#apr26 — Public Fediverse posts

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

German death-doom outfit Décembre Noir has received a fair amount of praise here over the years, with four of their five albums garnering ‘Great’ to ‘Good’ ratings from three of AMG’s finest—Madam X, Huck N’ Roll and, most recently, Ferox, whose review of 2023’s Your Sunset | My Sunrise cited a band that may be resting on laurels, perhaps having lost touch with its muse. Whether those issues led Sebastian Görlach, founding guitarist and one of two main songwriters, to depart the band in the Spring of 2024 is unclear. It is, however, germane since he has returned with a new death doom project, Avertat, and a debut album, Dead End Life. While Görlach admits it was hard to walk away from his “baby,” Avertat offers him the opportunity to reunite with “the same forces that have always defined his relationship with metal: emotional truth, atmospheric depth, and the ability to transform darkness into sound.” All that’s left to decide is whether Avertat, and more importantly, Dead End Life, has any future.

On Dead End Life, Avertat draws from the same well of desolate darkness that Décembre Noir has plumbed for years. Add a fair amount of My Dying Bride to the mix, and you can sense what Avertat is about. From skins to strings, Görlach impressively handles all of Dead End Life’s instrumental responsibilities, even contributing his own deathly growls—here, a satisfying mix of Mikael Akerfeldt and Lars Dotzauer.1 Tracks adhere to a tried-and-true formula, oscillating between speedier, chug-heavy melo-death (“Your Hate,” “The Sea”) and slower-paced, melancholic doom (“[7],” “Call to Death”). And while the addition of clean vocals is hardly groundbreaking, the crisp, prog-poppy tones of non-metal newcomer Enrico Langguth—eerily reminiscent of Tim Charles (Ne Obliviscaris)—are refreshing and bright, serving as a dynamic counterpoint to Görlach’s gruffness.2 Langguth’s emotively hopeful delivery both assuages and drives home the pain of Dead End Life’s deeply emotional stories, which are as heavy as Avertat’s music.

Avertat wastes no time getting down to its bleak, loss-is-life business. Album opener “Your Hate” sets the tone, its chunky, angry riffs, razor-sharp leads, and driving drum beats employed to tell the story of an abused child grown up to take care of his abusive parent as Görlach roars the lyric, “Whenever your hand rises, time blurs within me, I am the child that endures it,” before pleading, “When will you stop, when will you stop living?” This anguish cedes to another as the beautiful piano intro of “[7]” introduces us to the painful tale of Marianne Bachmeier.3 Doomy chords and lilting leads are the backdrop as Langguth croons a mother’s lament, “Seeking out for her smile, I always search for her hand, always held onto her so close”4 before death-heavy riffs and Görlach’s growls come crashing in, “Every shot looses the chains, gifts me freedom for the moment,” reflecting a mother’s vigilante-fueled grief and anger. Whether it’s the Line of Deathless Kings-like lilting leads and doomy riffs of “Call to Death” and “Last Request,”—the former a song about war as told through the eyes of war, replete with some Bolt Throwerish chugs—or the long-form doom-goodery of “My Blood,” recounting a father’s pride, Avertat packs a wallop.

Barely shy of 39 minutes, Avertat doesn’t loiter, and despite the brevity of this kind being rare in the genre, it definitely increases Dead End Life’s replay value. In fact, as the final strains of “Last Request” faded from my speakers, I found myself longing for another song, settling instead to start Dead End Life again. Görlach’s production—yes, he produced Dead End Life too—is warm and enveloping, leaving little for me to quibble with. I suppose, if pressed, I could say I connected least with the blast beats of “The Sea,” as they ran rampant under slower-paced guitars and vocals, but honestly, ’twas a small thing. I just wish there was MOAR!

