#apr25 — Public Fediverse posts

Record(s) o’ the Month – April 2025

By Angry Metal Guy

“April is the cruellest month,” wrote T.S. Eliot in a poem that no one quoting it has ever finished reading.1 And while Eliot was quite metal in his exquisite, existential despair about WWI or whatever, he never understood true existential dread. I speak, of course, of the dread of being force-fed twenty-five promising albums, half of which are drenched in so much reverb that you feel like you’re swimming, only to realize that you didn’t even review the Record o’ the Month yourself. Regardless, this April continued to be cruel. But this cruelty came bearing bloodied knuckles and a furrowed (and noticably pronounced) brow. Dormant Ordeal took that energy and weaponized it.

It’s not every month that a death metal album crawls out of the woodwork and shatters the Score Safety Counter like a warhammer through a piñata, but Dormant Ordeal—whose new record Tooth and Nail dropped April 18th, 2025, from Willowtip Records [Bandcamp]—did exactly that. Tooth and Nail is a masterclass in (blackened) death metal—”the classic Polish death metal sound”—done right. It’s taut, unreleating, melodic when it counts, and angrier than Angry Metal Guy when reminded of the existence of Disqus. This record hits a sweet spot inside of me best described as the “oh yeah, that’s how death metal is done” spot. The riffs flow, and my brain just opens up the spigots, releasing a veritable tsunami of dopamine. Every riff that cuts, every transition that seethes, and every recognition of the slick, skilled ways that these guys construct songs, I get a nice big kick of that Happy Chemical. Tooth and Nail is dynamic, punishing, aggressive, and better yet, it’s smart. Dormant Ordeal is like a boxer who knows exactly when to drop his guard and knock you out.2 Our very own Tyme was so excited he penned an overwrought review of Angry Metal Guyan proportions. In one of his more uncontainable moments of verbal climax, he ejaculated: “Tooth and Nail represents the absolute best of what Dormant Ordeal can be.” The rest of us wiped down the walls and nodded in agreement. And I, being an instantiation of the will of the staff through my very existence, elected it to be Record o’ the Month.

Runner(s) Up:

Structure // Heritage [April 25th, 2025 | Ardua Music | Bandcamp] — “Solo” doom project Structure did a thing that I never thought possible. It made Steel Druhm feel about a Dutch doom metal project like I felt about The 11th Hour. Oh, also, it crushed our collective will to live in the most painful way possible. A labor of love from Bram Bijlhout of Officium Triste, Heritage is crushing, exquisite, and dramatic in all the right ways. Pim Blankenstein’s vocal contributions take this funeral doom lament to operatic heights. Steel Druhm, while shotgunning his seventh doppelbock, enthusiastically spilled his beer all over the bar while trying to emphasize for everyone slightly louder than necessary that Structure has written “a monumental doom epic that caves in your chest with its raw power and brings a tear to the most jaded eye with its heartwrenching beauty!” He even gave it a 4.5, which is 5.0 in Steel Druhmese. And if none of that convinces you, I, too, concede that this is a great record and I suspect it’s going to be quite present during Listurnalia.

Messa // The Spin [April 11th, 2025 | Metal Blade Records | Bandcamp] — The reason I started doing three, or sometimes four, releases for Record(s) o’ the Month was because there were times when it was just impossible to choose. This month is actually kind of cruel in that all three of these could have been Record o’ the Month without question. Italian doom-jazz mystics Messa put up a good fight with their most seductive release yet. The Spin sheds the sprawl of Close in favor of tighter, moodier bangers. For my part, this is as good as I think they’ve ever sounded. Sharky Shark Boy was right when he said that “Sara’s smouldering, siren-like vocals have hit a whole new level,” lending the compositions a power I don’t remember Messa having. The Spin is doom with eyeliner and a degree in art history—classy, smokey, and ready to crush you with riffs and moody quotes from a Frenchman. While Messa has always had some appeal, there’s something about The Spin that works differently. It’s not like they’re a new band with a new sound, but instead, to quote Sharky Shark Boy, “Rather like using a velvetizer to make your hot chocolate. It’s still hot chocolate. But it’s thicker, richer, and, well, velvet-ier.” Yeah, I think that analogy pretty much says it all. No? Fine, The Dolphin Half of the Aquatic Duo chirped and bobbed overexcitedly: “Music this powerful stands ready to inspire binge listening, tone envy, and, with any luck, another generation hopelessly addicted to six strings screaming at unadvisable volumes.” And that seems like the final word on the matter.

#2025 #Apr25 #DormantOrdeal #Heritage #Messa #OfficiumTriste #RecordSOTheMonth #RecordsOfTheMonth #Structure #The11thHour #TheSpin #ToothAndNail

Sijjin – Helljjin Combat Review

By Mark Z.

