#apr26 — Public Fediverse posts

Lynx – Trinity of Suns Review

Cards on the table—this review is late. Really late. We got the promo, but it went unclaimed, and…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2026 #4.0 #Apr26 #BlueOysterCult #DyingVictimsProductions #Entertainment #GermanMetal #HardRock #HeavyMetal #JimmyBuffet #lynx #PinkFloyd #review #reviews #rush #Tanith #ThinLizzy #TrinityofSuns
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/680575/

Lynx – Trinity of Suns Review

Cards on the table—this review is late. Really late. We got the promo, but it went unclaimed, and…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2026 #4.0 #Apr26 #BlueOysterCult #DyingVictimsProductions #Entertainment #GermanMetal #HardRock #HeavyMetal #JimmyBuffet #lynx #PinkFloyd #review #reviews #rush #Tanith #ThinLizzy #TrinityofSuns
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/680575/

Lynx – Trinity of Suns Review

Cards on the table—this review is late. Really late. We got the promo, but it went unclaimed, and…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #4.0 #Apr26 #BlueOysterCult #DyingVictimsProductions #Entertainment #GermanMetal #Hardrock #HeavyMetal #JimmyBuffet #Lynx #PinkFloyd #review #Reviews #rush #Tanith #ThinLizzy #TrinityofSuns #UK #UnitedKingdom
https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/617687/

https://www.europesays.com/uk/1001220/ Lynx – Trinity of Suns Review #2026 #40 #Apr26 #BlueOysterCult #DyingVictimsProductions #Entertainment #GermanMetal #HardRock #HeavyMetal #JimmyBuffet #lynx #music #PinkFloyd #Review #Reviews #RUSH #Tanith #ThinLizzy #TrinityOfSuns #UK #UnitedKingdom

Cards on the table—this review is late. Really late. We got the promo, but it went unclaimed, and it wasn’t until I picked up Lynx’s Trinity of Suns for personal enjoyment that I listened. Before I finished my first spin, I knew I had to Filter it. And that’s exactly what I did. I sat down to write my 200ish words about Lynx’s sophomore album, and the words spilled out. Too many, actually. I described how every subsequent journey through Trinity of Suns deepens my appreciation for Lynx’s retro rock, and soon I realized I had more to say than a limited word count would allow. Over the last month, Lynx has enraptured me with their sultry siren song, entrenching Trinity of Suns as a mainstay for commutes and chores. Rather than saving it as a Thing You Might Have Missed, though, I dared to write the counter-breaking missive I hoped my betters would permit. I begged. I cajoled. I cashed in the scant favors and political capital I’ve accrued since joining the staff to get this thing published. Was it worth it? If you’re reading these words, you’re damn right it was.

Between releasing 2021’s Watcher of Skies and follow-up Trinity of Suns, Lynx underwent a transformation I can only describe as transcendent. Huck N Roll offered some pointed criticism for their debut, a slab of 70s hard rock worship in the vein of Thin Lizzy and Blue Öyster Cult. Specifically, Huck noted that the songwriting was as unrefined as guitarist Marvin Keifer’s vocal performance, and the wanton surfeit of cymbals debilitated the listening experience. Five years later, Lynx obliterates whatever expectations listeners set based on Watcher of Skies. Most notably, Trinity of Suns introduces Amy Zine as full-time lead vocalist1—a decision that catapults Lynx’s potential into the Skies. Just as importantly, though, Lynx displays more restraint and maturity in their arrangements to wonderful effect.

Though the core of Lynx’s identity remains the same, the band deftly incorporates inspirations to elevate their sound. Rather than relegating the best moments to snappy intros, Trinity of Suns steeps its compositions in throwback, classic rock drama. “Stranger Sign in the Sky” boasts a Rushified break that harkens to “By-Tor and the Snow Dog,” while “Oppressive Season” starts with an intro that could pass for a lost Jimmy Buffet cut before tumbling into a Thin Lizzy tizzy. “Seven Days of Darkness,” meanwhile, melds the majesty of Pink Floyd psychedelia with the soulful intimacy of Tanith’s starkest emotional moments, eliciting a warm, heartfelt fuzz that pairs perfectly with the desert-ready palette Lynx paints with. The resulting thirty-nine minutes simmer with subtle heat, proving how the songwriting has evolved over the last half-decade.

\In addition to more fluid song structures, Lynx unchains stunning performances across Trinity of Suns. Amy Zine’s smoky vocals cut to my core, whether she’s belting out head-bopping choruses (“Island Universe”) or caressing with a tender croon (“Seven Days of Darkness”), and I simply cannot get enough. Still, as fabulous as her contributions are,2 they don’t carry Trinity of Suns alone. Everyone else in Lynx pitches in with guitars, though they’re primarily supplied by Tim Künz and Janni Athanasiadis. In addition to his gorgeous acoustic twangs on “Seven Days of Darkness,” Franz Fesel ably commands drums from the pocket while Phil Helm rumbles with luxurious yet understated bass. Honestly, Lynx’s low-end locks into such powerful grooves that Trinity of Suns would be undermined and underserved with a lesser performance, and if you need any convincing, go listen to the back-to-back tandem of “Oppressive Season” and “Trinity of Suns.”

Lynx is a band that understands the assignment, and Trinity of Suns should be enough to convince anyone that this kitty has claws. My only unfulfilled desire from Trinity of Suns is a three-minute banger nestled after “Voyager” or “Oppressive Season” where the entire band goes hog-fucking-wild. “Oppressive Season” comes closest, though holds back enough to avert the pandemonium I crave. With the talent Lynx brandishes, I’d love to hear them cut completely loose. Otherwise, Trinity of Suns accomplishes everything I want from a band of Lynx’s ilk, and each time “Island Universe” concludes, I’m left even more smitten. Whatever these cats do next, I’ll be there.

Rating: Great!
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

Cards on the table—this review is late. Really late. We got the promo, but it went unclaimed, and it wasn’t until I picked up Lynx’s Trinity of Suns for personal enjoyment that I listened. Before I finished my first spin, I knew I had to Filter it. And that’s exactly what I did. I sat down to write my 200ish words about Lynx’s sophomore album, and the words spilled out. Too many, actually. I described how every subsequent journey through Trinity of Suns deepens my appreciation for Lynx’s retro rock, and soon I realized I had more to say than a limited word count would allow. Over the last month, Lynx has enraptured me with their sultry siren song, entrenching Trinity of Suns as a mainstay for commutes and chores. Rather than saving it as a Thing You Might Have Missed, though, I dared to write the counter-breaking missive I hoped my betters would permit. I begged. I cajoled. I cashed in the scant favors and political capital I’ve accrued since joining the staff to get this thing published. Was it worth it? If you’re reading these words, you’re damn right it was.

Between releasing 2021’s Watcher of Skies and follow-up Trinity of Suns, Lynx underwent a transformation I can only describe as transcendent. Huck N Roll offered some pointed criticism for their debut, a slab of 70s hard rock worship in the vein of Thin Lizzy and Blue Öyster Cult. Specifically, Huck noted that the songwriting was as unrefined as guitarist Marvin Keifer’s vocal performance, and the wanton surfeit of cymbals debilitated the listening experience. Five years later, Lynx obliterates whatever expectations listeners set based on Watcher of Skies. Most notably, Trinity of Suns introduces Amy Zine as full-time lead vocalist1—a decision that catapults Lynx’s potential into the Skies. Just as importantly, though, Lynx displays more restraint and maturity in their arrangements to wonderful effect.

