#apr26 — Public Fediverse posts

Written By: Aleken’s Gunstrosity

Every year has one magical moment that I look forward to with great anticipation: the first metal release that wows me enough to think it’ll be my AotY. It’s an electric sensation, and it just so happens that Alekhines Gun brought first lightning to my world this year, in the form of atmospheric post-black metal band Silaera’s debut record, An Aberration of the Void. The Chicagoan triplet, established in 2019 as a one-man project, rounded out their lineup with a bassist and a second guitarist last year as they recorded their striking debut. Complete with a stunning Burke piece adorning its cover, An Aberration of the Void left Gun and I with our jaws on the floor, so much so that we had no choice but to write this review together. Two different voices, one unified piece.

An Aberration of the Void is an apt moniker for Silaera’s first outing, as the band masterfully wields all of black metal’s forms as if they were intrinsic properties of their very being. At once gorgeous, frightening, triumphant, and evil, An Aberration of the Void recalls the sweeping flares of Mare Cognitum (“A Celestial Grave”), the gentle caress of Noltem (the first quarter of “Fall into Cosmic Sleep”), the fervent dissonance of Vimur (“From Entropic Dust”), and the devastating heft of the altogether more vicious Keres (“Abhorring the Lifting of Eyes, the middle third of “Fall into Cosmic Sleep”). Yet, Silaera’s talent for transitions and assembly manage to craft a vision like visiting an alien planet; you’ve seen planets before, but none like this, and trying to classify its place in the cosmos in relation to other stars is a waste of time. This planet simply is. An Aberration’s production conjures specters of the celestial in similar fashion, transversely aligning full, rich chords, cavernous reverb, and a deep low end against crystalline shimmers and bright midranges. The result is a magical composition of unknown and unknowable beauty churning with the destructive energy of a collapsing star.

If you need a quick peak into the nebula awaiting, point your telescopes to “Abhorring the Lifting of Eyes,” a masterstroke of composition, creativity, and unpredictability. Launching with a sparkling1 trem-heavy intro, it glides into a long-form riff of cosmic mysticism before variating into a brutally heavy crush, which then spontaneously combusts into a jagged groove attack liable to snap your neck like a toothpick. Tellingly, vocals take a dumbfounding length of time to kick in, but aren’t noticed in their absence until they make their presence known—this serves only to enhance their impact. Moments of contrast like this abound on An Aberration, giving new meaning to the term “beauty and the beast,” but few hit harder than “From Entropic Dust” and epic closer “Fall into Cosmic Sleep” when they offset their impeccable atmospheric allure with deadly swings and terrifying dissonance. Imagine if Cosmic Putrification wrote an album about their feelings and had it produced by Blackbraid, and you’ll almost get it. Silaera takes their songwriting chiaroscuro even further, morphing and mutating phrases with each repetition so radically as to redefine, but never estrange, the tones and textures of the next measure.

That songwriting makes An Aberration of the Void engaging and stimulating from start to finish in spite of its uniformly long-form construction. You’d expect a record where no song falls below six minutes to feature some bloat, but not here. Not a moment wasted, An Aberration arranges compelling choices and elevating decorations around every corner, on both the songwriting and production front. The snare positively crackles and pops when devolving into ferocious blasts, but sibilates and snaps instead during gentler phrases to emphasize mood and atmosphere to great effect (“A Celestial Gaze”). A throaty rasp informs the more intense sections while guttural roars evoke a lurking monstrosity when the moment calls for something more ominous (“Fall into Cosmic Sleep”). Riffs pummel and pound with the terrible force of black holes, but delicate melodies ascend beyond the heavens in tandem to uplift the listener as the event horizon guarantees their final destination (“Abhorring the Lifting of Eyes,” “Fall into Cosmic Sleep”). This interplay of contrast and complement, paired with meticulous detailing, is the unfathomable core of An Aberration of the Void, and the main reason why it universally captivates my attention.

Criticisms are extremely difficult to commit to, not just for me, but also for Gun. Neither one of us felt any held water for longer than a few moments. We nonetheless noted that, for some, Silaera’s disparate references could feel disjointed in the moment,2 with cohesion only coming after focused spins. An Aberration of the Void also does not escape common genre trappings: maximum reverb, more runtime dedicated to slower paces than outright aggression, arpeggios everywhere. But in execution, these small points of contention feel like inseparable parts of the cosmos Silaera created, and what a wondrous cosmos it is.

Rating Consensus: Great!!3
DR: Lost to the Void | Format Reviewed: Bandcamp Stream
Label: Self Released
Websites: silaera.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Silaera
Releases Worldwide: April 10th, 2026

Grond – The Temple Review

Ten long years passed since Grond released Worship the Kraken, a fun and meaty slab of Bolt Thrower-meets-Autopsy-meets-Lovecraft…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2026 #3.5 #Apr26 #autopsy #BoltThrower #Corpsessed #DeathDoom #DeathMetal #Entertainment #frozensoul #Grond #review #reviews #RussianMetal #SulphurAeon #TempleofVoid #TheTemple #XtreemMusic
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/627054/

Grond – The Temple Review

Ten long years passed since Grond released Worship the Kraken, a fun and meaty slab of Bolt Thrower-meets-Autopsy-meets-Lovecraft…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2026 #3.5 #Apr26 #autopsy #BoltThrower #Corpsessed #DeathDoom #DeathMetal #Entertainment #frozensoul #Grond #review #reviews #RussianMetal #SulphurAeon #TempleofVoid #TheTemple #XtreemMusic
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/627054/

Ten long years passed since Grond released Worship the Kraken, a fun and meaty slab of Bolt Thrower-meets-Autopsy-meets-Lovecraft madness. With such a protracted lull in recording activity, I was sure there was never going to be another Grond record, but lo and behold, The Temple peeked above the horizon just enough for me to catch it on the approach. I quiver with anticipation to see what cosmic horrors await me there.

Grond is the same stomping monstrosity that left the world all those years ago, muscular and be-tentacled as ever. Their Bolt Thrower riffs and nasty bass tone still take center stage, ensuring that any listener’s face scrunches up in grotesque relief (“Weddigen,” “Submergence”). A Temple of Void-like doom/death shroud adorns The Temple in shadowed moods and ominous atmosphere, creating a vastness of scale and stature Worship the Kraken didn’t have (“U-29,” “Dreadnought”). Much like other modern old-school revival acts like Frozen Soul, simplicity is Grond’s best friend, choosing reliable parts and pieces of the death metal arsenal to ensure maximum impact in their songwriting. Thankfully, Grond’s high-fantasy horror theme, frightful guitar pyrotechnics in solos and flourishes (“Dreadnought”), and beefy production help set The Temple apart from contemporary examples of the style and make for a highly engaging 48 minutes.

At first, though, I wasn’t sure if The Temple justified its ten-year incubation period. It’s their slowest, their longest, and arguably their simplest record in terms of structure. I wondered if this meant it offered less substance or weaker engagement. I was wrong. Without sacrificing heft or extremity, Grond doubled down on accessibility and groove to make The Temple their most easily digestible outing thus far (“Pour le Merite,” “Radiant Fury”), but they made considerable effort using accessibility to their advantage. In place of compositional complexity, odd time signatures, or speed, wild lead guitar exhibitionism, gut-punching bass burbles, and clever drum fills abound. This trade, in turn, makes even the most straightforward cuts exciting and distinctive (“The Temple”). Furthermore, revisits uncover even more nifty details and entertaining embellishments—again sourced primarily from the guitar work—that bring depth and charm to The Temple for which initial impressions don’t account.

The Temple boasts many traits and nuances that not only make it a joy to return to, but also help shrink its inflated runtime, yet some areas could still use a trim. At a bloated six-and-a-half minutes, the title track only barely justifies its length with the strength of its guitar work, but would be stronger still with a full minute or so hacked off the first half for brevity. In fact, most of The Temple’s nine tracks toy with that ambitious six-minute barrier. While a vast majority of them don’t feel nearly that long, they all have at least one small grouping of measures that, if culled, wouldn’t detract from the compositions to which they belong (“Weddigen,” “Dark Solitude of the Sea,” “U-29”). Additionally, instrumental intro “Rotter Himmel” adds very little to the whole except to tumble right into the opener proper. At three minutes, it begs either to be nipped, tucked, and integrated into “Weddigen,” or to be cut altogether.

Aside from a spot of bloat, there’s a lot to enjoy in The Temple. It’s a rare kind of classically informed, doom-tinged, mid-paced death metal that grows with every spin. Grond achieved that grower status with their third LP, and it was worth the ten-year wait. It might not be a groundbreaking album, but competes well in its field and pairs very nicely with other Lovecraft-inspired death metal from the likes of Sulphur Aeon or Corpsessed. So if that’s your bag, Grond’s your monster. Choose your vessel, and enter the gate The Temple!