I’ve heard people say that today’s music has nothing new to offer, but I actually think it has the opposite problem. To me, there are too many fucking bands out there playing technical blackened dissodeath with a tuba or some shit and not enough who simply take a tried-and-true style and execute it well. Such was what initially drew me to Sijjin. Right around the time their infamous doom-death band Necros Christos dissolved in 2021, bassist/vocalist Malte Gericke and drummer Iván Hernández joined forces with guitarist Ekaitz Garmendia (Legen Beltza) to pay homage to the earliest years of death metal with Sijjin’s full-length debut, Sumerian Promises. With its twisted tremolos and thrashy undercurrents, Sumerian Promises was a fun throwback that reeked with the archaic death stench of bands like Sadistic Intent, Mortem, Atomic Aggressor, and early Morbid Angel. Almost four years later, the group have now finally delivered their second album, Helljjin Combat. But is this a triumphant victory or yet another casualty of the heavy metal battlefield?

One thing is clear: Helljjin Combat is quite a bit different than its predecessor. The change in approach is apparent right from the opener, “Fear Not the Tormentor,” which begins with an extended instrumental opening that uses technical riffing and lively bass guitar in a way that almost sounds like Voivod. The tech-thrash vibe continues throughout the songs’s eight-and-a-half minute runtime, with dexterous fretwork trading off with quick, chunky chords and twirling tremolos, all anchored by a refrain that consists of a staccato shout of the track title. While it’s not the primitive death-thrash I was looking for, it’s a fine song in its own right.

Unfortunately, the rest of the album isn’t quite as successful in executing the band’s new style. It soon becomes apparent that many of these eight tracks spend less time delivering sharp hooks and memorable riffs and more time simply lurching forward on mid-paced pseudo-grooves that only occasionally get the head bobbing. Sometimes, interesting ideas will crop up, like when “Religious Insanity Denies Slavery” evokes old Metallica with a dusty, cleanly-picked midsection that builds into Old West-style lead guitars. Yet moments like this only make it more apparent how so much of the surrounding material fails to stand out. It doesn’t help that none of these songs are under five minutes, and it’s also unfortunate how many of them open with similar-sounding semi-technical riffs that make me contemplate hitting the stop button well before the album’s 49 minutes are over. Malte’s vocals also sound throatier and less raspy than on Sumerian Promises, which is fitting for the band’s new approach but still isn’t the most welcome change.

Fortunately, there’s some stuff to enjoy here. The two pre-release songs, “Dakhma Curse” and “Five Blades,” probably won’t make anyone’s Song ‘O the Year List, but at least their nimble riffing and quicker rhythms offer the album a nice shot of energy. “The Southern Temple” serves as a decent closer with the more powerful riffing in its second half, and the band’s instrumental prowess is more impressive than ever (especially Ekaitz’s adept riffing and solos). Ekaitz recorded the album in his own studio in the Basque Country, and the result is fantastic. The sound is clear and powerful, with the guitars roaring confidently and the bass guitar maintaining an active and distinct presence below the riffing. And while the atmosphere isn’t as strong as the debut, there’s still a whiff of ancient evil here that I find most welcome.

Yet ultimately, Helljjin Combat is the epitome of a Mixed bag. While the production and the instrumental performances are great, the songwriting is less compelling. With a few sharper hooks, tighter track lengths, and a couple of faster songs, Helljjin Combat could have easily been better than Sumerian Promises. As it is, I can’t help but be a bit disappointed that not only did Sijjin choose to move away from death metal and into a more technical thrash metal sound, but also that they didn’t do the best job executing this new style. While there are a couple of decent songs and some impressive things here, I don’t see Helljjin Combat as an album I’ll be returning to often.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Sepulchral Voice Records
Websites: sijjin.bandcamp.com | Facebook | instagram.com/sijjin_official
Releases Worldwide: April 25th, 2025

#25 #2025 #Apr25 #AtomicAggressor #DeathMetal #HelljjinCombat #InternationalMetal #LegenBeltza #Metallica #MorbidAngel #Mortem #NecrosChristos #Review #Reviews #SadisticIntent #SepulchralVoiceRecords #Sijjin #ThrashMetal #Voivod

Cave Sermon – Fragile Wings Review

By Thus Spoke

For the second year in a row, I was blindsided by a silent Cave Sermon drop. At least it didn’t take me 11 months to catch up this time.1 Album number three, Fragile Wings, sees Charlie Parks returning as a solo act, but now handling vocals on top of everything else. This latter is a welcome development, given how well the previous record proved vocals complement and enhance the unique musical style. After Divine Laughter blew my socks off and nonchalantly pushed its way to the top half of my 2024 year-end list, a follow-up so soon filled me with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Surely he couldn’t do it again? But, of course, he has.

Fragile Wings is instantly recognisable as Cave Sermon, but rather than simply being Divine Laughter part two—not that I would have complained about that—it is tonally quite different. Different, but with the same dreamlike longing at its core. Whereas its predecessor felt nihilistic and angry, Fragile Wings is a little more vulnerable, a little sadder, and more wistful. This shines through the now more prominent melodies, which feel playful and exuberant, in the beguiling way that characterises Cave Sermon’s sound. Fluid layers of liquid strums, riffs that vibrate alternately with urgency and mirth (“Hopeless Magic,” “”Moloch”), and tremolos that burr and hum as much as they warble like songbirds up and down scales (“Three-Headed Moth,” “Ancient to Someone”). The untamed tempos that lead tracks through a series of stomps, sways, charges, and thoughtful pauses are more mischievous than before, in a way that makes explicit the spirited defiance that bubbled within Divine Laughter. Parks’ vocals work just as well as Miguel Méndez’s did, if not better, against this vibrant backdrop, and there’s an additional weight given to the already strange and touching lyrics because their author is now delivering them himself.

