#apr26 — Public Fediverse posts

April breezes are blowing across the AMG estates even though the summer heat reigns supreme. With several big-ticket releases and a collection of killer platters from lesser-known acts clogging the April voting sheets, it was a pretty fat month for extreme music. This caused consternation among staffers as loyalties to iconic bands clashed and lengthy histories of excellence were rehashed, compared, and contrasted. In the end, hard decisions were made, office furniture was hurled, and curses were invoked. This is the AMG way. Welcome back to April!

If one band exemplifies death metal majesty, decay, and consistency over 30-plus years, it’s New York’s own Immolation. Since launching their crusade of brutality way back in 1989, the band have become one of the most influential acts in the genre, with a sound that evolves and mutates but is always recognizably Immolation. April brought us the 12th installment in their legacy of ugliness, and Descent [out April 10th from Nuclear Blast (Bandcamp)] is another statement on what death metal should be. Wickedly heavy, technical as hell, and ugly as fook, it’s the kind of album that feels like a tanker full of anvils. It highlights the inventiveness of Immolation even as it revisits past eras of the band’s enormous catalog. As a well-impressed Steel Druhm pointed out, “Immolation remain a rare, altered beast among other repellent horrors, painting their uniquely disturbing soundscapes across history and time.” An equally gobsmacked Kenstrosity added, “This twelfth album, soon upon us, perpetuates that standard and may even prove, with time, to have elevated it once again.” Strong words for the Grand Titans of Death. All hail Immolation.

Runner(s) Up:

At the Gates // The Ghost of a Future Dead [April 24th, 2026 | Century Media | Bandcamp] — It’s very difficult to review an album that you know will be the last for a metal luminary. It’s the end of a life, an era, and a musical companion you’ve traveled with for years, even decades. Such was the dilemma facing Grymm when The Ghost of a Future Dead was released in the aftermath of the tragic passing of legendary vocalist Tomas Lindberg. At the Gates have had plenty of genre-defining moments over their career, and fortunately, what Tomas left us with here can stand proudly among their very best. It’s a vicious, face-melting slab of thrashy melodeath with hooks and fangs aplenty, showcasing the classic At the Gates sound and the caustic, corrosive vocals of a brave and ever-defiant Tomas. As Grymm astutely summarized, ” If this ends up being At The Gates’ swansong, 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.” Journey on, metal brother.

Green Carnation // A Dark Poem Part II: Sanguis [April 3rd, 2026 | Season of Mist | Bandcamp] — Successor act of Norway’s In the Woods..., Green Carnation traveled a strange musical path since 2000, passing through death and Gothic metal to eventually arrive at a kind of progressive metal-lite. A Dark Poem Part II: Sanguis finds them continuing their Poem trilogy, offering hard-edged moments alongside plenty of sad, sullen set pieces sure to bring the feelz to the coldest of hearts. Musically, Sanguis explores some older Green Carnation sounds while also pushing their style forward into new spaces, always with quality songcraft at the forefront. There are some genuinely tear-jerking moments here if you like to feel unhappy. As the usually jaded, cynical, and cranky-assed Doc Grier gushed, “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.” Flower power!

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

Me Saco Un Ojo Records has fast become one of my favorite death metal labels, signing bands whose music sates my sickened sweet tooth and reeks with the dirty, rotten, filthy, stinking, rich stench of death! Warranted tags that also describe Costa Rica’s newest OSDM export and Me Saco Un Ojo rosterlings, Candarian. Inspired by early 90s death metal, guitarist Christopher G. De Haan and bassist/vocalist José Pablo Phillips (Astriferous) birthed Candarian in 2020, gigging extensively throughout their local scene on the strength of a handful of songs that would eventually end up on their 2022 demo, Stagnant Livor Mortis—a meaty morsel of moldy maleficence. Four years further down the cemetery path with tandem label partner Memento Mori in tow and that charmingly grotesque Grant Hatfield cover art in hand, Candarian prepare to dump their debut bucket of blood, Trepanación, on you, and the heads of unsuspecting prom queens everywhere. Having precariously lived through the original 90s death metal wave, I was curious to see whether Candarian would have any fresh ideas to offer. Is Trepanación the death shroud I’ll cozily wrap myself up in on a cold night, or will it have me praying for someone to strap me down and drill a hole in my skull, too?

