#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

https://www.europesays.com/ie/500676/ Blindead 23 – Deuterium Review #2026 #30 #AmiaVeneraLandscape #Apr26 #Behemoth #BlackSheepWall #Blindead #Blindead23 #DeathMetal #Decapitated #Deuterium #Dirge #Éire #Entertainment #Hardcore #IE #Ireland #Katatonia #Knut #MouthOfTheArchitect #Music #Neurosis #PeacevilleRecords #PolishMetal #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #Rosetta #SludgeMetal #Vader #Vltimas

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

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

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

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

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

Gus G. is a busy man. For some odd 25 years and counting, the Greek guitarist has not only been running his own band Firewind but also contributed to many notable heavy/power metal acts’ beginnings, such as early Mystic Prophecy and Dream Evil. And somehow on top of that, he’s even managed to fit in five solo albums during that time! Steel Burner becomes the sixth album under the Gus G. moniker, the first since 2021’s very fun Quantum Leap. I was a big fan of Firewind’s energetic 2020 comeback and enjoyed 2024’s anthemic rock-oriented Stand United plenty as well. How does Steel Burner compare to his other recent works, and were any Steel Druhm’s harmed in the making?1

Gus has proven himself to be a very potent guitarist since the early ’00s, and Steel Burner’s strand of heavy metal offers a good general gist of the instrumental and solo craft he’s known for. The album doesn’t steer too far off Quantum Leap’s core in this regard. Gus’s natural bend towards ’80s rock and metal shows up in full force once again, containing Yngwie and Blackmore-esque guitar hero cheese (“What If,” “Closure”) in terms of both shred and soulful play. A surprising highlight is “Advent” with its interesting djent-ish influences by way of downtuned 2010s rhythm guitar work. It pans out much better than one might think and makes for a refreshing listen in an album full of otherwise expected source material.

The other side of Steel Burner is the record’s confusing flow and identity, the guest vocalist tracks being at odds with the instrumental songs. Whereas Quantum Leap was fully instrumental, Steel Burner contains a theoretically balanced set of five tracks with vocals and five instrumentals. This intentional variety quickly ends up working against itself. Doro (Doro, ex-Warlock) and Matt Barlow (ex-Iced Earth, ex-Pyramaze) are both starting to show their age, delivering some good lines but flat choruses (“Nothing Can Break Me,” “Dancing with Death”). The suddenly enervated instrumentation exacerbates the quality contrast between Steel Burner’s different aspects. Fortunately, the back half fares better. Vocal mercenaries Ronnie Romero (ex-Rainbow) and Dino Jelusić lend stronger performances on better, more AOR-adjacent tracks (“My Premonition,” “No One Has to Know”), and I wouldn’t mind Gus working with Ronnie more often based on “My Premonition.” Aside from the vocal-instrumental clash, the drums are a sticking point. Gus’s drum programming on the aforementioned tracks is solid, but Quantum Leap’s guest drumming proves that more varied and potent percussion would have helped make these songs much more lively.

Much like Jeff Waters (Annihilator), Gus G. is an excellent guitarist who is usually better when sharing vocals-forward songwriting reins with other people. Steel Burner tends to repeat some of his early-career hiccups with Mystic Prophecy, where the rhythm guitar tends to be underdeveloped and the songs oddly stripped-down without the choruses compensating for it. Gus is very good at crafting colorful instrumental compositions (“Advent,” “Confession”) or even standard power metal tracks at higher BPMs (“Kill the Pain” on Firewind’s self-titled, “Escape from Tomorrow” all the way back on Forged by Fire), but making a ‘normal’ mid-paced track with vocals often requires some extra hands alongside him. Firewind’s two most recent records are proof of this, and the positive effect of a consistent powerhouse vocalist like Herbie Langhans is undeniably lacking here.

Steel Burner has its bright spots, but ends up feeling like two EPs in a bar fight. It mashes together parts of Quantum Leap and Stand United, and both halves unfortunately suffer as a result. While nothing on the record is strictly off-putting, the instrumental side is clearly the better and more inspired one, containing the usual guitar goodness you would expect from Gus. Even so, one listen to Quantum Leap’s title track exposes Steel Burner’s general lack of urgency compared to prior works. Grab most of the instrumental tracks and “My Premonition,” and you’ve got a solid EP! Despite the overall experience being hit-and-miss, I still respect Gus’s work ethic, and I’ll be gladly waiting to see what he comes up with next.

Rating: Mixed
DR: Nope! | Format Reviewed: Alas, poor Stream!
Label: Metal Department
Websites: gusgofficial.com | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

Maybe war never changes, but Warside has. Between releasing inaugural EP The Enemy Inside, and recording their debut, three of Warside’s five members left the band. Now a quartet, the Lyon, France collective tromps into the death metal arena, brandishing Cognitive Extinction, their first long play. Down a guitarist, Warside reports Cognitive Extinction as having ‘a rawer, more direct sound.’ Though The Enemy Inside can’t be classified as polished or subtle, Cognitive Extinction embraces an even leaner, meaner aggression through twenty-eight minutes. Additionally, Warside weaves a broad theme into the album—the erosion of intelligence and critical thinking due to the proliferation of screens and dependence on technology. It’s an increasingly relevant theme in these crazy times, but is Warside’s warning enough to keep listeners’ gray matter from atrophying into pudding?

Though simply billed as ‘death metal,’ Warside skews towards the technical end of the spectrum. Dying Fetus, Misery Index, and Vomitory are cited as influences in the promo materials, and while elements of those bands exist on Cognitive Extinction,1 I also hear the frantic immediacy of Benighted and Aborted enmeshed with the tech-heavy grooves of more recent Cryptopsy and Suffocation. Technical without falling into technical death metal territory and bruising without earning a brutal death metal tag, Warside toes the line between extreme metal subgenres without fully committing to any specific one. Rather than wavering or wandering, though, Cognitive Extinction sounds confident, direct, and ready to peel your skull back to get a look at your cognition firsthand.

Despite adding some new members and shuffling guitar duties, Warside launches a savage assault that never relents. Returning from The Enemy Within, guitarist Vincent Morelle resumes six-string duties on Cognitive Extinction while former guitarist Jérôme dons the mantle of bassist. Joining them are duo Mathieu (vocals) and Thô (drums) from deathgrind project Festering Process, and together this foursome unleashes barrage after barrage of merciless death metal thunder. Tracks “Neurocide” and “Invasive Thoughts” meld Morbid Angel’s wicked melodies with Nile’s violent velocity, frequently coaxing involuntary stank-face. “Visceral” punches with Suffocation’s might, windmilling between stutter-stop leads and kick drum cannonades, while “Thirst for Rot” dive bombs into an early solo before hitting a swarthy Cryptopsy-meets-Decapitated groove. Throughout, Mathieu discharges fierce gutturals that remind me of Benighted’s Julien Truchan,2 primal and bloodthirsty without ever going full BREEE. All told, kinetic hooks, furious blast beats, and husky bass grooves carry the momentum of each track, with feverish solos offering brief detours from Warside’s otherwise unyielding onslaught.

