the Living (1987) — I’d wager this is the de facto #1 record in many a ranking. If someone knows only one Anthrax album, it’s almost certainly Among the Living—and for good reason. This platter boasts one scorching track after another, and each one wedges its way into my gray matter with greedy barbs. Among the Living opens with a mid-paced, self-titled barnstormer that sources Stephen King’s The Stand as its inspiration, and it slays. All-timer “Caught in a Mosh” follows, discharging an infectious chorus while “I Am the Law” and “Efilnikufesin (N.F.L.)” submit rousing, raucous tunes that are a blast to play ad nauseam. Among the Living sounds vibrant and balanced with its fat bass tone, blistering drum grooves, and riff after riff of implacable headbangability, carrying momentum through every second of its runtime. In the end, Among the Living cements itself as an extraordinary feat of 80s thrash that should inspire metalheads everywhere to get caught in a mosh.

Creeping Ivy, Caught in a Knosh

Anthrax was my gateway band. In the late 90s, nu metal tried to latch its sinister wallet chains into my (admittedly) oversized jeans. Punk was helping me recognize how lame nu metal was, but I had no Trve experience. But then, my bestie made me an American Big Four mixtape, with several choice Thrax cuts. I liked the tape, but metal still felt sterile to me. Frank’s chromatic bass line in “Caught in a Mosh,” however, revved me up, and Charlie’s explosive fill into the thrashy verses—coupled with Joey’s anthemic chorus and Scott’s mosh stomps—got me goin’. It was Anthrax that connected the punk/metal dots for me, and I never looked back. With gratitude, I offer this ranking.

#11. Volume 8: The Threat is Real (1998) — At best, Volume 8 is boring biker metal. At worst, it occasionally borders on nu metal. And at absolute worst, there’s “604” and lyrics about big orgasms on “Hog Tied.” It’s a bad sign when my favorite song is the CD-era secret track, “Pieces.” Other than this radio rock ballad, I don’t have many positive things to say about this record. If you haven’t listened to Volume 8, take the rest of the album title at its word—approach at your peril.

#10. We’ve Come for You All (2003) — I remember seeing the video for “What Doesn’t Die” on Headbanger’s Ball and being excited. It seemed like Anthrax was tapping into their past and borrowing from modern metal while keeping Bush’s powerful cords at the forefront. Alas, We’ve Come for You All hit me as mostly another Bushthrax album. Charlie certainly brings it on this album, and the black metal blasts of “Black Dahlia” stand as a late-album highlight. But even in spite of cameos from Dimebag and Roger Daltrey, We’ve Come for You All is another nearly hour-long slog.

#9. Stomp 442 (1995) — With one exception, the Bushthrax albums sit at the bottom of my list. It’s not John Bush’s fault. He’s a great vocalist, but Anthrax fronted by his husky, nimble yarl is just not what I want Anthrax to be. Sure, “Riding Shotgun” and “In a Zone” have some solid hooks. But at 51 minutes, I find Stomp 442 to be a chore. “American Pompeii” has a lyric about sitting through a four-hour movie the speaker has seen before—that sums up my experience with this album pretty well.

#8. For All Kings (2016) — This one almost ranked a spot higher, but I decided against it. For All Kings is a solid record overall; “Monster at the End” in particular does a great job melding Joey’s classic yelps and Scott Ian’s signature stomps with an almost traditional/power metal vibe new for Anthrax. And yet, I can’t help but feel like this album plays it safe while still being far too long (at nearly an hour). I can appreciate that Anthrax aren’t interested in rehashing the past too directly; the Game of Thrones-style opening to “You Gotta Believe” feels fresh. With more listens, this one could move up; for now, For All Kings isn’t quite for me.

#7. Sound of White Noise (1993) — If I want to hear Anthrax in Chains play Soundgarden of White Noise, this is the album I reach for. “Only” is a (Hetfield-certified!) banger, and I dig the guitar shuffling in “Room for One More,” as well as the vocal flexes on “Invisible.” But Bush, despite his expertly-expressed chin warbling, can’t elevate the largely bland riffing on display here. At a bloated 56 minutes, “This is Not an Exit” is an aptly titled closer—it takes forever for this song/album to end. I’m not a big fan of this record, but I can understand the change the band made (it was the ’90s, after all), and Sound of White Noise is easily my favorite Bushthrax record.

#6. Worship Music (2011) — This was the surprise discovery of my Anthrax discography dive. I was out on the band after We’ve Come for You All, so I missed the Belladonna return albums in real time. Lo and behold, Worship Music has some of the band’s strongest material since Persistence of Time. “Earth on Hell” opens things in vintage thrash fashion, and “The Devil You Know” and “Fight ‘Em Til You Can’t” both have soaring, memorable choruses. The back half dips, but I love the choice (and execution) of the (hidden!) Refused cover—it reminded me of how and why I got into Anthrax via punk. I don’t worship this album, but it’s the modern Anthrax record I’d reach for first.

#5. Fistful of Metal (1984) — A 35-minute Anthrax album? Sold! Released in 1984, it’s hard not to hear the band’s one Neil Turbin-fronted album as their less sexy version of Kill ‘Em All. Even still, Fistful of Metal is a rollicking good time, with killer bursts of energy (“Panic”) and righteous fist-pumpers (“Howling Furies”). Frank Bello is, of course, an iconic thrash/metal bassist, but Dan Lilker’s one performance on an Anthrax record brings the four-string fire (“Deathrider”). The Alice Cooper cover is fun, even if it disrupts the metal-thrashing madness of the album as its third track. A concise time capsule of Anthrax before they developed their signature sound, Fistful of Metal is a whole lot of fun.

#4. Persistence of Time (1990) — The third best Anthrax album is somewhere in here. It’s the persistence of the runtime, however, that keeps the band’s fifth album from my top 3. It really feels like Anthrax is trolling listeners with that title. “Time,” “Blood,” and “Keep It in the Family” effectively meld guitar and vocal earworms, but they all could’ve been a minute shorter. “Gridlock” offers serviceable thrash but congests the album’s flow. The under-three-minute “Got the Time”—the iconic Anthrax cover—breathes life into the album, though its punk energy sticks out like a sore thumb. And yet, Persistence of Time is still an enjoyably bludgeoning experience overall. It’s just unfortunate that it began Anthrax’s never-ending battle with bloat.

#3. State of Euphoria (1988) — Anthrax’s fourth full-length suffers from a hangover. Released a year and change after Among the Living, State of Euphoria adopts the previous album’s scope while bringing Spreading the Disease energy. The result is flawed but charming: my third favorite Anthrax album, by a pretty healthy margin. Classing things up with the cello opening to “Be All, End All,” State of Euphoria has some hidden gems, especially the ear-bending vocal hook of “Misery Loves Company” and the bangin’ “Finale.” As an expression of social dissatisfaction and a gesture towards the pre-history of Iron Maiden, their cover of Trust’s “Antisocial” hits the spot. State of Euphoria may be hungover, but it still valiantly brings the party.

#2. Spreading the Disease (1985) — In perhaps the greatest leap forward for any of the Big Four American thrash bands between debut to sophomore records, Spreading the Disease is arguably Anthrax’s best work. Chalk that up to adding Joey’s powerful pipes and Frank’s booming bass into the mix, immediately making their presence felt on opener “A.I.R.” From there, it’s banger after banger. “Madhouse” may be my favorite Thrax song, “S.S.C./Stand or Fall” is an underrated rager, and “Medusa” stops me stone-cold in my tracks with its hypnotizing groove every time. Anthrax never came close to distilling their muscular, fun brand of east-coast thrash into as tight a package as Spreading the Disease. For this reason, it’s damn close to my favorite of theirs.

#1. Among the Living (1987) — Upon undertaking this ranking, I fully expected the older, wiser me to prefer the tighter Anthrax classic. Alas, the ‘stalg factor was too overwhelming to keep Among the Living from my top spot. Popping it on again instantly brought me back to high school in the late-90s, hearing muscular late-80s riffage through my puny Walkman headphones. From the hype buildup of the opening title track to the menacing chuggery of “I Am the Law” and the ungodly speed of “Imitation of Life,” Anthrax’s third album always satisfies. The one-two punch of “Indians” and “One World” provides a gravitas the band hasn’t reached on any other album. Among the Living kicked my teenage ass, and it still does today. Mublanikufesin, Anthrax!

Angry Metal Guy Staff Ranking

You’ve sampled the ingredients, but what does Anthrax taste like when you put all our opinions together?5

1. 1. Volume 8: The Threat is Real (1998)
   2. We’ve Come for You All (2003)
   3. Stomp 442 (1995)
   4. Sound of White Noise (1993)
   5. Worship Music (2011)
   6. Fistful of Metal (1984)
   7. For All Kings (2016)
   8. Persistence of Time (1990)
   9. State of Euphoria (1988)
   10. Spreading the Disease (1985)
   11. Among the Living (1987)

If you’re looking for a fair mix of Anthrax’s greatest hits and choice deep cuts, look no further than AMG’s Thrax primer:

Steel Addendum: For whatever reason, Nuclear Blast saw fit to skip sending us a promo for Cursum Perficio, so we will be experiencing it in real time with you all. I’ll get a review up next week after I’ve had some time to marinate in whatever Anthrax cooked up. Have patience.