Candarian peddle in plague-laden, gore-soaked, horror-themed OSDM, with Trepanación serving up steaming bowls of slop bloated with chunks of Incantation and Autopsy. Not entirely original perhaps, but still not a bad place from which to draw inspiration, especially if well executed. Which Candarian does, sans feats of technical wizardry, as De Haan and fellow string-slayer Felipe Tencio (Astriferous) opt instead to perform ear-hole surgery with a Golgothan bag full of rusty, tremoloed riffs, serrated squealies, and mangled, meat-hammered chugs (“Altars and Ancestors”). On drums stretched taut with human skin, blunt force butcher Pablo Umaña keeps the Candarian brain-drill from boring any errant head holes while Phillips, whose bass lines lurk and gurgle below like blood-clogged lungs (“Psychosurgery Ecstasy”) and whose cavernous bellows strike a very John McEntee chord, rounds out the cadaverous quartet. It’s clear these Ticos know death metal.

Candarian muscles their way through Trepanación with biceps built on strongwriting. Shifts in tone and pace within tracks are written with alacrity and performed with a transitional maturity that never feels forced or too abrupt. Basking in beams of light cast by “The Ibex Moon,”1 the ghoulishly fun “Zombie Miscarriage” morphs smoothly from down-tuned tremolo-monstrous riffs over lumbering double-bass rolls to drunkenly swerving doom chords and mid-paced chug ‘n squeals, all punctuated by Phillips’ rancorous roars. Another limb retaining some viably meaty moments is “Relinquished Viscera,” its sluggish, Morbificated opening riffs acquiescing easily to speedier harmonic leads and oft-used pus-pinching harmonics. The last of my odious shoutouts goes to album closer “Vilipendio del Cadaver”2 which sweats Mental Funeral-filled beads of ichor as it trudges and stomps a path filled with doomy goodness, Sabbathian trills, and a swingy section that could give “In the Grip of Winter” a run for its money.

Candarian hit the nail on the head of 90s death metal. Paying tribute to their influences without sounding overtly derivative and accomplishing this through a production that maintains just the right amount of rawness to stay menacing without devolving into the overly cloudy, reverberant depths of early cavern-core. Manageably brief, with a runtime barely cresting 33 minutes, Trepanación tends to feel longer than it is, thanks in part to all the inter-song twists and turns and to four of the seven tracks exceeding the 5-minute mark. Not a major knock, but it was something I felt on all my play-throughs. Working most against them, without having done anything egregiously bad or exceptionally good, is Candarian’s throwback “no more but no less” approach, as this can only take them so far. Which also reinforces guidance I once received from one wizened, hairy primate related to scoring death metal of this ilk.

If you’re ever in the mood for better than passable, old-school, filthy death metal, the Me Saco Un Ojo roster—Cryptworm, Invictus, Phrenelith, Ossuary, Diabolizer and many more among them—does not disappoint. Candarian, a band I’ll certainly be keeping tabs on, is another fine addition, and you could do a lot worse than spend an afternoon or three getting skull fucked by Trepanación.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Me Saco Un Ojo | Memento Mori
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: April 27th, 2026

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Great Observer – Loss of Transcendence Review

There are few concepts in the Western tradition as misunderstood as that of “the death…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2.0 #2026 #Apr26 #BlackMetal #BlackenedDeathMetal #BlackenedThrashMetal #BlackSeedProductions #DeathMetal #diSEMBOWELMENT #Entertainment #ItalianMetal #LossofTranscendence #MorbidAngel #Necrophobic #review #reviews #TheGreatObserver #ThrashMetal #TombMold
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/617223/