Though the core of Lynx’s identity remains the same, the band deftly incorporates inspirations to elevate their sound. Rather than relegating the best moments to snappy intros, Trinity of Suns steeps its compositions in throwback, classic rock drama. “Stranger Sign in the Sky” boasts a Rushified break that harkens to “By-Tor and the Snow Dog,” while “Oppressive Season” starts with an intro that could pass for a lost Jimmy Buffet cut before tumbling into a Thin Lizzy tizzy. “Seven Days of Darkness,” meanwhile, melds the majesty of Pink Floyd psychedelia with the soulful intimacy of Tanith’s starkest emotional moments, eliciting a warm, heartfelt fuzz that pairs perfectly with the desert-ready palette Lynx paints with. The resulting thirty-nine minutes simmer with subtle heat, proving how the songwriting has evolved over the last half-decade.

\In addition to more fluid song structures, Lynx unchains stunning performances across Trinity of Suns. Amy Zine’s smoky vocals cut to my core, whether she’s belting out head-bopping choruses (“Island Universe”) or caressing with a tender croon (“Seven Days of Darkness”), and I simply cannot get enough. Still, as fabulous as her contributions are,2 they don’t carry Trinity of Suns alone. Everyone else in Lynx pitches in with guitars, though they’re primarily supplied by Tim Künz and Janni Athanasiadis. In addition to his gorgeous acoustic twangs on “Seven Days of Darkness,” Franz Fesel ably commands drums from the pocket while Phil Helm rumbles with luxurious yet understated bass. Honestly, Lynx’s low-end locks into such powerful grooves that Trinity of Suns would be undermined and underserved with a lesser performance, and if you need any convincing, go listen to the back-to-back tandem of “Oppressive Season” and “Trinity of Suns.”

Lynx is a band that understands the assignment, and Trinity of Suns should be enough to convince anyone that this kitty has claws. My only unfulfilled desire from Trinity of Suns is a three-minute banger nestled after “Voyager” or “Oppressive Season” where the entire band goes hog-fucking-wild. “Oppressive Season” comes closest, though holds back enough to avert the pandemonium I crave. With the talent Lynx brandishes, I’d love to hear them cut completely loose. Otherwise, Trinity of Suns accomplishes everything I want from a band of Lynx’s ilk, and each time “Island Universe” concludes, I’m left even more smitten. Whatever these cats do next, I’ll be there.

Rating: Great!
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

Cards on the table—this review is late. Really late. We got the promo, but it went unclaimed, and it wasn’t until I picked up Lynx’s Trinity of Suns for personal enjoyment that I listened. Before I finished my first spin, I knew I had to Filter it. And that’s exactly what I did. I sat down to write my 200ish words about Lynx’s sophomore album, and the words spilled out. Too many, actually. I described how every subsequent journey through Trinity of Suns deepens my appreciation for Lynx’s retro rock, and soon I realized I had more to say than a limited word count would allow. Over the last month, Lynx has enraptured me with their sultry siren song, entrenching Trinity of Suns as a mainstay for commutes and chores. Rather than saving it as a Thing You Might Have Missed, though, I dared to write the counter-breaking missive I hoped my betters would permit. I begged. I cajoled. I cashed in the scant favors and political capital I’ve accrued since joining the staff to get this thing published. Was it worth it? If you’re reading these words, you’re damn right it was.

Between releasing 2021’s Watcher of Skies and follow-up Trinity of Suns, Lynx underwent a transformation I can only describe as transcendent. Huck N Roll offered some pointed criticism for their debut, a slab of 70s hard rock worship in the vein of Thin Lizzy and Blue Öyster Cult. Specifically, Huck noted that the songwriting was as unrefined as guitarist Marvin Keifer’s vocal performance, and the wanton surfeit of cymbals debilitated the listening experience. Five years later, Lynx obliterates whatever expectations listeners set based on Watcher of Skies. Most notably, Trinity of Suns introduces Amy Zine as full-time lead vocalist1—a decision that catapults Lynx’s potential into the Skies. Just as importantly, though, Lynx displays more restraint and maturity in their arrangements to wonderful effect.

Though the core of Lynx’s identity remains the same, the band deftly incorporates inspirations to elevate their sound. Rather than relegating the best moments to snappy intros, Trinity of Suns steeps its compositions in throwback, classic rock drama. “Stranger Sign in the Sky” boasts a Rushified break that harkens to “By-Tor and the Snow Dog,” while “Oppressive Season” starts with an intro that could pass for a lost Jimmy Buffet cut before tumbling into a Thin Lizzy tizzy. “Seven Days of Darkness,” meanwhile, melds the majesty of Pink Floyd psychedelia with the soulful intimacy of Tanith’s starkest emotional moments, eliciting a warm, heartfelt fuzz that pairs perfectly with the desert-ready palette Lynx paints with. The resulting thirty-nine minutes simmer with subtle heat, proving how the songwriting has evolved over the last half-decade.

\In addition to more fluid song structures, Lynx unchains stunning performances across Trinity of Suns. Amy Zine’s smoky vocals cut to my core, whether she’s belting out head-bopping choruses (“Island Universe”) or caressing with a tender croon (“Seven Days of Darkness”), and I simply cannot get enough. Still, as fabulous as her contributions are,2 they don’t carry Trinity of Suns alone. Everyone else in Lynx pitches in with guitars, though they’re primarily supplied by Tim Künz and Janni Athanasiadis. In addition to his gorgeous acoustic twangs on “Seven Days of Darkness,” Franz Fesel ably commands drums from the pocket while Phil Helm rumbles with luxurious yet understated bass. Honestly, Lynx’s low-end locks into such powerful grooves that Trinity of Suns would be undermined and underserved with a lesser performance, and if you need any convincing, go listen to the back-to-back tandem of “Oppressive Season” and “Trinity of Suns.”

Lynx is a band that understands the assignment, and Trinity of Suns should be enough to convince anyone that this kitty has claws. My only unfulfilled desire from Trinity of Suns is a three-minute banger nestled after “Voyager” or “Oppressive Season” where the entire band goes hog-fucking-wild. “Oppressive Season” comes closest, though holds back enough to avert the pandemonium I crave. With the talent Lynx brandishes, I’d love to hear them cut completely loose. Otherwise, Trinity of Suns accomplishes everything I want from a band of Lynx’s ilk, and each time “Island Universe” concludes, I’m left even more smitten. Whatever these cats do next, I’ll be there.

Rating: Great!
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

Cards on the table—this review is late. Really late. We got the promo, but it went unclaimed, and it wasn’t until I picked up Lynx’s Trinity of Suns for personal enjoyment that I listened. Before I finished my first spin, I knew I had to Filter it. And that’s exactly what I did. I sat down to write my 200ish words about Lynx’s sophomore album, and the words spilled out. Too many, actually. I described how every subsequent journey through Trinity of Suns deepens my appreciation for Lynx’s retro rock, and soon I realized I had more to say than a limited word count would allow. Over the last month, Lynx has enraptured me with their sultry siren song, entrenching Trinity of Suns as a mainstay for commutes and chores. Rather than saving it as a Thing You Might Have Missed, though, I dared to write the counter-breaking missive I hoped my betters would permit. I begged. I cajoled. I cashed in the scant favors and political capital I’ve accrued since joining the staff to get this thing published. Was it worth it? If you’re reading these words, you’re damn right it was.