Fragile Wings is stirring and vivacious, and somehow outdoes Divine Laughter in its sparkling dynamism and bright unusualness. After arresting with odd, colourful arrangements, Cave Sermon looks wryly over at the listener and says, “watch this,” as some effervescent lead comes frolicking in (“Moloch,” “Three-Headed Moth”), or an already satisfying groove switches to a new dance with a flick and a crash (“Hopeless Magic,” “Ancient for Someone”); you can’t help but smile back. The very way guitars are distorted, and the atmosphere surrounding their notes and the here-skittish, there-assertive percussion, is…different. And this is all charming because it’s not self-indulgent; not weird and challenging and complicated, but refreshing, like a splash of cool water to the face on a hot day. All the more so given how Cave Sermon makes it look easy, creating a soundscape that seems simpler than it is, managing to presage and reprise melodies and rhythms in a way I can only describe as “very cool.” Interwoven strands of ethereal ambience—warm strums and purring high notes (“Arrows and Clay,” “Sunless Morning”)—violent sludgy riffs and a tripping, resonant drumbeat (“Moloch,” “Ancient for Someone”); symphonies of burbling tremolo and synths (“Hopeless Magic,” “Ancient for Someone”); and the delicate assuredness of wavering melodies, each are so carefully placed, but weightless, as though carried by some spirited wind that breezes through each track.

In this organic, careless novelty and expression, Fragile Wings continues what Divine Laughter established, but does it better. Not only is it more poignant, it flows with a more tangible through-line, and even cleverer rhythmic interplay. There is no track-length ambient noise here; this tendency is relegated to the faded conversation that closes “Arrows and Clay,” and the birdsong scattered over the serene first act of “Sunless Morning.” The difference is that these are not divorced from the music, but part of it, contributing to its sense of nostalgia, and sombre reflectiveness. A harsher version of me would still argue that the first half of “Sunless Morning” is a bit too slow of a build, but another would gesture fanatically at the song’s second act, with its quaking bass refrain and heartfelt tremolo descent melody that might actually be the best on the album, before it enters another wild dance I won’t spoil. Cave Sermon has refined their ability to transition between energies and styles whilst keeping the tone consistent. So seamless is the integration that it no longer feels like multiple genres are in play, but like a new one entirely.

Fragile Wings confirms what I had secretly hoped, that Divine Laughter was not just lightning in a bottle. If anything, it only raises the bar. Cave Sermon create music that is some magical combination of emotionally stirring, endlessly engrossing, and completely unique. There is simply no other artist in metal making music like them.2 You have to hear this.

Rating: Excellent3
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: April 16th, 2025

Show 3 footnotes

1. Thank you, Dolph. ↩
2. If there is, please tell me who they are. ↩
3. Watch this space for a possible contrite upgrade. ↩

#2025 #45 #Apr25 #AustralianMetal #BlackMetal #CaveSermon #DeathMetal #ExperimentalMetal #FragileWings #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #SelfReleased #Sludge

Flummox – Southern Progress Review

By Kenstrosity

Originally slated to be my main Thing You Might Have Missed feature, Tennessee avant-garde metal quintet Flummox’s fifth LP Southern Progress caught me completely off guard. Attracted to the prompt “their most obnoxious album yet,” I wasn’t sure what to expect from my first exposure to Flummox’s work. I figured it might be weird, but it’s also distinctive, fun, and infectious. Fearlessly creative, deeply detailed, lyrically cutting, and stupidly intelligent, Southern Progress rapidly became my favorite record released so far this year. It doesn’t seem likely now that anything out of the metalverse this year will surpass it.

Southern Progress embodies a rhizomic system of inspirations and influences that, when harnessed by Flummox’s wacky brains, emerges from the soil as something wholly unique in style, sound, and intent. My best attempt to contextualize this material would involve names from the progsphere like Fair to Midland, Native Construct, Pink Floyd, early Queen, and Mike Patton; purveyors of the extreme such as Strapping Young Lad and Slugdge; avant-garde touchstones like Mr. Bungle, Igorrr, and Diablo Swing Orchestra; genre-jumpers such as King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard; and even cinematic composers like Danny Elfman and Hans Zimmer.1 Ultimately, though, there is no comfortable comparison. Flummox are a singular entity of weird, wild, theatrical metal capable of nailing every bizarre idea they throw at me, such that in less than a week, I had a majority portion of Southern Progress’ 57-minute runtime pinned to my psyche. All the while, its candid exposition of the queer and genderfluid experience in the Bible Belt (“Southern Progress”) struck a chord so rarely plucked by music on this sphere, and its inspired exploration of the neurodivergent experience as one of its parallel plot lines (“Executive Dysfunction”) gave me an easy avenue to resonate even more deeply with its voice.