The Great Observer – Loss of Transcendence Review

There are few concepts in the Western tradition as misunderstood as that of “the death…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2.0 #2026 #Apr26 #BlackMetal #BlackenedDeathMetal #BlackenedThrashMetal #BlackSeedProductions #DeathMetal #diSEMBOWELMENT #Entertainment #ItalianMetal #LossofTranscendence #MorbidAngel #Necrophobic #review #reviews #TheGreatObserver #ThrashMetal #TombMold
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/617223/

https://www.europesays.com/uk/930648/ The Great Observer – Loss of Transcendence Review #20 #2026 #Apr26 #BlackMetal #BlackenedDeathMetal #BlackenedThrashMetal #BlackSeedProductions #DeathMetal #diSEMBOWELMENT #Entertainment #ItalianMetal #LossOfTranscendence #MorbidAngel #music #Necrophobic #Review #Reviews #TheGreatObserver #ThrashMetal #TombMold #UK #UnitedKingdom

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Am 03. Mai rollt die #ADFC NRW-Sternfahrt nach un d in Düsseldorf! 🚲 Sei dabei beim Zubringer ab Horrem.
#warumichradfahre #lifestyle65 #apr26 #warumichradfahreblog #mar26 #apr26 #HeimatEntdecker

https://warumichradfahre.blog/2026/04/29/zubringer-check-von-horrem-grevenbroich-zur-sternfahrt-nrw/?utm_source=mastodon&utm_medium=jetpack_social

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

Spezi offiziell vorbei für mich, war ein toller Tag. Alles noch mal im Blog‼️

#warumichradfahre #lifestyle65 #apr26 #warumichradfahreblog #mar26 #apr26 #HeimatEntdecker

https://warumichradfahre.blog/2026/04/25/was-gibts-neues-auf-der-spezi-live-update-von-der-spezialradmesse-freiburg-%f0%9f%9b%a0%ef%b8%8f%f0%9f%94%8b/

Miguel Santos loves Edgar Allan Poe. He turned that love into a (sort of) one-man metal project called A Dream of Poe and uses a place called Tell-Tale Studios for mixing and mastering his records—Poe is clearly dear to his heart. The musical dream nearly crumbled, however, when a fire ravaged Santos’s home, destroying the music he’d written for his latest album—all but one song. This must have been devastating, yet from the ashes he resurrected the music and its tale about one character’s descent into the lowest of places: the underworld. Katabasis: A Marriage Among Ashes uses the symbolism of ashes as a parallel to Santos’s own personal tragedy in order to chronicle the agony of loss. The result is an album defined not by bleak darkness, but a sad beauty.

If you’re going to create a band inspired by Poe, there’s no genre more fitting than gothic doom mixed with the classical Romanticism of symphonic instruments. A Dream of Poe takes the form of My Dying Bride without its crushing brutality and the classicism of Tempestuous Fall without its opulence. Katabasis is a surprisingly tender and gentle piece of doom. The pianos and violins add a soft touch, and the guitars strum lovely melodies. The marriage of gentle and lightly brutal opens things on the poignant “The Wail of Gaea,” where the strings and pianos take turns setting a melancholic tone. “The Lament of Phaethon” begins with arpeggios and vocals that take on a folky Dolven vibe, and blaring horns late in the song tell of bad omens to come. Santos shows a knack for hooky choruses, particularly on the catchy “Lamia.” The hookiness returns on the finale, “À Medida de Damastes,” sung in what I assume is Santos’s native Portuguese. This tune kicks up the energy slightly, à la Paradise Lost, before descending into a chilling surge of terror that shatters the peace A Dream of Poe had previously maintained.