Warside evokes death metal titans throughout Cognitive Extinction, yet clinging too tightly to these touchstones prevents them from fully realizing an identity of their own. In fairness, Cognitive Extinction works cohesively, with a consistent aural context that’s as bludgeoning as it is swift. And even though Warside sidesteps critical flaws, hooking an overcrowded niche with deathly wares can be a significant challenge. Genre greats can provide a strong template for writing compelling music, but emulation without innovation risks giving listeners an experience that drives them back to inspirations. Said simply, bands with unique sounds become reference points, while others get buried beneath the sands of time. In this regard, Cognitive Extinction feels like a half measure, where a blend of influences comes together to form a coherent album, yet lacks a wholly original voice.

Standout performances and sharp, economical songwriting distinguish Warside as an act I’ll follow closely, and help achieve a portion of the identity they need. Cognitive Extinction teems with talent and promise, and despite the abysmal dynamic range,3 the mix is well-balanced and allows listeners to appreciate what Warside does within its runtime. I’ve greatly enjoyed my time with Cognitive Extinction, and a couple of its gems have helped add some weight to my Heavy Moves Heavy ’26 playlist, but with so many killer death metal albums out this year, I’m unsure what lasting impact it’ll have. Time will tell, and in the meantime, I hope that Warside continues honing their blades to keep minds and interest sharp.

Rating: Good!
DR: 3 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Gruesome Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 17th, 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

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

I’ve gone back and forth about how to introduce The Ghost of a Future Dead, the eighth full-length by legendary Swedish death metal innovators At The Gates, the first with the returning Anders Björler back on lead guitar and songwriting duties (along with his twin brother, bassist Jonas) and also the final album featuring the late, great Tomas “Tompa” Lindberg, who sadly succumbed to a rare-but-super-aggressive bout of cancer in September of 2025. This introductory paragraph (and review) has been typed, deleted, reworded, deleted, approached differently, deleted, etc. so many times that I’ve lost count and given myself a colossal migraine in overthinking, over-evaluating, and over-justifying. But there comes a point where, in my month of listening to this, you have to say “fuck it,” and proceed in the direction that your gut, heart, and ears are guiding you towards. I will simply state that The Ghost of a Future Dead is many things.

What it’s not, however, is a pity party. Like anyone else with a conscience and heart, I was devastated to read about what Lindberg went through over the last few years with his battle against Adenoid Cystic Carcinoma, and was heartbroken when he died after a bravely-fought battle. You wouldn’t know he was struggling upon listening to the album, however, as Lindberg was in fine form here. His delivery has never been this potent, this acidic, with lead-off single “The Fever Mask” demonstrating his caustic delivery just fine. Elsewhere, “Det oerhörda,” the first At The Gates song written entirely in Swedish, further channels Lindberg’s rage and intensity. The fact that he performed all his parts, in one day and mostly in one take on the day before his surgery, before his bandmates even recorded anything is nothing short of impressive, as it doesn’t sound like it at all.

The Ghost of a Future Dead (24-bit HD audio) by At The Gates

Speaking of his bandmates, to say they all brought their A-game would be a grotesque understatement. To be frank, this is the At The Gates album I was craving when they first reunited back in 2010.1 Everyone went all-out, and the results are ridiculous. Both Björler brothers and fellow guitarist Martin Larsson hurl riff after monstrous riff at you, but also know how to construct some damn fine harmonies like on “The Fever Mask” and “A Ritual of Waste.” As for Adrian Erlandsson, his fills and embellishments border on the criminal. I’m sure the rather obscene breakdown section of “The Unfathomable” is considered illegal in most countries, with Erlandsson incorporating a well-placed ride cymbal “TING!” at just the right time2 to send people into a pit-inducing frenzy. In fact, with the exception of moody instrumental “Förgängligheten,” The Ghost is just fire and rage from beginning to glorious end, and all four instrumentalists paid loving, yet visceral, tribute to a fallen bandmate and brother on here.

The Jens Bogren production also elevates The Ghost into the upper echelons of At The Gates’ discography. Both the guitars and the drums radiate a profound heft and clarity. Speaking of clarity, being able to make out Jonas’ basslines is much, much appreciated, as he can play his ass off. Also speaking of Jonas, one thing I noticed was the more progressive leanings that he incorporated on To Drink From the Night Itself and The Nightmare of Being are still present at times, like on “The Dissonant Void,” might be reduced significantly, but they’re present and better incorporated, leading to a better impact overall. For 42 minutes and some change, The Ghost is the sound of everyone firing on all cylinders.

Full admission: everyone behind the scenes at Angry Metal Guy wanted to hear The Ghost of a Future Dead, but nobody wanted to review it. If it sucked,3 no one understandably wanted to say as much. If it were legitimately good, people would say that it’s said out of grief, trying to fit in with established publications, or some other bullshit reason. In this case, since it goes toe-to-toe with their best work (and in some ways surpasses them), it’s all those reasons plus receiving an unnecessary amount of grief from the comments section, crying about the audacity of giving it the score it ultimately received, despite all justification on my part. So I’ll take it on the chin for the team and state that yes, The Ghost of a Future Dead deserves the score due to the quality, ferociousness, and heart on display. If this ends up being At The Gates’ swansong,4 this is a hell of a way to go out, as they dropped another classic on our sorry asses. Awesome job, to all those involved. Rest in power, Tompa.

Rating: 5.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

I don’t know exactly what it is, but the Canadian prairies seem to just do something to its metal practitioners. Occasionally, we talk about metal in terms of its geography—”Scandinavian black metal,” “European power metal,” and so on—but I don’t think I’ve heard much about Canadian metal. Canada is huge, of course, but I’ve yet to find a band from its rural corners that hasn’t really resonated. Northern Graves, formed in 2023 by Damian Smith of Altars of Grief, continue this trend with their take on blackened doom metal. Originally a solo project, the now fully-expanded lineup, relocated to the United States, is releasing its debut, Derelict Heart, inspired “by the seemingly endless Canadian prairies and the countless ghost towns that dot its landscape.” How could I possibly refuse?

Having started as a solo project for Smith, it should come as no surprise that there are several Altars of Grief-isms at play here, but the “blackened” label is serious. Alike in their prairie ways, I would suggest Derelict Heart could be the result of a union between Arctos and Altars of Grief—there is a desolate, bleak darkness at the heart of the music befitting of Smith’s doom metal outfit, but the presentation is impassioned and fierce. Branson Heinz and Roman Chester kill it on drums and bass, respectively, each running marathons with bite throughout Derelict Heart. Andrew Caruana joins Smith on guitars and plays aggressively without quite the speed of Heinz’s drumming, give or take a tremolo here and there. Their vocals are similarly harsh and biting; the duo snarl, roar, and rasp in strange harmony. Smith also sings, and Caruana plays keys, both adding new dimensions to an already mighty sound.