The tricky reality of Southern Progress is that 750 words is woefully insufficient to encompass all that Flummox achieves, but its primary triumph is in universal songwriting excellence. Music like this marks a once-in-a-blue-moon occasion—and an ambitious undertaking—but Flummox makes it look effortless as they balance the beauty of melodious, theatrical compositions with the livid, frothing rabidity of searing, off-kilter riffs, thunderous rhythms, and revolutionary attitude (“Southern Progress,” “Femto’s Theme,” “Long Pork,” “Executive Dysfunction”). While these elements are familiar to anyone with experience in the metalverse, their twisted forms instead leave a vivid impression of something altogether more eccentric and uncanny (“Southern Progress,” “Nesting Doll,” “Locust Eater,” “Coyote Gospel”). Well-defined structures and concrete themes play their part in making sure these warped representations stick. Presenting every unhinged idea, cynical line, and explosive outburst inside a digestible package makes Southern Progress somehow even stranger and more enthralling for its deceiving accessibility (“What We’re In For…,” “Always Something Going Down,” “Siren Shock,” “Flumlindalë”).

In spite of its unquestionable adoption of metallic methods, Southern Progress is an intensely theatrical affair unfit for the genrephobic, but is nonetheless something everyone should experience at least once. Challenging in a different way than Imperial Triumphant or other known creators of what certain pundits call “not music,” Flummox is similarly fearless in their exploration of style and technique, and equally meticulous in application and execution. To that end, Southern Progress’ music is mutated and maniacal, but grounded through several root elements: emotional depth, societal awareness, thoughtful critiques, and artistic integrity. More than just a vehicle for that cogent societal commentary, the potent passion that each member of Flummox hemorrhaged into Southern Progress is unmatched by all except the unfuckwithable technical quality of their writing and performances. The fact that this intangible factor boasts such strong presence inside of, and coalesces so harmoniously with, the tangible product proves that Flummox’s dedication, attention to detail, and intentional artistry contributes meaningful substance and significance not just to Southern Progress on its own, but also to the greater body of metal as we know it today.

It is for this reason that Flummox’s Southern Progress isn’t just an excellent album, but also an important one. Aside from its high artistic merit, Southern Progress is a timely and fierce challenge against the dehumanization of queer, gender-nonconforming, and even neurodivergent communities across the American South—and, by extension, the country—especially by organized religious (read: Christian) entities. But it’s also a celebration, a triumphant expression of pride and love and resilience that only comes from openly and unashamedly discovering, struggling with, and ultimately embodying all that you are in spirit, body, and mind. Everyone deserves to know this feeling without fear of stigmatization, fetishization, violence, or isolation. Southern Progress is an unorthodox and fun, but wildly effective, advocate for that cause.

Rating: Excellent!2
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Needlejuice Records
Websites: flummoxed.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/flummoxband
Releases Worldwide: April 11th, 2025

Show 2 footnotes

1. Specifically, Zimmer’s work for Rango’s OST. ↩
2. You should expect to see me within a year or so, Contrite and ashamed that I didn’t award this the coveted Iconic score! ↩

#2025 #45 #AmericanMetal #Apr25 #AvantGarde #BlackMetal #DannyElfman #DeathMetal #DiabloSwingOrchestra #ExperimentalMetal #FairToMidland #Flummox #FolkMetal #Gospel #HansZimmer #Igorrr #ImperialTriumphant #KingGizzardAndTheLizardWizard #MelodicMetal #MikePatton #MrBungle #NativeConstruct #NeedlejuiceRecords #PinkFloyd #ProgressiveMetal #Queen #Review #Reviews #Slugdge #SouthernProgress #StrappingYoungLad

Valhalore – Beyond the Stars Review

By Twelve

Valhalore is a great name for a band. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s a little goofy—but look, you get it instantly. “Valhalla?” Folk metal. “Lore?” Symphonic/power metal. Put them together and you get that exact album cover. Beyond the Stars is Valhalore’s sophomore release, following a seven-year silence from their debut. It’s a long time to cook up something cool, and I’m an easy mark for this kind of music, but Valhalore are treading a well-worn path in their fusion of styles. The question is certainly not what kind of music you’ll find on Beyond the Stars, but how well it is executed and what will set these Australians apart from their many contemporaries.

The answer to the question, of course, is wind instruments. Valhalore do indeed play a blend of symphonic, folk, and power metal that treads easily into melodic death metal; the three guitarists (Anthony Willis, Lucas Fisher, and Joseph Dipisa-Fiorenza on bass) bring on the power, the riffs, and the leads; there are roars and clean singing (Fisher and Lachlan Neate), and Morgan Cox’s drumming keeps exactly the right pace for the adventurous spirit of the album. All of that is standard, but Sophie Christensen is what sets Beyond the Stars apart, her contribution of wind instruments present throughout. These flutes and pipes soften the music somewhat, offering a powerful counter to what is otherwise a fast-paced, heavy folk metal album. Combine this with cello and mandolin from Neate and you get an album that deftly balances strong power metal with organic, authentic folk tunes.