Rating: Very Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: ~260 kbps VBR mp3
Label: XTreem Music
Websites: grond.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/grondrus
Releases Worldwide: April 30th, 2026

Ten long years passed since Grond released Worship the Kraken, a fun and meaty slab of Bolt Thrower-meets-Autopsy-meets-Lovecraft madness. With such a protracted lull in recording activity, I was sure there was never going to be another Grond record, but lo and behold, The Temple peeked above the horizon just enough for me to catch it on the approach. I quiver with anticipation to see what cosmic horrors await me there.

Grond is the same stomping monstrosity that left the world all those years ago, muscular and be-tentacled as ever. Their Bolt Thrower riffs and nasty bass tone still take center stage, ensuring that any listener’s face scrunches up in grotesque relief (“Weddigen,” “Submergence”). A Temple of Void-like doom/death shroud adorns The Temple in shadowed moods and ominous atmosphere, creating a vastness of scale and stature Worship the Kraken didn’t have (“U-29,” “Dreadnought”). Much like other modern old-school revival acts like Frozen Soul, simplicity is Grond’s best friend, choosing reliable parts and pieces of the death metal arsenal to ensure maximum impact in their songwriting. Thankfully, Grond’s high-fantasy horror theme, frightful guitar pyrotechnics in solos and flourishes (“Dreadnought”), and beefy production help set The Temple apart from contemporary examples of the style and make for a highly engaging 48 minutes.

At first, though, I wasn’t sure if The Temple justified its ten-year incubation period. It’s their slowest, their longest, and arguably their simplest record in terms of structure. I wondered if this meant it offered less substance or weaker engagement. I was wrong. Without sacrificing heft or extremity, Grond doubled down on accessibility and groove to make The Temple their most easily digestible outing thus far (“Pour le Merite,” “Radiant Fury”), but they made considerable effort using accessibility to their advantage. In place of compositional complexity, odd time signatures, or speed, wild lead guitar exhibitionism, gut-punching bass burbles, and clever drum fills abound. This trade, in turn, makes even the most straightforward cuts exciting and distinctive (“The Temple”). Furthermore, revisits uncover even more nifty details and entertaining embellishments—again sourced primarily from the guitar work—that bring depth and charm to The Temple for which initial impressions don’t account.

The Temple boasts many traits and nuances that not only make it a joy to return to, but also help shrink its inflated runtime, yet some areas could still use a trim. At a bloated six-and-a-half minutes, the title track only barely justifies its length with the strength of its guitar work, but would be stronger still with a full minute or so hacked off the first half for brevity. In fact, most of The Temple’s nine tracks toy with that ambitious six-minute barrier. While a vast majority of them don’t feel nearly that long, they all have at least one small grouping of measures that, if culled, wouldn’t detract from the compositions to which they belong (“Weddigen,” “Dark Solitude of the Sea,” “U-29”). Additionally, instrumental intro “Rotter Himmel” adds very little to the whole except to tumble right into the opener proper. At three minutes, it begs either to be nipped, tucked, and integrated into “Weddigen,” or to be cut altogether.

Aside from a spot of bloat, there’s a lot to enjoy in The Temple. It’s a rare kind of classically informed, doom-tinged, mid-paced death metal that grows with every spin. Grond achieved that grower status with their third LP, and it was worth the ten-year wait. It might not be a groundbreaking album, but competes well in its field and pairs very nicely with other Lovecraft-inspired death metal from the likes of Sulphur Aeon or Corpsessed. So if that’s your bag, Grond’s your monster. Choose your vessel, and enter the gate The Temple!

Rating: Very Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: ~260 kbps VBR mp3
Label: XTreem Music
Websites: grond.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/grondrus
Releases Worldwide: April 30th, 2026

Ten long years passed since Grond released Worship the Kraken, a fun and meaty slab of Bolt Thrower-meets-Autopsy-meets-Lovecraft madness. With such a protracted lull in recording activity, I was sure there was never going to be another Grond record, but lo and behold, The Temple peeked above the horizon just enough for me to catch it on the approach. I quiver with anticipation to see what cosmic horrors await me there.

Grond is the same stomping monstrosity that left the world all those years ago, muscular and be-tentacled as ever. Their Bolt Thrower riffs and nasty bass tone still take center stage, ensuring that any listener’s face scrunches up in grotesque relief (“Weddigen,” “Submergence”). A Temple of Void-like doom/death shroud adorns The Temple in shadowed moods and ominous atmosphere, creating a vastness of scale and stature Worship the Kraken didn’t have (“U-29,” “Dreadnought”). Much like other modern old-school revival acts like Frozen Soul, simplicity is Grond’s best friend, choosing reliable parts and pieces of the death metal arsenal to ensure maximum impact in their songwriting. Thankfully, Grond’s high-fantasy horror theme, frightful guitar pyrotechnics in solos and flourishes (“Dreadnought”), and beefy production help set The Temple apart from contemporary examples of the style and make for a highly engaging 48 minutes.

At first, though, I wasn’t sure if The Temple justified its ten-year incubation period. It’s their slowest, their longest, and arguably their simplest record in terms of structure. I wondered if this meant it offered less substance or weaker engagement. I was wrong. Without sacrificing heft or extremity, Grond doubled down on accessibility and groove to make The Temple their most easily digestible outing thus far (“Pour le Merite,” “Radiant Fury”), but they made considerable effort using accessibility to their advantage. In place of compositional complexity, odd time signatures, or speed, wild lead guitar exhibitionism, gut-punching bass burbles, and clever drum fills abound. This trade, in turn, makes even the most straightforward cuts exciting and distinctive (“The Temple”). Furthermore, revisits uncover even more nifty details and entertaining embellishments—again sourced primarily from the guitar work—that bring depth and charm to The Temple for which initial impressions don’t account.

The Temple boasts many traits and nuances that not only make it a joy to return to, but also help shrink its inflated runtime, yet some areas could still use a trim. At a bloated six-and-a-half minutes, the title track only barely justifies its length with the strength of its guitar work, but would be stronger still with a full minute or so hacked off the first half for brevity. In fact, most of The Temple’s nine tracks toy with that ambitious six-minute barrier. While a vast majority of them don’t feel nearly that long, they all have at least one small grouping of measures that, if culled, wouldn’t detract from the compositions to which they belong (“Weddigen,” “Dark Solitude of the Sea,” “U-29”). Additionally, instrumental intro “Rotter Himmel” adds very little to the whole except to tumble right into the opener proper. At three minutes, it begs either to be nipped, tucked, and integrated into “Weddigen,” or to be cut altogether.

Aside from a spot of bloat, there’s a lot to enjoy in The Temple. It’s a rare kind of classically informed, doom-tinged, mid-paced death metal that grows with every spin. Grond achieved that grower status with their third LP, and it was worth the ten-year wait. It might not be a groundbreaking album, but competes well in its field and pairs very nicely with other Lovecraft-inspired death metal from the likes of Sulphur Aeon or Corpsessed. So if that’s your bag, Grond’s your monster. Choose your vessel, and enter the gate The Temple!

Rating: Very Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: ~260 kbps VBR mp3
Label: XTreem Music
Websites: grond.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/grondrus
Releases Worldwide: April 30th, 2026

Ten long years passed since Grond released Worship the Kraken, a fun and meaty slab of Bolt Thrower-meets-Autopsy-meets-Lovecraft madness. With such a protracted lull in recording activity, I was sure there was never going to be another Grond record, but lo and behold, The Temple peeked above the horizon just enough for me to catch it on the approach. I quiver with anticipation to see what cosmic horrors await me there.

Grond is the same stomping monstrosity that left the world all those years ago, muscular and be-tentacled as ever. Their Bolt Thrower riffs and nasty bass tone still take center stage, ensuring that any listener’s face scrunches up in grotesque relief (“Weddigen,” “Submergence”). A Temple of Void-like doom/death shroud adorns The Temple in shadowed moods and ominous atmosphere, creating a vastness of scale and stature Worship the Kraken didn’t have (“U-29,” “Dreadnought”). Much like other modern old-school revival acts like Frozen Soul, simplicity is Grond’s best friend, choosing reliable parts and pieces of the death metal arsenal to ensure maximum impact in their songwriting. Thankfully, Grond’s high-fantasy horror theme, frightful guitar pyrotechnics in solos and flourishes (“Dreadnought”), and beefy production help set The Temple apart from contemporary examples of the style and make for a highly engaging 48 minutes.