Avertat delivers a heartfelt experience on Dead End Life, rife with emotional and musical heaviness—elevated by the back-and-forth vocal trade-offs of Görlach and Langguth. While I can’t pontificate on Décembre Noir’s future without Sebastian Görlach, I can absolutely say that Avertat’s future looks bright, despite a recipe that peddles in darkness. I will absolutely be here for whatever comes next, and so too should you.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Lifeforce Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

Look at that cover. It looks like the sort of neon-drenched fever dream burst straight from the mind of an unmedicated, hyperactive toddler whose special interests are cyborg dinosaurs and laser-wielding ninjas that promises the sort of maximalist, power cheese pungent enough to stink up any room. Luckily for us, German fromagers Victorius have been honing their brand of hook-forward, Saturday-morning-cartoon power metal for years. Their 7th album, World War Dinosaur, is a continuation of the band’s deeply unserious “space ninjas vs. holy dinosaurs” storyline showcased on records like Dinosaur Warfare – Legend of the Power Saurus, Space Ninjas From Hell,and Dinosaur Warfare Pt. 2 – The Great Ninja War. I’m all for ridiculous imagery and album concepts, as long as they don’t overshadow the compositions themselves. Can Victorius manage to avoid being crushed under the weight of their own cheese?

On World War Dinosaur, Victorius demonstrates a seasoned knack for crafting straightforward, yet satisfying, dinosaur-themed power metal bangers. The band’s execution of their over-the-top subject matter is less garish than one might expect, eschewing lengthy spoken-word sections or lore-heavy character backstories in favor of poppy power metal with dinosaur-specific hooks. Tracks are fast-paced and built around the tried-and-true power formula of hyper-melodic guitar/synth hooks over galloping drums, with huge, festival-ready singalong choruses, and Victorius are masters at transitioning seamlessly between the expected sections. It’s easy to get lost in the Galneryus-esque haze of dino rippers on songs like “Raptor Squad Attack,” “Brachio Bazooka Battalion,” and “Dino Power Resistance,” which fully lean into their concept. There’s a simple joyousness to be had in listening to well-executed, catchy power metal, and it’s only made more fun by the blatantly absurd subject matter.

Luckily, Victorius aren’t just coasting on a dumb (read: brilliant) gimmick; they actually play like a band that’s been around the block. Vocalist David Bassin, who’s sounded a bit weightless in the past, finally shows up swinging. Here, he sounds confident and inspired, helped by stacked vocal harmonies and gang shouts, which appropriately heighten big moments. Bassin’s soaring tenor absolutely shines while belting out ludicrous lines on ridiculous choruses (“World War Dinosaur,” “Dino Race From Outer Space), leading the charge and treating the “dino vs. ninja” subject matter as if his life depended on it. Beyond the choruses, it’s the truly infectious non-vocal melodic lines that stand out on repeated listens. Guitarists Dirk Scharsich and Flo serve up sharp, memorable leads that weave throughout the songs, with the opening fanfare of “Kingdom of the Strong” and “Lost Legacy” serving as highlights. Throw in the usual bombastic orchestration and gloriously tacky synth work, and suddenly these compositions coalesce into something that’s still sugary and familiar, but hit just a bit harder than your typical middling power metal.

I only wish World War Dinosaur saw Victorius take more musical and conceptual risks. Every song is in the 3-4 minute range, and nearly all of them follow the tried and true power metal formula. There are some mid-tempo cuts like “Evil Mean Megalodon” about a cybernetic shark/submarine of all things, but most tracks feel incredibly similar. This extends to the concept as well, which seems to exist primarily as dinosaur-covered wrapping paper over some standard power metal lyrics about war and battles. There seems to be very little about the actual dinosaur-ninja war as promised, with no narrative progression present, just several songs about dinosaur war units (“Raptor Squad Attack,” “Brachio Bazooka Battalion,” “Prehistoric Panzer Power”), one song about laser ninjas (“Lazer Ninja Thunderstorm”) and a vague conclusion about “fighting forever” (“Lost Legacy”). None of this really detracts from the fun, chorus-focused power metal on display, but it does feel like a minor missed opportunity to elevate the record beyond the sum of its parts.

Nonetheless, World War Dinosaur is a well-crafted, entertaining and incredibly campy slab of power metal. Victorius aren’t charting particularly novel territory, but they’re clearly familiar with the elements that make this style so enjoyable and the over-the-top concept helps to make the whole package more exciting. For those in search of some accessible power cheese to brighten their day, look no further.