Authenticity really is the key here. Beyond the Stars bears some resemblance to Time II (Wintersun) in its pace and seeming influence from Japan in the wind section, but avoiding samples allows Valhalore to breathe more easily. From there, it’s all about balance. “Within the Fire” is a great song with strong riffs, a huge build, and an awesome chorus, and the same can be said for “A Walk Among the Stars.” Valhalore is a little given to the standard idea of balancing growling verses with catchy, clean-sung choruses, but what the heck—it’s standard for a reason, and they execute it well. On the softer side, “Wayfinder” demonstrates more clearly than any other song the power of authenticity. For much of the song, the mandolin, cello, and wind instruments are all the support the singing needs. It’s frankly gorgeous, and demonstrates the breadth of talent in performance and songwriting Valhalore are working with, not to mention the emotion, without which the whole thing would fall apart.

To some extent, Beyond the Stars suffers from having too much of a good thing. A little repetition in a strong formula is hardly bad, but I find the journey stalls a touch in the middle. After the stunner that is “Wayfinder,” neither “Horizon” nor “The World Between” land for me; both feel like lesser versions of the trio that opens the album. In the case of “Horizon,” I can’t help but feel the guitars would be stronger leads for the song’s aggressive pace, and I just don’t care much for the chorus in “The World Between.” With so much formula seemingly at work, it is perhaps unsurprising that the full forty-eight minutes is not fully engaging. For more evidence of this idea, see “Heart of the Sea,” the song that shatters this feeling—and the one most unlike the others. Part of that is the guest spot from Anny Murphy (Cellar Darling, ex-Eluveitie), but much of it is simply the great writing, catchy vocal lines, and sense of something different. It’s almost progressive in its writing, and it feels wistful and strong, again with the emotional vibrancy of Valhalore coming up to shine.

Beyond the Stars is a very fun album. To some extent, it is predictable—you’re not in for any serious surprises, but rather for an exciting style of metal written and performed very well. It’s a little familiar and a lot fun, and you can hear that Valhalore are seasoned musicians who love what they do. For my part, I feel right at home here, and it seems they do too. Hopefully, we won’t have to wait so long for the next instalment—I would love more of this music in my life.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Roar Rock of Angels Records
Websites: valhalore.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/valhalore
Releases Worldwide: April 11th, 2025

#2025 #30 #Apr25 #AustralianMetal #BeyondTheStars #CellarDarling #Eluveitie #FolkMetal #MelodicDeathMetal #Review #Reviews #RoarRockOfAngelsRecords #SymphonicMetal #Valhalore #Wintersun

Epica – Aspiral Review

By Kenstrosity

Since their founding in 2002, Epica garnered my everlasting adoration as my absolute favorite symphonic metal band, followed by other household names like Nightwish and After Forever. However, unlike the overwhelming majority of their ilk, Epica’s music bares sharper teeth, maintains a stronger connection to the greater pantheon of metal and its more extreme fringes, and remains to this day the most consistent in quality album to album. Few symphonic bands celebrating over 20 years of uninterrupted activity exhibit these characteristics. Consequently, my anticipation for Aspiral soars in my trust that Epica could never let me down, grounded by a great anxiety that one day, they just might.

The sigh of relief I let out after my first spin of Aspiral could be heard around the world. Brimming with drama, loaded with hooks, and laser-focused on delivering passionate, energetic songs, Epica’s ninth opus sees every member of this remarkably stable1 Dutch sextet operating in rare form. Running for bang-on one hour, Aspiral follows the classic Epica blueprint: epic, opulent symphonic metal informed by prog and power, and grazed across the cheek by death’s bony phalanges. However, new accoutrements and novel structures showcase a group exploring the boundaries of their sound with a gentle growth indicative of a collective eager to play and learn. While this never leaves any of these 11 songs unrecognizable as an Epica piece by any means, these admittedly light risks allow Aspiral to shine as a late career highlight.

Aspiral, first and foremost, is a triumph of performance in music. As the world already knows, lead siren Simone Simons is a powerhouse, her voice only getting better with time (“Obsidian Heart,” “Apparition,” “The Grand Saga of Existence—A New Age Dawns Part IX”). However, a delightful surprise, Mark Jansen’s immediately recognizable growl and scream rips across the record with a palpable presence and rabid tone (“Metanoia—A New Age Dawns Part XIII,” “Eye of the Storm,” “The Grand Saga of Existence”). Ariën van Weesenbeek’s incredible drumming steals the show all over the place, too, whether in the service of creating additional interest inside breakdowns and riffs (“Arcana”); by driving transitions smoothly between faster freakouts and slower spells (“T.I.M.E.,” “Apparition”); or when manifesting a groovy beat that all but guarantees remembrance (“Obsidian Heart,” “Fight to Survive—The Overview Effect,” “Apparition”). Thankfully, Mark Jansen’s and Isaac Delahaye’s axework keeps up, injecting oodles of fun leads and riffs (“Cross the Divide,” “Darkness Dies in Light—A New Age Dawns Part VII”) and quite a number of killer solos (“Apparition,” “Eye of the Storm”). Even Rob van der Loo’s bass guitar gets to shine a bit more, too, though he’s still a bit difficult to spot sometimes—a clear point of improvement for future records. And of course, Coen Janssen’s orchestrations need no introduction, but his gorgeous choirs in particular make a huge impression this time around (“T.I.M.E.”).