Derelict Heart by Northern Graves

The result is metal that is more blackened than doom, and very strong for it. “Endless” gets off to a rocking start; Smith and Caruana play an upbeat riff, rasping their way through a strong intro. The doom elements persist through an acoustic guitar, a mournful solo, and a strong atmosphere of darkness. Northern Graves do a fantastic job of evoking the vast, empty plains of their native Saskatchewan. “Derelict Heart” is the best example, a grand, slow burn that starts in doom waters before treading its way to a beautiful, blackened climax. Smith and Caruana’s vocals are huge, and Heinz’s drumming reaches manic heights. The guitars surround you and carry you to ghost towns. During quieter moments, the singing, distant and orchestrations, are subtle, chill, and inspiring. It’s a staggeringly beautiful song and best demonstrates the union of black metal, doom metal, and unique inspiration that defines Derelict Heart and Northern Graves. Even the non-metal track, “Keeper of the Plains,” serves an important function in providing a highly specific atmosphere. Derelict Heart thrives in atmosphere, making it feel like more than the sum of two sub-genres and more like its own unique entity.

From a production standpoint, Derelict Heart sounds amazingly clear and energized, with only two minor flaws. The first is that the drumming is curiously loud. As mentioned, Heinz is a fantastic drummer and a significant contributor to Derelict Heart’s energy. He gives it power and presence. But his own presence is often too loud, especially on “Lanterns.” “Lanterns” is a gorgeous song, falling more on the doom metal side of the equation with slower, more mournful passages dotted with orchestral melodies, clean/harsh vocal duos, and beautiful riffs—but the blast beat drumming is so high in the mix as to be distracting. The second is the album closer, “Hazard,” a Richard Marx cover that, while appropriately blackened to fit Northern Graves, is not effective as a closer for Derelict Heart. Especially following the phenomenal title track, it sticks out; it has less doom, quieter atmosphere, and much more clean singing than the rest of Derelict Heart, and, while it is a fascinating cover, it feels like an odd way to close the album. Tonally, it’s just a bit strange, though I can’t bring myself to actually dislike it—the skill and passion from Northern Graves is hard to dislike.

There are a lot of ways to blacken doom metal, but Northern Graves has found an amazing sound on Derelict Heart. It’s not particularly mournful or even especially bleak, but it effectively evokes the enormity of a desolate wild. It is a powerful, memorable experience that I found resonant and affecting. I already cannot wait for more.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Meuse Music
Websites: northerngraves.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/northerngraves
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

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

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

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

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

Absentia by Splendidula

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too Fast to Die by Archspire

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

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

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

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

The life of the unpaid, overworked metal reviewer is not an easy one. The reviewing collective at AMG lurches from one new release to the next, errors and n00bs strewn in our wake. But what if, once in a while, the collective paused to take stock and consider the discography of those bands that shaped many a taste? What if multiple aspects of the AMG collective personality shared with the slavering masses their personal rankings of that discography, and what if the rest of the personality used a Google sheet some kind of dark magic to produce an official guide to, and an all-around definitive aggregated ranking of, that band’s entire discography? Well, if that happened, we imagine it would look something like this…

Formed in 1988, Immolation emerged shortly after death metal’s dawn of aggression. Alongside Incantation, Suffocation, and Mortician, Immolation cemented themselves as a cornerstone of New York’s death metal scene in the early 90s. Since then, the band has erected a kingdom of consistency, releasing cut after unholy cut of complex arrangements, unwavering hostility, and anti-religious ruminations about the failures of gods. Key to Immolation’s dependable, high-quality output are mainstays bassist/vocalist Ross Dolan and guitarist Robert Vigna, who have both been with the band since inception. Even Immolation’s other members prove steadfast, with drummer Steve Shalaty searing skins since 2003 and Alex Bouks lending his axe since 2016. Through eleven full-length releases, Immolation has proven that their ability to harness ruin and forge death metal majesty is nigh unparalleled.

With twelfth album Descent arriving soon, staffers old and new clamored to share their opinions on how Immolation’s back catalog stacks up. Unlike rankings mostly prescribed by overwhelming consensus on their highs and lows, Immolation presents a discography with nothing to atone for, providing fertile ground for healthy, well-considered discourse. Without further ado, then, let’s put our ears to the door of a world below and divine these diabolical rankings!

– Grin Reaper

The Rankings

Grin Reaper

In my book, nobody does pure death metal better than Immolation. More consistent than Suffocation and Incantation and more uncompromising than Morbid Angel and Cryptopsy,1 Immolation scoffs at AMG’s Law of Diminishing Recordings™ as they reign atop an unimpeachable discography that lacks a single turd. Seriously. The ‘worst’ album Immolation ever put out still rivals or surpasses the best from most other death metal outfits, and their indomitable march to dismantle the weak and unworthy entrenches them as one of my all-time favorite acts. Jesus wept—Immolation never fucking flinched.

#11. Harnessing Ruin (2005) — Something has to be last, and Harnessing Ruin gets my tap. Songwriting-wise, Immolation drops a strong effort with acerbically grim leads and a rousing introduction to new drummer Steve Shalaty. Guitars supply the album highlights—from the gnarled riffing in “Our Savior Sleeps” and the sludgy sway on “Son of Iniquity” to the scalding solo on “Dead to Me,” Bob Vigna and Bill Taylor sizzle with hell’s fire across Harnessing Ruin. Unfortunately, the album’s production holds it back, and the muffled mix lacks the bite of Unholy Cult. Also, the longest songs cluster at the end, dragging the back half a touch.

#10. Kingdom of Conspiracy (2013) — Kingdom of Conspiracy just ekes ahead of Harnessing Ruin, clocking three minutes briefer despite having one more track. To my ears, Kingdom of Conspiracy features Immolation’s brightest, most modern production. This offers a boon to Dolan’s grating growls and the tormented guitar tandem of Vigna and Taylor, but it also buries the bass and pushes the drums further away from the dead corpse smacks that characterize my favorite Immolation bass drum tones. As one might expect from the bottom end of such an excellent discography, Kingdom of Conspiracy does little wrong, but lacks the heretical heft that defines Immolation’s best material.

#9. Shadows in the Light (2007) — Concluding what I consider Immolation’s middle period, Shadows in the Light chronologically bridges their weakest link, Harnessing Ruin, and powerhouse Nuclear Blast debut, Majesty and Decay. Shadows in the Light drastically improves on Harnessing Ruin’s production, wading out of the former’s forlorn pall and laying down brimstone-tinged bangers like one-two punch “Passion Kill” and “World Agony.” A sense of immediacy pervades Shadows that, while not lacking in the lowest-ranked albums, burns even hotter here, filling its forty minutes with writhing leads and furious drumming that typifies what Immolation does so damned well.

#8. Failures for Gods (1999) — Failures for Gods falling to #8 proves just how potent Immolation’s discography is, as the album would be a crown jewel in countless other discographies. On the surface, Failures for Gods has everything Immolation fans could ask for: punishing grooves, tortured guitars, and vocals that could command the armies of hell. Despite that, Failures for Gods feels like it holds back from the devastating offensive that would launch a year later, instead rehashing rather than progressing what Immolation accomplished on their first two albums. Still, Failures introduced drummer Alex Hernandez, and though his masterstrokes would be heard on Close, songs like “God Made Filth” and “The Devil I Know” heralded the storm to come.

