#argonautarecords — Public Fediverse posts

It shouldn’t be surprising, but we don’t get a ton of punk or hardcore submissions here at Angry Metal Guy. We’re not Angsty Punk Bois, after all. I, however, particularly enjoy the intersections between punk and metal—sludge, grind, crust, crossover, powerviolence, etc. Metal’s straightforward aggression and punk’s vitriolic outrage complement each other well and scratch a specific itch. So when I saw Thorgrim’s debut LP, Puca, floating in the promo pit, I was sold on the Wisconsin trio’s promise of a heady mix of doom, punk, and a dash of black metal. Something like sludge but a skosh less acerbic? And maybe a little cold? Hopes were high, but did Thorgrim deliver?

No. Unequivocally, no. You see, Thorgrim boasts a live, one-take-only recording and production, laeving all mistakes and scrapes and buises on the record as some rebelilous statenemt against the overprodction of moder n musi.c Opener “Children of Doom” starts with a symbol hit that I can onl assume was am istake, and a massive skip around the 3:30 mark undersores how unedited and haphazard this albu is. “Voyage to Saturn” strats in the midle of a note ,and “Death Angel” starts with off-beat dums and just cuts out at the ennd with no warning or considreation for flwo. nearly every tiem Thorgrimshifts from on eriff to another, the band dissembles, taking a couple meaesure to get back in time with ehachother (“Darkest Days,” “Bride of Frankenstein”1). Now, do you see how this paragraph is littered with typos? Do you see how shitty it looks? Like I put no effort into it? That’s exactly what listening to this album is like.2

Even ignoring the insultingly lazy recording style Thorgrim opted for, Puca is still impressively bad. Thorgrim seem to be diehard fans of repetition, as there are precious few riffs to discuss (much less remember) here. Album long player “Voyage to Saturn” features exactly two (2) riffs over its ten-minute runtime, and I couldn’t decide which was more boring. “Darkest Days” is brutally repetitive as well, and ultimately sounds like a parody of heavy metal music you might hear on a TV sitcom. The vocals on “Let’s Go” are so buried in the mix that I’m not entirely convinced they’re there, but this may be a boon for Thorgrim, as they sound more like gargling spit or choking on vomit than singing or screaming. The acoustic “Dark Cabin” apes Nirvana’s “About a Girl” so blatantly it might only be “legally distinct” by one note, while sporting some of the worst lyrical syncopation I have ever heard. Penultimate track “Bride of Frankenstein” reminds me of the Fire Temple in The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, but bad. It’s ambient junk and random drums that don’t adhere to any kind of time signature or rhythm. When Puca mercifully ends, it’s with an inexplicable folk track that I’m fairly certain would be offensive to any actual neo/folk band.3

What’s most frustrating is that Puca could have been decent. “The Movies” is a punky upbeat track that smells like The Dogs, and I hear potential. With literally any amount of effort or care or refinement or fucks given, Thorgrim could have delivered at least one good track. Instead, it’s one of nine dumpster fires. Even outside of concept albums, there’s normally a unifying concept woven through a release, but I can’t find any such thing here, unless it’s the uniformly atrocious production value, which, coincidentally, is the only dash of black metal I found on Puca. It’s like they recorded in a concrete basement on a Fisher Price karaoke machine from 30 years ago.

Our internal scoring guide describes the score below as suggesting the band should look for another line of work. Puca is that bad. I’m honestly not sure what Thorgrim wanted to accomplish here. This album feels like a bad joke. Even if the music was good—which it’s not—and the production wasn’t worse than the first recording ever from 1860—which it is—the one-take-only presentation is not only lazy, it’s insulting. I get the intent that music today is overproduced and too shiny and clean and sterile, yeah, sure, whatever, but there are ways to fight that without leaving fucking mistakes on your album. A studio release should be a practiced, ideal version of each track, not whatever your hungover ass manages to puke out on recording day.