Of course, all of those performances would mean nothing without great songs in which to showcase them. Thankfully, Aspiral is loaded with pieces that live rent-free in my head. Hits like “Cross the Divide,” “Arcana,” the VOLA-esque “Obsidian Heart,” “Apparition,” the energetic “Eye of the Storm,” and beautiful penultimate epic “The Grand Saga of Existence” compete viciously for top spot as the album progresses—to the point that I always feel I’m giving the wrong answer when I call any one of them my favorite. Moreover, despite Aspiral’s adventurous and exuberant spirit, the whole feels cohesive, well-conceived, and smartly arranged. Even instrumental moments that threaten to derail my attention, like the initially questionable breakdowns in “Arcana” and “Fight to Survive,” get scooped right up by Mark’s and Isaac’s clever leads, Ariën’s kit wizardry, and Coen’s uplifting orchestrations. This, in turn, creates a dynamic experience that evokes a range of actions and reactions, logical progressions of story, and thoughtful decorations which make repeat spins valuable to invested listeners.

There’s so much more I can say about Aspiral, but as I continue to overwrite, I want to leave with a couple of notes. Firstly, while it occupies an ideal placement in the tracklist, delicate closer “Aspiral” might be the one song that meanders too long, creating a spot of bloat at the tail end. Secondly, I was hoping to hear more of the extremity that Epica unexpectedly unleashed on “Human Devastation” from their The Alchemy Project EP. I recognize that it was a one-off collaboration, but I do hear little hints of its beastly spirit in places here, and I crave more of it now that I know that Epica are willing to engage with it. Finally, Aspiral, flaws and all, made it impossible for me to go back to previous records as a point of comparison, because its pull is just too strong. Every impulse to pick up something else instead resulted in withdrawals, followed by yet another ravenous draught of Aspiral.2 If that’s not the making of a Great record, I don’t know what is.

Rating: Great!
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream [Stop This!]
Label: Nuclear Blast
Websites: epica.nl | facebook.com/epica
Releases Worldwide: April 11th, 2025

Show 2 footnotes

1. They’ve kept the same lineup since 2012! ↩
2. And this promo was a shitty stream! ↩

#2025 #40 #AfterForever #Apr25 #Aspiral #DutchMetal #Epica #Nightwish #NuclearBlast #PowerMetal #ProgressiveDeathMetal #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #SymphonicMetal #VOLA

Blood Abscission – II Review

By Thus Spoke

We tend to underestimate how great a role knowledge of the artist plays when experiencing their art. Even if unfamiliar with their work, the awareness of them as a person (or group of people) whose intentions are either plain or discoverable through interviews, notes, or academic consensus informs our opinions insidiously but inevitably. In an age when self-promotion is easier than ever thanks to the internet, a musician choosing to remain anonymous speaks to a desire to center their music in as absolute a way as possible. Who comprises Blood Abscission, and how many of them are there? That may never be known.1 All that exists is their art. This too eschews identity beyond numbers: sophomore II following in inevitability debut I, and all tracks bearing only the numerals of their album position. We must listen to II exactly as it is, with only Blood Abscission’s solemn proclamation as potential guide: “United in pain, we step into the abyss – not as mere individuals, but as a collective force seeking meaning within the chaos, finding a voice in the silence between the stars.”

Though I discovered it in retrospect—the debut having been dropped via self-release with zero fanfare—II continues exactly as I began. Blistering, raw-adjacent atmospheric black metal, relentless beyond the occasional lapses into dreamy gaziness where the keyboards shine and feedback hums (“III,” “IV”), not unlike a synth-obsessed Alcest. Its intensity, the desperate, unintelligible screams of the vocalist, and the grand melodic themes see-sawing between melancholy beauty and eerie dissonance bring to mind Aara on one face (“I,” “V”), Decoherence the other (“II”). II feels like an exercise in pure catharsis, the repeated climaxes of ever-fiercer roars and ascending tremolos communicating only unfiltered emotion, and the contrastive stillness a cleansing indifference. With no identifiable words, and even the muffled samples dampened beyond comprehension, II’s features are solely confined to this ebb and flow, amplifying once more the facelessness and pure aesthetic centrality that Blood Abscission impose by not naming it, or themself. It is a musical black hole, both in atmosphere and sparseness of properties, and is appropriately powerful.

Unlike an actual black hole, II is something we can escape from, though Blood Abscission do a good job of holding you in place. At its most ardent peaks, when beauty pitches fearsomely into urgency, it is hard to ignore, let alone switch off (“II,” “V”). The moves from one state of being to another are smooth, regardless of their speed—whether neo-second-wave and assured to a vulnerable undulation between sorrowfulness and heartenedness (“I”), or gentle contentment to grieving resolution (“III”). “IV”‘s emanation out of the chiming whine of “III,” and procession into the torrent that opens “V,” is not just an obvious example of this compositional fluidity, but itself proves to be a thoroughly absorbing interlude that belies its length. II repeatedly invites introspection, and does so through its rawness that reaches beyond the way the vocals and instruments are mastered, a corollary of the necessary focus on the sweep of its melodies, interplay between airy keys and darker riffing, and the tides dictated by pleasingly crisp percussion. The echoing croon of an escaped tremolo, the escalation of a minor refrain into devastation, and the torture of a conclusive shriek—with the closing act of “V” standing as the album’s crowning glory in this regard—are notably affecting.