At first, though, I wasn’t sure if The Temple justified its ten-year incubation period. It’s their slowest, their longest, and arguably their simplest record in terms of structure. I wondered if this meant it offered less substance or weaker engagement. I was wrong. Without sacrificing heft or extremity, Grond doubled down on accessibility and groove to make The Temple their most easily digestible outing thus far (“Pour le Merite,” “Radiant Fury”), but they made considerable effort using accessibility to their advantage. In place of compositional complexity, odd time signatures, or speed, wild lead guitar exhibitionism, gut-punching bass burbles, and clever drum fills abound. This trade, in turn, makes even the most straightforward cuts exciting and distinctive (“The Temple”). Furthermore, revisits uncover even more nifty details and entertaining embellishments—again sourced primarily from the guitar work—that bring depth and charm to The Temple for which initial impressions don’t account.

The Temple boasts many traits and nuances that not only make it a joy to return to, but also help shrink its inflated runtime, yet some areas could still use a trim. At a bloated six-and-a-half minutes, the title track only barely justifies its length with the strength of its guitar work, but would be stronger still with a full minute or so hacked off the first half for brevity. In fact, most of The Temple’s nine tracks toy with that ambitious six-minute barrier. While a vast majority of them don’t feel nearly that long, they all have at least one small grouping of measures that, if culled, wouldn’t detract from the compositions to which they belong (“Weddigen,” “Dark Solitude of the Sea,” “U-29”). Additionally, instrumental intro “Rotter Himmel” adds very little to the whole except to tumble right into the opener proper. At three minutes, it begs either to be nipped, tucked, and integrated into “Weddigen,” or to be cut altogether.

Aside from a spot of bloat, there’s a lot to enjoy in The Temple. It’s a rare kind of classically informed, doom-tinged, mid-paced death metal that grows with every spin. Grond achieved that grower status with their third LP, and it was worth the ten-year wait. It might not be a groundbreaking album, but competes well in its field and pairs very nicely with other Lovecraft-inspired death metal from the likes of Sulphur Aeon or Corpsessed. So if that’s your bag, Grond’s your monster. Choose your vessel, and enter the gate The Temple!

Rating: Very Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: ~260 kbps VBR mp3
Label: XTreem Music
Websites: grond.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/grondrus
Releases Worldwide: April 30th, 2026

Ten long years passed since Grond released Worship the Kraken, a fun and meaty slab of Bolt Thrower-meets-Autopsy-meets-Lovecraft madness. With such a protracted lull in recording activity, I was sure there was never going to be another Grond record, but lo and behold, The Temple peeked above the horizon just enough for me to catch it on the approach. I quiver with anticipation to see what cosmic horrors await me there.

Grond is the same stomping monstrosity that left the world all those years ago, muscular and be-tentacled as ever. Their Bolt Thrower riffs and nasty bass tone still take center stage, ensuring that any listener’s face scrunches up in grotesque relief (“Weddigen,” “Submergence”). A Temple of Void-like doom/death shroud adorns The Temple in shadowed moods and ominous atmosphere, creating a vastness of scale and stature Worship the Kraken didn’t have (“U-29,” “Dreadnought”). Much like other modern old-school revival acts like Frozen Soul, simplicity is Grond’s best friend, choosing reliable parts and pieces of the death metal arsenal to ensure maximum impact in their songwriting. Thankfully, Grond’s high-fantasy horror theme, frightful guitar pyrotechnics in solos and flourishes (“Dreadnought”), and beefy production help set The Temple apart from contemporary examples of the style and make for a highly engaging 48 minutes.

At first, though, I wasn’t sure if The Temple justified its ten-year incubation period. It’s their slowest, their longest, and arguably their simplest record in terms of structure. I wondered if this meant it offered less substance or weaker engagement. I was wrong. Without sacrificing heft or extremity, Grond doubled down on accessibility and groove to make The Temple their most easily digestible outing thus far (“Pour le Merite,” “Radiant Fury”), but they made considerable effort using accessibility to their advantage. In place of compositional complexity, odd time signatures, or speed, wild lead guitar exhibitionism, gut-punching bass burbles, and clever drum fills abound. This trade, in turn, makes even the most straightforward cuts exciting and distinctive (“The Temple”). Furthermore, revisits uncover even more nifty details and entertaining embellishments—again sourced primarily from the guitar work—that bring depth and charm to The Temple for which initial impressions don’t account.

The Temple boasts many traits and nuances that not only make it a joy to return to, but also help shrink its inflated runtime, yet some areas could still use a trim. At a bloated six-and-a-half minutes, the title track only barely justifies its length with the strength of its guitar work, but would be stronger still with a full minute or so hacked off the first half for brevity. In fact, most of The Temple’s nine tracks toy with that ambitious six-minute barrier. While a vast majority of them don’t feel nearly that long, they all have at least one small grouping of measures that, if culled, wouldn’t detract from the compositions to which they belong (“Weddigen,” “Dark Solitude of the Sea,” “U-29”). Additionally, instrumental intro “Rotter Himmel” adds very little to the whole except to tumble right into the opener proper. At three minutes, it begs either to be nipped, tucked, and integrated into “Weddigen,” or to be cut altogether.

Aside from a spot of bloat, there’s a lot to enjoy in The Temple. It’s a rare kind of classically informed, doom-tinged, mid-paced death metal that grows with every spin. Grond achieved that grower status with their third LP, and it was worth the ten-year wait. It might not be a groundbreaking album, but competes well in its field and pairs very nicely with other Lovecraft-inspired death metal from the likes of Sulphur Aeon or Corpsessed. So if that’s your bag, Grond’s your monster. Choose your vessel, and enter the gate The Temple!

Rating: Very Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: ~260 kbps VBR mp3
Label: XTreem Music
Websites: grond.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/grondrus
Releases Worldwide: April 30th, 2026

There are few concepts in the Western tradition as misunderstood as that of “the death of God.” It is not a triumphant proclamation, nor a call for apathetic nihilism. What has been coined in recent online discourse as a ‘meaning crisis’ is only barely getting the point. The Loss of Transcendence—some universal, ultimate, mind-independent Truth and set of values—is a beginning, an event that should prompt critical thought and action and confrontation of a human condition that we sedate ourselves out of with belief in a higher power or sense and reason in the universe; hope; or the rescinding of responsibility to the idea that ‘nothing matters.12 The Great Observer seem to have done their homework for the most part, with their debut channeling their thrashy blackened death into a philosophical call to action that blends Existentialism with Stoicism and Epicureanism. Fresh on the scene and immediately going all-in in aggression and storytelling, what can The Great Observer give to us?

On the face of it, Loss of Transcendence is standard black/death/thrash, with a rotating emphasis on each of those three components. Sticking primarily to up-tempo, gritty riffing in a vein somewhere between Necrophobic, Tomb Mold, and Morbid Angel—though a less flashy iteration—The Great Observer do nonetheless find time to linger in some cavernousness that vaguely recalls Disembowelment. They further emphasise their mean streak with a pervasive vocal echo that adds to the grime of the throaty howls and is compounded during the many instances when such vocals are multi-tracked or delivered as a group. But not all of this energy is used in service of evil; there’s a strong anthemic side to these choruses and a jaunty bombast to many a beat. In many ways, it gives off the aura of classical extreme metal—back when Black Metal was an album title, and ugliness, speed, and aggression were the name of the game in a fundamentally different way to how they are now. And yet, under the layers of dirt and behind the malevolence lie small seeds of nuance, and it is to Loss of Transcendence’s great detriment that they remain scattered seeds alone.

Loss of Transcendence flirts with many things—intrigue, atmosphere, tenacity—but never quite wins any of them over. Riffs generally check boxes for pugnacity, but even at their most brutish and slick (“The Great Observer,” “Impervious Creation”), they have no edge, no force. At the worst end, guitar lines are entirely blunt thanks to nondescript, generic-sounding melodies and patterns (“Herald of Thorns,” “How Far the Faithless will Venture”). It’s unfortunate that all of the best guitar sits in the record’s back half, with “Impervious Creation” and “The Weight of Being Free” delivering shimmying, sliding shredding capable of winning over the harshest of critics, and the latter track featuring a genuinely beautiful, buttery smooth solo that combines everything great about grimy yet gorgeous extreme metal. The frequent use of group vocals, which sometimes creates an impressive miasma of harrowing calls (“Impervious Creation,” title track), falls awkwardly flat when delivered as rousing shouts (“Sentenced at High Noon,” “At The Summit of Consciousness,” “The Weight…”) thanks to the latter’s surprising corniness. The Great Observer also experiment in an exasperatingly random manner with distortion, with a liquid, Worm-adjacent effect appearing in random snatches never to develop (“Parénklisis (Fallen Into Existence),” “How Far…,” “The Weight…,” title track); and the worst part is that it’s good! The pace, generally high, is also stymied by not one but two synth-heavy instrumentals as “Parénklisis…” opens the album with a gravitas that never appears again, and “Ékstasis (The Lonesome Path)” needlessly presses pause for two minutes of ambience and whispering.

