#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

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

After no less than three albums’ worth of glowing praise from my great predecessor Kronos, it’s safe to say that a new Archspire is a big deal in the hall.1 One blistering offering after another has cemented these lads as among the forerunners of tech-death, pushing BPM and bass-string structural integrity in equal measure. But the human body, alas, has limits, and with previous release Bleed the Future already pushing the speedometer well into the red, one could be forgiven for invoking the oldest of clichés: Where do they go from here? There’s only so much speed, so much scale wankery to be derived from mere flesh and bone. With a bit of a self-referential title in Too Fast to Die, Archspire have made their mission statement clear and concise; will their meteoric rise continue to light up the sky, or will their first independent release see them crash and burn?

Archspire have officially been around long enough to say “Expect the expected.” Too Fast to Die continues the band’s whirlwind musical trajectory, with an emphasis on scorching tempos and arpeggios delivered at string-withering pace. New drummer Spence Moore (formerly of Inferi, among others) plays like the lives of his family depend on it, etching his identity into the music with a smorgasbord of snare fills and delightful rhythmic shifts which somehow manage to maintain a blasting pace without ever smearing together into one double-bass-filled haze. Vocalist Oliver Aleron continues to sound pulled from an alternate universe where Atilla doesn’t suck,2 spitting syllable-heavy diatribes with gleeful abandon and an s-tier talent for phrasing which lets him compliment the intensity rather than overwhelm it. Enough breathing room is given to the bass, letting Jared Smith fill in the cracks with sweeps that rumble and clang under the chords with vibrancy and potent kinetic energy (“Red Goliath”) before disappearing back under the assault. Everything is excellently executed, engaging, and familiar.

Too Fast to Die by Archspire

And yet, there is a clear rumbling of growth and evolution in the Archspire camp. Rather than openly go out of their way to crank all the knobs from 11 to 12, Too Fast to Die puts heavy stock on pathos-riddled melody, with a heavier leaning on atmospheric theatrics and amphitheater-ready harmonies which don’t seek to overwhelm as much as invigorate and inspire. Album highlight “Carrion Ladder” features a midsection with a pair of leads so relatively simple a fledgling guitar student could learn to play them, yet thanks to the band’s compositional mastery, this simplicity isn’t an anticlimactic letdown as much as a genuine moment of appreciable, raw beauty, not to mention it features one of Oliver’s catchiest vocal parts. Such moments are littered throughout the album, with the borderline emotional chug section of “Limb of Leviticus” transitioning into the band’s traditional plucked interludes with melancholy rather than neo-classical sheen. Archspire’s interludes in older albums would have sounded just as appropriate if played by harpsichord as much as guitar, but Too Fast to Die eschews just a touch of that dual identity to place a heavier focus on thematic coherence with massive dividends.

Nevertheless, this is still a death metal record, and any gushing over emotive power and atmospheric bombast shouldn’t frighten away fans. “Liminal Cypher” features an absolutely devastating slamming section, and “Deadbolt the Backward” briefly dispenses with the atmospheres and opts for sudden shifts of waltz time signatures and straightforward brutality akin to Deeds of Flesh covering an Origin song. The most tendinitis-inducing of leads kick down your front door in “Anomalous Descent” only to suddenly shift identities and flirt with the briefest of hardcore stylings while putting an exclamation point on the proceedings with honest-to-goodness gang vocals. Somehow, this works. While Archspire haven’t quite gone prog on us with clean vocals and a litany of guest instruments (thank God), it’s delightful to see them stretching their artistic wings in so many directions and skillsets, despite promotional material perhaps pitching them as a one-trick pony of speed.