Between releasing 2021’s Watcher of Skies and follow-up Trinity of Suns, Lynx underwent a transformation I can only describe as transcendent. Huck N Roll offered some pointed criticism for their debut, a slab of 70s hard rock worship in the vein of Thin Lizzy and Blue Öyster Cult. Specifically, Huck noted that the songwriting was as unrefined as guitarist Marvin Keifer’s vocal performance, and the wanton surfeit of cymbals debilitated the listening experience. Five years later, Lynx obliterates whatever expectations listeners set based on Watcher of Skies. Most notably, Trinity of Suns introduces Amy Zine as full-time lead vocalist1—a decision that catapults Lynx’s potential into the Skies. Just as importantly, though, Lynx displays more restraint and maturity in their arrangements to wonderful effect.

Though the core of Lynx’s identity remains the same, the band deftly incorporates inspirations to elevate their sound. Rather than relegating the best moments to snappy intros, Trinity of Suns steeps its compositions in throwback, classic rock drama. “Stranger Sign in the Sky” boasts a Rushified break that harkens to “By-Tor and the Snow Dog,” while “Oppressive Season” starts with an intro that could pass for a lost Jimmy Buffet cut before tumbling into a Thin Lizzy tizzy. “Seven Days of Darkness,” meanwhile, melds the majesty of Pink Floyd psychedelia with the soulful intimacy of Tanith’s starkest emotional moments, eliciting a warm, heartfelt fuzz that pairs perfectly with the desert-ready palette Lynx paints with. The resulting thirty-nine minutes simmer with subtle heat, proving how the songwriting has evolved over the last half-decade.

\In addition to more fluid song structures, Lynx unchains stunning performances across Trinity of Suns. Amy Zine’s smoky vocals cut to my core, whether she’s belting out head-bopping choruses (“Island Universe”) or caressing with a tender croon (“Seven Days of Darkness”), and I simply cannot get enough. Still, as fabulous as her contributions are,2 they don’t carry Trinity of Suns alone. Everyone else in Lynx pitches in with guitars, though they’re primarily supplied by Tim Künz and Janni Athanasiadis. In addition to his gorgeous acoustic twangs on “Seven Days of Darkness,” Franz Fesel ably commands drums from the pocket while Phil Helm rumbles with luxurious yet understated bass. Honestly, Lynx’s low-end locks into such powerful grooves that Trinity of Suns would be undermined and underserved with a lesser performance, and if you need any convincing, go listen to the back-to-back tandem of “Oppressive Season” and “Trinity of Suns.”

Lynx is a band that understands the assignment, and Trinity of Suns should be enough to convince anyone that this kitty has claws. My only unfulfilled desire from Trinity of Suns is a three-minute banger nestled after “Voyager” or “Oppressive Season” where the entire band goes hog-fucking-wild. “Oppressive Season” comes closest, though holds back enough to avert the pandemonium I crave. With the talent Lynx brandishes, I’d love to hear them cut completely loose. Otherwise, Trinity of Suns accomplishes everything I want from a band of Lynx’s ilk, and each time “Island Universe” concludes, I’m left even more smitten. Whatever these cats do next, I’ll be there.

Rating: Great!
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

Cards on the table—this review is late. Really late. We got the promo, but it went unclaimed, and it wasn’t until I picked up Lynx’s Trinity of Suns for personal enjoyment that I listened. Before I finished my first spin, I knew I had to Filter it. And that’s exactly what I did. I sat down to write my 200ish words about Lynx’s sophomore album, and the words spilled out. Too many, actually. I described how every subsequent journey through Trinity of Suns deepens my appreciation for Lynx’s retro rock, and soon I realized I had more to say than a limited word count would allow. Over the last month, Lynx has enraptured me with their sultry siren song, entrenching Trinity of Suns as a mainstay for commutes and chores. Rather than saving it as a Thing You Might Have Missed, though, I dared to write the counter-breaking missive I hoped my betters would permit. I begged. I cajoled. I cashed in the scant favors and political capital I’ve accrued since joining the staff to get this thing published. Was it worth it? If you’re reading these words, you’re damn right it was.

Between releasing 2021’s Watcher of Skies and follow-up Trinity of Suns, Lynx underwent a transformation I can only describe as transcendent. Huck N Roll offered some pointed criticism for their debut, a slab of 70s hard rock worship in the vein of Thin Lizzy and Blue Öyster Cult. Specifically, Huck noted that the songwriting was as unrefined as guitarist Marvin Keifer’s vocal performance, and the wanton surfeit of cymbals debilitated the listening experience. Five years later, Lynx obliterates whatever expectations listeners set based on Watcher of Skies. Most notably, Trinity of Suns introduces Amy Zine as full-time lead vocalist1—a decision that catapults Lynx’s potential into the Skies. Just as importantly, though, Lynx displays more restraint and maturity in their arrangements to wonderful effect.

Though the core of Lynx’s identity remains the same, the band deftly incorporates inspirations to elevate their sound. Rather than relegating the best moments to snappy intros, Trinity of Suns steeps its compositions in throwback, classic rock drama. “Stranger Sign in the Sky” boasts a Rushified break that harkens to “By-Tor and the Snow Dog,” while “Oppressive Season” starts with an intro that could pass for a lost Jimmy Buffet cut before tumbling into a Thin Lizzy tizzy. “Seven Days of Darkness,” meanwhile, melds the majesty of Pink Floyd psychedelia with the soulful intimacy of Tanith’s starkest emotional moments, eliciting a warm, heartfelt fuzz that pairs perfectly with the desert-ready palette Lynx paints with. The resulting thirty-nine minutes simmer with subtle heat, proving how the songwriting has evolved over the last half-decade.

\In addition to more fluid song structures, Lynx unchains stunning performances across Trinity of Suns. Amy Zine’s smoky vocals cut to my core, whether she’s belting out head-bopping choruses (“Island Universe”) or caressing with a tender croon (“Seven Days of Darkness”), and I simply cannot get enough. Still, as fabulous as her contributions are,2 they don’t carry Trinity of Suns alone. Everyone else in Lynx pitches in with guitars, though they’re primarily supplied by Tim Künz and Janni Athanasiadis. In addition to his gorgeous acoustic twangs on “Seven Days of Darkness,” Franz Fesel ably commands drums from the pocket while Phil Helm rumbles with luxurious yet understated bass. Honestly, Lynx’s low-end locks into such powerful grooves that Trinity of Suns would be undermined and underserved with a lesser performance, and if you need any convincing, go listen to the back-to-back tandem of “Oppressive Season” and “Trinity of Suns.”

Lynx is a band that understands the assignment, and Trinity of Suns should be enough to convince anyone that this kitty has claws. My only unfulfilled desire from Trinity of Suns is a three-minute banger nestled after “Voyager” or “Oppressive Season” where the entire band goes hog-fucking-wild. “Oppressive Season” comes closest, though holds back enough to avert the pandemonium I crave. With the talent Lynx brandishes, I’d love to hear them cut completely loose. Otherwise, Trinity of Suns accomplishes everything I want from a band of Lynx’s ilk, and each time “Island Universe” concludes, I’m left even more smitten. Whatever these cats do next, I’ll be there.