In reality, Loss of Transcendence feels frustratingly lukewarm. A mix that pushes guitars erratically between the far background and the very forefront, and a baffling decision3 to layer vocal tracks and reverb like lasagna over these riffs (“The Great Observer,” “Sentenced at High Noon,” “The Weight…,” title track) makes what could be decent blackened death sound almost poor. Almost the only time the guitars sound good is when they sound great, soloing in sudden clarity (“Sentenced…,” “Impervious Creation”) and with fluent expressiveness (“The Weight…,”), and these highlights appear exclusively in the second half. Given this, it becomes harder to forgive the swing of strangely upbeat gang shouts (“Sentenced…,” “Herald of Thorns”) and a brusque attitude to riff-writing that tends to shy away from character.

It’s always a shame when a concept I’m particularly interested in is delivered in mediocre form. Loss of Transcendence strikes as an album that would have had heads spinning and Bibles being reached for in the early 90s but now its grit cannot make up for its shortcomings. Failing to develop their best ideas and sidelining their assets far too often, The Great Observer still haven’t seen how to capitalise on their strengths, and Loss of Transcendence loses more than higher values as a result.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: BlackSeed Productions
Website: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 30th, 2026

There was a time in my youth when bands like California’s Atreyu, Killswitch Engage and their ilk were all I wanted to listen to. Whether this was due to the novelty of the sound in its era, coinciding with my novice experience with metal as a whole, or perhaps the reflection of my own earnest angst resonating from the common themes of the scene, records like As Daylight Dies or Lead Sails Paper Anchor marked core albums in my metallic upbringing. However, with only two exceptions, I never kept up with any of these bands as time passed. My tastes shifted and evolved. For a time, I forgot entirely about Atreyu, until the itch to sing a few of their songs in the car became too much to bear. And so, when I saw Atreyu were not only still active, but about to release a new record aptly entitled The End is Not the End, I had to know how almost 20 years of time away changed my appreciation for Atreyu.

One thing that 20 years did not change was Atreyu’s style. Since my introduction to them with Lead Sails Paper Anchor, an album I still hold in high regard for better or for worse, they firmly entrenched their metalcore base with poppy beats, addicting choruses, and earnest, if ham-fisted, lyrics. Thankfully, they also boasted one of the better vocalists in a style hell-bent on employing whiny tenors with unrefined technique, both in harsh and clean styles. If anything, Brandon Saller has only gotten better with time and practice. The rest of the lineup shifted and swirled until settling into its current form in 2020,1 but other than a marked uptick in pop-centric songwriting, Atreyu preserved the core of their 2007 sound remarkably well.

This both works in their favor and leaves me cold. On one hand, killer hit-makers that are impossible to resist (“Break Me,” “All for You”) recall the shockingly effective simplicity of post-grunge-pop acts like Daughtry or Shinedown at their peak. On the other hand, a distinct lack of unique ideas or distinct identity for the vast majority of its 45-ish minute runtime (with the exception of “Ego Death” and “Children of the Light”) leaves me starving for something of substance. At times, as in the generic “Death Rattle,” small songwriting choices (the crowd-core “MOTHERFUCKER” shout being one) cause a minor recoil in my spine as it recalls the more embarrassing moments of my teen years. However, album standouts “Children of Light” and “In the Dark” evoke a legitimate callback to classic In Flames-style melodic death metal, rippling with energetic gallops and even a cool tandem guitar/saxophone solo. These songs don’t go so far as to abandon Atreyu’s pop sensibilities or cheesy lyrics, but they are big fun nonetheless and are sure to please crowds mightily.

Yet I struggle to recall anything from The End is Not the End once it… well… ends. As happy as I am pulling my favorite songs like “All for You” or “In the Dark” for playlist duties—which would eventually allow them to find purchase in my memory—I can’t help but stew in disappointment that nothing here sticks with the immediacy of past bangers like “Doomsday,” “When Two Are One” or “Falling Down.” I can appreciate that The End is Not the End is an altogether more hopeful and uplifting record compared to that angsty, bitter predecessor of my youth, but the shift in tone hasn’t helped the songwriting. On that front, The End is Not the End sounds like Atreyu going through the motions, spinning their wheels, and making very little forward momentum. In turn, I found very little here to grab onto and even less that grabbed me first.

I still want to go to bat for these guys. As many times as I’ve heard my comrades and co-conspirators belittle Atreyu, I can’t help but protect the soft spot I have for them. At the same time, The End is Not the End is not going to convince any of the naysayers, and hasn’t won me over either. There are great songs here with choruses that I would have a blast belting out at a drop of a hat. A couple of small sparks of unexpected heft remind me that Atreyu are, indeed, part of the metal landscape, albeit on the poppiest fringe of the core region. All in all, though, I’m not going to think at all about The End is Not the End 20 years from now. Alas.

Rating: Disappointing.
DR: Use Your Imagination | Format Reviewed: Streamfarm
Label: Spinefarm Records
Websites: atreyuofficial.com | facebook.com/Atreyu
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

Nukem – The Grave Remains Review

Thrash—my first love. Before I worshipped at the altars of …
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #3.0 #AmericanMetal #Anthrax #Apr26 #CrypticShift #DarkAngel #DeathAngel #Destruction #Entertainment #Exodus #FlotsamandJetsam #Megadeth #Metallica #Nukem #Overkill #RedefiningDarkness #RedefiningDarknessRecords #review #Reviews #Satan #Sodom #Tanith #Testament #TheGraveRemains #ThinLizzy #ThrashMetal #UK #UnitedKingdom #Warbringer #Zerre
https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/530853/

https://www.europesays.com/uk/894025/ Nukem – The Grave Remains Review #2026 #30 #AmericanMetal #anthrax #Apr26 #CrypticShift #DarkAngel #DeathAngel #destruction #Entertainment #Exodus #FlotsamAndJetsam #Megadeth #Metallica #music #Nukem #Overkill #RedefiningDarkness #RedefiningDarknessRecords #Review #Reviews #Satan #Sodom #Tanith #Testament #TheGraveRemains #ThinLizzy #ThrashMetal #UK #UnitedKingdom #Warbringer #Zerre

Thrash—my first love. Before I worshipped at the altars of black and death, my masters cloaked themselves in denim and set my soul on fire with aggressive speed, snotty rebellion, and fist-pumping anthems. Like 2016, the godfathers of thrash have already made the last twelve months a resurgence of the old school, with varying degrees of success.1 Newer acts have also made a splash, with Cryptic Shift and Zerre wickedly pummeling our poor score counter into requesting early retirement.2 2026 at large betrays no signs of relenting, and thankfully, neither does thrash. Ten years after dropping their 2016 debut, The Unholy Trinity, California’s Nukem reemerges with sophomore effort The Grave Remains. After such a long incubation period, does Nukem prove that they have what it takes to claw out from the grave?

Despite forming in 2012, Nukem oozes classic thrash spunk by blurring Bay Area melody with East Coast attitude and gang vocals. Death Angel, Nuclear Assault, and Overkill3 influences punctuate The Grave Remains’ twelve tracks, although flashes of a dozen other bands course through Nukem’s veins. Guitarist/vocalist Steve Brogden’s snarls remind me of Warbringer’s John Kevill mixed with a more pissed-off Mark Osegueda, delivering serrated crossover barks with conviction. Rob Cavestany even makes a guest appearance on “Into the Kill Zone,” cementing the Death Angel frame of reference. Exodus staples Gary Holt and Lee Altus also sling some riffs on “Empress of Evil” and “Don’t Believe a Word” respectively, the latter of which is a Thin Lizzy cover. In total, Nukem blends a multitude of inspirations into a confluence of so many thrash wellsprings that they precipitate a voice at once familiar and distinct.