The Noctambulant – Revival Review

Did you know that black metal could be fun? Southern Florida’s The Noctambulant believe so, and on their…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #3.0 #AmericanMetal #BlackMetal #Blues #Entertainment #review #Reviews #revival #rockabilly #Sep26 #TerminusHateCity #TheNoctambulant #UK #UnitedKingdom
https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/773209/

Did you know that black metal could be fun? Southern Florida’s The Noctambulant believe so, and on their third EP, Revival, they mix black metal, rockabilly, and southern gothic to create a potent mix that takes black metal and turns it into something more digestible but not too accessible. Searing speed, catchy choruses, and inspired solos bring to life a record that is as much black metal worship as it is an ode to the band’s southern roots. This mix seems like oil and water, so does The Noctambulant stick the landing or fall flat on their faces?

The Noctambulant come from the depths of what may be the most metal place in the world: Florida. Sweaty swamps, sticky shorts, and an endless stream of prehistoric beasts prowl the ancient subtropical forests. If 102 degrees and 100 percent humidity isn’t metal, I don’t know what is. Even as someone who makes a point of avoiding the southern parts of the US, I can’t help but respect their dedication to living in a perpetual hell. Now take all of that and start a black metal band that works to take down the biggest institutions in the South: organized religion. Despite the anachronistic intro, featuring samples and trap drumming, the rest of the record is a blazing-fast, straightforward piece of what can only be described as blackened-billy. E. Helvete’s vocals are perfectly pitched, from their raspy highs to the roaring lows, and the dual guitar dance of Helvete and Rev. Beaumont leads the record like a two-headed, twisted preacher. Lars G. offers a hellishly thick low end, and in a surprising turn for something so black metal-adjacent, the album is chock full of bass wankery and ripping guitar solos.

Revival bucks trends in other surprising ways, especially with its production. Eschewing the typically raw, borderline unlistenable nature of many smaller blackened acts, The Noctambulant sits somewhere in between. While the production is generally a step above their peers, the treble is too high at times, making the vocals sound ear-splitting in the mix, while the guitars fall by the wayside. Oddly enough, the low end thrums brightly throughout the record, establishing itself as a real highlight across the album. Thanks to a focus on southern roots and rockabilly inspiration, Revival is catchy and bouncing. “Skeleton Key,” “Killing Tree,” and “San Martino” are great examples of The Noctambulant at their best.

The Noctambulant describe their music as inspired by rockabilly, blues, goth rock, and American country. The final product says otherwise to my (albeit amateur) ears. Most of the album plays out as blackened thrash with some slight rockabilly elements; maybe those with a sharper sense for the genre can pick out rhythm and riffs that are truly inspired, but it wasn’t nearly the genre-mashup I was hoping for. As it stands, Revival is fun, if a bit samey, but for those who don’t typically enjoy black metal, The Noctambulant might be the solution. The finale, a cover of Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds’ “Red Right Hand,” feels like the best representation of Revival’s mission statement, although it immediately reminded me of the soundtrack to 1994’s Dumb & Dumber.

Revival might be a crossover killer for those left wanting by typical black metal, but for us looking for something truly inspired, The Noctambulant keep it surprisingly safe. In a genre so open to experimentation and wild left turns, Revival could have been a real standout record in a crowded year of incredible music. The Noctambulant still bring the southern heat, but they fail to burn the world down. Hopefully their next record will cross that threshold into something truly special; for now, I will definitely be keeping an eye out for what comes next from this interesting, if a little safe, group of blackened-billy adherents.

Rating: Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Terminus Hate City
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 18th, 2026

Thunder rattles the ducts as my minions trudge through heated aluminum and flimsy copper to clean out the detritus left by endless storms. Sometimes I wonder if I should invest in a “health plan” for them to offset the debilitating turnover resulting from various mortal injuries and gruesome deaths this work incurs. And then I think again, and realize that would be a waste of “profits.” There will always be more dummies willing to dive in with the promise of treasure sparkling in their eyes.

Aaaaannnnyyyyway, nobody lost limb or life in the Filter today, but we did manage a decent haul. BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Burning Bastion

Forsmán // Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur [June 26th, 2026 – Vesperian]

Iceland is where all the cool black metal kids sit. Smeary corpse paint, cloaks, throaty roars, somehow simultaneously wet and dry snare tones, and hooky riffs surrounded in lower-pitched tremolos make the Icelandic scene almost instantly recognizable. Forsmán are no exception, the young foursome abiding by the genre blueprint—in a similar way to bands like Svartidauði and Helfró—on remarkably professional debut Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur. A deathly kink lightly twists blasty riff freakouts (“Drottinn fyrirgefur allt,” “Valdníðsla”), but when they land their impact cracks the earth underfoot. A dissonant drama further characterizes Forsmán’s black metal core to scaffold riff-driven measures and off-kilter rhythms, and yet everything remains accessible and easily digestible (“Svartir svanir,” “Andvana,” “Barmafylltar fjöldagrafir”). While Forsmán aren’t attempting to redefine the style with this debut, they do earn a spot alongside the genre’s best with tight performances, fiery riff-forward writing, and a writhing personality that is vicious as much as it is beautifully expressed (“Kynjamyndir”). In short, Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur should not be missed, as it represents with great merit the high quality I’ve come to expect from the modern Icelandic black metal scene.

Owlswald’s Sunlit Secret

Entropist // The Vision [June 26, 2026 – Self Released]

Denver progressive death metal quintet Entropist is the very definition of a Stuck in the Filter unearthing. Their debut album, The Vision, slipped through the cracks amid our June promo flood and resurfaced too late for a standard review. Time to make amends. Mixed and mastered by Jamie King (Between the Buried and Me, The Contortionist), The Vision showcases a group brimming with talent and ambition.1 Blending death with elements of progressive metal, psychedelic rock, metalcore, jazz, and classical, The Vision is a melting pot of influences that thrives on vivid atmospherics and an effective dual-vocal approach from Parker Kitching and guitarist Solomon Smith, creating a sound that is adventurous and rewarding. “Intense Warmth” opens with a bout of hypnotic throat singing that morphs into layered croons. “Desert of Limbo’s” crawling melodies evoke Haken. Elsewhere, “The Ritual’s” eerie atmosphere and its intense bridge throw serious Aeolian-era The Ocean vibes, while “Devour Us” delivers exotic acoustic guitar and violin passages before closing with a swaggering groove and a contorted solo. “Creation” proves what Entropist is capable of when all the pieces lock together. Packed with Exoplanet-like riffs, alternating growls and soaring vocals, and a heaving half-time groove, the track’s eclecticism and momentum never let up. Not every experiment lands—”Revelation” and the aptly named “Wandering” lose sight of their destination—but there’s too much talent and creativity here to ignore. The Vision may be far from flawless, but it’s without a doubt an impressive debut.

Spicie Forrest’s Mathy Morsel

eleventwelfth // 11 [June 26, 2026 – Angular//Momentum Records]

Do you remember when Sithu Aye released that Senpai series?2 Airy, engaging, and wildly emotive, I’ve been chasing that sound ever since. eleventwelfth’s newest LP, 11, scratches that itch as it hasn’t been scratched in years. Part one in a concept duology3 that will serve as the Jakarta, Indonesia-based foursome’s sophomore offering, 11 follows its protagonist as they reckon with the necessary sacrifices one must make in pursuit of a dream. Largely rooted in indie and math rock, 11 unfolds in three acts filtered through aviation metaphors. Hopeful and tender melodies dance on strings like the wind through tall grass (“far away from here,” “collision”), while vocals effortlessly swoop and soar like an albatross on ocean air currents. 7-minute closer “communicate” swells inexorably, wind gathering under its wings until, at the midpoint, it takes off in a beautiful moment of catharsis. Synths and electronic elements evoke Porter Robinson’s Nurture in their gentle and ineffably nostalgic movements (“navigate,” “to fathom the throes”). When eleventwelfth leans into their Reliant K’d rock side, as on “ascending faster than before,” “fear of what’s beyond,” or “last here all alone,” 11 moves as if in a flow state—somehow simultaneously approaching lightspeed and locked in a timeless moment. This certainly isn’t the heaviest thing you’ll hear this year—it might be the lightest—but for those who know what it means to risk it all on hopes and dreams, 11 is not to be missed.

ClarkKent’s Energetic Inputs

Finsmoonth // Chrysalis of Astral Tears [June 13th, 2026 – Disaster Records]

Indonesia’s Finsmoonth puts on a clinic of melancholic atmospheric black metal with some first-rate tremolos and affecting performances. They partake in an aggressive, melodic form of the genre that’s similar to Walg in its relentlessness. Icy cold blast beats pummel your ears while the melodic tremolos prove a soothing balm wrapped in melancholy. The two guitarists, Zulk Adhe and Irwin Ranto, are tremolo wizards, serving quality leads on each song. My favorite, “Embers at Ethereal Dawn,” displays Finsmoonth’s ability to build up to powerful emotional climaxes. Tino Guruh proves an effective and consistent vocalist. His blackened rasps form the emotional core, and on “Embers at Ethereal Dawn,” he breaks into agonized cries that are just heartbreaking. The passing of the band’s bassist, Maulana Fachrul, less than two months ahead of the release of Chrysalis of Astral Tears adds further to the poignancy. Fachrul puts on a first-rate performance, with some stellar lonesome instrumental stretches on “An Endless Depth,” as well as a bit of smooth jazz noodling towards the end of “Foliage of the Wings.” If Indonesian black metal reminds you of Pure Wrath, then it might not be a surprise to learn that Januaryo Hardy contributes the cleans/chants, and even his wife, Isa Bellum, has a couple of small parts. I don’t know what’s going on in Jakarta to make these artists so sad, but they’re writing some damn fine music.