Rating: Great!
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

Blindead’s third album Affliction XXIX II MXMVI is one of the most underrated classics of the 2010s. The Polish band’s sound was bigger than its fanbase, tragically, but that didn’t stop them from releasing an ambitious concept album whose stars aligned in both sound and lyrical themes. Rooted in the enigmatic and mammoth style of post-metal, the grey world it painted with broad sludge brushstrokes portrayed the experiences and perceptions of a child with ASD: “The shape of a city stood in the grayness, like a charcoal drawing sketched across the waste” (“Dark and Gray”). Alongside titles like Amia Venera Landscape’s The Long Procession and Dirge’s Elysian Magnetic Fields, Blindead was included on a long list of post-metal deep cuts that lay below the decade’s surface.

In spite of the laziest band name, Blindead 23 is the reincarnation of the act, this time armed with a star-studded lineup. The core of long-time guitarist Mateusz Śmierzchalski (aka Havoc, former Behemoth guitarist from 2000-03) and vocalist Patryk Zwoliński, Blindead 23 is rounded out by drummer Pawel “Pavulon” Jaroszewicz (known for his time in Vltimas, Vader, and Decapitated) and guitarist Roger Öjersson (known for his time in Katatonia). After the relative fizzle of Blindead’s final post-metal/alt rock albums Absence and Ascension, and the outta left field punk swansong Niewiosna, Blindead 23 returns to its roots with a tried-and-true blend of post-metal hugeness and hardcore intensity, sounding right at home with the likes of Rosetta, Neurosis, and Mouth of the Architect. First LP Deuterium is a love song to post-metal, a welcome return that won’t turn too many heads – but it’s the riffiest and the dirgiest post-metal that is both overlong and extremely promising.

Blessedly, the Blindead 23’s riffs are truly a force of nature, amplified by Öjersson’s soulful trademark melodies. The opening “Immersion” suite offers you a front-and-center attack that showcases the intensity and range – chuggy riffs and ominous melodies collide in formidable intensity. The more intense portions take on a nearly mechanical, death metal-bordering heaviness thanks to choppy staccato chugs and cold atmospheric tricks (“Immersion II,” title track), while solos and cleans inject the necessary humanity to keep them from wallowing in industrial aloofness (“Immersion I” and “II,” “Wither,” title track). Other tracks happen upon a more hardcore-inspired approach, chaotic movements, and shifty rhythms recalling the likes of Black Sheep Wall and Knut (“Worst Laid Plans”), Jaroszewicz’s drums laying a foundation of shifting sands.

The fifty-four-minute runtime is both a blessing and a curse for Blindead 23: while it allows them the breath to explore all their facets, it drags on the slower moments to a snail’s crawl. While the more hypnotic and dirgelike pieces can be bolstered by an eerie atmosphere (“Immersion II”), they have the potential to drag on for way too long and rob the band of the intensity they have effectively established (“Wither”), and even good tracks can feel a few minutes too long (“Worst Laid Plans”). While range is the name of the game, a few tricks feel too out-of-left-field, such as the bluesy and twangy plucking or jazzy melodies (“Toward the Dark”) or a surprising optimism that clashes with the overall darkness of the debut (“You Are the Universe”). However, this is not Blindead – it’s Blindead 23 – and it’s better that a band explore all avenues instead of just playing it safe.

Deuterium is the sound of a band hungry for the return, but not to the way things were. Already, a revolving door of contributors make Deuterium a distinct sound compared to 2024 debut EP Vanishing, and it shows in a solid output that sounds like the veterans they are. While the inconsistency is jarring and the sprawl leads to the excessive runtime, individual star power with an immensity greater than the sum of its parts graces the Polish juggernaut in an exploration of all avenues. An embarrassment of riches awaits them. Deuterium may not be their magnum opus, but it’s the prelude for Blindead 23.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Peaceville Records
Website: facebook.com/blindead23
Releases Worldwide: April 22nd, 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

Chariots Overdrive – The End of Antiquity Review

Manilla Road, Motörhead, and Megaton Sword walk into a bar—Lemmy’s pick, …
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2.5 #2026 #AmericanMetal #Apr26 #BlackSabbath #ChariotsOverdrive #DeadKennedys #DropkickMurphys #Entertainment #GatesofHellRecords #HeavyMetal #IronMaiden #JudasPriest #ManillaRoad #MegatonSword #Motörhead #NWOBHM #PowerMetal #rancid #review #reviews #TheEndofAntiquity
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/609222/

Chariots Overdrive – The End of Antiquity Review

Manilla Road, Motörhead, and Megaton Sword walk into a bar—Lemmy’s pick, …
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2.5 #2026 #AmericanMetal #Apr26 #BlackSabbath #ChariotsOverdrive #DeadKennedys #DropkickMurphys #Entertainment #GatesofHellRecords #HeavyMetal #IronMaiden #JudasPriest #ManillaRoad #MegatonSword #Motörhead #NWOBHM #PowerMetal #rancid #review #reviews #TheEndofAntiquity
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/609222/

https://www.europesays.com/uk/921236/ Chariots Overdrive – The End of Antiquity Review #25 #2026 #AmericanMetal #Apr26 #BlackSabbath #ChariotsOverdrive #DeadKennedys #DropkickMurphys #Entertainment #GatesOfHellRecords #HeavyMetal #IronMaiden #JudasPriest #ManillaRoad #MegatonSword #Motörhead #music #NWOBHM #PowerMetal #Rancid #Review #Reviews #TheEndOfAntiquity #UK #UnitedKingdom

Chariots Overdrive – The End of Antiquity Review

Manilla Road, Motörhead, and Megaton Sword walk into a bar—Lemmy’s pick, if that helps you picture t…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2.5 #2026 #AmericanMetal #Apr26 #BlackSabbath #ChariotsOverdrive #DeadKennedys #DropkickMurphys #Entertainment #GatesofHellRecords #HeavyMetal #IronMaiden #JudasPriest #ManillaRoad #MegatonSword #Motörhead #NWOBHM #PowerMetal #Rancid #review #Reviews #TheEndofAntiquity #UK #UnitedKingdom
https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/552187/

Manilla Road, Motörhead, and Megaton Sword walk into a bar—Lemmy’s pick, if that helps you picture the place. Someone yells, “cops outside!” The word “cops” clears the room faster than napalm ever could. Stampede. The bands are swept up in the deluge of bodies, bewildered and sweaty. Amidst the chaos, several shuffle into a nearby van. Driving off, they realize that 1) these aren’t their bandmates, 2) this is Di’Anno-era Iron Maiden’s van with their keys and all their equipment left inside, and 3) they picked up Dropkick Murphys somewhere along the way. If this hypothetical group decided to run with it, they would sound like Chariots Overdrive. Hailing from Beijing, China, and currently residing in Atlanta, Georgia, these adherents of the NWoBHM sound old as dirt on their debut, The End of Antiquity, injecting fantastical lyricism inspired by Chinese history and folklore into their mix. But can this van/chariot go the distance, or has this ride seen its last mile?