Rating: 0.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Octopus Rising4 | Argonauta Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

It shouldn’t be surprising, but we don’t get a ton of punk or hardcore submissions here at Angry Metal Guy. We’re not Angsty Punk Bois, after all. I, however, particularly enjoy the intersections between punk and metal—sludge, grind, crust, crossover, powerviolence, etc. Metal’s straightforward aggression and punk’s vitriolic outrage complement each other well and scratch a specific itch. So when I saw Thorgrim’s debut LP, Puca, floating in the promo pit, I was sold on the Wisconsin trio’s promise of a heady mix of doom, punk, and a dash of black metal. Something like sludge but a skosh less acerbic? And maybe a little cold? Hopes were high, but did Thorgrim deliver?

No. Unequivocally, no. You see, Thorgrim boasts a live, one-take-only recording and production, laeving all mistakes and scrapes and buises on the record as some rebelilous statenemt against the overprodction of moder n musi.c Opener “Children of Doom” starts with a symbol hit that I can onl assume was am istake, and a massive skip around the 3:30 mark undersores how unedited and haphazard this albu is. “Voyage to Saturn” strats in the midle of a note ,and “Death Angel” starts with off-beat dums and just cuts out at the ennd with no warning or considreation for flwo. nearly every tiem Thorgrimshifts from on eriff to another, the band dissembles, taking a couple meaesure to get back in time with ehachother (“Darkest Days,” “Bride of Frankenstein”1). Now, do you see how this paragraph is littered with typos? Do you see how shitty it looks? Like I put no effort into it? That’s exactly what listening to this album is like.2

Even ignoring the insultingly lazy recording style Thorgrim opted for, Puca is still impressively bad. Thorgrim seem to be diehard fans of repetition, as there are precious few riffs to discuss (much less remember) here. Album long player “Voyage to Saturn” features exactly two (2) riffs over its ten-minute runtime, and I couldn’t decide which was more boring. “Darkest Days” is brutally repetitive as well, and ultimately sounds like a parody of heavy metal music you might hear on a TV sitcom. The vocals on “Let’s Go” are so buried in the mix that I’m not entirely convinced they’re there, but this may be a boon for Thorgrim, as they sound more like gargling spit or choking on vomit than singing or screaming. The acoustic “Dark Cabin” apes Nirvana’s “About a Girl” so blatantly it might only be “legally distinct” by one note, while sporting some of the worst lyrical syncopation I have ever heard. Penultimate track “Bride of Frankenstein” reminds me of the Fire Temple in The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, but bad. It’s ambient junk and random drums that don’t adhere to any kind of time signature or rhythm. When Puca mercifully ends, it’s with an inexplicable folk track that I’m fairly certain would be offensive to any actual neo/folk band.3

What’s most frustrating is that Puca could have been decent. “The Movies” is a punky upbeat track that smells like The Dogs, and I hear potential. With literally any amount of effort or care or refinement or fucks given, Thorgrim could have delivered at least one good track. Instead, it’s one of nine dumpster fires. Even outside of concept albums, there’s normally a unifying concept woven through a release, but I can’t find any such thing here, unless it’s the uniformly atrocious production value, which, coincidentally, is the only dash of black metal I found on Puca. It’s like they recorded in a concrete basement on a Fisher Price karaoke machine from 30 years ago.

Our internal scoring guide describes the score below as suggesting the band should look for another line of work. Puca is that bad. I’m honestly not sure what Thorgrim wanted to accomplish here. This album feels like a bad joke. Even if the music was good—which it’s not—and the production wasn’t worse than the first recording ever from 1860—which it is—the one-take-only presentation is not only lazy, it’s insulting. I get the intent that music today is overproduced and too shiny and clean and sterile, yeah, sure, whatever, but there are ways to fight that without leaving fucking mistakes on your album. A studio release should be a practiced, ideal version of each track, not whatever your hungover ass manages to puke out on recording day.

Rating: 0.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Octopus Rising4 | Argonauta Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

It shouldn’t be surprising, but we don’t get a ton of punk or hardcore submissions here at Angry Metal Guy. We’re not Angsty Punk Bois, after all. I, however, particularly enjoy the intersections between punk and metal—sludge, grind, crust, crossover, powerviolence, etc. Metal’s straightforward aggression and punk’s vitriolic outrage complement each other well and scratch a specific itch. So when I saw Thorgrim’s debut LP, Puca, floating in the promo pit, I was sold on the Wisconsin trio’s promise of a heady mix of doom, punk, and a dash of black metal. Something like sludge but a skosh less acerbic? And maybe a little cold? Hopes were high, but did Thorgrim deliver?