Inherits the Void // The Silent Abscission [June 19th, 2026 – Avantgarde Music]

France’s Antoine Scholtès has been quite busy since forming his solo black metal project, Inherits the Void, in 2020. Thus Spoke had kind words for the previous two, 2023’s The Impending Fall of Stars and 2024’s Scars of Yesteryear, comparing the former to the atmospheric meloblack of Mare Cognitum. This time around, Scholtès brings along some friends, including Romain Negro (Apolaustic, ex-Stortregn) to helm the mic. Romain brings a much more aggressive blackened edge to the vocals, cracking with a relentless energy. Scholtès still contributes backing vocals, and a mysterious Nicolas S. sings cleans on a couple of tracks, including a great soaring bit on the finale, “Inherits the Void.” The Silent Abscission feels a touch more aggressive than what Inherits the Void generally plays. Between the blast beats, furious tremolos, and Romain’s blackened assault, there’s a sense of constant kinetic motion. It’s true that some of this stuff can blend together, but there’s plenty of great melodies to keep it enjoyable from start to finish. While Scholtès continues to use synths and arpeggios as brief reprieves from the blast beat attack, he also invites Kevon S. to play some sax (“Wrath of the Endless Sea,” “Inherits the Void”), bringing to mind Burial in the Sky or White Ward. The Silent Abscission is yet another impressive outing in Inherits the Void’s discography, with Scholtès showing that he’s willing to take some risks in order to make things more interesting.

Grin Reaper’s Nocturnal Nuggets

Hecate // Comment Est la Nuit? [June 12th, 2026 – Self Released]

Since forming in 2009, French ensemble Hecate has steadily released reliable and trve black metal. Fourth album Comment Est la Nuit?4 serves as my introduction to the act, and after visiting earlier albums I’m confident that their latest is their greatest (so far).5 Where debut Chronicles d’un Autre Temps sounds more modern (think 1349 or Watain), subsequent albums gravitate towards raw production that radiates early second-wave energy. Comment Est la Nuit? perpetuates this aesthetic, though Hecate adorns it with classical frills that I find irresistible, such as their seamless integration of piano, flute, and cello with gusts of piercing tremolos and grating rasps. Though Comment Est la Nuit? remains solidly rooted in black metal, the keys function as a core component like never before. Each time I listen, Hecate reveals new facets that only get better with familiarity. The intro to “Aubes aux pâles salives” begins with a beautiful piano refrain supported by clean guitars and a subtle bass thread before tumbling into distorted trems that bear the same melodic framework. Likewise, the range of “Hymne au clair de lune” batters listeners between scathing muscle and delicate respites. I don’t expect Comment Est la Nuit? to change opinions about black metal, but those who enjoy it will find Hecate has written an engrossing experience that wonderfully details the rhythms of the night.

Stormkeep // The Nocturnes of Iswylm [June 12th, 2026 – Vesperian]

Like many, I eagerly awaited a full-length follow-up to Stormkeep’s magnificent debut Tales of Othertime, uncertain if or when it would arrive. Because the band’s other projects consistently enrapture me (Wayfarer and Blood Incantation, in particular), I never worried whether the Denver, Colorado collective’s sophomore platter would satisfy the promises made by Othertime. And while I’m not convinced that The Nocturnes of Iswylm reaches the heights the debut, Stormkeep still unleashes goodies aplenty that litter Nocturnes three-quarters of an hour. Gone are the instrumentals from Tales of Othertime—instead, Stormkeep dials down the cinema in favor of more straightforward meloblack, although drama still seethes beneath the surface. String embellishments dot the arrangements (“The Taste of Immortal Blood,” “Imperious Sanguine Eroticism,” “Carnal Tapestries of Nailtorn Flesh”), imparting dramatic flair and a welcome dimension to Stormkeep’s fantastical atmosphere. And like the cover art, The Nocturnes of Iswylm embraces darker textures that wrestle in doleful gloom, engendering a subtler experience that took time to sink in and appreciate. While this approach doesn’t ply the same epic theatricality as the debut, The Nocturnes of Iswylm nonetheless worms its way into ears and hearts with nefarious glamours that crackle with danger.

Belarus Beaver // Grind af den Brune Bäfver [June 17th, 2026 – Self Released]

Sweden plays host to many metallic endeavors, and I often feel like I’m picking up secondhand geography lessons as a result of listening to its exports. Belarus Beaver, then, supplies a toofer, as they began their journey in melodeath mecca Gothenburg before settling down in Jönköping (also home to Hällas, Rexoria, and Narnia). Rather than progressive rock or power metal, though, Belarus Beaver obliterates listeners with a bucktoothed bombshell of devastating deathgrind that’s at once savagely br00tal and pure fun. Also, it’s all about beavers. On fourth album Grind af den Brune Bäfver, Belarus Beaver weaves together groove-laced blasts with industrial trimmings that recall a mixture of early Anaal Nathrakh (“I Want to Pet a Beaver”) and Exhumed (“Den Gnagande Plågan,” “Begravd i en Flod”). Occasionally, though, Grind af den Brune Bäfver reaches for a twist in their songwriting repertoire that uplifts the music, like the Eastern stringed instrument at the beginning of “Urbävern” or the unexpected melodic guitar support midway through “Mutated Beaver Moose.” These moments and others like them elevate Grind af den Brune Bäfver above sheer novelty, and if you’re not sold on Beaver fever, you’re missing out. So let your hair down and give yourself over to the Grind—it’s dam fun.

Creeping Ivy’s Classic Catch

Dead Kosmonaut // Retrospectre [June 26th, 2026 – Edged Circle Productions]

Dead Kosmonaut conceived a perfect title for their third album. Since 2014, this Swedish quintet has been molding traditional heavy metal hearkening to the late 70s and early 80s. This style—the first wave of metal itself—haunts any and every musician in the genre with aspirations of crafting something trve. With the specter of retro metal hanging over the band’s collective head, Retrospectre delivers 38 minutes of classic goodness, imbued with a somber longing. Dead Kosmonaut is a well-credentialed crew, starting with guitarists Fredrik Folkare (ex-Necrophobic) and Peter Hallgren (Sorcerer), who dole out irresistible guitarmonies and audacious solos in the spirit of Iron Maiden (“Out of the Shadow Rising”). The rhythm section, comprised of bassist Mattias Reinholdsson and drummer Henrik Johansson (both ex-Book of Hours), punches through the mix with power and a bit of grit (“Wake of Aquarius”). And of course, vocalist Per ‘Hellbutcher’ Gustavsson shines, trading his black metal bona fides for commanding cleans that drive some damn fine choruses (“View from the Future”). Lyrically, the album especially develops its theme of retrospection in the latter half, with songs about aging (“Eyes Grow Old”), defeat (“The Battle is Over”), and the inexorable march of time (“The Retrospectre”). Retrospectre will certainly scratch any itches for timeless, classic metal, but Dead Kosmonaut have enough talent, character, and craftmanship to make their third offering more than mere nostalgia.

With great influences like Unfathomable Ruination, Defeated Sanity, and Unbirth to draw from, the modern brutal tech death scene is highly competitive, powerfully muscular, and ridiculously fun. Pittsburgh brutal death quartet Vulgar Mephitis sit comfortably in this space, throwing sickening grooves in between squealing pinches, writhing riffs, and thrashy freakouts at lightning speed. With a simple but effective formula such as this, debut LP From Dust promises all of the same high-octane pleasures the household names in the space set as the standard.

Those aforementioned brutal tech death influences are aforementioned for a reason, as Vulgar Mephitis presents their style as an ideal amalgamation therein. Huge, off-center grooves and disgusting vocal utterances splice muscular Unfathomable Ruination DNA all throughout these lean 26 minutes. Complex time signature manipulations scaffolded by an unrelenting habit of moving from motif to motif without rest recall Defeated Sanity’s MO. Filthy, serrated riffs built on brutal chug sequences and scraping triplet and quadruplet flourishes reek of a potent Unbirth stench sure to saturate my olfactory senses. These are the building blocks of Vulgar Mephitis’ sound, and while I could argue that calls into question how distinct a voice they achieve, it simultaneously verifies their merit as purveyors of worthy brutalities.

One big element that differentiates From Dust from its closest relatives is the vice-like tightness of their songwriting. Save for the first and last songs proper, every track here clocks in between 2 and 3-and-a-half minutes, and the content therein is relentlessly fast, vicious, and uncompromising. Not unlike some of Dormant Ordeal’s material, this animalistic method of attack affords songs like “Exterminating Profane” and “Scorn of My Flesh” a certain tangible sense of danger and of malice that makes hearing them terrifying and exciting. Nick Bentzel in particular exhibits the energy required to make these tracks feel like they’re about to fly off the rails. His acrobatic cymbal work and laser-precise blasts and grooves give “Martyr,” “Peer into the Abyss,” and “Gorging Greed” an elevated scale and an explosive impact that punches with terrible force. That’s no slight to the rest of the band, who deliver destructive payloads with scorching, sharp riffs, eerie leads, and a grotesque vocal array on a constant basis—sure to scare off poseurs and weaklings on a global scale.