The Grave Remains by Nukem

Nukem plays infectiously fun thrash that overflows with shout-along choruses and a bass tone so plump and meaty that it quickly became my favorite aspect of The Grave Remains. Brogden’s guitars flit, chug, and cajole throughout the forty-nine minutes, yet bassist Don Lauder steals the spotlight time and again. From the slinky rumble in “Unconditional Surrender” to the coquettish interplay in “Empress of Evil,” Lauder’s bass bounces and parades with low-end jubilance. “Torture, Murder, Mutilate!” and “Random Acts of Violence” further emphasize the bass while showcasing Nukem’s six-string attack, with Xander Gambini augmenting Brogden’s core. Additionally, ex-Nukem axe-wielder (and current Dark Angel guitarist) Laura Christine joins her former bandmates and Gary Holt on “Empress of Evil,” while “Random Acts of Violence” includes an appearance from Russ Tippins (Satan and Tanith). Drummer Norm Leggio rounds out the rhythm section, ably pounding out rolls, fills, and tight rhythms in support of Nukem’s well-crafted performances.

Nukem executes thrash with the eager verve of a hungry up-and-comer, but a couple of missteps limit The Grave Remains’ ceiling. While the riffs are fine when experienced in isolation, as a whole, they often lack the hooks or memorability to distinguish themselves from one another. The Grave Remains shines brightest during bass performances and rousing choruses, but those two alone can’t support an entire thrash album. This issue wouldn’t be as glaring if the track lengths were shaved down, but as-is, only two songs (besides needless instrumentals) stay under the four-minute mark, and one of those is a cover. Repeat spins reinforce the opportunity to trim thirty to sixty seconds off several tracks, which would help punch up The Grave Remains and leave listeners craving MOAR. On a positive note, the production glows with a well-balanced mix that supplies ample room for each instrument, and Nukem’s earnest embrace of head-banging gusto guarantees I’m never having a bad time.

Ultimately, Nukem offers a classic thrash platter with a few blemishes I can see, yet easily look past. The Grave Remains won’t change the landscape of the genre, but fans will find plenty to enjoy, and despite the melting pot of references, Nukem manages to claim their spot within thrash’s wing of the metalsphere. Songs like “Unconditional Surrender” and “Curse of the Devil’s Bible” are welcome earworms that have found homes in my playlists, and I look forward to the next time Nukem asks us to come get some.

Rating: Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Redefining Darkness Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 10th, 2026

Thrash—my first love. Before I worshipped at the altars of black and death, my masters cloaked themselves in denim and set my soul on fire with aggressive speed, snotty rebellion, and fist-pumping anthems. Like 2016, the godfathers of thrash have already made the last twelve months a resurgence of the old school, with varying degrees of success.1 Newer acts have also made a splash, with Cryptic Shift and Zerre wickedly pummeling our poor score counter into requesting early retirement.2 2026 at large betrays no signs of relenting, and thankfully, neither does thrash. Ten years after dropping their 2016 debut, The Unholy Trinity, California’s Nukem reemerges with sophomore effort The Grave Remains. After such a long incubation period, does Nukem prove that they have what it takes to claw out from the grave?

Despite forming in 2012, Nukem oozes classic thrash spunk by blurring Bay Area melody with East Coast attitude and gang vocals. Death Angel, Nuclear Assault, and Overkill3 influences punctuate The Grave Remains’ twelve tracks, although flashes of a dozen other bands course through Nukem’s veins. Guitarist/vocalist Steve Brogden’s snarls remind me of Warbringer’s John Kevill mixed with a more pissed-off Mark Osegueda, delivering serrated crossover barks with conviction. Rob Cavestany even makes a guest appearance on “Into the Kill Zone,” cementing the Death Angel frame of reference. Exodus staples Gary Holt and Lee Altus also sling some riffs on “Empress of Evil” and “Don’t Believe a Word” respectively, the latter of which is a Thin Lizzy cover. In total, Nukem blends a multitude of inspirations into a confluence of so many thrash wellsprings that they precipitate a voice at once familiar and distinct.

The Grave Remains by Nukem

Nukem plays infectiously fun thrash that overflows with shout-along choruses and a bass tone so plump and meaty that it quickly became my favorite aspect of The Grave Remains. Brogden’s guitars flit, chug, and cajole throughout the forty-nine minutes, yet bassist Don Lauder steals the spotlight time and again. From the slinky rumble in “Unconditional Surrender” to the coquettish interplay in “Empress of Evil,” Lauder’s bass bounces and parades with low-end jubilance. “Torture, Murder, Mutilate!” and “Random Acts of Violence” further emphasize the bass while showcasing Nukem’s six-string attack, with Xander Gambini augmenting Brogden’s core. Additionally, ex-Nukem axe-wielder (and current Dark Angel guitarist) Laura Christine joins her former bandmates and Gary Holt on “Empress of Evil,” while “Random Acts of Violence” includes an appearance from Russ Tippins (Satan and Tanith). Drummer Norm Leggio rounds out the rhythm section, ably pounding out rolls, fills, and tight rhythms in support of Nukem’s well-crafted performances.

Nukem executes thrash with the eager verve of a hungry up-and-comer, but a couple of missteps limit The Grave Remains’ ceiling. While the riffs are fine when experienced in isolation, as a whole, they often lack the hooks or memorability to distinguish themselves from one another. The Grave Remains shines brightest during bass performances and rousing choruses, but those two alone can’t support an entire thrash album. This issue wouldn’t be as glaring if the track lengths were shaved down, but as-is, only two songs (besides needless instrumentals) stay under the four-minute mark, and one of those is a cover. Repeat spins reinforce the opportunity to trim thirty to sixty seconds off several tracks, which would help punch up The Grave Remains and leave listeners craving MOAR. On a positive note, the production glows with a well-balanced mix that supplies ample room for each instrument, and Nukem’s earnest embrace of head-banging gusto guarantees I’m never having a bad time.

Ultimately, Nukem offers a classic thrash platter with a few blemishes I can see, yet easily look past. The Grave Remains won’t change the landscape of the genre, but fans will find plenty to enjoy, and despite the melting pot of references, Nukem manages to claim their spot within thrash’s wing of the metalsphere. Songs like “Unconditional Surrender” and “Curse of the Devil’s Bible” are welcome earworms that have found homes in my playlists, and I look forward to the next time Nukem asks us to come get some.

Rating: Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Redefining Darkness Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 10th, 2026

Thrash—my first love. Before I worshipped at the altars of black and death, my masters cloaked themselves in denim and set my soul on fire with aggressive speed, snotty rebellion, and fist-pumping anthems. Like 2016, the godfathers of thrash have already made the last twelve months a resurgence of the old school, with varying degrees of success.1 Newer acts have also made a splash, with Cryptic Shift and Zerre wickedly pummeling our poor score counter into requesting early retirement.2 2026 at large betrays no signs of relenting, and thankfully, neither does thrash. Ten years after dropping their 2016 debut, The Unholy Trinity, California’s Nukem reemerges with sophomore effort The Grave Remains. After such a long incubation period, does Nukem prove that they have what it takes to claw out from the grave?

Despite forming in 2012, Nukem oozes classic thrash spunk by blurring Bay Area melody with East Coast attitude and gang vocals. Death Angel, Nuclear Assault, and Overkill3 influences punctuate The Grave Remains’ twelve tracks, although flashes of a dozen other bands course through Nukem’s veins. Guitarist/vocalist Steve Brogden’s snarls remind me of Warbringer’s John Kevill mixed with a more pissed-off Mark Osegueda, delivering serrated crossover barks with conviction. Rob Cavestany even makes a guest appearance on “Into the Kill Zone,” cementing the Death Angel frame of reference. Exodus staples Gary Holt and Lee Altus also sling some riffs on “Empress of Evil” and “Don’t Believe a Word” respectively, the latter of which is a Thin Lizzy cover. In total, Nukem blends a multitude of inspirations into a confluence of so many thrash wellsprings that they precipitate a voice at once familiar and distinct.

The Grave Remains by Nukem

Nukem plays infectiously fun thrash that overflows with shout-along choruses and a bass tone so plump and meaty that it quickly became my favorite aspect of The Grave Remains. Brogden’s guitars flit, chug, and cajole throughout the forty-nine minutes, yet bassist Don Lauder steals the spotlight time and again. From the slinky rumble in “Unconditional Surrender” to the coquettish interplay in “Empress of Evil,” Lauder’s bass bounces and parades with low-end jubilance. “Torture, Murder, Mutilate!” and “Random Acts of Violence” further emphasize the bass while showcasing Nukem’s six-string attack, with Xander Gambini augmenting Brogden’s core. Additionally, ex-Nukem axe-wielder (and current Dark Angel guitarist) Laura Christine joins her former bandmates and Gary Holt on “Empress of Evil,” while “Random Acts of Violence” includes an appearance from Russ Tippins (Satan and Tanith). Drummer Norm Leggio rounds out the rhythm section, ably pounding out rolls, fills, and tight rhythms in support of Nukem’s well-crafted performances.