#7. Dawn of Possession (1991) — Pure fucking evil rarely sounds this intoxicating. Steeped in an unpolished production that’s coarse yet clear, Dawn of Possession hooks ears and souls alike, flaying them with its hellish implements. Though it’s Immolation’s most straightforward album, tracks like “Into Everlasting Fire, “Those Left Behind,” and “Immolation” exemplify why suburban mothers clutch their pearls when they happen upon their precious babes listening to death metal. Dawn of Possession was my entry point for Immolation, and it encompasses everything the band offers without guile. I still recommend it for the uninitiated, particularly those who enjoy straight-up OSDM with a side of heresy.

#6. Unholy Cult (2002) — Where Failures for Gods luxuriates in gloomy menace and Close to a World Below reeks of sulfurous damnation, Unholy Cult blurs the line between the two. Starting with a slow build on opener “Of Martyrs and Men,” Unholy Cult careens between ominous drawls and infernal fervor with a substantially improved production over Immolation’s 90s output. “Unholy Cult” remains the second-longest song these death peddlers have penned, and it looms large, rooted in the front half of the album. From there, the tracks rumble and blitz up to closer “Bring Them Down,” a funky barnburner that highlights Dolan’s basswork amidst Immolation’s blazing backdrop.

#5. Majesty and Decay (2010) — Immolation unleashed a juggernaut for their first platter with Nuclear Blast. Blistering, contemplative, and brimming with moldering melody, Majesty and Decay swats with the divine laze of a celestial being, uncoiling at its leisure but devastating in its wrath once roused. Tracks like “A Glorious Epoch” and “The Rapture of Ghosts” toe this line, where beefy chugs pound beneath soaring, anthemic guitars. Meanwhile, the likes of “The Purge” and “A Token of Malice” hit with the force of a thunderclap, unrelenting in their fury. I originally had Majesty and Decay in the same tier as Atonement and Acts of God, but the busy mix and unimaginatively titled “Intro” and “Interlude” hold it back.2

#4. Atonement (2017) — With no song running past the five-minute mark, Atonement exhibits Immolation’s dedication to excising the fat and gristle. Vigna’s crooked leads and crushing riffs mesh perfectly with new guitarist Alex Bouks’ calculated anarchy, and together they synchronize in exquisite harmony. Along with Majesty and Decay, Atonement might be the closest Immolation comes to achieving accessibility. Typically, my favorite straight-up death metal furnishes little room for nuance, and though Immolation doesn’t have a reputation for subtlety, Atonement expertly doles out moments of relief (the end of “When the Jackals Come,” the intro to “Lower”) that almost lull you into safety before the bottom drops out and sends you to hell.

#3. Acts of God (2022) — When I first saw Immolation flaunting fifteen tracks totaling over fifty minutes, I thought their best days were behind them. Bloat is never a good sign, particularly from a band with such a pristine track record. I happily resign to being wrong, though, as Acts of God not only subverted but demolished my expectations. Immolation’s allure lies in the intricacies of their music. Dolan’s patristic admonishment of humanity, Vigna and Bouks’ serpentine noodling, and Shalaty’s tempestuous brutalization of the kit define the band’s sound, yet here the music is more direct and urgent than ever. Rather than missing any beats, Immolation sounds ruinously revitalized.

#2. Here in After (1996) — Though not a significant shift away from Dawn of Possession, Immolation struck nails to gold with Here in After. Compared to later releases, Here in After radiates a few extra degrees of chaos, with deranged soloing that reminds of Slayer’s vision of hell and a slightly more impassioned vocal performance from Dolan. To be clear, his vocals are one of my favorite aspects of Immolation’s sound, and his matter-of-fact, comprehensible gutturals against such malicious metal engenders wonderful drama. The edge to his voice on “Nails to Gold” and “Christ’s Cage” adds a dimension of metaphysical dread that is the chef’s kiss throughout Here in After’s inflamed impiety.

#1. Close to a World Below (2000) — I can’t fathom any other Immolation album topping this blasphemous bonanza than Close to a World Below. Opening with my favorite Immolation track “Higher Coward,” the album bursts forth with an unapologetic eruption of sinuous guitars, vicious growls, and an unyielding onslaught by drummer Alex Hernandez. The drum tones alone deserve a spotlight, but the cataclysmic bombardment of stick on skin violence stops me dead in my tracks anytime one of Close to a World Below’s songs pops up. Immolation distills the essence of what worked so well on previous albums and folds those layers into a perfect performance across eight insidiously immaculate tracks. “Father, You’re Not a Father,” “Unpardonable Sin,” and the closing title track resonate with especially inspired performances, but the entirety of Close to a World Below boils over with the most unhinged and malignant performance of Immolation’s career. Being damned never sounded so Iconic.

Lavender Larcenist

#11. Harnessing Ruin (2005) — Immolation does not have a bad album, but Harnessing Ruin feels like a band chugging along in a bit of an in-between space. The production is muddled here, especially after Unholy Cult and Close to a World Below, but “Our Savior Sleeps” still retains that Immolation heft while “At Mourning’s Twilight” is an inspired closer with an incredible solo at the midpoint. Harnessing Ruin would be the best album of many other bands’ careers, but it is only a lower-tier album for a band as storied as Immolation.

#10. Shadows in the Light (2007) — Shadows in the Light follows Harnessing Ruin in terms of feeling like a band spinning its wheels (as much as a band as talented as Immolation can). Even then, “Passion Kill” is a classic Immolation track with an incredible breakdown that will make a fan out of any listener. “World Agony” follows with a dissonant wailing riff backing as it drops headfirst into a rolling bulldozer of a track. Unfortunately, there isn’t much else to Shadows in the Light that helps it stand out amongst the rest of Immolation’s discography, but it still makes for a solid death metal record with some memorable tracks that have stood the test of time.

#9. Failures for Gods (1999) — Failures for Gods is a solid album that is no slouch in the songwriting department, but it is marred by some truly busted production. Everything feels muddy, oddly loud, and compressed at the same time. “No Jesus, No Beast” is a monster, and the title track features that classic evil tone that becomes so apparent in late-stage Immolation, but the production handicaps this album at every turn. Great songwriting goes a long way, but in a race this tight, poor production brings Failures for Gods low.

#8. Kingdom of Conspiracy (2013) — Kingdom of Conspiracy shaves off a bit of Majesty and Decay’s technicality to its detriment. It is the closest Immolation has come to creating an album that is more groove than tech. As a result, it is probably one of their more approachable records, but it is the weakest of their current era. “Keep the Silence” is a monster of a track, and Kingdom has more than enough material to make it worth a listen. I think this is an album more fans should revisit, and newbies should start with, because it is hooky, heavy, and groovy in ways that will tickle your evil organ.

#7. Dawn of Possession (1991) — Dawn of Possession is an incredible debut from a band that is clearly young and ready to fuck the world up. Robert Vigna’s trademark style is immediately apparent, and Immolation’s blend of groove, dizzying technicality, and evil vibes is on display out of the gate. Craig Smilowski’s drumming is absurd in its rhythm and technical flourishes, but the album lacks the atmosphere that Immolation became famous for later in their career. Dawn of Possession is a fantastic debut that is only brought down by the extent to which its tracks bleed together. Something Immolation struggles with throughout their career.