Over time, however, I started to notice with progressively greater clarity how much Vulgar Mephitis owes to its influences. A fantastically engaging and brutal assault though From Dust obviously is, it’s also remarkably similar to the high water marks of its peers. In some areas, like the tightly fitted riffs and grooves of “Peer into the Abyss,” “From Dust,” and “Wounds,” I can almost hear both Defeated Sanity’s and Unbirth’s main riff-crafters questioning if they wrote some of what I’m hearing. It’s not quite plagiarism as much as it is a lack of identity that creates that effect, and it holds From Dust back from higher esteem. Additionally, the occasional instance of soft 808 drops, while undoubtedly very stimulating in a live environment, is extremely distracting for me in an album context. This is mainly due to the fact that it takes a while (at least a couple of seconds) for the rest of the instruments to recover from the blast, leaving a patch of muted and muffled measures made muddy by the density of instrumentation trying to breach the surface. As a final critique from a greedy sponge, I wish From Dust was at least ten minutes longer. With an instrumental intro and an extended outro on the final song, 26 minutes is reduced to a paltry 22 minutes of active content, which leaves me starving and malnourished for MOAR br00tality.

Of course, these complaints don’t take too much away from my enjoyment of the existing material, and for most listeners are easy enough to ignore. What remains is an intimidating tear of vicious songs that any brutal tech death band should be proud to have produced. It’s too short, and a touch too derivative. On the other hand, the percussion in particular is insane, and the sheer unchecked energy presented is infectious. Ultimately, there’s no reason From Dust shouldn’t check a significant number of boxes for any fan of brutal fare, and it has near-infinite replay value for its brevity and densely packed detailing. More telling, it’s just the beginning for Vulgar Mephitis. If this is their opening salvo, I shudder to think what will happen once they mature. Gird your loins!

Rating: Good!
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Willowtip Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: September 11th, 2026

Cemented upon rebellious ideals that consistently buck the currents of popularity, the very nature of metal demands change. Yet some bedrocks of metal weather the winds of time and endure: thrash’s inevitable association with denim and cheap beer, OSDM’s obdurate immutability, and power metal’s lactose dependence persist. Yet perhaps none are as eternal as the legacy of traditional heavy metal bearing the banner of trve, and it’s under this standard that Fairfield, Connecticut’s Unknown marches. These Nutmeggers harbor loyalty for the olde school, and although they spice up sophomore full-length Graveyard of Empires with flavors of power and thrash, the overwhelming core of their concoction is one of classic heft. In the end, is it a draught worth quaffing, or a brew better left Unknown?

Though bits of other genres creep into Graveyard of Empires, Unknown’s comparators remain solidly rooted in classic heavy metal. Fans of Iron Maiden will uncover plenty of familiar qualities, especially from their aughts-era output, while Manilla Road and Jag Panzer offer further reference points. Mainly, Unknown operates in soaring mid-tempos that conjure sweeping vistas and epic atmospheres (“Ardennes Offensive,” “Guns of August”). A fair amount of Saxon reveals itself as well, particularly with how Unknown’s guitar work seamlessly oscillates between valiant, lofty leads and straightforward power chords that drive momentum and musical tension. Even amongst these towering touchstones, though, Unknown crafts an identity outside their influences.

Unknown’s music ferries listeners to vibrant landscapes on Graveyard of Empires. Whiffs of Ancient Egypt (“Graveyard of Empires”), galloping western melodrama (“Warrior Ascension”), and tribal paradise (“Land of the Pure”) enrich the record with a wealth of backdrops that feel fleshed out and distinct. The opening triad of “Ardennes Offensive,” “Graveyard of Empires,” and “Guns of August” brim with fiery twin guitars that flit between beautifully built sustains gleaming with majesty and burly riffs that crunch and punch. “Reverie Code” and “Warrior Ascension” likewise crackle with evocative six-string action, and credit to Aamir Syed and Michael Dale for their savvy guitar work on Graveyard. Meanwhile, bassist Andic Salcedo and session drummer Nick Bellmore supply a rock-solid rhythm section, rarely calling attention to themselves but ably girding Unknown’s melodic nucleus while unleashing subtle performances that are easy to miss unless attuned to them.

Despite the many things Unknown does well on Graveyard of Empires, I often find the vocal decisions and deliveries too distracting to enjoy. Given vocalist Matt Fisher’s compelling performance on Unknown’s debut Vanishing Point, the shift in direction is puzzling. Where Fisher’s range mostly dwelt in a comfortable mid-register on Vanishing Point, Graveyard of Empires sees him deploy many more falsettos across the album (“Guns of August,” “I Am Death,” “On the Edge of Peace”). Fisher clearly has talent, but his upper reaches undercut performances when he pushes his deliveries past the brink of his ability to control them, which is a real shame because when he drops into a lower range or growls, things work much better (“Ardennes Offensive,” “Graveyard of Empires”). On Vanishing Point, Fisher did a swell job with the top rungs of his vocal range, particularly on tracks “Where Men Find Glory” and “Mission No. 84”, so the miss here is especially perplexing. More positively the bright mix sparkles, enabling guitars and drums to strut their stuff. Additionally, the runtime packs an avalanche of riffs and aural panoramas into just forty minutes.

Broadly speaking, there tend to be two types of Mixed albums in my mind. The first can be characterized by records that are generally fine and do most things right without kindling enough interest for higher engagement. The second involves LPs that boast a higher ceiling but accommodate a flaw too glaring to look past. Graveyard of Empires falls squarely into this latter camp with a baffling foible that eluded Unknown’s debut. Still, the band does so much right on every other front that I have faith they’ll smooth out the kinks next time around. Until then, I’ll revisit some of these tracks on occasion and leave the rest in the Graveyard.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 4th, 2026

In an act of unconscious serendipity, shortly before beginning this review, I re-read Jean-Paul Sartre’s Nausea. The serendipity is not in the proximity between Nausea and Vomit—though that’s also interesting—but in a particular manner of revelation. There’s a part in the book where our protagonist, suddenly seized by a violent attack of his titular malaise, rushes near-blindly through the streets, and his thoughts become fragmented into repetitive near-word-association as he begins to confront the horror of things existing.1 The lyrics of Acausal Intrusion’s fourth album, Vomit Meditations, are disjointed and uncanny in precisely this sense; reading them instantly linked these two works in my mind. The music itself is no less viscerally chaotic and confrontational, as the duo step into what’s possibly the heaviest and strangest iteration of their already intense and avant-garde sound so far—one which pairs perfectly with a life-altering existential crisis.

Vomit Meditations lives up to its moniker as it sees Acausal Intrusion’s signature hyper-dissonance and unsettling contemplativeness contorted into a bizarre series of violent spewings, punctuated by uneasy moments of reflective resonance, even beauty, to which Panpsychism’s doomier shades are confined, channeled through the acoustic and ambient. The free-jazz influence is stark, and not only in the prominence of piano in the album’s stiller passages (“Vomit Meditation,” “Psychic Abolishment”). Twisted guitar lines—more Cosmic Putrefaction or Ad Nauseum than Gorguts—writhe up and down and in and out of focus above the churning miasma of impossible tempos and abyssal belches—unheard this side of Portal—their seeming stochasticism belied as they coalesce into a shape more than their sum. Spasmodic scales and sudden lead switches from which one reflexively recoils start to make sense, and the real melodicisms that arise over the runtime grow more apparent. Recurring seizures of percussion grow hypnotic as the curve of their circularity becomes clear (“Convex Hidden Echoes”), and a ringing mass of wails and riffs rises until the overlapping tones produce the illusion of symphonics (“Psychic Abolishment”). The barrier to entry remains high, but the rewards are significant.

It’s in this paradox of chaotic reasoning where Vomit Meditations develops its vice grip. With alluring psychedelic rock (“Vomit Meditation”) it beckons its subject in, and with a chilling nocturne it leads them to the final, most awful revelation of all (“Psychic Abolishment”). With barely a beat between the unironic beauty and the hellish cacophony, the latter in particular gains near-transcendence. Although the album is marked by repeated 180-degree turns in rhythm (most aggressive on “Usurping Vaporous Primal Vibrations” and “Convex Hidden Echoes”), it has an unexplainable almost groove, which actually becomes explicit at times (“Vital Transformation”), and the endless about-turns and restless rolling and crashing morph into a hideously compelling dance (“Vomit Meditation,” “Requiem Murmur”). Once again, I struggle to believe drummer and vocalist Cave Ritual’s humanity, hearing such things. Although guitars jump in and out of focus (“Usurping…,” “Psychic Abolishment”) with riffs mostly possessing a stabbing, dragging, flailing discordance as though Nythroth’s fingers were strangling the very instrument used to produce them, their purpose never fails to manifest in the organic yet unpredictable shapes they create (“Convex…,” “Requiem Murmur”). Plus, there’s a lot more melody infused into the music than an uncritical ear would like to acknowledge (“Vomit Meditation,” “Vital Transformation”).