Rating: Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Perception Records
Websites: victoriusmetal.net | facebook.com/victoriusmetal
Releases Worldwide: April 17th, 2026

Seeking revenge for her son’s death, Grendel’s mother thrusts her sword at Beowulf. ‘Him on eaxle læg / breostnet broden,’ the Beowulf poet pens,1 ‘þæt gebearh feore, / wið ord ond wið ecge ingang forstod.’ For those unfluent in Old English: Beowulf’s chainmail saved his life, withstanding both the edge and ‘ord’ (tip/spear) of the vengeful matriarch’s sword. From this archaic term for the spear of a sword, Ordh derives its appellation, which may suggest to readers an Anglo-Saxon-themed war metal outfit. That (killer) Paolo Girardi artwork, however, screams cosmic-prog death,2 with Blind in Abyssal Realms being the Vermont quartet’s first full-length lunge at the metal community. Ordh will need to be sharper than the sword of Grendel’s mother, though, for the generic chainmail of progressive death metal is more tightly braided than that adorned by the King of the Geats.3

The cosmic-prog death of Blind in Abyssal Realms claims roots in an earthier subgenre. After the dissolution of progressive sludgers Barishi, guitarist Graham Brooks joined forces with vocalist Jonathan Hébert of sludge-doomers Come to Grief to form a new band. In shifting from the slurry of sludge to the heft of death metal while retaining progressive and doom elements, Ordh ends up sounding like an atmospheric Mortiferum. Brooks’s riffs, whether on low or high strings, always possess grandeur, and his solos splotch like Jackson Pollock splashing paint across a canvas. Brooks also engineered the album’s synths, which are noticeable but never overpower the guitarwork. Hébert’s gutturals keep things terrestrial, hollering at the heavens from his earth-bound cave. Joining Brooks and Hébert are rhythm section Josh Smith (bass) and Dylan Blake (drums, ex-Barishi). Blake especially shines, mixing typical death-metal pounding with jazzy roving and glorious rototom runs. Given Ordh’s previous experience in sludge, it’s impressive how sharp their first attempt at cosmic-prog death is, standing toe to toe with the likes of Cosmic Putrefaction and Blood Incantation.

Blind in Abyssal Realms by Ordh

What makes Blind in Abyssal Realms cut deep is its balancing of atmosphere with instantly memorable riffs. Opener “Apis Bull” perfectly demonstrates this dichotomy; its big, bendy Oldpeth figure alternates with a spacey, higher-register version of itself before exploring new terrain. Similarly, “Moon of Urd” rises with a delightfully demented earworm that reveals a lush blanket of pure psych twilight. “Phlegraean Fields,” the most adventurous song on here, builds an ever-morphing, synth-laden melody, capturing a stranger surveying a mythical landscape with terror-tinged curiosity.4 Right out the gate, Ordh understands that the ‘cosmic’ in ‘cosmic-prog death’ should not be cosmetic. Indeed, the synths support consistently superb riffs on this debut, imbuing them with enriching depth.

Some aspects of Blind in Abyssal Realms dull its attack. Production-wise, the record sounds good but lacks a bit of low end. The caveman parts don’t hit as hard as they should; Blake’s kick drum could use more oomph, and Smith’s bass is frequently hard to detect in anything other than clean sections. Concerning the album’s pacing, the last two tracks don’t quite measure up to the ascending quality of the opening trio. “Blind in Abyssal Realms” is a strong song that, at over 12 minutes, could use editing. “Hierothesion” refreshingly closes out the record as its most straightforward pummeler, but similarly, some concision would amplify its effect. And as for originality, Ordh mostly sounds like itself, though occasionally, combinations of blast beats, dive bombs, and ‘aaaghs!’ are a bit too on the Blood Incantation nose.

Nitpicks aside, Ordh drives home its point with Blind in Abyssal Realms. This is an impressive debut that makes a mark on progressive death metal. Comprised of five tracks at just under 45 minutes, Blind in Abyssal Realms advances as a filler-free affair, trading violent slashes with chilled-out parries in a manner inviting repeat engagements. Fans of the genre should definitely spar with this sonic sword. Swīðe gōd weorc, Ordh!