Nukem executes thrash with the eager verve of a hungry up-and-comer, but a couple of missteps limit The Grave Remains’ ceiling. While the riffs are fine when experienced in isolation, as a whole, they often lack the hooks or memorability to distinguish themselves from one another. The Grave Remains shines brightest during bass performances and rousing choruses, but those two alone can’t support an entire thrash album. This issue wouldn’t be as glaring if the track lengths were shaved down, but as-is, only two songs (besides needless instrumentals) stay under the four-minute mark, and one of those is a cover. Repeat spins reinforce the opportunity to trim thirty to sixty seconds off several tracks, which would help punch up The Grave Remains and leave listeners craving MOAR. On a positive note, the production glows with a well-balanced mix that supplies ample room for each instrument, and Nukem’s earnest embrace of head-banging gusto guarantees I’m never having a bad time.

Ultimately, Nukem offers a classic thrash platter with a few blemishes I can see, yet easily look past. The Grave Remains won’t change the landscape of the genre, but fans will find plenty to enjoy, and despite the melting pot of references, Nukem manages to claim their spot within thrash’s wing of the metalsphere. Songs like “Unconditional Surrender” and “Curse of the Devil’s Bible” are welcome earworms that have found homes in my playlists, and I look forward to the next time Nukem asks us to come get some.

Rating: Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Redefining Darkness Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 10th, 2026

Thrash—my first love. Before I worshipped at the altars of black and death, my masters cloaked themselves in denim and set my soul on fire with aggressive speed, snotty rebellion, and fist-pumping anthems. Like 2016, the godfathers of thrash have already made the last twelve months a resurgence of the old school, with varying degrees of success.1 Newer acts have also made a splash, with Cryptic Shift and Zerre wickedly pummeling our poor score counter into requesting early retirement.2 2026 at large betrays no signs of relenting, and thankfully, neither does thrash. Ten years after dropping their 2016 debut, The Unholy Trinity, California’s Nukem reemerges with sophomore effort The Grave Remains. After such a long incubation period, does Nukem prove that they have what it takes to claw out from the grave?

Despite forming in 2012, Nukem oozes classic thrash spunk by blurring Bay Area melody with East Coast attitude and gang vocals. Death Angel, Nuclear Assault, and Overkill3 influences punctuate The Grave Remains’ twelve tracks, although flashes of a dozen other bands course through Nukem’s veins. Guitarist/vocalist Steve Brogden’s snarls remind me of Warbringer’s John Kevill mixed with a more pissed-off Mark Osegueda, delivering serrated crossover barks with conviction. Rob Cavestany even makes a guest appearance on “Into the Kill Zone,” cementing the Death Angel frame of reference. Exodus staples Gary Holt and Lee Altus also sling some riffs on “Empress of Evil” and “Don’t Believe a Word” respectively, the latter of which is a Thin Lizzy cover. In total, Nukem blends a multitude of inspirations into a confluence of so many thrash wellsprings that they precipitate a voice at once familiar and distinct.

The Grave Remains by Nukem

Nukem plays infectiously fun thrash that overflows with shout-along choruses and a bass tone so plump and meaty that it quickly became my favorite aspect of The Grave Remains. Brogden’s guitars flit, chug, and cajole throughout the forty-nine minutes, yet bassist Don Lauder steals the spotlight time and again. From the slinky rumble in “Unconditional Surrender” to the coquettish interplay in “Empress of Evil,” Lauder’s bass bounces and parades with low-end jubilance. “Torture, Murder, Mutilate!” and “Random Acts of Violence” further emphasize the bass while showcasing Nukem’s six-string attack, with Xander Gambini augmenting Brogden’s core. Additionally, ex-Nukem axe-wielder (and current Dark Angel guitarist) Laura Christine joins her former bandmates and Gary Holt on “Empress of Evil,” while “Random Acts of Violence” includes an appearance from Russ Tippins (Satan and Tanith). Drummer Norm Leggio rounds out the rhythm section, ably pounding out rolls, fills, and tight rhythms in support of Nukem’s well-crafted performances.

Nukem executes thrash with the eager verve of a hungry up-and-comer, but a couple of missteps limit The Grave Remains’ ceiling. While the riffs are fine when experienced in isolation, as a whole, they often lack the hooks or memorability to distinguish themselves from one another. The Grave Remains shines brightest during bass performances and rousing choruses, but those two alone can’t support an entire thrash album. This issue wouldn’t be as glaring if the track lengths were shaved down, but as-is, only two songs (besides needless instrumentals) stay under the four-minute mark, and one of those is a cover. Repeat spins reinforce the opportunity to trim thirty to sixty seconds off several tracks, which would help punch up The Grave Remains and leave listeners craving MOAR. On a positive note, the production glows with a well-balanced mix that supplies ample room for each instrument, and Nukem’s earnest embrace of head-banging gusto guarantees I’m never having a bad time.

Ultimately, Nukem offers a classic thrash platter with a few blemishes I can see, yet easily look past. The Grave Remains won’t change the landscape of the genre, but fans will find plenty to enjoy, and despite the melting pot of references, Nukem manages to claim their spot within thrash’s wing of the metalsphere. Songs like “Unconditional Surrender” and “Curse of the Devil’s Bible” are welcome earworms that have found homes in my playlists, and I look forward to the next time Nukem asks us to come get some.

Rating: Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Redefining Darkness Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 10th, 2026

Thrash—my first love. Before I worshipped at the altars of black and death, my masters cloaked themselves in denim and set my soul on fire with aggressive speed, snotty rebellion, and fist-pumping anthems. Like 2016, the godfathers of thrash have already made the last twelve months a resurgence of the old school, with varying degrees of success.1 Newer acts have also made a splash, with Cryptic Shift and Zerre wickedly pummeling our poor score counter into requesting early retirement.2 2026 at large betrays no signs of relenting, and thankfully, neither does thrash. Ten years after dropping their 2016 debut, The Unholy Trinity, California’s Nukem reemerges with sophomore effort The Grave Remains. After such a long incubation period, does Nukem prove that they have what it takes to claw out from the grave?

Despite forming in 2012, Nukem oozes classic thrash spunk by blurring Bay Area melody with East Coast attitude and gang vocals. Death Angel, Nuclear Assault, and Overkill3 influences punctuate The Grave Remains’ twelve tracks, although flashes of a dozen other bands course through Nukem’s veins. Guitarist/vocalist Steve Brogden’s snarls remind me of Warbringer’s John Kevill mixed with a more pissed-off Mark Osegueda, delivering serrated crossover barks with conviction. Rob Cavestany even makes a guest appearance on “Into the Kill Zone,” cementing the Death Angel frame of reference. Exodus staples Gary Holt and Lee Altus also sling some riffs on “Empress of Evil” and “Don’t Believe a Word” respectively, the latter of which is a Thin Lizzy cover. In total, Nukem blends a multitude of inspirations into a confluence of so many thrash wellsprings that they precipitate a voice at once familiar and distinct.

The Grave Remains by Nukem

Nukem plays infectiously fun thrash that overflows with shout-along choruses and a bass tone so plump and meaty that it quickly became my favorite aspect of The Grave Remains. Brogden’s guitars flit, chug, and cajole throughout the forty-nine minutes, yet bassist Don Lauder steals the spotlight time and again. From the slinky rumble in “Unconditional Surrender” to the coquettish interplay in “Empress of Evil,” Lauder’s bass bounces and parades with low-end jubilance. “Torture, Murder, Mutilate!” and “Random Acts of Violence” further emphasize the bass while showcasing Nukem’s six-string attack, with Xander Gambini augmenting Brogden’s core. Additionally, ex-Nukem axe-wielder (and current Dark Angel guitarist) Laura Christine joins her former bandmates and Gary Holt on “Empress of Evil,” while “Random Acts of Violence” includes an appearance from Russ Tippins (Satan and Tanith). Drummer Norm Leggio rounds out the rhythm section, ably pounding out rolls, fills, and tight rhythms in support of Nukem’s well-crafted performances.

Nukem executes thrash with the eager verve of a hungry up-and-comer, but a couple of missteps limit The Grave Remains’ ceiling. While the riffs are fine when experienced in isolation, as a whole, they often lack the hooks or memorability to distinguish themselves from one another. The Grave Remains shines brightest during bass performances and rousing choruses, but those two alone can’t support an entire thrash album. This issue wouldn’t be as glaring if the track lengths were shaved down, but as-is, only two songs (besides needless instrumentals) stay under the four-minute mark, and one of those is a cover. Repeat spins reinforce the opportunity to trim thirty to sixty seconds off several tracks, which would help punch up The Grave Remains and leave listeners craving MOAR. On a positive note, the production glows with a well-balanced mix that supplies ample room for each instrument, and Nukem’s earnest embrace of head-banging gusto guarantees I’m never having a bad time.