The End of Antiquity is driven by allegiance to metal in the purest form, and Chariots Overdrive wield it with punk-like tenacity. Speed and belligerence rule The End of Antiquity, embodied in the full-band gang vocals of “Marching Maniacs” and the Dead Kennedys-like discordance of “Parasite.” The belts and snarls singer G.H.Z uses on “A Taikonautic Alchemist” and “Chariots Overdrive”1 would fit as well with Rancid as they do here, and their guitars and bass evoke the aforementioned early Maiden years in the punkish bite (“The End of Antiquity”). Bassist Z.Z.Y lays down aggressively clicky, highly melodic lines across The End of Antiquity, giving Chariots Overdrive a burly-yet-catchy streak akin to Steve Harris’ playing and bolstering G.H.Z and Y.Z’s gnarly dual guitars and W.R.C’s punchy drums into a full-bodied declaration of victory. Chariots Overdrive feel rooted in the simple joy of throwing ragers with the boys, and The End of Antiquity is, if nothing else, a rager.

Chariots Overdrive don’t overcomplicate anything, which is a boon and bane to The End of Antiquity. Most songs play around simple melodies over two to four chords. Guitar solos aren’t flashy on The End of Antiquity, but they’re incisive. When the outcome is exhilarating like “Chariots Overdrive” or Judas Priest-levels of catchy like “Marching Maniacs,” it’s hard to argue. But it also puts the onus of The End of Antiquity’s success on Chariot Overdrive’s performances, which can falter. G.H.Z isn’t a powerhouse vocalist and sounds downright rough at times, especially where Chariot Overdrive attempt harmonization, such as the chorus of “A Taikonautic Alchemist.” It also means that, despite the album’s lean runtime, The End of Antiquity sounds somewhat exhausted by the time “Nomadic Warfare” and the title track appear, as their hooks are comparatively weaker to the rest of the record. I’m all for simplifying something for the sake of effectiveness, but what’s left has to be as tight as you can make it. In this regard, Chariots Overdrive can improve.

What Chariots Overdrive need is a more refined identity. Like early Iron Maiden, Chariots Overdrive seem to strive towards a dirty-yet-sophisticated sound and theming, evidenced by the fingerstyle guitar and serene bass-and-piano interludes of “Where Dust Reigns” and “Sunken Throb,”2 but these instrumentals’ moods aren’t matched or mirrored by the rest of the album and feel tacked-on as a result. The standout, 12-minute song “A Bizarre Pilgrimage to the Cubik Mansion” hints at what Chariots Overdrive can do, as the band navigates artfully between Motörhead’s hyped-up rock n’ roll and Black Sabbathian gloomy doom.3 But the track buckles a bit under its weight by the end and feels done a few minutes before it’s over. Chariots Overdrive are engaging by grit and energy, but without a solid grasp on what exactly they are doing, The End of Antiquity can only be a fun-but-flawed work when taken as a whole.

The End of Antiquity has some flaws, but I still like where the Chariots Overdrive van is going. If you like any of the bands mentioned above it’s a safe bet you’ll get something out of this. There’s obvious chemistry between the band, and their debut has plenty of good moments throughout that are both fun in the present and hint towards a stronger future. I don’t want Chariots Overdrive to give up on what they’re doing, but if they can merge their punk hooliganism with the finesse they aspire towards in the next album, it’ll be a hit. There’s a lot of highway ahead, but this chariot’s got tread to spare yet.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 84 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Gates of Hell Records
Websites: chariotsoverdrive.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/chariotsoverdrive
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 20265

Manilla Road, Motörhead, and Megaton Sword walk into a bar—Lemmy’s pick, if that helps you picture the place. Someone yells, “cops outside!” The word “cops” clears the room faster than napalm ever could. Stampede. The bands are swept up in the deluge of bodies, bewildered and sweaty. Amidst the chaos, several shuffle into a nearby van. Driving off, they realize that 1) these aren’t their bandmates, 2) this is Di’Anno-era Iron Maiden’s van with their keys and all their equipment left inside, and 3) they picked up Dropkick Murphys somewhere along the way. If this hypothetical group decided to run with it, they would sound like Chariots Overdrive. Hailing from Beijing, China, and currently residing in Atlanta, Georgia, these adherents of the NWoBHM sound old as dirt on their debut, The End of Antiquity, injecting fantastical lyricism inspired by Chinese history and folklore into their mix. But can this van/chariot go the distance, or has this ride seen its last mile?

The End of Antiquity is driven by allegiance to metal in the purest form, and Chariots Overdrive wield it with punk-like tenacity. Speed and belligerence rule The End of Antiquity, embodied in the full-band gang vocals of “Marching Maniacs” and the Dead Kennedys-like discordance of “Parasite.” The belts and snarls singer G.H.Z uses on “A Taikonautic Alchemist” and “Chariots Overdrive”1 would fit as well with Rancid as they do here, and their guitars and bass evoke the aforementioned early Maiden years in the punkish bite (“The End of Antiquity”). Bassist Z.Z.Y lays down aggressively clicky, highly melodic lines across The End of Antiquity, giving Chariots Overdrive a burly-yet-catchy streak akin to Steve Harris’ playing and bolstering G.H.Z and Y.Z’s gnarly dual guitars and W.R.C’s punchy drums into a full-bodied declaration of victory. Chariots Overdrive feel rooted in the simple joy of throwing ragers with the boys, and The End of Antiquity is, if nothing else, a rager.

Chariots Overdrive don’t overcomplicate anything, which is a boon and bane to The End of Antiquity. Most songs play around simple melodies over two to four chords. Guitar solos aren’t flashy on The End of Antiquity, but they’re incisive. When the outcome is exhilarating like “Chariots Overdrive” or Judas Priest-levels of catchy like “Marching Maniacs,” it’s hard to argue. But it also puts the onus of The End of Antiquity’s success on Chariot Overdrive’s performances, which can falter. G.H.Z isn’t a powerhouse vocalist and sounds downright rough at times, especially where Chariot Overdrive attempt harmonization, such as the chorus of “A Taikonautic Alchemist.” It also means that, despite the album’s lean runtime, The End of Antiquity sounds somewhat exhausted by the time “Nomadic Warfare” and the title track appear, as their hooks are comparatively weaker to the rest of the record. I’m all for simplifying something for the sake of effectiveness, but what’s left has to be as tight as you can make it. In this regard, Chariots Overdrive can improve.

What Chariots Overdrive need is a more refined identity. Like early Iron Maiden, Chariots Overdrive seem to strive towards a dirty-yet-sophisticated sound and theming, evidenced by the fingerstyle guitar and serene bass-and-piano interludes of “Where Dust Reigns” and “Sunken Throb,”2 but these instrumentals’ moods aren’t matched or mirrored by the rest of the album and feel tacked-on as a result. The standout, 12-minute song “A Bizarre Pilgrimage to the Cubik Mansion” hints at what Chariots Overdrive can do, as the band navigates artfully between Motörhead’s hyped-up rock n’ roll and Black Sabbathian gloomy doom.3 But the track buckles a bit under its weight by the end and feels done a few minutes before it’s over. Chariots Overdrive are engaging by grit and energy, but without a solid grasp on what exactly they are doing, The End of Antiquity can only be a fun-but-flawed work when taken as a whole.