No. Unequivocally, no. You see, Thorgrim boasts a live, one-take-only recording and production, laeving all mistakes and scrapes and buises on the record as some rebelilous statenemt against the overprodction of moder n musi.c Opener “Children of Doom” starts with a symbol hit that I can onl assume was am istake, and a massive skip around the 3:30 mark undersores how unedited and haphazard this albu is. “Voyage to Saturn” strats in the midle of a note ,and “Death Angel” starts with off-beat dums and just cuts out at the ennd with no warning or considreation for flwo. nearly every tiem Thorgrimshifts from on eriff to another, the band dissembles, taking a couple meaesure to get back in time with ehachother (“Darkest Days,” “Bride of Frankenstein”1). Now, do you see how this paragraph is littered with typos? Do you see how shitty it looks? Like I put no effort into it? That’s exactly what listening to this album is like.2

Even ignoring the insultingly lazy recording style Thorgrim opted for, Puca is still impressively bad. Thorgrim seem to be diehard fans of repetition, as there are precious few riffs to discuss (much less remember) here. Album long player “Voyage to Saturn” features exactly two (2) riffs over its ten-minute runtime, and I couldn’t decide which was more boring. “Darkest Days” is brutally repetitive as well, and ultimately sounds like a parody of heavy metal music you might hear on a TV sitcom. The vocals on “Let’s Go” are so buried in the mix that I’m not entirely convinced they’re there, but this may be a boon for Thorgrim, as they sound more like gargling spit or choking on vomit than singing or screaming. The acoustic “Dark Cabin” apes Nirvana’s “About a Girl” so blatantly it might only be “legally distinct” by one note, while sporting some of the worst lyrical syncopation I have ever heard. Penultimate track “Bride of Frankenstein” reminds me of the Fire Temple in The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, but bad. It’s ambient junk and random drums that don’t adhere to any kind of time signature or rhythm. When Puca mercifully ends, it’s with an inexplicable folk track that I’m fairly certain would be offensive to any actual neo/folk band.3

What’s most frustrating is that Puca could have been decent. “The Movies” is a punky upbeat track that smells like The Dogs, and I hear potential. With literally any amount of effort or care or refinement or fucks given, Thorgrim could have delivered at least one good track. Instead, it’s one of nine dumpster fires. Even outside of concept albums, there’s normally a unifying concept woven through a release, but I can’t find any such thing here, unless it’s the uniformly atrocious production value, which, coincidentally, is the only dash of black metal I found on Puca. It’s like they recorded in a concrete basement on a Fisher Price karaoke machine from 30 years ago.

Our internal scoring guide describes the score below as suggesting the band should look for another line of work. Puca is that bad. I’m honestly not sure what Thorgrim wanted to accomplish here. This album feels like a bad joke. Even if the music was good—which it’s not—and the production wasn’t worse than the first recording ever from 1860—which it is—the one-take-only presentation is not only lazy, it’s insulting. I get the intent that music today is overproduced and too shiny and clean and sterile, yeah, sure, whatever, but there are ways to fight that without leaving fucking mistakes on your album. A studio release should be a practiced, ideal version of each track, not whatever your hungover ass manages to puke out on recording day.

Rating: 0.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Octopus Rising4 | Argonauta Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

It shouldn’t be surprising, but we don’t get a ton of punk or hardcore submissions here at Angry Metal Guy. We’re not Angsty Punk Bois, after all. I, however, particularly enjoy the intersections between punk and metal—sludge, grind, crust, crossover, powerviolence, etc. Metal’s straightforward aggression and punk’s vitriolic outrage complement each other well and scratch a specific itch. So when I saw Thorgrim’s debut LP, Puca, floating in the promo pit, I was sold on the Wisconsin trio’s promise of a heady mix of doom, punk, and a dash of black metal. Something like sludge but a skosh less acerbic? And maybe a little cold? Hopes were high, but did Thorgrim deliver?