Vomit Meditations also largely improves on areas where previous records fell short. It flows with remarkable ease considering its freeform style and considerable 50-minute runtime and grows more compelling as it progresses. The second half’s superiority is arguably down to paying off what is better than the first in pacing, intrigue, and memorability, though arguably this is dependent on the first half having set up the themes it pays off. The production, continuing to be rich and dynamic for death metal but with the vocals and drums relatively forward, works better than it has previously. I’d recommend listening on a pair of good headphones that will enable you to catch the myriad horrors occurring within the soundscape. Nonetheless, the mix, as well as the relentless complexity and improvisational feel, will persist in alienating many listeners. Though Acausal Intrusion distinguish themselves from the ultra-extreme-for-extremity’s sake crowd by demonstrating that they can turn apparent randomness into a form of reason, they could perhaps tone it down just a tad.

Vomit Meditations is Acausal Intrusion’s best album. Some will interpret this as damning with faint praise an album in a discography otherwise too ugly and over the top to be good. I mean it quite differently. Vomit Meditations is violently, masochistically enjoyable and multifaceted and arresting, and it gets better on each spin. It requires a certain receptiveness—what experimental extreme metal doesn’t—and Acausal Intrusion will maintain a modest following, but its mania feels so deliciously meaningful I don’t even want to try escaping it.

Rating: Very Good2
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger Records
Website: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: September 4th, 2026

Maryland’s Ninth Realm has the scales of judgement tipped in their favor from the outset. First, Jerry “Wyrmwalk” Hionis’ stunning cover art is impossible to ignore, resembling a version of Dissection’s Storm of the Light’s Bane turned up to eleven. Then there’s the band’s origin story. Drummer Joey Burke and guitarist Liam McMahon first met in a medieval history class at the University of Maryland, both sporting metal shirts. They sat next to each other, became friends, started making music, and voilà, Ninth Realm was born. Their debut, A Fate Unbroken (2022), introduced the scene to the quintet’s aggressive mix of styles and traditions, until our friends at Transcending Obscurity snatched them up for their sophomore release. With the stage now set, Damnation’s Veil arrives, and if the album is half as mighty as the forces that brought it into being, listeners are in for a treat.

Damnation’s Veil thrives on berserker energy, hurling itself forward with barely any controlled momentum while somehow still holding itself together. Ninth Realm play with the reckless abandon of thrash, but channel it with hardcore hostility. Burke once labeled it “…a band for hardcore kids who are into Iron Maiden or Manowar” and honestly, that isn’t too far from the truth. Still, easy comparisons remain elusive. Throughout Damnation’s Veil, the group ventures into Deceased’s rancid death (“All Hail Treachery,” “Damnation’s Veil”), embraces classic heavy metal heroics (“Twilight’s Blade,” “Wyrd of Strideborne”), and dishes out a heavy dose of pit-inducing Power Trip thrash. Guitarists Liam McMahon and Charles House lead the charge with a barrage of galloping riffs and merciless hooks, while Ben Hageage serves as the battlefield herald, his corrosive roars pronouncing judgment upon the fallen as Damnation’s Veil’s eleven tracks pass in a blur of steel and fire. Burke’s performance on songs like “Beyond the Void,” “Wyrd of Strideborne,” and “Cohorts of the Abyss” feels so untethered at times they could be considered sloppy, yet that untamed quality is also part of Ninth Realm’s charm.

Ninth Realm storm battlements, raze villages and leave little standing, blasting through their overpowering blend of metal with unyielding force. The title track is a battering ram of old-school blackened death and thrash that charges forward like an armored destrier, carrying the ferocity of Dissection and hitting with lethal force as its thunderous drums and swarms of buzzing tremolos ignite the sky with dragonfire. “Cohorts of the Abyss” and “Imbued in Hellfire” immediately take off on a thrash-induced frenzy that drags your defenseless body behind the war wagon without remorse, while “Rituals in Thar’amath” taps into the compressed hardcore violence of Nails. Outside atmospheric opener “Valigeth,” Ninth Realm only lower their guard once across the record’s 37 minutes, offering a brief respite with interlude “Orphaned Throne” before the siege engines roar back to life with “Wyrd of Strideborne.”

And it’s here, in Damnation’s Veil’s back half, where classic metal begins to assert itself. Shifting gears, Ninth Realm embrace a more traditional speed philosophy on “Beyond the Void,” “Wyrd of Strideborne,” and “Twilight’s Blade,” pairing epic intros with galloping riffs. The classic metal influences add variety, but they come at the expense of some of the urgency that fuels the record’s strongest material before “Orphaned Throne.” Although the latter portion of Damnation’s Veil never collapses, the songwriting feels less assured and energetic, occasionally stumbling into clunkier passages that lack the conviction of earlier tracks. Aside from the excellent “All Hail Treachery,” few back-half songs reach the same heights as the material before it. The record also largely adheres to a formula that Ninth Realm are clearly adept at executing and while there’s nothing inherently wrong with that approach, the result feels a bit too one-trick at times, leaving me satisfied in the moment without leading to an immediate urge to revisit it.

With Damnation’s Veil, Ninth Realm have crafted an album that seeks to run listeners through with a broadsword before tossing their remains into the nearest moat, and they certainly succeed. Old-school charm permeates Damnation’s Veil, broadening its appeal across the metal spectrum. Although Ninth Realm’s sound breaks little new ground and their reliance on a familiar formula prevents the record from ascending to greater heights, there is nothing wrong with the approach these Marylanders embrace. Armed with energy, charisma, and plenty of attack, Ninth Realm are destined for bigger battles ahead.

Rating: Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity
Websites: ninthrealm-label.bandcamp.com/album/damnations-veil | instagram.com/ninthrealmmd
Releases Worldwide: August 28th, 2026

Drawing from metal’s perennial fantasy touchstone—Lord of the Rings—with the genre’s new favorite fantasy—the Fromsoftware game catalog1—Fog Wall make their independent death metal debut with Gloomweaver. Formed by two lifelong friends and Sandvvitch bandmates, vocalist Zak Brady and vocalist/bassist/overall-sound-guy Alex Malmquist (ex-Warbringer) wove Gloomweaver out of “their love of crushing evil riffs and heavy bass tones,” a fondness I’m sure is common among the greater AMG readership. Joined by guitarist Shagrat “Quincy” Gorbag and drummer Logan Griggs, Fog Wall aim to whip up heck with this passion project. But is this a passing thing, Gloomweaver, or does its soul have the strength to keep the fire lit?

If you decide to step through the Fog Wall, you’d best steel yourself; Gloomweaver hits hard and sticks deep. Striking with the old-school grit of Morbid Angel, muscle and immediacy of The Black Dahlia Murder, and the snarling ferocity of Necropanther, Fog Wall punch well above their weight. Many of Gloomweaver’s riffs feel irresponsible. The neanderthalic, brown-noted bulldozer grooves of “Knife, Sting, Tooth,” “Mazarbul (Desolation),” and “Manor of Ensnarement” tap into a primal need for heavy things to hit other heavy things. When “Fleshpot Ritual” hits its breakdown or “Frantic Orb Wielder” reaches its post-sample groove,2 heads will roll. Brady and Malmquist’s vocals make for a slobbering two-headed beast, wetly belching screams, gurgles, and growls matched in savagery only by Malmquist’s grotesque, capital-PH PHat bass wreaking havoc across Gloomweaver. Fog Wall is a band that just gets the minutiae of what makes death metal devastating, and are poised to use said minutiae to rip new ones with great urgency via Gloomweaver.

Fog Wall are no mere conjurors of cheap brutality, but come armed with plentiful eccentricity. There’s a blackened edge to Fog Wall—see the twin tremolos of “The Accursed” or the icy synths and blast-beated turn in “Strangling Gloom”—lending a density and sinister bent that’s supercharged by their superb death metal heft. But more surprisingly, the sleazy swing of Type O Negative manifests in musty doom riffing on “Manor of Ensnarement,” muscular group vocal “hoo”s on “Fleshpot Ritual,” and—no duh—the entirety of the Type O cover “The Profit of Doom (Medley).” Gloomweaver can verge into tech-death on speedy, tweedily-dweedily cuts like “Mazarbul (Desolation)” and “Frantic Orb Wielder,” and their Necropantheresque snarl lends a thrashy bite to everything.3 Finally, Fog Wall know how to sample. Clips from the LotR movie trilogy and Fromsoftware games briefly and succinctly establish setting and tone (“Manor of Ensnarement,” “Traverse”) and cue mid-song shifts with serious aplomb [“Mazarbul (Desolation),” “Frantic Orb Wielder”] bolstering Gloomweaver as an artful and thematically rich record as well as a delightfully heavy one.

Fog Wall’s songwriting is tight and thoughtful, but it’s not without its hiccups. Gloomweaver is a well-edited record, with every song focused and impactful and nothing running unbearably long. They even cut “The Profit of Doom (Medley)” almost in half from its original runtime. More importantly, nothing’s cut too short either, as even quick cuts like “Frantic Orb Wielder” and “Strangling Gloom” sound full and fully realized. But both “The Accursed” and “Belching Black Vapors” start strong and somewhat lose steam by the end, with the former lacking as many twists as usual and the latter seemingly entering into its ending phase halfway through. Gloomweaver’s weakest moment unfortunately comes with its finale in “Traverse,” where its slower pace loses much of the album’s previous vitality, and a tastefully doomy bass line and name-dropping “FOG WALL” chorus can’t bring the fire back as hot as on prior tracks. These few pacing issues are worth noting, though in no way do they detract from Fog Wall’s electrifying presence and smartly-written tunes.