The End of Antiquity has some flaws, but I still like where the Chariots Overdrive van is going. If you like any of the bands mentioned above it’s a safe bet you’ll get something out of this. There’s obvious chemistry between the band, and their debut has plenty of good moments throughout that are both fun in the present and hint towards a stronger future. I don’t want Chariots Overdrive to give up on what they’re doing, but if they can merge their punk hooliganism with the finesse they aspire towards in the next album, it’ll be a hit. There’s a lot of highway ahead, but this chariot’s got tread to spare yet.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 84 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Gates of Hell Records
Websites: chariotsoverdrive.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/chariotsoverdrive
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 20265

Manilla Road, Motörhead, and Megaton Sword walk into a bar—Lemmy’s pick, if that helps you picture the place. Someone yells, “cops outside!” The word “cops” clears the room faster than napalm ever could. Stampede. The bands are swept up in the deluge of bodies, bewildered and sweaty. Amidst the chaos, several shuffle into a nearby van. Driving off, they realize that 1) these aren’t their bandmates, 2) this is Di’Anno-era Iron Maiden’s van with their keys and all their equipment left inside, and 3) they picked up Dropkick Murphys somewhere along the way. If this hypothetical group decided to run with it, they would sound like Chariots Overdrive. Hailing from Beijing, China, and currently residing in Atlanta, Georgia, these adherents of the NWoBHM sound old as dirt on their debut, The End of Antiquity, injecting fantastical lyricism inspired by Chinese history and folklore into their mix. But can this van/chariot go the distance, or has this ride seen its last mile?

The End of Antiquity is driven by allegiance to metal in the purest form, and Chariots Overdrive wield it with punk-like tenacity. Speed and belligerence rule The End of Antiquity, embodied in the full-band gang vocals of “Marching Maniacs” and the Dead Kennedys-like discordance of “Parasite.” The belts and snarls singer G.H.Z uses on “A Taikonautic Alchemist” and “Chariots Overdrive”1 would fit as well with Rancid as they do here, and their guitars and bass evoke the aforementioned early Maiden years in the punkish bite (“The End of Antiquity”). Bassist Z.Z.Y lays down aggressively clicky, highly melodic lines across The End of Antiquity, giving Chariots Overdrive a burly-yet-catchy streak akin to Steve Harris’ playing and bolstering G.H.Z and Y.Z’s gnarly dual guitars and W.R.C’s punchy drums into a full-bodied declaration of victory. Chariots Overdrive feel rooted in the simple joy of throwing ragers with the boys, and The End of Antiquity is, if nothing else, a rager.

Chariots Overdrive don’t overcomplicate anything, which is a boon and bane to The End of Antiquity. Most songs play around simple melodies over two to four chords. Guitar solos aren’t flashy on The End of Antiquity, but they’re incisive. When the outcome is exhilarating like “Chariots Overdrive” or Judas Priest-levels of catchy like “Marching Maniacs,” it’s hard to argue. But it also puts the onus of The End of Antiquity’s success on Chariot Overdrive’s performances, which can falter. G.H.Z isn’t a powerhouse vocalist and sounds downright rough at times, especially where Chariot Overdrive attempt harmonization, such as the chorus of “A Taikonautic Alchemist.” It also means that, despite the album’s lean runtime, The End of Antiquity sounds somewhat exhausted by the time “Nomadic Warfare” and the title track appear, as their hooks are comparatively weaker to the rest of the record. I’m all for simplifying something for the sake of effectiveness, but what’s left has to be as tight as you can make it. In this regard, Chariots Overdrive can improve.

What Chariots Overdrive need is a more refined identity. Like early Iron Maiden, Chariots Overdrive seem to strive towards a dirty-yet-sophisticated sound and theming, evidenced by the fingerstyle guitar and serene bass-and-piano interludes of “Where Dust Reigns” and “Sunken Throb,”2 but these instrumentals’ moods aren’t matched or mirrored by the rest of the album and feel tacked-on as a result. The standout, 12-minute song “A Bizarre Pilgrimage to the Cubik Mansion” hints at what Chariots Overdrive can do, as the band navigates artfully between Motörhead’s hyped-up rock n’ roll and Black Sabbathian gloomy doom.3 But the track buckles a bit under its weight by the end and feels done a few minutes before it’s over. Chariots Overdrive are engaging by grit and energy, but without a solid grasp on what exactly they are doing, The End of Antiquity can only be a fun-but-flawed work when taken as a whole.

The End of Antiquity has some flaws, but I still like where the Chariots Overdrive van is going. If you like any of the bands mentioned above it’s a safe bet you’ll get something out of this. There’s obvious chemistry between the band, and their debut has plenty of good moments throughout that are both fun in the present and hint towards a stronger future. I don’t want Chariots Overdrive to give up on what they’re doing, but if they can merge their punk hooliganism with the finesse they aspire towards in the next album, it’ll be a hit. There’s a lot of highway ahead, but this chariot’s got tread to spare yet.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 84 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Gates of Hell Records
Websites: chariotsoverdrive.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/chariotsoverdrive
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 20265

Manilla Road, Motörhead, and Megaton Sword walk into a bar—Lemmy’s pick, if that helps you picture the place. Someone yells, “cops outside!” The word “cops” clears the room faster than napalm ever could. Stampede. The bands are swept up in the deluge of bodies, bewildered and sweaty. Amidst the chaos, several shuffle into a nearby van. Driving off, they realize that 1) these aren’t their bandmates, 2) this is Di’Anno-era Iron Maiden’s van with their keys and all their equipment left inside, and 3) they picked up Dropkick Murphys somewhere along the way. If this hypothetical group decided to run with it, they would sound like Chariots Overdrive. Hailing from Beijing, China, and currently residing in Atlanta, Georgia, these adherents of the NWoBHM sound old as dirt on their debut, The End of Antiquity, injecting fantastical lyricism inspired by Chinese history and folklore into their mix. But can this van/chariot go the distance, or has this ride seen its last mile?

The End of Antiquity is driven by allegiance to metal in the purest form, and Chariots Overdrive wield it with punk-like tenacity. Speed and belligerence rule The End of Antiquity, embodied in the full-band gang vocals of “Marching Maniacs” and the Dead Kennedys-like discordance of “Parasite.” The belts and snarls singer G.H.Z uses on “A Taikonautic Alchemist” and “Chariots Overdrive”1 would fit as well with Rancid as they do here, and their guitars and bass evoke the aforementioned early Maiden years in the punkish bite (“The End of Antiquity”). Bassist Z.Z.Y lays down aggressively clicky, highly melodic lines across The End of Antiquity, giving Chariots Overdrive a burly-yet-catchy streak akin to Steve Harris’ playing and bolstering G.H.Z and Y.Z’s gnarly dual guitars and W.R.C’s punchy drums into a full-bodied declaration of victory. Chariots Overdrive feel rooted in the simple joy of throwing ragers with the boys, and The End of Antiquity is, if nothing else, a rager.

Chariots Overdrive don’t overcomplicate anything, which is a boon and bane to The End of Antiquity. Most songs play around simple melodies over two to four chords. Guitar solos aren’t flashy on The End of Antiquity, but they’re incisive. When the outcome is exhilarating like “Chariots Overdrive” or Judas Priest-levels of catchy like “Marching Maniacs,” it’s hard to argue. But it also puts the onus of The End of Antiquity’s success on Chariot Overdrive’s performances, which can falter. G.H.Z isn’t a powerhouse vocalist and sounds downright rough at times, especially where Chariot Overdrive attempt harmonization, such as the chorus of “A Taikonautic Alchemist.” It also means that, despite the album’s lean runtime, The End of Antiquity sounds somewhat exhausted by the time “Nomadic Warfare” and the title track appear, as their hooks are comparatively weaker to the rest of the record. I’m all for simplifying something for the sake of effectiveness, but what’s left has to be as tight as you can make it. In this regard, Chariots Overdrive can improve.