Ultimately, Nukem offers a classic thrash platter with a few blemishes I can see, yet easily look past. The Grave Remains won’t change the landscape of the genre, but fans will find plenty to enjoy, and despite the melting pot of references, Nukem manages to claim their spot within thrash’s wing of the metalsphere. Songs like “Unconditional Surrender” and “Curse of the Devil’s Bible” are welcome earworms that have found homes in my playlists, and I look forward to the next time Nukem asks us to come get some.

Rating: Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Redefining Darkness Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 10th, 2026

Few things at AMG Industries make us prouder than watching bands once scrutinized under AMG’s Unsigned Band Rodeö move on to greener pastures. In 2013, Seattle’s Witch Ripper endured our time‑honored hazing ritual, earning universally positive marks with their groovy, sludgy self-titled EP. Despite that early promise, lineup changes derailed the efforts of Curtis Parker (ex-Iron Thrones) and company for six years. Their patience finally paid off with debut LP, Homestead, in 2018 and with a solidified lineup, Witch Ripper continued to build momentum with their acclaimed sophomore record, The Flight After the Fall. Where Witch Ripper and Homestead captured the quartet at their heaviest and most sludge‑soaked, Through the Hourglass finds Witch Ripper finally hitting their stride, continuing their evolution toward melody, atmosphere, and emotional contour.

Picking up The Flight After the Fall’s narrative threads, Through the Hourglass leans into more hooks and musicality rather than sheer weight, all while staying within relatively traditional song structures. Operating at the nexus between modern Mastodon, Baroness and Anciients, Chad Fox’s and Curtis Parker’s guitars shift from rock chugs to swirling melodicism (“Echoes and Dust”), sparkling arpeggios (“The Portal”), bluesy refrains, and expressive solos (“The Spiral Eye”) as the duo assumes joint vocal duties with bassist Brian Kim. There’s a classic‑rock warmth woven through the riffs, and the foursome has trimmed some of the fat from earlier releases in favor of cuts with tighter runtimes and more focused, purposeful songwriting. Drummer Joe Eck is a force, adding battle‑tom flourishes (“Symmetry of the Hourglass”), shifting snare rolls, and polyrhythmic accents (“Echoes and Dust”) that elevate even the simplest riffs. Through the Hourglass doesn’t reinvent Witch Ripper’s sound so much as refine the traits they’ve been cultivating all along.

Through The Hourglass by Witch Ripper

Naturally extending its lineage that first emerged on The Flight After the Fall, Through the Hourglass carries forward similar melodic instincts and structural tendencies while still nodding to the heavier, riff‑driven roots of their early days. Once the unnecessary intro “Odyssey in Retrograde” fades, lead single “The Portal” sets the tone with Witch Ripper’s familiar blend of rock‑leaning riffs and soaring melodies, acting as a foundational bridge between records and serving as a proper setup to “Symmetry of the Hourglass,” a killer track that displays every strength Witch Ripper brings to the table. Its anthemic chorus, soulful, bluesy solo, and fully dialed-in songwriting keep circling back to its best ideas. Even a messy instrumental section in the second verse doesn’t stop my head from bobbing throughout. “Echoes and Dust” pushes these ingredients even further, pairing a fat modern‑rock groove with arpeggiated heft and high‑energy drumming at the record’s apex to drive the quartet’s best song to date. The record’s more experimental turns, like the somber Alice in Chains‑tinged ballad “Proxima Centauri,” or Irene Barber’s (Dust Moth) ethereal choral chants on “The Spiral Eye,” feel like natural extensions of the spacey, post‑rock textures they’ve flirted with before, even if the latter and “The Clock Queen” occasionally drift into repetition.

Fox’s singing and Parker’s sustained growls1 both sound more confident on Through the Hourglass, balancing each other capably while shaping the album’s expressive landscape. On earlier records, clean vocals were sparse-to-nonexistent, serving more as atmospheric color than a defining feature. Through the Hourglass places them front and center, taking control of Witch Ripper’s modern identity. Fox’s bright, emotionally charged vocal lines set the stage, with vibrato‑heavy phrases that sound strikingly expressive—particularly on tracks like “Proxima Centauri” and “Symmetry of the Hourglass”—yet also have a tendency to strain occasionally on higher notes (“The Clock Queen,” “The Portal”). Still, it’s an apt choice given how it elevates the material. And when it’s paired with Parker’s corroded roars, the combination creates a striking contrast that lifts the airy choruses higher even as the harsher tones periodically threaten to overpower them.

Witch Ripper has come a long way since initially grabbing the bull by the horns. Despite some uneven moments, Through the Hourglass shows Witch Ripper has grown more confident, more expressive, and more capable of balancing heaviness with melody in ways that feel both natural and earned. It confirms the band’s arrival after years of growth and recalibration, distilling the group’s evolution into a compelling, emotionally charged chapter that signals these Northwesterners have stepped fully into their identity. It’s a milestone that suggests Witch Ripper’s time has only just begun.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Magnetic Eye Records
Websites: witchripper.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Witchripper
Releases Worldwide: April 10th, 2026

It’s been some time since Splendidula has visited these pages. The fearsome Carcharodon reviewed their sophomore record, Post Mortem, as a wee n00b long ago in 2018, wherein he saw glimmers of potential in the gothic doom metal. He didn’t cover 2021’s Somnus for unknown reasons, though I think he might have been pleased with the heavier post-metal inclinations that permeated the record. The years since then have been rough for this Belgian group, marred by the passing of several loved ones, including their bassist Peter Chromiak. Absentia emerges in the wake of these tragedies as a means to both express and confront this debilitating heartache and loss.

Chromiak’s absence is felt in the very essence of Absentia. Although drummer Joachim Taminau took up the bassist role, the burly bass presence from the prior two records is all but gone. Splendidula kept much of their gothic doom but, fittingly, chose to fill the void with another of metal’s most expressive subgenres—DSBM. Whereas Kristien Cools previously stuck to clean vocals (for the most part), she now becomes both beauty and beast, dividing her time between sorrowful singing and shrieking. She also leans on a couple of notable guest vocalists. Tim Yatras (Austere) adds blackened snarls and backing cleans to “Absentia,” followed by Aaron Stainthorpe (ex-My Dying Bride, High Parasite), who contributes his rumbling growls and velvety baritone to “Echoes of Quiet Remain.” These guest selections neatly encapsulate the two different aspects of Absentia.

Absentia by Splendidula

While much music (and art in general) is born from a place of grief, Absentia is practically synonymous with it. Underneath the stoic exterior lurks a raw torment that flares up whenever and however it wants. For example, “Donkerte” begins with despondent singing, but as the verse progresses, Cools’s voice escalates until finally a primal scream spills out. Later, the double-tracked cleans and screams give the impression of one putting on a brave face as anguish roils inside. When her voice dips into the lower ranges (particularly in “Absentia” and “Let It Come to an End”), it takes on a sort of nasally drawl which augments the mournful atmosphere, though this likely won’t appeal to everyone. Also like grief, sections of certain songs tend to linger for longer than one might like (“Echoes of Quiet Remain,” “Kilte,” “Absentia”).

Absentia musically conveys the importance of a healthy support system during times of grief. Though much hinges on Cools’s vocal performances, the other two members of Splendidula help to sustain her in subtle but important ways. During “Dalkuldar,” a forlorn respite from the turmoil, the snare rhythms and bass drum beats are akin to a bolstering drumline. The tempestuous percussion also heightens the sense of desperation in “Kilte.” Closing track “Let It Come to an End” flips the script, letting Cools take a backseat and bringing guitarist Guy Van Campenhout’s growls to the forefront, perhaps emblematic of leaning on loved ones during times of crisis.