#6. Here in After (1996) — Here in After sees the band refine their skills and write tighter songs that hit harder while adding just a little dash of that trademark Immolation vibe. The groove is starting to creep in, and tracks like “Christ’s Cage” showcase the band playing with the truly evil tone that pervades their most recent work. Album opener “Nailed to Gold” is a classic for the band, and Here in After is a quintessential Immolation album. Ross Dolan’s vocals have switched from Dawn’s nastier tone to his trademark bellow, and Vigna’s pirouetting shredwork is here to stay. Here in After is Immolation in classic form.

#5. Close to a World Below (2000) — Opening with “Higher Coward”, Close to a World Below starts on a high note and never stops delivering. The production foibles of Failures are ironed out, and Immolation sounds like a band ready to bulldoze society. “Unpardonable Sin” is as heavy as it is frantic with its switches back and forth between dissonant groove and face-melting speed. “Lost Passion” crescendos into trademark Immolation wankery in the best way, but Close to a World Below still suffers from some odd production. Dolan’s vocals feel slightly different track to track, but this is an album with some of Immolation’s best songs to date.

#4. Unholy Cult (2002) — Something about Unholy Cult just clicks for me. “Of Martyrs and Men” is that pure, wonderful, evil shit. After an explosive intro, the track moves into one of Immolation’s most crushing riffs. The title track is a slice of hell in a way the band hasn’t played with since “Christ’s Cage”, an eight-minute epic that is as catchy as it is devastating. Vigna flips from this vibrato-tremolo guitar riff right into an all-out assault and back to massive Immolation grooves without a hitch. Unholy Cult is stuffed with great tracks and feels like a first step towards the second half of Immolation’s career, where atmosphere and groove hold more sway over pure technicality.

#3. Majesty and Decay (2010) — Majesty and Decay is where modern Immolation comes into full form. Part truly diabolical atmosphere, part neutron star heavy, all technical and groovy as hell. “Intro” gives listeners a glimpse into the band’s future. “A Glorious Epoch” has one of the best riffs, basically ever, making for a track that gets my blood boiling without fail. “A Token of Malice” is astounding in its technicality while being a freight train of destruction with Vigna riding shotgun. Majesty and Decay is also the best Immolation has sounded up to this point, where the production finally feels consistent, clear, and absolutely brutal.

#2. Atonement (2017) — Likely an album that will grace the top tier on every list, Atonement feels like the quintessential Immolation album. If I were to introduce the band to anyone, I would probably start here. “When the Jackals Come” is one of the band’s best tracks, and “Lower” is just astounding in how brutal Immolation still is decades later. It also keeps things at a slim and trim forty-four minutes, and album closer “Epiphany” puts a perfect bow on this devil baby. There isn’t a track worth skipping on Atonement, a feat made all the more impressive when it is a band ten albums into their career.

#1. Acts of God (2022) — Where do I start with Acts of God? To me, it is the perfect combination of creativity, groove, technicality, and that evil Immolation sound we have come to know and cherish. As one of Immolation’s longest albums, you would think the well has run dry, but the intro “Abandoned” and interlude “And The Flames Wept” add so much cohesion to the album and drape the entire affair in a veil of depravity. Acts of God features some of Immolation’s biggest and baddest riffs, while also pushing their atmosphere to new heights. Their most evil album, their most creative, and maybe even their heaviest. “Noose of Thorns” is led by a diabolical descending riff that drops into high-pitched tapping that sets the tone so well you can’t help but feel pulled by hell’s destructive currents. “Immoral Stain” is dripping with malice; you can hear it seep into every riff and lyric. “Let the Darkness In” features a bouncing, infectious groove that immediately flips into Vigna’s trademark dissonant wails. Acts of God is Immolation’s magnum opus in every sense, and somehow my favorite album by a band that feels like they can do no wrong.

Mark Z.

Immolation feel like old friends. I discovered them early in my extreme metal journey and was immediately captivated by Bob Vigna’s unconventional riffing style and Ross Dolan’s commanding (and surprisingly comprehensible) growl. No matter what’s happened in the metal scene, it’s always been comforting to know that Immolation have been there, touring relentlessly while consistently delivering their trademark brand of dissonant death metal and never releasing a true dud. In the world of old school death metal, they’re the one band I could always count on. Because of that, they’ll always have a special place in my ever-blackening heart.

#11. Shadows in the Light (2007) — Not a bad album, just a relatively bland one. While there are some inspired ideas, most of the tracks have little of the dark atmosphere or interesting songwriting found on their earlier material. Nonetheless, it’s a testament to Immolation’s quality that even their worst album still has stuff as good as the lumbering grooves of “Passion Kill” or the growl-along catchiness of “World Agony,” which is one of the group’s best songs.

#10. Harnessing Ruin (2005) — Arguably Immolation’s most accessible album, Harnessing Ruin shows them trying to find their place in the mid-2000s death metal scene by writing some more direct songs than usual. Just like with Shadows in the Light, however, this album sags in its back half and lacks the darkness or quality of the first few records. There’s good stuff here, but this record also feels bleak and oddly dated, possibly due to the generic mid-2000s artwork, plain production job, or the misguided use of whispered vocals in “Dead to Me” and “Son of Iniquity.”

#9. Kingdom of Conspiracy (2013) — The fucking drums, man. The drum sound here is borderline overbearing, and given that this record is already pretty fast, the overall experience is a relentless and punishing one that largely crushes nuance beneath the heel of its boot. Fortunately, the riffing is still strong, and the album’s generally fast nature makes the slower, commanding marches of “Keep the Silence” and “All That Awaits Us” hit all the harder.

#8. Majesty and Decay (2010) — After a relatively lackluster era in the mid-2000s, Immolation signed to Nuclear Blast and seemed hell-bent on redemption with Majesty and Decay. Compared to its immediate predecessors, this record has an improved production job, more dynamic songwriting, and a better sense of structure (with the band employing an intro track and interlude for the first time). While the title track’s Gateways to Annihilation vibes make it one of the band’s best slower songs, the album as a whole would be better if some of the weaker tracks were shaved off and a few others were tightened up a bit.

#7. Acts of God (2022) — This is a very good album with two main issues: It’s too long, and it has the misfortune of having to follow up Atonement. Not even an Immolation album needs to be 52 minutes long, and compared to its predecessor, the production is stuffier and the songs aren’t as strong. As a whole, however, this is still a blasphemous good time that maintains a consistently high level of quality throughout, with “The Age of No Light” and “Overtures of the Wicked” being especially powerful cuts.

#6. Unholy Cult (2002) — Immolation’s fifth album represents a bridge between the apocalyptic malevolence of their early material and the polished hostility of their later work. It’s also potentially their most vicious and chaotic release, with the opening track “Of Martyrs and Men” even featuring some borderline-mathcore riffs. While at times tough to untangle, Unholy Cult ultimately succeeds as a 41-minute shrapnel blast of ideas that somehow combines the epic and the violent into an utterly compelling whole.

#5. Failures for Gods (1999) — The start of Immolation’s long partnership with producer Paul Orofino, Failures for Gods is held back a bit by his lack of prior experience with death metal, with the bass drums sounding like bouncing basketballs. Stylistically and structurally, however, this is essentially Here in After Part II, with twisted and brooding compositions that vary between being grandiose and cutthroat. While a bit front-loaded, Failures is still a brilliant record. In a just world, “No Jesus, No Beast” would be the closer at every Immolation show.