Yet II’s consistency in perdurance is a double-edged sword. While full immersion grants the listener an undoubtedly intense and emotional experience, less conscious enjoyment threatens to leave them a little cold, outside of standout apexes at least. Perhaps this is always a danger with atmo-black, particularly of this more unrestrained and unstructured variety. I can testify that after spending some time with it, its magnitude seems greater than it did initially, thanks to deeper appreciation of its nuances, but even the influence of II’s potency doesn’t eliminate flaws entirely. II could stand to be a shade shorter, to give every moment more impact; something not needed so much by its peaks, but from which some of its lingering passages would gain better standing as transitions of beneficial steadiness between outbursts.

With so much atmospheric and raw black metal out there that might as well be anonymous for all its uniformity and ironic placidity, Blood Abscission stand out not only with real anonymity, but music that speaks for itself. In form resisting memorability, in actuality quite impactful and resilient, II shows what the genre is capable of. Even if it lacks the concrete immediacy to solidify it into long-standing greatness, its noise is not meaningless, and its meaning is not lost, however imprecise it might seem.

Rating: Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Debemur Morti
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: April 11th, 2025

Show 1 footnote

1. And as is stated quite forcefully in the promo material, “Blood Abscission is NOT available for interviews.” ↩

#2025 #30 #Aara #Alcest #AmbientBlackMetal #Apr25 #AtmosphericBlackMetal #BlackMetal #BloodAbscission #DebemurMortiProductions #Decoherence #II #RawBlackMetal #Review #Reviews

Allegaeon – The Ossuary Lens Review

By Maddog

Allegaeon’s six albums have received tumultuous marks in these halls. After their fantastic 2010 debut Fragments of Form and Function broke the score counter, Allegaeon sank as low as a 2.0 for 2016’s Proponent for Sentience in the eyes of then-tadpole GardensTale. While their latest outing recovered to a more respectable score, Allegaeon’s techy brand of melodeath has polarized socialites and critics alike. The band excelled with their riffier onslaughts and soaring melodies, but fell for the forbidden fruit of proggy excess. The Ossuary Lens showcases a leaner, meaner Allegaeon. I won’t be listening to it in a decade, but it’s a worthy soundtrack for today.

Allegaeon have trimmed their bloat but not their ambitions. For the uninitiated, Allegaeon’s brand of death metal resembles a noodlier Arsis, with its melodicism matched only by its technicality. That said, Allegaeonites will recall that these Coloradans would rather cover Yes or Rush than classic death metal. Allegaeon’s career has sometimes descended into a vulgar display of prog, combining protracted tracks with a penchant for flamenco breaks. These proggy elements live on, as Allegaeon gallops from punchy riffs to melodic leads to clean jams and back again. However, The Ossuary Lens displays newfound restraint. At 45 minutes, this is the band’s shortest album by a full eight minutes. Allegaeon’s escapades no longer leave a salty aftertaste, and the band’s forays into other genres no longer feel like pleas for a yardstick. The Ossuary Lens preserves its identity without getting lost in its own reflection.

Accordingly, The Ossuary Lens hits across both its bigly riffs and its creative tangents. The album’s fierier cuts are a refreshing return to form, with “The Swarm” reviving Elements of the Infinite’s infectious riffcraft. As hoped, these sections still ooze technicality, as guitarists Greg Burgess and Michael Stancel dominate their fretboards even in their most explosive moments. Meanwhile, Allegaeon’s genre-bending experiments feel creative but not overwrought. Most notably, “Dark Matter Dynamics” pulls a First Fragment stunt of seamlessly transitioning between jubilant strumming (courtesy of Adrian Bellue) and formidable death metal melodies. Indeed, The Ossuary Lens hits hardest when these forces unite. For instance, “Carried by Delusion” voyages from serene melodies to Revocation worship to blackened tremolos to upbeat bass and guitar solos to downcast crunchy riffs, eviscerating both my heartstrings and my neck. The Ossuary Lens’ moderation goes a long way. Rather than clobbering the listener with decades-long Spanish guitar jams, The Ossuary Lens presents its creative side through measured four-minute tracks. Tech, prog, melody, and home sweet death metal unite into a potent concoction.

While each piece of The Ossuary Lens is impressive in isolation, the album sometimes loses my interest. One reason is its lack of climactic moments. During tracks like “Scythe” and “Wake Circling Above,” I zoned out and had to abuse the rewind button, because there weren’t enough valleys, buildups, and peaks to keep me engaged. Another reason is sequencing; while the five middle tracks from “Driftwood” through “Dark Matter Dynamics” shine, the bookends fall short. The most predictable reason is production. Despite aiming for creativity and dynamism in their songwriting, Allegaeon continues to brickwall their albums into tepid gruel. As a result, The Ossuary Lens often loses my focus despite its seemingly manageable length. Conversely, the album’s highlights show how it’s done. Most strikingly, “Driftwood” has colonized my brain with a soulful mix of melodeath and metalcore that recalls Venom Prison. With highs this high, it’s a shame that The Ossuary Lens often slips into uniformity.