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Pulverised Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 17th, 2026

From their origins in Mexico City to the 2022 SXSW Festival in Austin, Texas, the three members of Demons My Friends have a shared journey that made their union fateful. This shared geography has played a role in their musical process, as they split recording their sophomore album, Survive/Yourself, between Mexico and Texas. Post-COVID personal struggles inform the record’s themes, with illness, job losses, and family crises cited as sources of the anxiety that fueled their songwriting. Demons My Friends don’t deliver doses of sadboi, however. What they play is a raw, rough, and gritty style of grunge. Though it flirts with mainstream acts like Alice in Chains and Soundgarden, Survive/Yourself plays its grunge outside the box. While creating music is undoubtedly a healthy outlet, the question remains as to whether it’s a good idea to get too friendly with your demons.

Demons My Friends mixes thick stoner/sludge guitar tones with catchy alternative rock hooks for a compelling sonic palette. The fuzzy guitar on opener “The Theory of Change” evokes Mastodon, while the chorus takes a page out of ’90s rock acts like Nirvana and Bush. Yet the tracks on Survive/Yourself run a bit longer than the more radio-friendly examples of grunge, allowing room for meandering and play. Often these moments serve as highlights, especially the melodic lead that pops up mid-song on “The Last Dance.” And though the sludge proves to be the dominant guitar tone, Demons My Friends also show their more sensitive side. “Kalorama,” with its catchy strummed guitar lead, borrows heavily from Pearl Jam’s soft jams. On other tunes, the guitar grows more playful, with a twangy arpeggio on “We All End Up Here” and a really cool psychedelic bit on the record’s catchiest song, “Brain Holographics.”

Survive/Yourself by Demons My Friends

Unfortunately, Demons My Friends also end up being their own worst enemy. The back half of Survive/Yourself finds a pretty successful formula with some catchy tunes that could almost pass for radio-friendly. Yet the band makes some questionable choices that hold them back. As great as “Brain Holographics” is, it stretches on for too long thanks to a lengthy instrumental detour that sees the song nearly lose its way. The fun, High on Fire-inspired stoner track, “Smile,” includes a weird bit of growling that mars a rather tight tune. Also at issue are the vocal performances. Since both Pablo Anton and Lu Salinas have vocal credits, I’m not sure who’s the culprit, but one of the two consistently sounds off-key, and his voice especially strains on higher registers (most noticeable on “Last Dance” and “Star Child”). These sound issues give a sense of raw emotion, but they also distract from the flow of the songs.

The production, with a DR score of 10, proves a boon, but some production choices prove a bane. The largest boon belongs to the guitars. The thick, fuzzy tone is so satisfying as it fires up on “The Theory of Change” and then again about two minutes into “We All End Up Here.” Similarly, Salinas’s bass benefits, contributing some funk on “Brain Holographics” and some nastiness on “Smile.” Littered throughout Survive/Yourself, however, are odd sound issues that detract from the music. The finale of “The Theory of Change” sounds like someone let their kid play with the recording equipment, as a childlike voice repeats “I” over and over. Other noise effects tricked my brain into thinking I was hearing something outside the music. Pattering raindrop drum beats on “Brain Holographics” had me looking up at the ceiling, scared to see a leak. Vocal oddities here and there, such as the strange spoken parts on “Star Child,” gave me the feeling someone had crept up behind me. Cleaning these issues up would have resulted in a much smoother album.