#4. Dawn of Possession (1991) — Immolation’s debut essentially gave their death-thrash demo tracks a murkier production job and placed them alongside newer songs that would hint at the band’s dissonance to come. As such, Dawn of Possession is the most traditional death metal album in the band’s catalog while also being one of the most distinct and stylistically diverse. While Bob Vigna would only improve as a songwriter from here, Dawn’s numerous classic tracks and otherworldly sense of blasphemy make it easy to love, warts and all.

#3. Atonement (2017) — How the fuck is this album so good? Late-career albums aren’t supposed to be this good, but this is the rare lightning-strike release where everything hits just right: the production, the songwriting, the performances, and even the cover art (which marks the return of the band’s classic logo). It’s like they found a way to increase the quality of everything while sacrificing nothing, resulting in a record that’s powerful yet understated, hooky yet stuffed with riffs, and listenable yet extreme. It may be slightly front-loaded, but it’s still one of my favorite death metal albums of the 2010s.

#2. Here in After (1996) — Arriving five years after their debut, Here in After shows Immolation truly coming into their own, with Bob Vigna’s dark, dissonant arrangements and Ross Dolan’s menacing, intelligible growl both emerging in full force. The improved songwriting is apparent right from the flawless opener, “Nailed to Gold,” which could be one of the Top 10 death metal songs ever. While the twisted structures that follow are less immediately accessible, it all eventually coalesces into a masterfully crafted whole, demonstrating a keen sense of flow and diversity while exuding a timeless, unheavenly darkness that only Immolation could conjure.

#1. Close to a World Below (2000) — There are certain albums so good that they transcend not only their own band’s discography, but also the rest of their genre. Close to a World Below is one of those albums. Never before or since has an album sounded so much like being in hell, with a suffocating and merciless production job that somehow still allows every note to be heard in all its unholy glory. Drummer Alex Hernandez delivers a once-in-a-career performance that sounds like he’s bashing every part of his kit at once, and Bob Vigna somehow manages to write his catchiest material while still delivering riffs more warped than ever. The record also has one of the best openings of all time, with a sullen voice asking, “Didn’t you say. . . Jesus was coming?” before a blasting onslaught tramples any hope of ever making it to heaven. Fukk it, send me below!

Spicie Forrest

Having begun my metal journey in nü territory, there are holes in my metallic knowledge you could drive a commercial truck through.3 While Immolation has long been a name vaguely known to me, it wasn’t until Atonement that I actually heard any of their music. So, when the call for a ranking came in, I saw an excellent opportunity to dive deeply into a storied discography and see what I’ve been missing.

#11. Harnessing Ruin (2005) — While comparably unremarkable, even the bottom end of this list is still good. The truth is, Immolation has never put out a bad album. With such a consistent base quality, placing albums in a numbered order became a game of sudden death. The nail in the coffin for Harnessing Ruin? The whispering vocals on “Dead to Me” and “Son of Iniquity.”

#10 Unholy Cult (2002) — How the hell do you follow up Close to a World Below? By comparison—and even in isolation—Unholy Cult feels lackluster and unremarkable. I’d likely still recognize most of this as Immolation in a playlist, and it’s still very solid death metal by any measure, but there’s precious little here that demands my attention or elevates it above background music. Additionally, pacing shifts, as on “Reluctant Messiah” and “Bring Them Down,” make it difficult to find a groove or flow through the album.

#9 Failures for Gods (1999) — The first three albums Immolation released are all, more or less, of a piece. Failures for Gods maintains much of the quality from earlier releases, from the searing, whiplash solo work and deep riffage of “No Jesus, No Beast” and “Failures for Gods” to the brooding, intimidating tone of “The Devil I Know.” There’s a bit of staleness that creeps into Failures for Gods, though. Aside from some odd, Spanish-inflected acoustic riffing on the title track, not much here stands out from their earlier work or in retrospect.

#8 Shadows in the Light (2007) — Immolation’s output through the mid-00s is, for me, their least engaging, but Shadows in the Light sees them begin to turn things around toward the high quality they’d been known for in the early years. The percussion on Shadows in the Light caught me by surprise, reminding me mightily of Slipknot’s self-titled. Steve Shalaty’s kit work feels alive and visceral, just itching to incite a riot. This holds especially true on “Passion Kill” and “Breathing the Dark.”

#7 Kingdom of Conspiracy (2013) — Kingdom of Conspiracy is an odd duck in Immolation’s discography. This 2013 release has proven divisive not only for its shift in theme,4 but for its notably clean production, as well. While I do appreciate the clarity and snappiness, it is a tad sterile. Ross Dolan’s vocals are hurt the most by this, making him sound toothless and tired. Highlights like “All That Awaits Us” and “God Complex” still hit hard, but as a whole, Kingdom of Conspiracy just doesn’t have the searing identity of records higher on this list.

#6 Here in After (1996) — Being the sophomore album is a tough break. The pressure’s on, expectations are high. Here in After largely holds the line and even improves on the debut in some ways—the title track and “Christ’s Cage” are absolute powerhouses, wielding the weight of worlds like feathers. That said, Here in After does not feel as compositionally tight or structurally sound as Dawn of Possession. Additionally, much of the solo work feels jarring and a skosh too chaotic for my sensibilities, especially on “Nailed to Gold” and “Burn with Jesus.”

#5 Majesty and Decay (2010) — A continuation of the upward shift in quality from Shadows in the Light, Majesty and Decay sees Immolation beginning to explore the more tempered, measured sound so prevalent in their contemporary output. Some tracks, like “A Thunderous Consequence” and “Power and Shame,” fall flat in their attempts to create atmosphere, but “Divine Code” and “A Glorious Epoch” show exactly how menacing and powerful Immolation can be and truly embody the title of the album.

#4 Dawn of Possession (1991) — This served as the standard by which all else was measured. Apocalyptic and vicious, Immolation’s debut was a revelation. There’s a ferocity on Dawn of Possession that only a young band eager to share their vision can produce. And in so doing, Immolation marred the tapestry forever. Injecting their relentless assault with streaks of virtuosity, Dawn of Possession became the bar not only for the band, but for thousands of inspired musicians in the decades since. Immolation has tweaked and tempered their blueprint in the 35 years since, but the core has always remained.

#3 Acts of God (2022) — I’m normally not a fan of intros, but “Abandoned” sets the stage perfectly for the brutal and utterly savage cudgeling to come. Fully returning to the unchecked hatred for Christians and their gods, Acts of God is contemptuous and caustic in way that hasn’t been heard since Close to a World Below. Most impressive here is Immolation’s success in merging the pomp and circumstance of their modern output with the rage of their early work. While not strictly their best release, Acts of God is a quintessential work, defining the true identity of Immolation.