Allegaeon is a relatively new band, but they inspire nostalgia. I vividly recall pimply nights with the addictive Fragments of Form and Function. I still think that “Accelerated Evolution” and “Genocide for Praise” are two of the greatest album closers of this millennium. And the iconic 2014 music video for “1.618” sealed Allegaeon’s place in my heart forever. Measured against Allegaeon’s first three albums, The Ossuary Lens falls short, hampered by its dearth of standout moments. Still, it isn’t a stinker. It still bangs; it still shreds; it still progs. Warts and all, it earns its keep.

Rating: Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade Records
Websites: allegaeon.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Allegaeon
Releases Worldwide: April 4th, 2025

Iceberg

Allegaeon are something of a known quantity around here, having been nodded at by Steel, eviscerated by GardensTale, and patched up by Cherd. The Colorado crew helmed by guitarist Greg Burgess have amassed a legion of rabid followers (who are sure to raise a ruckus in the comment section) for their signature style of Gothenburg-meets-tech-death. I’ll admit to being a fan of 2016’s Proponent for Sentience, one of the first reviews I read on this site, but got lost amidst the dense material of Apoptosis and frankly didn’t even give Damnum a shot. Allegaeon’s latest LP, The Ossuary Lens, sees the return of original vocalist Ezra Haynes and a much-welcomed stripped-down runtime, two intriguing changes in my book. It’s been quite a while since I’ve been excited about an Allegaeon release, can The Ossuary Lens be the record to change that?

Allegaeon’s style of melo-tech-death needs little introduction here, but for those of you who haven’t been following the past decade’s worth of drama, I’ll provide the CliffsNotes. Sweeping, scalar guitar riffs courtesy of Burgess and Michael Stancel form the backbone of most tracks, and the dual guitars make for an indulgent offering of solos (“Driftwood,” “Wake Circling Above”). The drums here, while dripping with modern production sheen, are compelling and energetic without being overly technical, a sincere compliment for Jeff Saltzman. Allegaeon have never strayed from highlighting their bass players, and standout moments in “Chaos Theory” and “Carried by Delusion” show Brandon Michael has as much a command of melody as he does of relentless, galloping rhythms. Ezra Haynes, of Elements of the Infinite fame, comes roaring back to life on The Ossuary Lens, employing a gritty death roar alongside commendable clean vocals on “Driftwood” and “Wake Circling Above.” The performances on The Ossuary Lens are everything one would come to expect from a band nearly two decades into their career, and make for a wholly engaging listening experience.

Allegaeon albums tend to have similar issues holding them back, and the band have largely addressed them on The Ossuary Lens. First and foremost is the 45-minute runtime, a nearly 25% reduction in music from their last three records. The renewed focus on editing shines, with tracks that hit fast and get out of the way while still managing to be memorable (“The Swarm,” “Imperial”). This represents the first major improvement in The Ossuary Lens; Allegaeon have not only figured out that less is more, but they’ve also magnified the parts that work. Sing-along melodeath choruses lurk throughout the album (“Driftwood,” “Dies Irae”) but none so impactful as penultimate track “Wake Circling Above.” Clearly the best Insomnium track released this year, Allegaeon’s ode to all things Gothenburg is a monumental testament to what this band can do when they stop doing so much and let the music dictate the song’s course.

The hits don’t stop there. The Ossuary Lens takes a while to really get moving, with the first three tracks treading familiar territory. But then comes “Dies Irae,” a barnburner that incorporates the three-note musical motif for the Dies Irae text of the Requiem Mass, a nice music nerd Easter Egg that only enhances the ripping triplet-infused breakdown sitting in the song’s center. And Burgess’ requisite flamenco guitar, something sorely overused in Proponent for Sentience, is here condensed into the driving groove of “Dark Matter Dynamics,” a powerfully infectious rhythm ripped straight from a Rodrigo y Gabriela record, or the breath-before-the-plunge moments of the darkly harrowing “Carried by Delusion.” Whereas previous Allegaeon records were dense, academic affairs that required shoveling through noise and notes to discern, The Ossuary Lens presents a barebones masterclass on Allegaeon’s modus operandi.

This isn’t to say that The Ossuary Lens is infallible. Early tracks “Chaos Theory” and “Driftwood” are technically proficient, but fail to reach the emotional highs of the rest of their brethren. Final track “Scythe,” while holding some excellent verse grooves, feels underbaked after the astonishing “Wake Circling Above,” and its cropped ending leaves the album on more of a question mark than a statement. And there’s the lingering issue of the DR5 master and production, which, while not as obscene as earlier records, is still crushed and fatiguing. But overall, The Ossuary Lens represents a massively successful repositioning for the Coloradoans, making it one of my favorite spins of the year for its precision, refinement, and memorability. If Allegaeon continue on this trajectory, we may see their best work yet just over the horizon.

Rating: 3.5/5.0

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