Gloomweaver is fire. A gross display of joyously seething deathly goodness, Fog Wall killed it with their debut. Like the stories of their fantasy inspirations, the ordeal of any independent artistic process is long, tiresome, and uphill; this bunch of chums made it look effortless. If you like death metal, you probably like this album. Not all who wander are lost, but if Gloomweaver isn’t where you’re headed, then get it together, step through the Fog Wall, and let them take you to a cold, dark, and decidedly ungentle place today.4

Rating: Great!
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Self-Release
Website: fogwallnv.bandcamp.com | facebook.com
Releases Worldwide: September 4th, 2026

Who is this man who bears a pentagram and drapes his horse with astrological signs? Why does he carry a scythe, and why is he wearing armor? What does he see in the distance beyond the farmland? As the face of Armageddon Scars—debut LP of Louisiana sludge-doom duo Fane—he stands as a symbol for its contents, “[e]xploring themes of endurance, damage, and aftermath” by referencing an old world perhaps not so dissimilar from the present one. We may not get answers to our opening questions, but Fane’s musical expression can speak for itself. But in this genre epitomised by down-tuned dourness, is what it says any less vague and unanswerable?

Armageddon Scars sounds exactly like you think it does: a bit fuzzy, a bit wobbly, steady, sometimes groovy, but all in moderation. It finds some middle point between the promo’s advertised YOB, Primitive Man, and Crowbar, which manages to be quite listenable despite how that may sound. There’s a consistent atmosphere of stoicism, formed through the variously soft and spikey aspects of stoner-adjacent guitar drawls and grittier sludge chugs, that’s more than endearing. As opener “Flatline” fades in through the chirping of crickets and muted chords, this feeling starts to increase, augmented by the biting gutturals that take the lead and the tempo upshift that is echoed in the consistent turns of the album’s remainder.

Fane come into their own with a textured hook and the coalescence of passion with rhythmic delivery. It takes a while to get there, but “Flatline”‘s lead refrain hits a satisfying groove in its blended stoner-sludge riffs and crashing cymbals; “Poisoned Crown” fares better in delivery speed and general quality, but you do have to wait until the end of the album to reach its syncopated percussion and drawling soloing. This percussion is consistently enjoyable to listen to, but hits best when the album steps out of the template just a tad and messes with patterns (“Flatline,” “Passages”). Likewise, while Armageddon Scars remains melodically driven by simple yet effective riffing—and the theme in “Mariner” stands out particularly here—it’s usually when Fane mix in a little more dissonance or complexity that their solid base feels strongest. A guitar line whose twisting dissonance (“Dead Shepherd”), or high mirroring of another (“Flatline”) adds welcome urgency and intrigue. The bouts of atmosphere in the mix—to bring in the sounds of the sea, introduce the opening chords, or cloak the album’s only true solo—also contrasts nicely with the more solid foundation. When screams pitch above the fracas for vicious (“Passages,” “Mariner”) or agonised (“Dead Shepherd”) emphasis, they successfully pull their sober surroundings up with them, whose weight then lends these moments the punch they need.

Yet despite such signs, Armageddon Scars falters in large part because it fails to distinguish itself. There’s a fine line between a reassuring familiarity and staleness, and Fane fall on the bad side more often than not, with the bulk of the riffing and rhythms occupying that middle Venn diagram of their influences. It’s seemingly not for lack of imagination or skill, as the above indicates the band are experimenting a little and adding at least some layers and elements of darkness, atypicality, or poignancy. What’s there is just not enough to counteract how quickly the admittedly good rhythms and refrains lose their vivacity, and sometimes it even goes badly, as with the spoken-word (“Mariner,” “Passages”) that comes across as bland and non-committal. Perhaps the album’s greatest compliment just is its commitment to a singular sound and the fact that Fane have still made it just that bit more modern, but it feels like a shame in the face of their evident efforts beyond this.

Armageddon Scars is a strong album buried in a forgettable one. There’s enough to it that any fans of this sludge-doom sound will likely find something to believe in, even though it doesn’t convince me personally. Fane may have a brilliant journey and mysteries to unravel ahead of them, but currently there appears to be only unexplained adornments on a well-trodden scene.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta Records (Octopus Rising)
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: August 28th, 2026

Anchored by a somber weight and deep emotional pain impacting the connective tissue binding Mastodon over the decades, Marrow Deep signals a new era for the Atlanta heavyweights. Ninth album, and first since 2021’s bloated and occasionally brilliant double opus, Hushed and Grim arrives on the back of turbulent and traumatic times. Enigmatic founding member, uber-talented axeman/vocalist, and all-round wild man Brent Hinds parted ways in tense circumstances in March twenty-twenty-five, before tragically passing away in a motorcycle accident in August of the same year. The tragedy surrounding Hinds’ premature death hangs heavily over Marrow Deep’s conception. The remaining core trio of bassist/vocalist Troy Sanders, drummer/vocalist Brann Dailor, and guitarist Bill Kelliher composed the album, fleshing out the material with fresh members, guitarist Nick Johnston and keyboardist/synth player João Nogueira. Marrow Deep exorcises tense emotional grief, and like its predecessor, pulls on the heartstrings.

Listeners who tapped out following Crack the Skye will find little here to bring them back into the fold. Following the exhaustive length of Hushed and Grim, cut down to size, Marrow Deep still sports a hefty 65-minute runtime. Peppering their progressive metal and sludge rock core with heady psych and stoner influences, alongside mellower rock and prog fare, Marrow Deep is also frequently direct and punchy. “Your Ghost Again” signals a fitting tribute to their fallen brother, anchored by urgent, driving verses, blossoming into haunting melodies, playful prog and a crushing climax. Fellow singles also fare well, such as the keyboard freakout and effective, minimalist cameo from Josh Homme (Queens of the Stone Age) on “Snakes for Dinner,” or the impressively raw, gut-wrenching Sanders vocal performance on the doomy ” Ruins,” inspired by the personal events of Hurricane Helene.

Dailor’s smooth, though divisive, melodic vocals, alongside the deceptively dynamic bellows and rough vox of Sanders, sound confident, impassioned, and familiar, while the increased integration of keys and synths enlivens the Mastodon formula, adding texture and swirling psychedelia into the sludge rock and progressive metal populating infectious, riff-driven songcraft. Heavier and more energetic than its predecessor Marrow Deep often hits with impact. Featuring a bending, genuinely heavy swagger, opener “Barbarians Blood” eventually unleashes a turbo-charged, thrashy, punk-metal groove that goes hard. Equally potent, “Poisonous Weapons” demonstrates Mastodon can still crush and destroy through dense, riffy sludge with a bitter edge. Upping the aggressive ante, Nate Newton (Converge/Cave In) and Randy Blythe (Lamb of God) lend their vocal talents to the fiery blast of “A Vampire’s Demeanor.” Elsewhere, the legendary Geezer Butler (Black Sabbath) supplies signature, tasty bass licks on the intro to the trippy, psych-leaning odyssey of “The Vanishing,” while Clutch’s Neil Fallon showcases his gruff preaching on jam-infested finale, ‘The Three Fates.” Gears shift on “Golden Spires,” sweetly balancing the album’s melodic sways and heavier surges through towering riffs and striking dynamics.

Loaded with technical and progressive flair listeners have come to expect, performances are super tight. Johnston fills the Hinds void admirably, without simply replicating his admired predecessor. A hugely competent shredder, Johnston puts his own stamp on Marrow Deep, getting a particular opportunity to exhibit his classy soloing on Marrow Deep’s more exploratory, psych and stoner heavy tunes (“The Vanishing,” “Moth and Bone,” and monolithic closer “The Three Fates”). Dailor’s drumming is as intricate and creative as ever, without overplaying his hand, and the Dailor/Sanders vocal combo sounds confident and assured. Unfortunately, Marrow Deep is saddled with a crunchy but overly clean production and compressed mastering job sapping some of the album’s sonic power. Concerning self-editing issues also surface, and while most the material lands, there are occasional lulls and plods suggesting some shrewder editing may have been required.

For all of Marrow Deep’s strengths and fresh designs, the absence of Hinds is strongly felt. Whether through his songwriting contributions or unique guitar style, which cleverly incorporated outside influences, such as bluegrass and southern rock twang, into Mastodon’s progressive sludge formula. Meanwhile, his hugely expressive, soulful soloing and unmistakable vocals feel odd to be missing; moments occur where you half expect a Hinds vocal to pop up. Gripes aside, Marrow Deep is a better album than expected considering the massive hole left by Hinds’. Credit to the remaining members and new blood for forging ahead with optimism, crafting an entertaining opus. Time will tell where Marrow Deep fits in the greater Mastodon canon. As it stands, Marrow Deep marks a rejuvenated, cathartic, nerve-poking transitional turn from Mastodon.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Lousy Stream
Label: Lorna Vista Recordings
Websites: mastodonrocks.com | Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: August 28th, 2026

Enroll Crimson Glory in Vacation Bible School, and you get Sacred Warrior. Releasing a string of high-quality, God-honoring prog-power from ’88 to ’91, Sacred Warrior shredded and wailed in seriously glorious fashion on underground hits like Wicked Generation and Master’s Command1, led by the guitar heroics of band leader Jonathan Johnson. But as dust returns to dust, the band burned out quickly, releasing one record in 2013 and, most recently, a single in 2019. However, these dry bones are back up and kicking. Sacred Warrior alumni Johnson, vocalist Erik Schilling, bassist Steve Watkins, and newcomer drummer Michael Feighan (Whitecross) have regrouped under the name Glory of Kings, brandishing their debut album Roots of the Past. Claiming to explore “history, identity, and the enduring influence of the past on the present,” can Glory of Kings reclaim the past glories of Sacred Warrior?