#2 Close to a World Below (2000) — Already known for their malicious, uncompromising sound, Immolation cranks all the dials to eleven on Close to a World Below. It’s seething, it’s virulent, it’s fucking hostile. If this masterpiece ever lets up, it’s only to parade and mock the mangled corpse of Christ before grabbing a bigger hammer. Every second of this album drips with scorn, from the indictment of “Father, You’re Not a Father,” to the blasphemy of “Unpardonable Sin.” I get chills at the start of “Higher Coward” every fucking time, and they don’t go away until long after “Close to a World Below” fades out.

#1 Atonement (2017) — The first Immolation album I ever heard, Atonement still remains untouched. The imperial confidence and contempt—the sheer power—left me speechless, and I still return to it, nearly ten years later. Atonement is more atmospheric than much of their other work, but the result is a heretofore unknown level of weight and heft, no doubt aided by its more vibrant and textured production. Like the change in the air before a coming storm, Atonement feels like a harbinger of ruin, and at times like the disaster itself. Barns burn on tracks like “Destructive Currents” and “Rise the Heretics,” but Immolation truly shines in patient malevolence. Highlights like “When the Jackals Come,” “Thrown to the Fire,” and “Lower” are in no rush to grind your bones to paste. Atonement is the full realization of what was hinted on Majesty and Decay, and it is breathtaking to behold.

Angry Metal Guy Staff Ranking

Thanks to the dark magic of profane arithmetic, we present the aggregate staff ranking below:

1. 1. Harnessing Ruin (2005)
   2. Shadows in the Light (2007)
   3. Kingdom of Conspiracy (2013)
   4. Failures for Gods (1999)
   5. Unholy Cult (2002)
   6. Dawn of Possession (1991)
   7. Majesty and Decay (2010)
   8. Here in After (1996)
   9. Acts of God (2022)
   10. Atonement (2017)
   11. Close to a World Below (2000)

For any ignorant, curious, or non-practicing heathens out there that need to bathe in the everlasting fire, look no further than AMG’s Immolation primer:



Since spewing out from the Swedish death metal scene back in 1996, Vomitory have been one of the most consistent acts in extreme metal. Album after album of no-frills, brutal, yet enthralling Swedeath emerged from the puke shack, and you could always look forward to getting something gruesome and sick from them. They had a long layoff after 2011s Opus Mortis VIII, but when they came back with 2023s All Heads Are Gonna Roll, it was as if they never left at all. That platter was tried-and-trve Vomitory: aggressive, heavy, abrasive, but weirdly catchy. Now they’re back in the hunt with 10th album, In Death Throes, sporting new axe worker Christian Fredriksson in place of Peter Östlund. Is this corpse still delectable and appropriately unsavory? Will their simple but effective template finally start to show signs of metal fatigue? Let’s discuss these questions at the Vomitorium.

Mere seconds into opener “Rapture in Rupture,” you know you’re in for a good, rough time. This is Vomitory in all their putrid glory. HM-2 powered riffs buzz loudly like diseased insects, drums thunder and blast, and Erik Rundqvist roars over the chaos like a sick wilderbeast in heat. The energy level is set to “Berserk Meth Nutter on Crack,” and the riffs work to peel away your skin and degrade your bone structure. It offers nothing you haven’t heard before, or even something you haven’t heard from Vomitory before, but that matters not at all because this shit kills. Lead single “For Gore and Country” keeps the adrenaline and testosterone pumping with more high-speed gore and near-grind death, and it’s a joy to be bulldozed by it. The band refuse to ease back on the death throttle until 4th track, “Wrath Unbound,” where they slot into Bolt Thrower territory and appropriate that war-loving crew’s iconic riff palette for a bit of tank-in-the-muck grinding. It works very well, though it makes me long for a new Bolt Thrower album.

Elsewhere, “Cataclysmic Fleshfront” goes extra fast and mean on those still left in the fight, at times verging on beef-brained slam in a way that will bring Dolphin Whisperer to the yard faster than any cheesy milkshake ever could. This is abrasive, brain-deadening shit, but Vomitory uses the chaos to try a few new things, and damn if those big chugs aren’t satisfying. If you were to play this at the gym, your primal ape rage would increase tenfold as other gym goers fled in terror. “Two and a Half Men” introduces a simple yet effective riff, then absolutely beats you into a bloody pulp with it for 3 in the most relentless way possible. I mean this as a positive. Closer “Oblivion Protocol” injects interestingly melodic and moody harmonies into the mix, possibly as a balm to help you recover from the 30-plus minute mega-ass whopping they just put on you. It’s a cool changeup, and it sticks out. Are there lesser moments? I suppose one could say “Forever Scorned” isn’t quite as tremendously murderous as its peers, but it’s still a good song with loads of death boulders to hurl. At a very tight 38-plus minutes and with all songs in the 3-4 minutes window, In Death Throes blows your head off and then fucks off in quick order. Nothing stays too long or feels bloated. At the same time, the songs all have their own identity and don’t bleed into a revolting mush as they easily could with a less practiced hand at the wheel.

I’ve always been a huge fan of Erik Rundqvist’s death vocals, and In Death Throes is another testament to his unnatural abilities. His roars are just guttural enough to hit that subhuman level and add the right amount of sick extremity to the material. He isn’t puking up nuclear hairballs a la Cryptworm, but he doesn’t sound restrained either. Longtime guitarist Urban Gustafsson pairs well with newcomer Christian Fredriksson and together they uncork a nonstop succession of ragged, jagged riffs designed to traumatize and harm. They even toss a killer Exodus riff into “Erased in Red” that’s better than what we actually heard from Exodus recently. Tobias Gustafsson has the unenviable task of keeping up with the rest of these maniac mauraders, and his kit work is frantic, frenzied, and just technical enough to satisfy. Once again, Vomitory stick to what always worked for them, and somehow, it works as well now as it did in 1996.

Vomitory made a fierce comeback in 2023, and now they’re showing it was no late-career fluke with In Death Throes. This is a rowdy, skull-crushing death metal opus with plenty of meat to chew on. All that meat is rancid, so all the better! Trust in Vomitory and get your ears assailed by this blasty bastard. It would be wise, my friends.



Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade
Websites: vomitory.net | vomitory.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/vomitoryband | instagram.com/vomitoryband
Releases Worldwide: April 10th, 2026

When it comes to snakes and music, I’m a simple man. I think of Testament’s Brotherhood of the Snake, High on Fire’s Snakes for the Divine, Deicide’s Serpents of the Light, and Sir Mix-a-Lot. And now Philadelphia’s Crotaline1 slithers in flaunting first-wave-of-black-metal ballads rife with references to snake genitalia. Black metal’s second wave garners most of the attention, having shaped what most consider to be the genre’s trve north, but Mayhem, Darkthrone, Immortal, and Emperor never would have become what they are without Bathory’s lo-fi virulence, Venom’s proto-thrashed, punk-informed edgelording, and Celtic Frost’s sinister atmospheres and doomy trudges. First-wave black metal fairly characterizes what Crotaline provides on debut The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, as it’s ridden with direct, unadorned riffing, torturous plods, and a classically DIY aesthetic. Crotaline’s debut sounds like a blast, and I hope it is—my anaconda don’t want none unless it’s got fun, hun.