I haven’t been as high on Archspire as some of my colleagues. I enjoyed them, but felt such a style could only be mined so much. Too Fast to Die is Archspire commanding me to take those opinions and violate myself with them, track after track after track. This album sees the band embracing their not-so-newfound star status and offering an experience that is riddled with crowd-engaging moments, meticulously engineered pit fodder, and leads of such beauty that you could sing them in the shower, without sacrificing an ounce of the Africanized-bees-on-red-bull songwriting backbone. “Where do they go from here?” I wondered? Well, the answer is “bigger and better”, and if we are entering a new era of grandiosity over raw technique, I’m so here for it. You should be, too.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: NA | Format Reviewed: Yet another stream, come on, guys
Label: Self-release
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: April 10th, 2026

For a band that takes its namesake from a Harry Potter reference (ew), Nashville’s Inferi are infinitely more brutal than its original inspiration. Blending searing speed, flashy technicality, and death metal intensity, Inferi have been at the forefront of tech death for over fifteen years now, and their latest release, Heaven Wept, comes after a five-year gap. With such a chasm between their releases, is Heaven Wept a reformation for the band or a refinement of their sound?

Heaven Wept establishes itself quickly, and the band sounds tighter than ever. Immediately apparent is Stevie Boiser’s vocals, which flit from screeching highs, boastful mids, and throat-wrinkling lows. Boiser doesn’t seem to have a weak point when it comes to his capabilities, and he leads tracks along like a malicious conductor (not unlike Trevor Strnad of The Black Dahlia Murder, RIP). For Inferi, the technical prowess expands beyond just the instruments, and the vocals on display across Heaven Wept are bound to make an impression. Not to be overtaken, guitarists Malcom Pugh and Sanjay Kumar showcase their axe mastery throughout. A majority of the tracks feature individual solos by each, and none of them overstay their welcome. If they aren’t competing in shredding territory, they work in tandem on solos in the remainder of the songs. Spencer Moore’s drums round out Inferi’s sound, and in a rare turn, they sound surprisingly natural for a tech death band. Perhaps the melodic aspect of Inferi’s core sound helps keep Moore’s drums from becoming robotic, and his playing spans core stylings, technical blowouts, and military marches, never staying in one space for too long.

Heaven Wept by Inferi

While Heaven Wept is by no means a stylistic change-up from their previous work, the latest record utilizes more dissonant harmonies and tends to feel more ethereal as a result. Combine that with some symphonic backing, and you have an atmospheric album without relying on overly long instrumental passages that break up the pacing. Inferi takes the melodic part of technical melodic death metal very seriously, and Heaven Wept is surprisingly catchy and approachable, while still being so dense that I imagine listeners will discover new secrets after numerous listens. “The Rapture of Dead Light” calls to mind melodic death metal masters The Black Dahlia Murder while combining some light core elements (don’t worry, Inferi is not a deathcore band now). The band smartly uses crushing breakdowns but only at a minimum, and where they have the most impact.

Heaven Wept doesn’t waste a second, coming in at eight tracks and under forty minutes, the album is pure face-melting goodness throughout. Every band member lays it all out on each song, and I wouldn’t call a single one a miss. The title track is a stylistic standout, slowing things down with a lumbering staccato riff that worms its way throughout the song. Boiser’s vocals follow along with the riff, punctuating the melody while also adding a bit of slam to Heaven Wept’s complex sound. “Of Rotted Wombs” is oozing with atmosphere, with a backing organ, a choir, and wailing guitars that pull emotion from every string. It is a track that feels huge without relying on a bunch of pomp and circumstance. Despite the inclusion of the aforementioned organ and choir, they are a small part of the song and only appear in the background. The incredible solo from Kumar in the back half of the track ties a bow on an album highlight.

Heaven Wept could very well be Inferi’s best work yet. Dripping with style and substance, as well as piling on the atmosphere without resorting to trite methods or wasteful interludes, this is an album that is solid throughout. It isn’t without its flaws; the low end is basically non-existent, and even the band plays live without a bassist. There are occasional bass flourishes on the album that remind me of Job for a Cowboy’s Sun Eater at times, but they are few and far between. The album also lacks the instrumental flair of 2018’s Revenant, and fans looking for a return to that record will be disappointed. Overall, these are nitpicks for an album that nails everything it sets out to do and then some. Inferi have shown that they can stand tall as the masters of modern technical melodic death metal without losing sight of what brought them there in the first place. Heaven Wept epitomizes the idea of metal at every turn and will likely have something to offer any earnest listener.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: The Artisan Era
Websites: Instagram | Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: April 10th, 2026