While they showcase some nice licks and cool ideas, Demons My Friends have some demons to exorcise from their songwriting repertoire. There are aspects of their more experimental side that work well—some exploratory instrumental passages and the varied guitar tones. Yet some of what they do just pulls listeners out of the musical experience. They have a clear knack for some great hooks—I find myself humming the chorus on “Brain Holographics” pretty frequently, for one. I look forward to hearing how they are able to evolve their blend of experimental and mainstream music on their next release.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Ripple Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: April 17th, 2026

With 33 songs and over two hours of music, Lord of the Lost has written an ambitious trilogy, mercifully spread across eight months rather than released all at once. On Opvs Noir, the band leans into the darker, more gothic aspects of their pop-infused metal, bringing plenty of guest collaborators aboard to keep things spicy. The first two volumes of this opvs have proven a success, with creative instrumentation and an affecting performance from frontman Chris Harms. The question is whether Lord of the Lost can keep up the momentum across another 11 tracks on Vol. 3. The finale of an ambitious project such as this can often feel bittersweet, as it marks the end of something you have (hopefully) come to love, or, like the finales to the Mission Impossible series or Daniel Craig’s James Bond run, it can just be plain disappointing.

Unlike the more energetic, sometimes ostentatious arrangements of the prior two records, Vol. 3 proves to be a much mellower affair. The gothic symphonic elements often pair with softer pop/rock tunes, many of which aim at mood over hooks. Opener “Kill the Lights” starts off with a poppy beat, some cellos, and a growling Chris Harms, and though the chorus might not stick, it’s an overall good song. The moodier pieces don’t always work, however. “The Shadows Within,” which alternates between slower pop and higher energy techno-pop, is largely forgettable. The minimalist finale, “The Days of Our Lives,” serves as a disappointing send-off for the trilogy, though Harms, as usual, makes it worthwhile with his melodic cadence. Though overall less exciting, Vol. 3 does offer plenty of catchy ballads and duets, including “La Vie Est Hell,” performed with departing Kissin’ Dynamite frontman, Hannes Braun.1 It doesn’t do anything fancy, yet I find it often playing in my head on repeat.2

Opvs Noir Vol. 3 does milk some variety out of a couple of pop-related themes coursing through it: empowerment and doomed love. The two most upbeat tunes, “I’m a Diamond” and “I Hate People,” play out as Rammstein techno-industrial pop anthems for people who don’t quite fit in with mainstream society. While “I’m a Diamond” is the catchiest song on offer, the lyrics are a touch contrived.3 “I Hate People” turns the misanthropic-sounding title on its head by directing its ire towards those who seek to force their limited ideology on others.4 Lyrically, the synth-heavy, hip-hop adjacent “My Funeral” is my favorite, containing tongue-in-cheek lyrics where Harms proclaims that “Black is my happy colour” and “I’m gonna, gonna wear / Pink to my funeral.” Rounding out the pop themes are a few love songs, from the Duran Duran-inspired synth pop track, “Square One,” complete with ’80s toms, to a touching duet with Ambre Vourvahis (Xandria). These touches do help keep a rather mild record from growing stale.

While the songs here are well-written, produced, and performed, there’s no denying that it feels as if Lord of the Lost ran out of gas by Vol. 3. The hooks just don’t come as easily, and the lower energy levels feel like a letdown compared to the highs of the first two volumes. One issue is the blandness of the guitars. While creative riffing has not been one of Lord of the Lost’s fortes, they made up for it in the past with more creative arrangements. The generic riffs that fire up on choruses from “The Shadows Within” to “Your Love is Colder Than Death” feel like halfhearted attempts to inject some life into tepid tunes. Much more effective is the penultimate song, “Take Me Far Away,” which ends with an exciting burst of drums and riffs that brings the record to life, albeit briefly.5

This finale ends up bittersweet, feeling more like a whimper than a bang. Yet for fans of Chris Harms and co., it’s not a total loss. Chris Harms is able to elevate even the blandest of tunes; there’s not a single bad song, though many are only mildly enjoyable. Unlike a lot of the dreck that some of the more popular metal bands release, however, Lord of the Lost puts a lot of thought and care into their music, and the Opvs Noir trilogy has plenty to offer those who like their metal less extreme, yet still carrying an edge.



Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Napalm Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: April 10th, 2026

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

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

The Grave Remains by Nukem

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

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

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

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

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

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

Through The Hourglass by Witch Ripper

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

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

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

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

To receive the honor of reviewing duties for Noise’s latest as a superfan of his output is an exciting prospect. I tend to agree with Carcharodon when it comes to their critical consensus, and Kanonenfieber is one of my favorite acts around. So, when I was (presumptively) lucky enough to review the latest Non Est Deus record, Blessings and Curses, I was excited to say the least. We have lavished praise here at AMG across the Noise spectrum, and while his projects range in quality, that quality remains firmly in the top tier of melodic black metal. So, with all that out of the way, is the latest noise from Noise a blessing of black metal righteousness or a curse on the venerable artist’s output?