What Chariots Overdrive need is a more refined identity. Like early Iron Maiden, Chariots Overdrive seem to strive towards a dirty-yet-sophisticated sound and theming, evidenced by the fingerstyle guitar and serene bass-and-piano interludes of “Where Dust Reigns” and “Sunken Throb,”2 but these instrumentals’ moods aren’t matched or mirrored by the rest of the album and feel tacked-on as a result. The standout, 12-minute song “A Bizarre Pilgrimage to the Cubik Mansion” hints at what Chariots Overdrive can do, as the band navigates artfully between Motörhead’s hyped-up rock n’ roll and Black Sabbathian gloomy doom.3 But the track buckles a bit under its weight by the end and feels done a few minutes before it’s over. Chariots Overdrive are engaging by grit and energy, but without a solid grasp on what exactly they are doing, The End of Antiquity can only be a fun-but-flawed work when taken as a whole.

The End of Antiquity has some flaws, but I still like where the Chariots Overdrive van is going. If you like any of the bands mentioned above it’s a safe bet you’ll get something out of this. There’s obvious chemistry between the band, and their debut has plenty of good moments throughout that are both fun in the present and hint towards a stronger future. I don’t want Chariots Overdrive to give up on what they’re doing, but if they can merge their punk hooliganism with the finesse they aspire towards in the next album, it’ll be a hit. There’s a lot of highway ahead, but this chariot’s got tread to spare yet.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 84 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Gates of Hell Records
Websites: chariotsoverdrive.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/chariotsoverdrive
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 20265

Manilla Road, Motörhead, and Megaton Sword walk into a bar—Lemmy’s pick, if that helps you picture the place. Someone yells, “cops outside!” The word “cops” clears the room faster than napalm ever could. Stampede. The bands are swept up in the deluge of bodies, bewildered and sweaty. Amidst the chaos, several shuffle into a nearby van. Driving off, they realize that 1) these aren’t their bandmates, 2) this is Di’Anno-era Iron Maiden’s van with their keys and all their equipment left inside, and 3) they picked up Dropkick Murphys somewhere along the way. If this hypothetical group decided to run with it, they would sound like Chariots Overdrive. Hailing from Beijing, China, and currently residing in Atlanta, Georgia, these adherents of the NWoBHM sound old as dirt on their debut, The End of Antiquity, injecting fantastical lyricism inspired by Chinese history and folklore into their mix. But can this van/chariot go the distance, or has this ride seen its last mile?

The End of Antiquity is driven by allegiance to metal in the purest form, and Chariots Overdrive wield it with punk-like tenacity. Speed and belligerence rule The End of Antiquity, embodied in the full-band gang vocals of “Marching Maniacs” and the Dead Kennedys-like discordance of “Parasite.” The belts and snarls singer G.H.Z uses on “A Taikonautic Alchemist” and “Chariots Overdrive”1 would fit as well with Rancid as they do here, and their guitars and bass evoke the aforementioned early Maiden years in the punkish bite (“The End of Antiquity”). Bassist Z.Z.Y lays down aggressively clicky, highly melodic lines across The End of Antiquity, giving Chariots Overdrive a burly-yet-catchy streak akin to Steve Harris’ playing and bolstering G.H.Z and Y.Z’s gnarly dual guitars and W.R.C’s punchy drums into a full-bodied declaration of victory. Chariots Overdrive feel rooted in the simple joy of throwing ragers with the boys, and The End of Antiquity is, if nothing else, a rager.

Chariots Overdrive don’t overcomplicate anything, which is a boon and bane to The End of Antiquity. Most songs play around simple melodies over two to four chords. Guitar solos aren’t flashy on The End of Antiquity, but they’re incisive. When the outcome is exhilarating like “Chariots Overdrive” or Judas Priest-levels of catchy like “Marching Maniacs,” it’s hard to argue. But it also puts the onus of The End of Antiquity’s success on Chariot Overdrive’s performances, which can falter. G.H.Z isn’t a powerhouse vocalist and sounds downright rough at times, especially where Chariot Overdrive attempt harmonization, such as the chorus of “A Taikonautic Alchemist.” It also means that, despite the album’s lean runtime, The End of Antiquity sounds somewhat exhausted by the time “Nomadic Warfare” and the title track appear, as their hooks are comparatively weaker to the rest of the record. I’m all for simplifying something for the sake of effectiveness, but what’s left has to be as tight as you can make it. In this regard, Chariots Overdrive can improve.

What Chariots Overdrive need is a more refined identity. Like early Iron Maiden, Chariots Overdrive seem to strive towards a dirty-yet-sophisticated sound and theming, evidenced by the fingerstyle guitar and serene bass-and-piano interludes of “Where Dust Reigns” and “Sunken Throb,”2 but these instrumentals’ moods aren’t matched or mirrored by the rest of the album and feel tacked-on as a result. The standout, 12-minute song “A Bizarre Pilgrimage to the Cubik Mansion” hints at what Chariots Overdrive can do, as the band navigates artfully between Motörhead’s hyped-up rock n’ roll and Black Sabbathian gloomy doom.3 But the track buckles a bit under its weight by the end and feels done a few minutes before it’s over. Chariots Overdrive are engaging by grit and energy, but without a solid grasp on what exactly they are doing, The End of Antiquity can only be a fun-but-flawed work when taken as a whole.

The End of Antiquity has some flaws, but I still like where the Chariots Overdrive van is going. If you like any of the bands mentioned above it’s a safe bet you’ll get something out of this. There’s obvious chemistry between the band, and their debut has plenty of good moments throughout that are both fun in the present and hint towards a stronger future. I don’t want Chariots Overdrive to give up on what they’re doing, but if they can merge their punk hooliganism with the finesse they aspire towards in the next album, it’ll be a hit. There’s a lot of highway ahead, but this chariot’s got tread to spare yet.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 84 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Gates of Hell Records
Websites: chariotsoverdrive.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/chariotsoverdrive
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 20265

The thing I am most afraid of is losing my mind. The progressive destruction dementia wreaks upon a brain is upsetting enough to endure from the outside, but the horror of that brain potentially being mine is a thought that keeps me up at night. While not explicitly about dementia, To Become the Endless Static follows the disintegration of a person’s mind as “[a]ll pathways, dreams and connections to what once formed their identity spiral down, merging into the great nothing, the endless static.” It’s a frightening, abstract concept that naturally suits Aversio Humanitatis’ brand of freeform dissonant black metal, which here takes a turn for the still more intense and unsettling. The group have garnered a reputation for long rumination between releases, and though not everyone might agree, 2020’s Behold the Silent Dwellers demonstrated the fruitfulness of this approach with its nine-year-awaited greatness. Six years on, with the sophomore but a shadow in the nebulous past, the apparition of Endless Static portended greatness once more, in addition to a genuinely scary theme. I was only too happy to indulge my masochism.