Immolation are the uncommon band that sits both on top of their chosen genre and outside of it simultaneously. As one of the titans of early days death metal, the natural inclination is to lump them in with all the other old school death acts from the late 80s and early 90s. While that wouldn’t be entirely wrong based on their Dawn of Possession debut, over time Immolation have evolved into something else – Still classic death metal, but much more too. And while their style can seem too opaque at times to tickle the casual OSDM lizard brain, there’s something truly primordial to their sound that exemplifies death metal like no other. They’ve also been the most consistent brand in death over the decades, releasing 11 albums of high-quality material with no duds. 2022s Acts of God saw the band move in a slightly different direction, stripping down some of their more extravagantly creative impulses and hardening around a muscular core of dissonance and punishing ugliness. Now comes Descent. What do founding members Robert Vigna and Ross Dolan have in store for us this time? You know it will be something enormous and crushing, but what else awaits your feeble ears?

In a nutshell, Descent is a continuation of what Immolation did on Acts of God, but the soundscape is now subject to a carefully curated tension between their usual penchant for brutality and dissonance and an on-and-off experimentation with a more grandiose and vaguely symphonic vibe. These diverse elements grate upon each other like opposing grindstones, and the result is often quite dramatic. Opener “These Vengeful Winds” is heavy as an anvil pyramid, crushing you beneath waves of corckscrewing, twisting riffs that feel too weighty to move, yet move they do like Cthulu’s hideous face tendrils. This is Immolation at their most basic and threatening, and it’s a grotesque joy to experience. “God’s Last Breath” delivers a crushing midtempo assault peppered with hateful guitar flourishes before lapsing into a massive stomping groove that feels dangerous and unhinged. Soon, everything goes utterly insane, and blastbeats and mind-flaying riffs try to unbalance your sanity. It’s special. It isn’t until “Bend Toward the Dark” arrives that Immolation show you all their cards. The song is pummeling and ridiculously heavy, and hidden in the swirling maelstrom is a vague SepticFlesh vibe that almost feels symphonic, but not quite. It’s strange, but it fits, and Ross Dolan extends his vocal range ever so slightly to sound more Deity-like.

Later cut, “Host” stands apart from the rest of Descent due to its unconventional and experimental approach. It feels like a fever dream in the way it leaps from idea to idea, and it can feel a bit disjointed, but it’s massive and rocks a relentlessly evil vibe that chills the bone marrow. It took several spins to “get it,” but once I got used to the strange ebb and flow, it worked more often than it didn’t. “False Ascent” is a direct, savage assault with little effort to be clever, and because of that, it hits extra hard. The closing title track is like the best moments of Immolation condensed into an almost 6-minute brain injection. It will destroy your body, but you need it nonetheless. Is everything this killer? Well, “Attriton” has many good pieces, but it doesn’t quite gel for me as a cohesive entity. Could I do without the instrumental “Banished”? Yes, as it does more to disrupt the album’s flow than add anything truly meaningful. At 42 minutes, Descent feels shorter and less overstuffed with ideas than Acts of God, and it’s easier to process. The production by Zack “Sometimes Friend o’ the Blog” Ohren is quite loud and confrontational, but less smashed than the DR 5 might suggest. The guitar tone is menacing as fuck, and the drums have a titanic force behind them. Most importantly, there’s enough cavern murk and scuzz to round out the existential dread Immolation traffics in.

I know it’s a waste of time to discuss how talented Immolation is at this point, but I’m going to anyway. Robert Vigna deserves his own wing in the Death Metal Guitarist Hall of Fame, and his strange style continues to bear rotting fruit at every turn of the thumbscrews. His playing is unlike anyone else, and his offbeat perspective on death metal riffing is why Immolation stand out as they do. He and Alex Bouks put on a clinic on how to decorate a death metal song with riff gold, and they build dark, threatening worlds as easily as you or I build a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. Ross Dolan is a tremendous death vocalist and always delivers the goods, and Steve Shalaty’s drumming is next-level insane and technical.