In many senses, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire is a primitive album. Crotaline relates carnal tales of ophidian lust in straightforward spurts of stripped-down metal, preferring uncomplicated riffs and instrumentation to deliver their herpetological gospel. In this way, Crotaline reminds me more of Hellhammer than Bathory or Celtic Frost. Tom G. Warrior’s (Triptykon) first project,2 Hellhammer distinguished itself more for its chaos and enthusiasm than its execution. Similarly, The Embrace of Cloacal Desire attacks with zealous verve, flitting through nine tracks of intermittently thrashy and doom-laden black metal. Despite the bold mashup of genres, though, Crotaline never quite brings their fangs within striking distance.

The Embrace of Cloacal Desire by Crotaline

Two primary issues plague The Embrace of Cloacal Desire, and each boils down to the same root cause—simplicity. While the drums supply a commendable rhythmic thunder, mostly Crotaline’s performance either plays too safe or lacks the technical firepower to achieve big moments. After a protracted minute-and-a-half intro, opener “Breeding the End” gets properly started. Unleashing a classic thrash riff recalling Bonded by Blood-era Exodus, a peppy bass groove joins in to underpin the melody. The pace slows at the chorus, cutting to a second riff before wending back to the main one. “Widow’s Web” kicks in next, treating listeners to a Venom-meets-Bathory hook that, just like the preceding song, tamps the brakes for vocals and a bridge. The pattern wears thin quickly, and The Embrace of Cloacal Desire suffers from this constricted songwriting—particularly in the back half. Too many half-formed ideas reach for big moments, only to topple into funereal crawls. For an album dedicated to dangerous snakes and sex organs, too often I’m left unthrilled and unfulfilled.

Ultimately, the lack of memorable passages and songs leaves The Embrace of Cloacal Desire as drab and listless as a shed snakeskin. Solid building blocks reside in Crotaline’s DNA, but the shapes of their assembled structures never coalesce into more than their constituent components. Where varying tempos can effectively lead to dynamic pacing and musical climaxes, Crotaline’s overuse of the fast-to-slow momentum shifts undercuts their songwriting. “As the Serpents Feast” exits the chorus and launches into a punky bridge begging for a wailing solo, but instead delivers an understated, unconvincing lead lacking excitement and dexterity. “Red Moon of Despair” starts promisingly enough, yet drops to a two-minute slog of glacial pacing. The same framework repeats on “Beneath the Reeds,” and yet again on “Hemipenes; The Embrace of Cloacal Desire.” Rather than mirroring a narrative or cleverly subverting expectations, these pivots can seem haphazard or lazy, leading to either frustration or boredom.

In spite of a great album concept and comparisons to bands I enjoy, Crotaline’s debut fails to charm my snake. Predictable songwriting and uninspired performances make The Embrace of Cloacal Desire’s thirty-five minutes feel longer than they are, and no song manages to entirely sidestep these issues. Even so, it takes guts to write this wild shit, and even more so to memorialize these ideas in song. Venom lurks within Crotaline, but the band needs to retool their bite. Hopefully they can figure it out and give us a rousing sophomore resurgence. Until then, I’m left to wonder if maybe I’m bored with it, or maybe it’s Crotaline.

Rating: Bad
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Liminal Dread Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026

A little less than a year ago, Green Carnation dropped Part I of their A Dark Poem trilogy, The Shores of Melancholia. That captivating record sets the stage for the band’s ambitious Ophelia-inspired epic. While I know many loved The Shores of Melancholia as it stood (which is fair), I had a difficult time treating it that way, knowing it was meant to be a full experience. Thankfully, I can say that The Shores of Melancholia works even more now that I’ve heard A Dark Poem Part II: Sanguis. The Shores of Melancholia is a fantastic introduction to the unbearable depression, frustration, guilt, and sorrow that envelop Sanguis and its impeccably concise, thirty-seven-minute runtime. So, I’ll admit, individual albums should have stand-alone qualities. That way, listeners can absorb a record in the moment and in the entire experience when they have time for such a thing. We all know Part I mostly achieved that, but what about Part II?

I can thankfully say that Green Carnation has achieved both. Sanguis is a record you can put on repeat with no problems, while also setting both parts on in succession. Everything that was set up in the first album is cranked to eleven in the sequel. And not just in songwriting, riffage, aggression, or attitude. This is still Green Carnation, after all. The sad moments I felt with the first album are far more intense in the sequel. The riffs are harder than most of the songs the band has ever written, and the slower pieces have the emotion of a broken-hearted child. This is exactly what much of the lyrical content focuses on. If there ever was A Dark Poem by Green Carnation, Sanguis is it.

A Dark Poem, Part II: Sanguis by Green Carnation

The self-titled opener is simply one of the most epic on the disc. It picks up from where the previous album left off and slingshots you into a powerful new direction. Incorporating spacey effects with a headbangable groove and a soaring, melodic chorus, this nine-minute beauty sets the stage for what’s to come. When the rasps arrive at the halfway mark, the desperation in the clean vocals intensifies, bringing along that good ole Green Carnation sadness. But the moment it all seems to come to an end, it transitions once more, splashing every known color on the canvas as it builds, drawing all manner of moods through its dripping, streaking, and smattering visualizations. This track alone is worth the journey into Sanguis, but it’s only the beginning.

We take a step back into the warm embrace of calmness with the follow-up track, “Loneliness Untold, Loneliness Unfold.” Ripped straight from the cutting floor of Acoustic Verses, this gorgeous track is made even more special because it features Stein Roger Sordal on vocals. And, by god, can he stand up straight next to the mighty Kjetil Nordhus. The closer, “Lunar Tale,” is another in the same vein. Simplistic in approach (that’s really what makes it so powerful), it uses soft vocals and breathy flute to zap any happiness you might have in your current situation, and leave you battered, broken, and without hope. Another track worth mentioning explores some sounds of Green Carnation’s past. “Fire in Ice” is a nifty compilation of the band’s current era, smashed together with the rocking character of A Blessing in Disguise. Opening with some soothing clean guitars, it alternates between a classic groove and a bass/drum-led lull. Then, it erupts into a kickass riff that rocks the socks off my dick. This song incorporates the ferocity and beauty of Green Carnation better than any on the album.

Outside of some goofy progginess on the back half of “Sweet to the Point of Bitter,” Sanguis is arguably damn-near perfect. The opener conjures fist-pumping anger at the sky; “Fire in Ice” lets you stomp down everything that stands in your way; and “Loneliness Untold, Loneliness Unfold”1 is the emotional breakdown song we’ve needed all year. Toss in a handsomely dynamic master that lets even the smallest of morsels of melancholy rise to the surface, and you have something that is simply breathtaking for the band and the genre. If Green Carnation has never resonated with you, there is nothing I can do to change your mind. For those who need something in these trying times to bolster their spirits or tear them apart (if only for a moment to reset), Sanguis is here for you.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Season of Mist
Websites: greencarnationsom.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/greencarnationnorway
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026

Spezialangebot des Filmmuseums Wien im Rahmen der #atpb24: 3 x Lectures für SchülerInnen der Sek II:
https://humanrights.at/aktionstage/tag/filmmuseum/ #kino #film #filmmuseum #wien #apr25 #apr26 #apr29 #Schule