A Dream of Poe is technically a one-man project, yet Santos collaborates with a number of musicians who help shape Katabasis. Two of these collaborators split the bulk of the singing duties. Kaivan Saraei handles the first four tracks, with a voice that carries a gothic calm, evoking Dolven’s Jori Apedaile. João Melo, who closes the record out, has a more earthy tone that grows rawer when it increases in intensity. Santos himself contributes, briefly, with some growls that may be underpowered, but fit with the gentler nature of the album. Though Santos handles almost all instruments, other musicians aid in some small but important roles. Ruben Correia plays several guitar solos across Katabasis, providing some nice breaks from the gloom, notably on “Lamia” and “The Captivity of Hesperus.” Correia also plays violins on “The Lament of Phaethon” and “Lamia,” where he brings an organic and poignant touch to what are already terrific tunes. Regardless of who contributes, the musicians pour their hearts and souls into creating this emotionally striking work of art.

With funeral doom, lengthy slow burns are par for the course, yet writing a song that doesn’t overextend itself becomes a tricky balancing act. A majority of tracks on Katabasis fall in the seven-minute range and feel just right. The eleven-minute “Exhorting Nightmares” proves an exception. At seven minutes, it would have been fine, yet Santos keeps it going and even tacks on an ill-advised spoken word section towards the end. On the whole, Katabasis falls into a rather tight 45 minutes, so it’s only a minor complaint. The only other knock against the record is the lack of power behind the guitars and growls. A Dream of Poe is not aiming for the sort of power that My Dying Bride consistently delivers, but a little extra oomph here and there would have made a greater emotional impact.

It would have been so easy to give up in the midst of the loss Santos suffered. Yet he forged ahead and revived his lost music. While Katabasis presents a descent into a bleak place, there is something triumphant in the finished product. Santos, it seems, found himself at the edge of the pit, the imp within contemplating the fall, before the pendulum swung back and pulled him from the brink. He heard the beat of the Tell-Tale Studios and found himself driven not by madness, but by a desire to create his music and leave an indelible mark on the world of heavy metal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Update: Tausende bei Demo in Köln! Viel Kritik gegen eine rückwärts gerichtete Energiepolitik der Bundesregierung
#warumichradfahre #lifestyle65 #apr26 #warumichradfahreblog #mar26 #apr26 #HeimatEntdecker

https://warumichradfahre.blog/2026/04/18/update-sattel-statt-stillstand-mein-einsatz-fuer-die-energiewende/?utm_source=mastodon&utm_medium=jetpack_social

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

Farben, die bleiben. Wände, die Geschichten erzählen. 🎨✨ #StreetArt#warumichradfahre #lifestyle65 #apr26 #warumichradfahreblog #mar26 #apr26 #HeimatEntdecker

https://warumichradfahre.blog/2026/04/13/graffiti-mit-stil-wildstyle-an-unerwarteten-orten/?utm_source=mastodon&utm_medium=jetpack_social

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

Keine Lust auf Baustellen? Die Fähre Langel-Hitdorf läuft! ⛴️ Für kleines Geld gibt's 10 Min. Urlaub pur.
#warumichradfahre #lifestyle65 #apr26 #warumichradfahreblog #mar26 #apr26 #HeimatEntdecker

https://warumichradfahre.blog/2026/04/13/rheinquerung-mal-anders-warum-ich-die-faehre-liebe/?utm_source=mastodon&utm_medium=jetpack_social

Brompton G Line: 20-Zoll-Räder, Scheibenbremsen, mehr Komfort. Mein Fazit nach knapp 1 Jahr: Es hält, was es verspricht. 🚴‍♂️
#warumichradfahre #lifestyle65 #apr26 #warumichradfahreblog #mar26 #apr26 #HeimatEntdecker

https://warumichradfahre.blog/2026/04/11/brompton-in-der-community-begeisterung-ist-ansteckend/?utm_source=mastodon&utm_medium=jetpack_social