I agonized over how to score Descent. Ultimately, I prefer it over Acts of God, but, as with most Immolation albums, the qualitative differences are minor and come down to small personal preferences.1 It’s a metal truism that you can buy any Immolation release without fear of disappointment, and Descent will certainly please the filthy death masses. Immolation remain a rare, altered beast among other repellent horrors, painting their uniquely disturbing soundscapes across history and time.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast
Websites: immolation.info | immolation.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/immolation | instagram.com/immolation_band
Releases Worldwide: April 10th, 2026

Kenstrosity

It’s been said before, but it bears repeating: Immolation need no introduction. Far and away the most consistently great act in death metal, the New York troupe forge a deadly blade with each new release, familiar in design and function but meticulously crafted to rise with distinction. A discography unmarred by blemishes or misfires ensures that no matter where your point of entry, listeners new to Immolation’s fatally sharp weaponry will find themselves summarily eviscerated in short order. Twelve albums and thirty-eight years in, Immolation nests Descent inside an already legendary catalog with astonishing ease.

Drawing from the rich pool of their own history, Immolation have little need to reference their peers for ideas or inspiration on Descent. Pulling the infernal energy of Close to a World Below (“These Vengeful Winds,” “Attrition”), merging it with the violent groove of Majesty and Decay (“The Ephemeral Curse,” “Descent”), and embedding purposeful structure into the resulting mesh by way of Atonement’s sweeping, multi-phase phrasing and intentionally scorched layers (“God’s Last Breath,” “Host”), Descent honors its ancestry in monstrous fashion. Rare is the death metal act that exudes class and elegance, but Immolation embodies those traits in Descent’s grander songwriting—particularly evocative of Communion-era SepticFlesh—which makes the whole all that much more imposing. That’s to say nothing of the riffs, which have the same verve and vitality as ever without sacrificing an iota of Immolation’s core identity—an astounding feat that needs to be heard to be believed.

Descent by Immolation

As water-cooler discussions in AMG HQ’s back alleys and seedy underbellies confirm, Descent creates an environment solely populated with muscular apex predators, leaving the staff gnashing teeth and sharpening claws to defend their favorite track as the best item on hand. Mine are “Adversary,” “Bend Towards the Dark,” and “False Ascent,” primarily because they invoke a horde of particularly fiery trem-picked leads, flourishes, and shimmers that provide a bright contrast to Immolation’s trademark deep roars, stomping motifs, and precisely punctuated percussion. Equally compelling, high-impact cuts like “The Ephemeral Curse,” “Attrition,” and gargantuan closer “Descent” boast the same or similar features, applied in other ways or in alternate locations to create varied textures and high-detail points of interest. No song proper drops the ball at any point, and at a remarkably tight 42 minutes, the album as a whole boasts ridiculous levels of immediacy and engagement.

Immediate though Descent is, time and attention are its best friends. Revisits unfurl and intensify Immolation’s latest salvo such that it effortlessly deflects distraction. Harmonized layers, multifaceted riffs, and tumbling transitions across the record expand in scope and grandeur in direct correlation to the number of times I hear it. Strict structuring and highly compartmentalized compositions loosen, relax, and bleed into rich sonic hombre, betraying an intricacy and sophistication that such blunt force instrumentation shouldn’t be capable of achieving. Even my initial misgivings towards penultimate interlude “Banished,” which feels fluffy and insubstantial at first, gained some justification as the days and weeks spent with Descent progress. What once felt like a rude interruption now feels more like a palate cleanser for the final course. Still, I could cut it from the runtime. Even though the ride to the end might feel a tad rougher for it, I am not convinced I would wholly miss the padding. My only other critique of import concerns production. While incredibly well-mixed all things considered, Descent is loud, crushed to within an inch of its life—a life that barely breathes only by the grace of meaty guitar tones and a snappy snare.

As I grow closer to this world below, I feel nothing but reverence for an act whose unflappable dedication to the death metal craft knows no equal. I am awestruck by the longevity of Immolation’s back catalog and the remarkable quality of their modern entries. Descent is no exception. It is, instead, exceptional. Taste amongst my peers polarizes to some extent as to which Immolation era earns the most flowers, but recognition of their collective elite status is universal. This twelfth album, soon upon us, perpetuates that standard and may even prove, with time, to have elevated it once again. At the very least, it ranks among my personal favorites by these New Yorkers. It is my intention, consequently, to spend every free moment basking in its consuming flame.

Rating: Great!