Roots of the Past reaches deep into classic prog metal, offering a solid grounding for Glory of Kings’ debut. Fans of the classic Sacred Warrior sound should find GoK a worthy successor, though they’ve toned down their idolatry of Crimson Glory in favor of a wider array of genre/era touchstones. Roots of the Past boasts a dramatic, yet muscle-bound approach to riffcraft akin to Savatage (“Fairy Tales”), while vocally these Kings took notes from Queensrÿche’s usual operations. It’s not hard to hear Schilling’s crooning on “Mindwar” or the title track and picture a less-washed Geoff Tate there. These Roots draw from slightly fresher influences as well. The calm plucking and grooves of “The Mystery” recalls the softer sides of Symphony X and Pain of Salvation, while the harmonic riffage and layered vocals of “See You in Paradise” evoke Brave New World-era Iron Maiden. None of this is cutting edge, but Roots of the Past shows signs of life in Glory of Kings.2

Unfortunately, Roots of the Past is often a strained and low-energy exaltation. Though Johnson’s capacity for shredding remains untouched (“The Waiting Game,” “Foreshadows”), Roots’ lethargic and muddy compositions feel mechanical, especially in the back half. Songs like “Occam’s Razor” and “The Waiting Game” lack sharp hooks or compelling progressions, made worse by sluggish tempos. Roots’ pacing is also hamstrung by Glory of Kings’ insistence on interludes, interjecting bog-standard movie trailer scores (“Gathering Storm,” “Transcendence”) and “oriental” desert music (“Foreshadows”3) before they can string a couple good songs together and build some momentum. Worst of all, Schilling sounds strained and limited as a vocalist, his voice wavering on the longer phrases (“Mindwar”) and stretched on the higher ones (“The Waiting Game”). All this contributes to a feeling that Roots of the Past isn’t as catchy or exciting as it ought to be, and that Glory of Kings isn’t as potent here as they could be.

Now, the burning question: What kind of Christian metal is this? Is Glory of Kings preachy? Yes, very. Besides the title track, Roots of the Past doesn’t really broach history as much as topical, generic Evangelical talking points. Embracing the mystery of God (“The Mystery”), the promise of Heaven (“See You in Paradise”), the need for repentance now (“The Waiting Game”); Glory of Kings ain’t hiding it under a bush here. This isn’t inherently an issue. Bands like Theocracy and Wytch Hazel have achieved widespread acclaim and connection beyond the Christian world while remaining loud and proud in their faith.4 Where Glory of Kings’ lyrical bent becomes a problem is where they engage in tedious Us-vs-Them dynamics. “Mindwar” and “Fairy Tales” hint at it, but “Occam’s Razor” engages in whole-hog, Facebook-rant tirades against secular science as being willfully ignorant of their One Truth.5 If it wasn’t clear before, it’s obvious afterwards that Roots of the Past is more concerned with proselytizing than anything authentically artistic. I doubt its potential in speaking to anyone outside GoK’s worldview.6

There’s lots of prog-power worse than what Glory of Kings offer on Roots of the Past, but it’s hard to get excited about it whether you buy into Christianity or not. Sacred Warrior could get self-righteous and Bible-thumping too, but their music was vital and electrifying; Roots of the Past is not. Too much of it feels paint-by-the-numbers and tired to merit the sermonizing. If you’re dying for some new prog-power or for a new Sacred Warrior record, give it a listen, for sure. Glory of Kings can spin some metal miracles on occasion, but don’t expect a life-altering transformation from Roots of the Past. Or maybe do. “Mysterious Ways” and all that.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps MP3
Label: Roxx Records
Websites: facebook.com/GloryOfKingsBand | gloryofkingsband.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: August 14th, 20267

There is genius that insists upon itself, and then there is genius that does a striptease. Hold these opposing poles in mind as you consider Night of the Jick Beast, the album of improvised goblin metal by Rushadicus. Here are eighteen tracks of experimental cello, composed on the evening of March 9, 2026 and recorded between the hours of six and eight pm. For instruments, we have a cello, two (2) kazoos, a viola, a guitar, and some flutes. The vocals spew forth in the nonsense goblin language of Sneth. Some tracks come in at a minute or less (opener “Portal to Eelsgard,” “Brokbath”). Others, like album centerpiece “Three Headed Jick Beast,” are nearly six minutes. So what is going on here–does Night of the Jick Beast blow your doors off with its brilliance right away, or is it the sort of thing that takes years or even generations to flower?

We may need to broaden our conception of genius. I listened closely to Night of the Jick Beast, and neither of the above definitions seems to apply. This leaves open the possibility that there is a third, as yet unconsidered, framework for appreciating the work of Rushadicus. Sole member Rushad Eggleston works within a tradition of provocation. His songs recall the open mic antics of anti-comedians like Neil Hamburger or The Purple Organ. This is music as an endurance test, with rules and standards that are private to the creator. The cello-and-kazoo attack of “Gargoyles Converge at the Pentaglyph” yields to the flute digressions of “Two Headed Fifing Faun.” It all feels like you’re being punished to no good end, but that is just the quitter in you. How do you get your eyes wide open enough to see the elephant that is Night of the Jick Beast?

Drugs and alcohol might be the answer. The energy unleashed by mind-altering substances fuels the creation and appreciation of art. This is the school of thought that asks us to prize the sweat equity of the artist, to treasure the endless sheet of paper that fed Jack Kerouac’s typewriter while he wrote On the Road as if that paper were the novel itself.1 Unfortunately, even this definition of genius fails to unlock the charms of Night of the Jick Beast. There’s kinetic force to spare in tracks like “Gravity vs Goblinity” and “Septupulary Imp Romp,” but it’s the kind you cross the street to avoid. Sometimes mania is just a halfway point between the meth pipe and the morgue.

I’m almost out of ideas for how to get at this thing, but I’m not out of paragraphs yet. I must go on. I can’t go on. I’ll go on–oh, hey, wait a minute! Let’s take a cue from existentialism and say all action is meaningless. So why not spend a decade honing a style called Sneth Metal or Blark Metal, one that relies on a rapid ricochet bowing technique called “the bounce?” It’s as good as doing anything else! The meaning might lie in summoning the will to act at all. This suggests that we use our now-enlightened ears to take another listen to “Spires of Gnistromé.” Here Rushadicus conjures up a black metal atmosphere by skillful use of the bounce. Could this track be the key to appreciating Night of the Jick Beast… ?

I failed to get to “yes.” And while the end of the review approaches, the struggle to esteem Night of the Jick Beast is just beginning. Until the truth comes along, I have no choice but to score this record with the ears and brain that came factory installed. Rushadicus seems like a good-hearted guy, and I am impressed with the isometric strength it takes for him to hold a horse pose while playing the cello and a kazoo at the same time. The actual music, however, is an irritating imposition on your time. To listen to Night of the Jick Beast is to submit yourself to a grueling gauntlet that rivals the 12 Labors of Hercules. That’s just a temporary assessment, though. If you happen by these crossroads again, I’ll be right here where you left me.

Rating: 0.5/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: rushadicus.bandcamp.com|rushadicus.com
Releases Worldwide: August 24, 2026

Storming out of Raleigh, North Carolina, Deceptor rebukes every vestige of modernity on debut Reign of Terror, firmly planting their flag in the glorious days of yore. According to their promotional literature, those days span between 1988 and 1992, and damned if these tunes don’t sound like they’ve been unearthed and freed from the clutches of a class of ’91 time capsule. Bolt Thrower and Sodom Reign supreme in defining Deceptor’s bygone blend of death and thrash, although several others creep in as well. It’s a compelling concoction, and one that slugs ‘n’ chugs with a fat-free runtime and thunderous moments. Given their remorseless allegiance to the olde school, does Deceptor coronate a Reign of Terror, or leave listeners asking for a Reign check?

Throughout Reign of Terror, Deceptor channels the blood ‘n’ guts of decades past to chisel out an uncompromising slab of deathrash. “Red Dawn” inaugurates the album with a beefy build that reminds me of S.O.D.’s “March of the S.O.D.” before “Human Cavity” starts the party proper. Its mid-paced chugs recall relative newcomers Power Trip and Enforced, although the vocals sit somewhere between Karl Willetts and Tom Angelripper. The solo from “Human Cavity” is classic thrash, though, like if Anthrax stripped a Megadeth lead to its core and discarded the flamboyance for maximum killdozing efficiency. And speaking of ‘Thrax, “Whammer” showcases the bouncy, chaotic riffs I associate with their best 80s material. Meanwhile, “Firing Squad” elicits early Kreator and Dismember,1 “Street General” wields primitive Sepultura vibes, and throughout Reign of Terror Bolt Thrower, Sodom, and Entombed2 provide bases for ample comparisons. As you might expect from a sound so rooted in the past, touchstones abound.