Out of the gate, Blessing and Curses works to establish a more unique sound for Non Est Deus in comparison to Noise’s other projects. Whereas Legacy could lean a little too close to Kanonenfieber or Leiþa at times, this latest record makes a clear differentiation between the new Non Est Deus and the old. Noise’s vocals are clear and crisp, sung completely in English, and never hit the heaviness of Kanonenfieber or the tortured emotion of Leiþa. In fact, the first band that came to mind when spinning Blessings and Curses was Rotting Christ. At first glance, this feels like a clear step in a better direction for a project that needed a more unique identity, but upon further inspection, it hampers the album at nearly every turn.

Blessings and Curses by Non Est Deus

Blessings and Curses has a strong artistic foundation and conceptual structure, with three interludes (Prayer I, II, and III, respectively) and psalms scourging every major track. The album feels unique in the way that it follows a believer in God who loses their way and becomes disillusioned, directly mirroring the diptych on the album cover, as well as the title of the record. Phenomenal album cover aside, the musical progression isn’t as pronounced as I had hoped based on the concept, and Blessings and Curses is repetitive throughout. Nearly every track follows a similar structure, including choruses that repeat the same cadence and emotional beats on a majority of the songs. Noise returns to refrains that have a main line (usually the song title) followed by a “whispered” section that either repeats that same idea or only a slight variation on it (“Show Mercy”, “My Lord”, “The Forsaken”, “The Indulgence”). It leaves Blessings and Curses sounding like someone trying to replicate Noise as opposed to Noise himself.

To Blessings and Curses’ detriment, spoken word sections are back, and the album remains worse for it. The opening “Prayer I” feels entirely throwaway, and the interludes are so quick as to make them feel like an afterthought. The psalms on each track also kill momentum, with their placement typically towards the finale of the song. Derailing every track, the psalms are the vegetables before getting to the meat of it all. While they serve the album conceptually, they are half-baked throughout. The idea of splitting the album is an interesting one, and the best tracks are in the back half, but Blessings and Curses is sonically stagnant. “Show Mercy” and “Forgive Me” (an album highlight) play with some very light black n’ roll elements, making me wish the first half had gone all in on that idea, leaving the second half to be a blasting blackened death beast. Unfortunately, neither is that diverse, sitting in this mid space that just sounds a bit like Noise on autopilot. None of the songs are bad, some are even great, but the album as a whole feels like it wastes a phenomenal concept.

If you told me I would be reviewing Noise for AMG in 2026, I would call you a fuckin’ liar and that you shouldn’t play with my emotions. If you told me that I would be the one to give Noise a proper tongue lashing, I would be doubly upset. As a stalwart fan of the artist, I still enjoyed Blessings and Curses on a lizard-brain level, and there are some truly great tracks (Forgive Me, Kora, Transgression). I appreciate Non Est Deus doing more to differentiate itself from the rest of Noise’s work, but I would love to see it pushed even further and move out of its melodic black metal safe zone. As it stands, a mediocre Noise record is still better than most other offerings out there, but for an artist with such incredible albums under his belt, I prayed for more.

Rating: Mixed
DR: N/A| Format Reviewed: A dreamy streamy
Label: Noisebringer Records
Websites: Website | Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 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

Read it in the stars: an Astral Spectre is upon us. German multi-instrumentalist Tenebros has spent the past six years mixing up a potent blend of black and heavy metal across three long players that take the NWoBHM energy, blackened aggression, and the occultic flair of 70s hard/prog rock.1 Astral Spectre’s third revelation, 2026s Cosmic Mirage, is poised to be the project’s most ambitious record, taking their established sound and putting it through “more sophisticated arrangements” and utilizing “professional mixing for the first time.” It all looks good to me, but are Astral Spectre the real deal, or is Cosmic Mirage just that?