No. Unequivocally, no. You see, Thorgrim boasts a live, one-take-only recording and production, laeving all mistakes and scrapes and buises on the record as some rebelilous statenemt against the overprodction of moder n musi.c Opener “Children of Doom” starts with a symbol hit that I can onl assume was am istake, and a massive skip around the 3:30 mark undersores how unedited and haphazard this albu is. “Voyage to Saturn” strats in the midle of a note ,and “Death Angel” starts with off-beat dums and just cuts out at the ennd with no warning or considreation for flwo. nearly every tiem Thorgrimshifts from on eriff to another, the band dissembles, taking a couple meaesure to get back in time with ehachother (“Darkest Days,” “Bride of Frankenstein”1). Now, do you see how this paragraph is littered with typos? Do you see how shitty it looks? Like I put no effort into it? That’s exactly what listening to this album is like.2

Even ignoring the insultingly lazy recording style Thorgrim opted for, Puca is still impressively bad. Thorgrim seem to be diehard fans of repetition, as there are precious few riffs to discuss (much less remember) here. Album long player “Voyage to Saturn” features exactly two (2) riffs over its ten-minute runtime, and I couldn’t decide which was more boring. “Darkest Days” is brutally repetitive as well, and ultimately sounds like a parody of heavy metal music you might hear on a TV sitcom. The vocals on “Let’s Go” are so buried in the mix that I’m not entirely convinced they’re there, but this may be a boon for Thorgrim, as they sound more like gargling spit or choking on vomit than singing or screaming. The acoustic “Dark Cabin” apes Nirvana’s “About a Girl” so blatantly it might only be “legally distinct” by one note, while sporting some of the worst lyrical syncopation I have ever heard. Penultimate track “Bride of Frankenstein” reminds me of the Fire Temple in The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, but bad. It’s ambient junk and random drums that don’t adhere to any kind of time signature or rhythm. When Puca mercifully ends, it’s with an inexplicable folk track that I’m fairly certain would be offensive to any actual neo/folk band.3

What’s most frustrating is that Puca could have been decent. “The Movies” is a punky upbeat track that smells like The Dogs, and I hear potential. With literally any amount of effort or care or refinement or fucks given, Thorgrim could have delivered at least one good track. Instead, it’s one of nine dumpster fires. Even outside of concept albums, there’s normally a unifying concept woven through a release, but I can’t find any such thing here, unless it’s the uniformly atrocious production value, which, coincidentally, is the only dash of black metal I found on Puca. It’s like they recorded in a concrete basement on a Fisher Price karaoke machine from 30 years ago.

Our internal scoring guide describes the score below as suggesting the band should look for another line of work. Puca is that bad. I’m honestly not sure what Thorgrim wanted to accomplish here. This album feels like a bad joke. Even if the music was good—which it’s not—and the production wasn’t worse than the first recording ever from 1860—which it is—the one-take-only presentation is not only lazy, it’s insulting. I get the intent that music today is overproduced and too shiny and clean and sterile, yeah, sure, whatever, but there are ways to fight that without leaving fucking mistakes on your album. A studio release should be a practiced, ideal version of each track, not whatever your hungover ass manages to puke out on recording day.

Rating: 0.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Octopus Rising4 | Argonauta Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

It shouldn’t be surprising, but we don’t get a ton of punk or hardcore submissions here at Angry Metal Guy. We’re not Angsty Punk Bois, after all. I, however, particularly enjoy the intersections between punk and metal—sludge, grind, crust, crossover, powerviolence, etc. Metal’s straightforward aggression and punk’s vitriolic outrage complement each other well and scratch a specific itch. So when I saw Thorgrim’s debut LP, Puca, floating in the promo pit, I was sold on the Wisconsin trio’s promise of a heady mix of doom, punk, and a dash of black metal. Something like sludge but a skosh less acerbic? And maybe a little cold? Hopes were high, but did Thorgrim deliver?