Considering the calls to so many legendary bands, Deceptor acquits themselves well with their performances. The one that stands out the most to me is drummer Andrew Harper’s relentless battery, which adds a wicked charge to Reign of Terror’s brutal regime. From “Fog of War”’s sinister double bass rolls to “Join or Die”’s tireless bombardment, Harper supplies a fantastic and invigorating outing. Preston Lanier’s guitars likewise impress, from the recklessly unrestrained Slayer shredding on “Join or Die” to the 80s Razor and Destruction riffage of “Whammer.” It’s not all thrash, though, as Lanier also conjures early Entombed on “Fog of War” and even Grave with “Combat Patrol” and “Street General.” Vocalist/bassist Gabe Earley rounds out the trio, unleashing a subtle bass performance as he rips and barks with effective command. And emphasis on subtle here, as no moment stands out where the bass is front and center. I can pick it out more often than not when I listen for it, but fortifying the bass tone with a deeper, richer presence would add a welcome depth and help the performance stand apart.

As you might expect given the framework for Deceptor’s mission, Reign of Terror stays trve through its entirety. Appreciators of the style will no doubt find it a nostalgic romp through time as Deceptor brings the past to life, yet being steadfast in the commitment to recreating metal’s salad days limits their ability to carve out an original voice. The track sequencing also turns awkward, with the three shortest tracks slotted into the three-four-five spots. Although the songs flow well enough, this compresses the front half of the album and, by comparison, the back half drags artificially despite Reign of Terror’s lean runtime. Pulling some of the latter tracks earlier into the album would alleviate this accordion effect and offer a more balanced experience.

All told, Deceptor’s Reign of Terror invokes an adrenaline-fueled, bare-knuckled era of thrash and death metal that proves potent all these years later. In particular, the album’s production whisks me away to the late 80s with its retro grit and considered mix, allowing drums, guitars, and vocals to share the spotlight at the right times. Deceptor harbors tons of talent and possesses a clear vision for the Reign of Terror they’re destined to unleash. If these ruffians can find a way to harmonize their inspirations with their own voice, Deceptor’s next outing could be an unholy smash. Until then, I’m content to revisit this debut and let Terror reign o’er me.

Rating: Good!
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: August 21st, 2026

There are a few phrases that I could theoretically read in a promo blurb that would get me to instantly pick it up.1 When my eyes landed on the line “Lord Carrion seeks to usher in 1000 years of ruin to fascists and authoritarians of all stripes,” I thought “say less,” and took Man Made Hell without any care for the fact that its black metal comes with a significant dose of southern hardcore—not my preferred subgenre. I’m glad I did. Their debut LP after two years honing their craft with an EP and a split, Man Made Hell is Lord Carrion’s first big chance to bring about the promised destruction to oppressors. The stark redness of the cover, the marrying of some of metal’s noisiest styles, and the band’s proud antifascism make for a loud statement that the music must live up to. And does it?

Man Made Hell certainly does not flinch away from the implicit violence of its influences. A crusty, second-wave black metal base meets with the boundless energy and acidity of rampaging hardcore for a sound that’s both aurally and spiritually raw as fuck. Jonross Maddog2 Maddox’s d-beats and the clattering pivots of snare rollovers and cymbal smashes drag you by the scruff of your neck behind a rampaging train of Matthew Price and Miguel Hallare’s riffs, as Jake Plissken screams in your face through a mouthful of barbed wire. Sometimes, it’s no more than this: sanguine yet standard noisy rampaging that doesn’t break any moulds (“Suicide Planet,” “Billions Dead”). At others, Lord Carrion pull back from showing their teeth just enough for some layers and gripping melodicism to show their heart.

Lord Carrion display their passion best when they stray outside of the lines. It’s tangible in the ballistic extremities—the snippets of solo drums (“Billions Dead,” “Yaldabaoth”) and the passages of particularly intense extended, repeated, throat-shredding screams (“Plutocrat Slaughter Ritual,” “The Walls are Closing In”). Most notably, the feeling on Man Made Hell is strongest in every place Lord Carrion make the sound entirely their own. Resonance that goes beyond its obvious atmo-black inspiration to transform a previously granite riff into a shadowy refrain (“Plutocrat…,” “Peace is a Bloody Sword”) when it isn’t blurring a tremolo melody for some randomly gorgeous meloblack (“What Remains”). Such buoyant, mournful melodies sprinkled around work together with punchy syncopation and aforementioned hellish vocals for compelling, satisfyingly sharp declarations (“Desperate Cruelty,” “What Remains”). Disso-death drips into arachnid arpeggios (“Billions Dead”) and drawling, sinister chords (“Peace…), injecting a cruel edge that just works. Rhythmic turns often take the best of both black metal and hardcore for fun (“Suicide Planet,” “The Walls are Closing In”) and darkly groovy (“Plutocrat…”) moments.

The greatest issue with Man Made Hell is that its brilliance is a little unevenly distributed. So fiery at its jawbreaking, moody, best, the (over-)use of more “standard” second-wave black/hardcore riffing risks the loss of any audience turned off by such mundanities.3 Similarly, the album would probably benefit from a smidge more time to fully integrate the many great ideas and segments it contains. As an example: the jumpscare of full-volume white noise that splits the doom-drone of “Peace…”‘s first act is visceral, and will probably split listeners into a love/hate dichotomy. The gentle beauty of “What Remains,” rising from carefully-placed strums and the hushed howling of wind to an emotional meloblack finale, though I love it, feels slightly out of place. I can hear the hints of atmosphere and nuance that Lord Carrion drop beforehand, and it seems like minor tweaks would integrate these aspects better.

Man Made Hell divides me, leaving me affected but uncommitted. It’s pretty fun in a satisfyingly gronky way, whilst also possessing a gravitas that portends—even though it doesn’t execute—greatness. What is certain is that Lord Carrion have got something; their ardour oozes out of most-every fuzz-choked note, and I think they make their point just fine for now.

Rating: Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: wav
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: August 24th, 2026

Sometimes it just feels good to let rip some ferocious riffs, pound the drums at headbanging velocity, and rail about society’s ills at a pitch that a caveman can appreciate. At least that’s how I imagine New Mexico’s Street Tombs approaches their songwriting. In 2023, they gave out a good ol’ thrashing on their debut, Reclusive Decay, which didn’t see coverage here, but did land on Decibel’s top 40 albums of the year. Though Reclusive Decay had barely above 30 minutes of music, it’s taken three years to release Existence is Corruption, yet another 30 minutes of high-octane crusty punk. Maybe they used that time to research the thematic content of their lyrics, whose topics include the “complacency, corruption, and destruction” that plague modern society. Nah, who am I kidding? They just want to bludgeon you over the head with the well-honed vocal, riff, and d-beat attack they’ve spent that time sharpening.

Street Tombs combine the punky influence of early d-beat purveyors, Discharge and Celtic Frost, with the physical, in-your-face riffage of Bolt Thrower. This blend makes for a high-energy attack with endless riffs and plenty of whiplash as your neck attempts to navigate their bruising soundscape. Existence is Corruption is a no-frills dose of death metal, skipping the usual atmospheric opener and going straight for the jugular on the pummeling “Pestilent Storm.” This proves the norm, as song after song blasts with furious drum beats and killer riffs, only really pausing for atmospherics once, when “Systematic Suffering” ends on some guitar feedback and atmospherics, to horrifying effect. The risk for this kind of approach is that the music might bleed together, but Street Tombs keep their riffs creative and mix up the pacing. There are plenty of brief but spectacular solos as well as mood shifts that allow the guitars to dig in at a different, less furious angle. So yes, the caveman will dig what these guys are doing, but so will the more evolved among our species.

While they have the vibe of early Discharge, Street Tombs filter it through more modern production values, giving the instruments more punch. This probably comes across on the drums more strongly than anything else. Ben Brodsky’s performance provides a sturdy foundation for the music, and his sheer power gives a boost thanks to a relentless, pounding energy. Brodsky has the sense to lay back and get creative in order to avoid any fatigue from constant d-beat jackhammering, notably some mid-tempo antics on “Systematic Suffering.” The riff attack from David McMaster and Damian Jacoby also engages the brain at a primal level, yet there’s a progressiveness to how they play, allowing surprising developments to permeate the songs. “Mental Mutilation” displays this ability to engage carnal pleasures while the guitars organically shift, leading to a fabulous, though sadly brief, solo.

As much as Street Tombs does mix things up, a uniformity begins to creep into Existence is Corruption. Yes, there are shifts in tone and pacing within songs, but the persistent d-beat blasts and deathly riffs still dominate the record. It’s hard to complain when they play them this effectively, and in such a brief package, yet it does mean individual tracks begin to blend together. Given the style, the 3-4 minute range is the sweet spot, which means the songs that reach or hit the 5-minute mark start to feel repetitive (“Upset the Grave,” “Deceptor”). Jacoby’s vocal delivery similarly suffers from a one-dimensional nature. Don’t get me wrong. I love his vocals and believe they add a distinctive personality to the music, but the lack of diversity in delivery does contribute to that sense of uniformity. In all, these are some nitpicky ways of saying Existence is Corruption didn’t quite break the score counter, but it came close.

These streets may be mean, they may be ugly, and they may be gritty, but most importantly they are loads of fun. Where some death metal acts seek to be as dense and incomprehensible as possible, or insert levels of high artistry in their work, it’s refreshing that acts like Street Tombs exist to engage your id, though with a high level of creativity, mixing intellectual stimulation with brain-melting riffs. These guys don’t do anything that hasn’t been done before, yet they excel at it and have written a record that’s some of the most fun I’ve had with death metal this year.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Carbonized Records
Websites: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: August 21st, 2026