Astral Spectre’s sound is indebted to the proto-metal and progressive rock of the 1970s, but Cosmic Mirage is no mere exercise in nostalgia. Take Nite and give them Blue Öyster Cult’s guitar tone, longer songs, a meaner blackened rasp, a Hammond organ, and (sometimes) a clarinet, and you’d get Cosmic Mirage. Black metal manifests in Tenebros’ aforementioned rasping, foreboding tones and odd blast beats (“Chronomancer,” “Dancing with Ghosts”), but Astral Spectre’s bread and butter is warm, lively rock n’ roll. NWoBHM twin guitars soar over most tracks, dominating “Stardrifter” and “The Witch’s Waltz” while keys fill out the middle ranges where a rhythm guitar typically would. The organ towers over Cosmic Mirage, adding weight and texture to Astral Spectre’s sound while lending Cosmic Mirage a deeper gothic edge (“The Witch’s Waltz”). Astral Spectre also use clarinet on certain tracks, imbuing snaky, sultry leads to “Death of Osiris” while trading solos with the guitar on “The Demon’s Offer.” Overall, though Cosmic Mirage evokes a specific scene and era of music’s past, Astral Spectre stand on their own through creative utilization of its various pieces.

Cosmic Mirage by Astral Spectre

Cosmic Mirage is at its best when Astral Spectre simply floor it. The opening duo of “Stardrifter” and “Chonomancer” bubble over with energetic hooks, roaring with Iron Maiden gallops and punchy, off-kilter keys that don’t let up and make for one of the best one-two punches I’ve heard this year. Tenebros’ drumming deserves recognition, as he can lend songs like “Cosmic Mirage” and “Stardrifter” ridiculously propulsive energy while laying down serious groove over the Opeth-meets-Maiden “Death of Osiris.” The drumming is brisk, but so slick that it feels laid back, working nicely with Tenebros’ thrumming yet reserved bass playing. But where Cosmic Mirage shines brightest is in its solos, where fast, classically-influenced and highly melodic playing evoke the likes of Adrian Smith (“Stardrifter”), Ritchie Blackmore (“Dancing with Ghosts”) and Eddie Van Halen (“Death of Osiris”). When it all comes together, Astral Spectre sounds like a souped-up Kansas or Blue Öyster Cult crushing it with Tribulation. And that’s just beautiful.

The only knock against Cosmic Mirage is when Astral Spectre’s progressive tendencies come at the expense of hookiness. Astral Spectre flexes their songcraft on longer cuts “Death of Osiris” and “Cosmic Mirage,” and though both songs have good moments, they are bogged down by slow passages that aren’t as vital as the faster, more rockin’ tunes. “Death of Osiris” in particular languishes in repetition for its first half, riffing on a thoroughly cliché “Egyptian” melody before sliding into an Iron Maidenesque bass-plucked build-up to the clarinet solo, where things finally take off.2 “Cosmic Mirage” starts strong with a driving beat and strong hooks before dropping into a spacey, Pink Floyd-like passage that just doesn’t demand your attention as much, and by the time Astral Spectre get their momentum back, the song is basically over. Also, Cosmic Mirage’s clarinet, while it weaves compelling melodies and lends the album a uniquely mellow mood, is always way upfront in the mix and tends to drown out the guitar. This and an understated bass presence are the only gripes I have with the otherwise warm and open mix of Cosmic Mirage, just as Astral Spectre’s few hiccups regarding their longer songs are the only real problems I have with the album at large.

Cosmic Mirage has more going on than it seems at first glance. Besides some missteps in the longer songs, Astral Spectre crafted an ambitious, engrossing, and deviously fun album that anyone with a love for twin guitars should get behind. Tenebros is a phenomenal musician and the fact that Astral Spectre aren’t signed baffles me. As rich as it is immediate, Cosmic Mirage has grown on me with every listen, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it continues to grow well into the year. Chase the mirage!

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 10 | V0 VBR mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: astral-spectre.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/OfficialAstralSpectre
Releases Worldwide: April 10th, 2026