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

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

Heaven Wept by Inferi

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

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

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

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

Just off Spain’s Mediterranean coast lie the Balearic Islands. Among the approximately 1.2 million island residents is a cadre of musicians who appear to have played together in a variety of projects for some time.1 SolNegre comprises four of these musicians along with a handful of guest contributors. Based on the photos of the beautiful sandy beaches and clear blue water, you might think these guys would play a cheerful genre like Beach Boys-core. Yet, even the beach life must have its woes because what SolNegre deliver is a slab of melancholic doom that has more in common with My Dying Bride or Saturnus than any band playing songs about Piña coladas. Just the sight of their apocalyptic album title, Anthems for the Grand Collapse, makes me want to soak in one of those lovely beaches to rinse off the bleakness. Let’s dive in and see how well these island dwellers do the sadboi.

While the intro for opener, “The Axiom – Song for the Inert Part II,”2 reveals SolNegre’s flair for using synths to create atmosphere, the meat of the song establishes their mix of crushing My Dying Bride riffs and growls with the more energetic death/doom of Novembers Doom. A hooky melodic lead wends its way throughout, culminating in an ambitious solo that takes the lead to new levels. The incredibly catchy follow-up, “The Hollow Inside,” includes a chorus that potentially has appeal for a mainstream audience, even if the track goes off in decidedly non-mainstream directions. The flip side to the death/doom is an Ennui-level funeral doom tune that casts a pall over the already dour mood (“For All that Could Have Been”). SolNegre play sorrowful tunes in an impressively varied number of ways.

The Axiom – Song for the Inert Part 2 by SolNegre

The band members’ strong chemistry shows in their talent and cohesiveness. Ûkh lays down a powerful vocal performance with some muscular death growls. He adds heft and punch alongside an impressively bass-heavy guitar attack. Gebre proves to be the glue that adheres the record together. His deep, chugging bass features on nearly every track, and he also gets to play a nifty jazz solo midway through “The Hollow Within.” Guest contributors add some varied character throughout, such as a solo from Mike Le Rosetti that comprises almost the entire back half of “The Axiom” and some cleans from Pedro Inglés during the jazzy segue on “The Hollow Within.” SolNegre hands the reins over to recurring guest singer Gadea es Ineseta3 and violinist Núria Luis on the remarkably lovely “In the Stillness of the Womb.” Though it skews more soft rock than extreme metal, it features such poignant and affecting performances from Ineseta and Luis that it feels right at home among these anthems to a grand collapse.

20260102_224403

A few iffy songwriting decisions do keep Anthems for the Grand Collapse from greatness, however. For one, SolNegre struggle with coherent lyrics on some tracks. This is especially problematic on “The Hollow Within,” where an awkward attempt at a metaphor combining loneliness, water, and drowning leads to the laughably bad line, “A room without doors or windows / Knowing how to swim is wise.” It’s a sore part of an otherwise terrific song. Further, the hot and cold pacing creates a stuttering feel throughout the record, with a few tunes creeping too slowly and others creeping on a bit too long. “For All That Could Have Been” in particular sags in the middle of the album. Individually, the songs are good to great, but transitions between them can be jarring.

Next time you want to balance out your bright and cheery beach vacation with some downer music, you should pack SolNegre’s Anthems for the Grand Collapse. It’s sure to have you and your family looking to drown out your loneliness and sorrows in the warm, beautiful waters lapping at your toes. This has proven to be a solid sophomore effort from the Balearic Islands. I love to hear the passion on display, and even where the band shows some warts, it only makes the record all the more endearing. I hope those island beaches don’t keep these guys happy and occupied for too long so they can put out another record sooner rather than later.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Meuse Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: April 3rd, 2026

3.300 km in Q1! Mein Brompton #GSpot ist der absolute Kilometer-König. 🚲💨
#warumichradfahre #lifestyle65 #apr26 #warumichradfahreblog #mar26 #HeimatEntdecker

https://warumichradfahre.blog/2026/04/03/q1-check-3-300-kilometer-und-ein-brompton-als-champion/?utm_source=mastodon&utm_medium=jetpack_social