No. Unequivocally, no. You see, Thorgrim boasts a live, one-take-only recording and production, laeving all mistakes and scrapes and buises on the record as some rebelilous statenemt against the overprodction of moder n musi.c Opener “Children of Doom” starts with a symbol hit that I can onl assume was am istake, and a massive skip around the 3:30 mark undersores how unedited and haphazard this albu is. “Voyage to Saturn” strats in the midle of a note ,and “Death Angel” starts with off-beat dums and just cuts out at the ennd with no warning or considreation for flwo. nearly every tiem Thorgrimshifts from on eriff to another, the band dissembles, taking a couple meaesure to get back in time with ehachother (“Darkest Days,” “Bride of Frankenstein”1). Now, do you see how this paragraph is littered with typos? Do you see how shitty it looks? Like I put no effort into it? That’s exactly what listening to this album is like.2

Even ignoring the insultingly lazy recording style Thorgrim opted for, Puca is still impressively bad. Thorgrim seem to be diehard fans of repetition, as there are precious few riffs to discuss (much less remember) here. Album long player “Voyage to Saturn” features exactly two (2) riffs over its ten-minute runtime, and I couldn’t decide which was more boring. “Darkest Days” is brutally repetitive as well, and ultimately sounds like a parody of heavy metal music you might hear on a TV sitcom. The vocals on “Let’s Go” are so buried in the mix that I’m not entirely convinced they’re there, but this may be a boon for Thorgrim, as they sound more like gargling spit or choking on vomit than singing or screaming. The acoustic “Dark Cabin” apes Nirvana’s “About a Girl” so blatantly it might only be “legally distinct” by one note, while sporting some of the worst lyrical syncopation I have ever heard. Penultimate track “Bride of Frankenstein” reminds me of the Fire Temple in The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, but bad. It’s ambient junk and random drums that don’t adhere to any kind of time signature or rhythm. When Puca mercifully ends, it’s with an inexplicable folk track that I’m fairly certain would be offensive to any actual neo/folk band.3

What’s most frustrating is that Puca could have been decent. “The Movies” is a punky upbeat track that smells like The Dogs, and I hear potential. With literally any amount of effort or care or refinement or fucks given, Thorgrim could have delivered at least one good track. Instead, it’s one of nine dumpster fires. Even outside of concept albums, there’s normally a unifying concept woven through a release, but I can’t find any such thing here, unless it’s the uniformly atrocious production value, which, coincidentally, is the only dash of black metal I found on Puca. It’s like they recorded in a concrete basement on a Fisher Price karaoke machine from 30 years ago.

Our internal scoring guide describes the score below as suggesting the band should look for another line of work. Puca is that bad. I’m honestly not sure what Thorgrim wanted to accomplish here. This album feels like a bad joke. Even if the music was good—which it’s not—and the production wasn’t worse than the first recording ever from 1860—which it is—the one-take-only presentation is not only lazy, it’s insulting. I get the intent that music today is overproduced and too shiny and clean and sterile, yeah, sure, whatever, but there are ways to fight that without leaving fucking mistakes on your album. A studio release should be a practiced, ideal version of each track, not whatever your hungover ass manages to puke out on recording day.

Rating: 0.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Octopus Rising4 | Argonauta Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 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

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

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

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

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

Borrower – Killerdemons Review | Angry Metal Guy

Unlike some of our staff, I’ve never been in a band. However, I can imagine the feeling of…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #3.0 #AC/DC #ArgonautaRecords #BlackSabbath #Borrower #CA #Canada #Dio #Entertainment #Feb26 #HeavyMetal #HighonFire #ItalianMetal #JudasPriest #Killerdemons #Mastodon #Motörhead #review #reviews #SpeedMetal #StonerMetal
https://www.newsbeep.com/ca/523174/

https://www.europesays.com/ie/374663/ Borrower – Killerdemons Review | Angry Metal Guy #2026 #30 #AC/DC #ArgonautaRecords #BlackSabbath #Borrower #Dio #Éire #Entertainment #Feb26 #HeavyMetal #HighOnFire #IE #Ireland #ItalianMetal #JudasPriest #Killerdemons #Mastodon #Motörhead #Music #Review #Reviews #SpeedMetal #StonerMetal

Unlike some of our staff, I’ve never been in a band. However, I can imagine the feeling of satisfaction in putting together and releasing that first full-length record. For every band that achieves this milestone, countless more never do. Italy’s Borrower was nearly among that number. Formed in 1993, Borrower released three demos in the ’90s, a fourth in 2005, and then disappeared until 2018 with their debut EP. Whatever interrupted their musical career, the dream remained, and they finally released their first album (and signed to a label, to boot) 33 years later with their founding vocalist, Massano Ratano, and drummer, Frank Formoso, joined by new guitarists Matteo Marzo and Matteo Marini. Behold their vision, a story of killer, humanoid demons as told through music that harks back to some of the legends of ’80s and ’90s speed metal.