In terms of emotional devastation, Absentia is as potent a record as you’re likely to find. Kristien Cools keeps improving with each release, and the compositions complement her increasingly diverse vocal styles well. The deeply personal nature of Splendidula’s work of art is both strength and weakness. The intense and authentic expression of grief is harrowingly beautiful, but in a way that seems impossible for an outsider to fully appreciate. Like attending a funeral for someone you didn’t know, it’s easy to empathize with those in mourning but difficult to feel the same deep personal connection. That said, the next time grief comes for me personally, I may be very grateful that I became acquainted with Absentia.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: splendidula.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Splendidula
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026

Hot on the heels of my first encounter with Alice Simard’s work (Luminesce), another notch in her roster dropped into my unsuspecting lap. Canadian brutal slam/goregrind trio Onchocerciasis Esophagogastroduodenoscopy (henceforth referred to simply as OE) spawned seven years ago from a mire of gore, and Fugue Gnawed from the Scabbed God Cerebrum marks their second full expulsion. Mere seconds after slamming that play button, viscous fluids so voluminous as to mismatch the mass of the entities that expel them flood the entirety of my being, overflowing gushingly into the surrounding environs with destructive force. The general public gazes upon this outlandishly fecund release with equal parts disgust and fascination. Despite the grotesque nature of it all, though, I can’t in good conscience call the experience unpleasurable. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Brutal in the same inhuman way as known slammers Epicardiectomy and Organectomy, absurd as a lot of material coming out of the Indonesian and Chinese scenes are, and irreverently creative enough to recall the novel songwriting of Wormhole, Artificial Brain, Unhuman, and Unfathomable Ruination, OE’s style is often a delight and moreso a challenge. Alice (who is here credited under guitars, songwriting, and drum programming), Jesse Agiomamitis (vocals, lyrics1), and the mysterious The Popu (drum programming, guitars, lyrics, songwriting, synth, vocals) shine as a collaborative team, delivering a deceptively wide variety to what is typically an extremely limited stylistic palette. All 33 minutes of Fugue fall neatly in the brutal slamgrind niche, but it’s undeniably one of the wildest executions of the style. That unhinged spirit affords the ballistic percussion a sense of immediate danger that belies its impossible technicality, the monstrously toilet-tastic vocals a sense of vibrant dynamics they absolutely should not have, and the multifaceted guitar work a kaleidoscopic personality that colors the entire record in vivid detail.

Fugue Gnawed from the Scabbed God Cerebrum by Onchocerciasis Esophagogastroduodenoscopy

However, and perhaps even as a consequence of these aforementioned traits, Fugue is a trial in music appreciation. Not for the faint of heart or the frail of ear, Fugue seems to wholly reject the idea of memorability as a virtue. Certainly, in its first half, before “Gutted & Corpsed” shocks me with an almost beautiful shift from relentless assault to thoughtful transitions and subversive intricacies, Fugue is hell-bent on punishing any listener that comes close. Gnashing with serrated teeth crowding a jaw capable of crushing diamond like Nerds candy, “Conquering Divinity” through “Entombed Within the Infinite Panopticon” bullies anyone that approaches with endless slam riffs (but fast), violent scrapes (“The Fallen Lament, Paralytikus Ascends”), fucked-up lead guitar atmospheres (“Severing What Makes Me Human,” “Apotheotic Apotemnophilia”), machine-gun blasts and double-bass abuse (“Entombed Within the Inifinite Panopticon”), and unreal spans of sustained phlegmy gutturals (name a song, any song). The addition of eerie bongs and bells adds to the sinister nature of these initial songs, but only minimally aids their memorability. Yet, they are all counterintuitively enjoyable in the same manner as discovering your first kink.

Thankfully, that first prolonged salvo of abject violence only takes 13 minutes, at which time Fugue shifts. It’s hard to expect creativity and thoughtful detailing to come into play with this kind of extreme fringe music. Undeterred by that reality, OE start integrating more purposeful dissonant flourishes, effervescent leads bordering against—but never quite crossing into—melody, and a downright airy atmosphere that together recall 50% Wormhole, 50% Afterbirth (“Heaven’s Empty Halls”). More Wormhole-isms abound in conjunction with Epicardiectomy madness and Artificial Brain-ed atmosphere as “Hurt Beyond Healing” and “Forged in the Blackest Reaches of Blasphemy” pair high-detail phrasing with terrifying brutalizations. While still escaping the realm of immediacy, memorability, or accessibility, Fugue’s second act shows OE’s greater range as songwriters in such a way as to compel me to revisit with great anticipation, enthusiastic for the deeper details I might uncover.

While far from easy to love, for any number of reasons all associated with the extreme nature of its composition and its over-the-top execution, Fugue Gnawed from the Scabbed God Cerebrum is an album of rare quality in the scene of disgusting, inhuman music. Many will balk at its cartoonish gurgle vox, its total lack of subtlety in the first phase, and the relentlessness of its dense and complex instrumentation. Those who weather that storm will discover something a bit more substantial underneath. I didn’t expect to find that substance myself, but here I am. Join me, if you think you can handle it!

Rating: Good!
DR: 42 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Stillbirth Records
Websites: officialonchocerciasis.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/OnchoOfficial
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026

Does Void of Light refer to a source of luminescence, or is it shorthand for its total absence? The group might know something about the latter, hailing as they do from the northerly latitude of Glasgow, Scotland. Their musical medium—a sludgy, atmospheric post-metal—also reflects a dichotomous embodiment of light and dark: often crushingly heavy and thematically bleak, but also upliftingly melodic. Asymmetries—another nod to duality and imbalance—is a debut four years in the making, drawing together the fragments of brutality and reflective ambience from the preceding EPs into a bold statement on who Void of Light are. And decisive that statement certainly is.

Void of Light’s approach to post-metal is rich and dynamic, layering leaden riffing, melancholic melody, and flexible tempos around one another to augment the music’s ability to captivate. Strikingly, flatteringly akin to Deadly Carnage in the expert intermingling of delicacy and harshness (“Still the Night Skies”) and an ever-evolving rhythm, the album flows gracefully. Dips into The Ocean of steady, progressive builds, tangles with LLNN-levels of skull-bashing heaviness (“Mirrorings”), and even flirtation with black metal (“Ends,” “Mirrorings”) compliment a nuanced, emotional soundscape with heart and bite.

Asymmetries by Void of Light

The magnetism of Asymmetries is felt gradually and with progressive strength, like approaching a planet’s gravitational field. Things begin almost understatedly in “The Passing Hours,” with a loose, modulated melody and a steady onward crush that only hints at the depths to come. That is, before the final act gives the game away when soft singing gives way to a jubilant guitar solo over the rush of blackened percussion: a dramatic backdrop for the final reprise. These soaring, energetic guitar lines weave in and out across the record, communicating joy and bittersweet blueness as they variously dance (“Silver Mask,” “Ends”) and float (“The Passing Hours,” “Still the Night Skies”) over the comparative bluntness. Gentle (“The Passing Hours,” “Ends”) and impassioned (“Silver Mask,” “Still the Night Skies,” “Mirrorings”) cleans add still more layers of emotion as they move in pitch and volume with or in brilliant opposition to the instrumentation, and equally ardent screams (“Silver Mask,” “Still the Night Skies”). None of this would be half as stirring, however, were it not wrapped around the multidimensional rhythmic core that spills over from the percussion to riffs and vocals alike. Rippling fills and agile rolls thread texture upon which singing floats or screams rain down (“The Passing Hours,” “Mirrorings”). Frequent slides into snappy off-beats (“Silver Mask,” “Ends”) and impressively rich, cascading blackened tirades (“Ends,” “Still the Night Skies,” “Mirrorings”)—the kind you’d expect from Panopticon—intensify already incendiary peaks where aforementioned guitars dance or soar.

Asymmetries, as a name, can only be used complimentarily here; perhaps the worst that could be said is that the album might get even better as it progresses. If I had to be incredibly harsh, I would point to the oft-repeated pattern of songs lapsing midway into stripped-back plucking and singing before the reprise of heaviness. Even then, songs don’t sound the same, and the formula is an effective conduit for tension and emotion, formula though it may be. Really, though, Asymmetries feels ideally formed and structured to deliver the maximum impact as it is: the rhythms growing more fluid and restless, the layers of sung and screamed vocals more multiplicitous, and the returning spaces of poignant ambience serving to gradually dial up the pathos as well as the more tangible force of the riffs, drumbeats, and roars. If the ascendant singing in the final act of “Silver Mask” lifts you up, wait until “Still the Night Skies,” and the cascading multitracking on “Mirrorings”. If “The Passing Hours” jolts you into attention with its final forcefulness, wait until the sudden savagery that closes “Ends” and then how the following songs stack this ardour with that singing, and the consistently gorgeous waves of clear and hazy melody.

Asymmetries’ power was not instantly obvious, but with every listen its grip grew tighter and the sky around it lost its colours as they were drawn into the void. Void of Light effectively communicate a dichotomy between light and shadow in their sad, uplifting, harsh, fragile debut. And if this is where they’re starting from, then heads, hearts, and score-safety-counters everywhere will need to watch out in the future.

Rating: Great!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Ripcord Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026