Much like the march of time and an incurable disease, Endless Static does not wait until you’re ready before attacking. “Long Stretch the Shadows” threatens whiplash as it erupts off the start line with relentless percussion and tremolos bending at uncomfortable angles. It epitomises the shift in Aversio Humanitatis’ already extreme and dissonant style towards a still more complex, confrontational, and often faster version of itself, which dominates across the album. Rhythms shift more frequently, and the distortion wrought by the layering of agonised roars and churning riffs is more clamorous; even the slower aspects are more haunting. Endless Static sees a leaning into a chaotic splendour akin to a sped-up Patristic, a more acerbic Schammasch, rendered in a deceptively melodic, deeply atmospheric way that at turns also recalls Aeviterne and Selbst. But Aversio Humanitatis prefer to create their mournfulness and urgency by disguising it as dissonance in a way distinct from any of the above. Endless Static is a masterful distillation of this practice: a soundscape whose violently aversive face admits more honesty and beauty the more you allow it.

Endless Static doesn’t just embody its concept generally; it lives it viscerally. The lurching of discordant scales (title track, “Blackened Mold Marrow”), and repeated strip-back and surge in of percussion (“Long Stretch…,” “Collapsing into the Resonance”) is upsetting yet mesmerising. And its transformation into a stumbling sway (“Strange Angles,” “The White Noise is Calling”) elevates unease with doubt. Shuddering, multitracked screams, cymbals panting like laboured breaths, and disorienting rhythm and riff patterns (“Strange Angles,” “Blackened Mold Marrow”) express the nightmare of incurable confusion. The soft creep of a melancholic tremolo behind the recurrent tumbles of percussion, and the bleeding of their melody into the pervasive atmosphere (title track, “Collapsing…”) communicate the grief of loss and the fear of the future. These patterns develop with the runtime too: the tightness with which harmony is sealed into overtly cold guitar lines slowly loosens and vocals slip more frequently into a desperate, anguished wail, culminating in the stirring lead melodies and devastating resistance of closing duo “The White Noise…” and “Collapsing…” All the while, the terror-amplifying resonance of the vocals and sinister edge to the riffs never ceases to feel frightening. But Aversio Humanitatis’ ability to shape these dissonant waves of assault into something beautiful without compromising on this affecting frightfulness makes Endless Static greatly more compelling than it otherwise might have been.

That Aversio Humanitatis can communicate all this so compellingly in a mere 35 minutes makes it that much more impactful. The speed at which “Long Stretch…”‘s confrontational unease becomes the ardour-filled protest “Collapsing…” is upsetting—another metaphor perhaps. This brings me to my only real complaint about Endless Static, which is how short it is; though I suppose it’s better to have brilliance and be left hungry than have a flawed abundance. I must, more importantly, draw attention to the drumming—courtesy of J.H—that rivals last year’s Patristic in its tenacity, dynamism, and unhinged precision whilst being so ridiculously fast and expressive (“Blackened Mold Marrow” has my jaw on the floor). Its speed and violence play no small part in Endless Static’s horror. I am also sometimes drawn to wonder if vocalist A.M is actually undergoing some phantasmagorical transformation, so wild and terrifying are his howls.

Dissonant black metal bands and degenerative diseases operate in the shadows, but Aversio Humanitatis now, if never before, deserves all the light we can cast on them. But more likely that this hypnotically horrifying work will yank you violently into its darkness. Harrowingly inexorable even in its brevity, one can’t escape the draw To Become the Endless Static.

Rating: Excellent
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: Official | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 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

You may not recognize her name if you don’t follow her solo work, but Leila Abdul-Rauf is an experienced metal musician. As vocalist and guitarist in death metal group Vastum, and semi-frequent collaborator with other extreme and unconventional artists like Dream Unending, she is something of a veteran on 20 Buck Spin. Yet it is only now, with Andros Insidium, that her eponymous solo project sees a release on this label, and the change is more than symbolic. Whilst staying within the realms of experimental dark ambience—and retaining her signature trumpet—the music has taken a decisively heavier turn as Leila dials up the oppressive drone, shapes instrumental elements into dissonant, strange patterns, and incorporates vicious, harsh vocals. And if the cover isn’t clue enough,1 she seems to have something to say.

Andros Insidium is a ritual of sorts, but an allegorical one. Leila uses the goddess Ishtar2, specifically her fabled descent into and ascent out of the underworld, as a vessel to explore womanhood in general. Mythology and ceremony act as a framework to “exorcise” demons of patriarchy and the feminine rage that riles against them. Anger reaches an apex in harrowing “Andros Insidium” where Leila condemns “you” (man) in a chorus of haunting half-sung chants, whispers, and snarls for continually assaulting and torturing “her” (woman). Though superficially dissimilar, it vividly recalls a Caligula-era Lingua Ignota with its minimalist piano and cold narration that becomes screams. This is the first appearance of these gargling, screamed vocals on the record, and one of only two songs that include them, the other being closer “Return to Anu.” The time leading up to this release is filled with tension, the ambience smothering the soundscape without reprieve, as eerie plucks and unsettling cleans undulate through it to the beat of portentous drums and tambourine—a bit like an alternate-universe Swans, though sometimes randomly reminiscent of Haunted Plasma (“Stripped Before the Eye of Death,” “Return to Anu”).

Andros Insidium by Leila Abdul-Rauf

Andros Insiduim is out to make its listener uncomfortable, and it unequivocally succeeds. Just about every element from the ritualistic drum patterns, strange melodies from synth, trumpet, and string, and omnipresent thousand-ton drone sets you on edge. The clanging of steel drums that open the album, and return only in the final track, immediately puts the listener on edge. But it’s Leila’s variously dramatic, baleful, and cold—often multitracked—vocals (“Stripped Before the Eye of Death,” “Fractured Body”)3—and the lyrics they deliver—that pulls these feelings of unease into full potency. As a powerless witness (“Stripped…,” “A Requiem…”), a prophetess (“Fractured Body,” “Return to Anu”), or a divine judge (“Andros Insidium”), her accented intonations give her the air of a haunted narrator; and the very dissonance of the vocal lines seems to emphasise their unflinchingly dark lyrical content more than more traditionally mournful melodies could. The sparse use of harsh vocals enhances their viciousness, and their final appearance occurs in a passage that mimics their first—with the same piano tritones and drumbeat—reinforcing their importance both emotionally and musically. In all, it can be a viscerally disturbing experience.

Yet Andros Insidium also has some groovy and even beautiful moments. “Eros Anima” centres a bizarrely catchy rhythm with its menagerie of hand percussion, trumpet, and guitar, while “A Requiem for Ishtar” sees weeping strings accompany angelic sopranos in a genuinely sad lament, and opener “Descent into Kur” consists of mostly harmonious, if ominous, synth melodies. In the context of the whole, however, such occasions are barely less unsettling than the dissonance and only throw those harsher, uglier moments into sharper relief. You could argue they make the music harder to listen to than if they were entirely absent, and the whole thing were obscure and confrontational. Nothing here feels truly random or needless, particularly when one treats it like the story it is and listens actively. But without devoting your full attention, some of the more esoteric aspects tend to jump out at you awkwardly—the announcing trumpets and didgeridoo-like male drones in “Senex Rule,” or the skin-crawling unfolding of “Andros Insidium,” for example.

As with much avant-garde music, your ability to go on the journey of Andros Insidium will depend on your tolerance for weirdness and willingness to feel uncomfortable. In executing her ritual of catharsis, Leila Abdul-Rauf indulges no sentiment but her own—par for the course with extreme metal perhaps, but in this medium, the risk of alienation could be higher. Nevertheless, this is a striking work that deserves at least an open-minded explore.

Rating: Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: 20 Buck Spin
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 17th, 2026