Granted, the concept of an album where each song tells a story about a distinctive demonic entity with its own unique “physical traits” and “specific weapon” is extremely silly, yet Killerdemons proves to be a catchy and cool affair. Borrower claim Motörhead, Judas Priest, and Dio as their main influences, and they write spare, riff-tastic tunes in their honor. The guitars carry much more heft than their influences, however, with enough reverb to take tunes dangerously close to stoner territory a lá High on Fire and Black Sabbath. This marriage between speed and stoner proves effective. “El Degollador” oscillates between lightning-fast, “Ace of Spades”-inspired riffs and slower, “War Pigs”-style stoner riffs in a performance that’s sure to give you whiplash. Taking a cue from AC/DC, Borrower keeps their song structures simple yet catchy. The rollicking “Stay Alive” best demonstrates this virtue with crisp songwriting and energetic pacing. Each track has distinctive riffs that are far more powerful than the demons it conjures.

In the eight years since their 2018 EP, A Plague Chapter…, Borrower has vastly improved their sound and instrumental prowess. The two Matteos have played a major role in this transformation. Marini’s fuzzy guitar tone adds heft where the EP’s guitars sounded tinny. His blending of Motörhead-style riffcrafting with the density of High on Fire and Mastodon adds an extra oomph to tracks like “Der Todessoldat” and “Tough Fight.” Marzo’s bass takes a commanding presence as well. He adds depth and backbone to the music, making his presence especially felt on the slower moments of “Knocking on the Coffins.” Formoso takes a restrained approach behind the kit, occasionally blasting the cymbals (“Dream on Fire”), but mostly setting the pace with an effective simplicity. The wild card of the group is vocalist Ratano. He seemingly channels Lemmy, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Fozzie Bear in a truly strange, yet somehow endearing performance. His Italian accent, which drags out the words “kee-ler dee-mons” during the chorus of “Killerdemons,” adds a level of camp that contributes to the goofy fun.

While Borrower keeps Killerdemons to a concise 36 minutes, the record does falter on the two songs that stray from the 3-4 minute range. The first, “Knocking on the Coffins,” has some memorable riffs, including a cool, old school solo, but at over five minutes, it drags on a bit too long. Positioned between the album’s two best tracks, it also proves to be a major momentum killer. The biggest sore thumb, however, is the six-plus minute finale, “A Chaos Vortex.” Not only does it lack memorable riffs, but it falters in its final two minutes as the band sorely misjudges when to best wrap it up. Trimming 2-3 minutes from each of these songs would have immensely improved the album’s otherwise incredible pacing.

As I established last month, metal tends to invite some weird characters, and the killer demon universe created here is certainly an odd one. But that’s also what makes metal so much fun. Bands feel free to try out their off-the-wall ideas, from literary– or video game-inspired themes to the creation of fantasy or sci-fi realms. And sometimes these ideas actually work. Borrower finally sees through their vision, or at least the start of it, and presents it in such a catchy, cool way. I love to see original ideas performed with such care and passion, and I hope these guys continue to cultivate their ideas and musical talents.



Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Website: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

Unlike some of our staff, I’ve never been in a band. However, I can imagine the feeling of satisfaction in putting together and releasing that first full-length record. For every band that achieves this milestone, countless more never do. Italy’s Borrower was nearly among that number. Formed in 1993, Borrower released three demos in the ’90s, a fourth in 2005, and then disappeared until 2018 with their debut EP. Whatever interrupted their musical career, the dream remained, and they finally released their first album (and signed to a label, to boot) 33 years later with their founding vocalist, Massano Ratano, and drummer, Frank Formoso, joined by new guitarists Matteo Marzo and Matteo Marini. Behold their vision, a story of killer, humanoid demons as told through music that harks back to some of the legends of ’80s and ’90s speed metal.

Granted, the concept of an album where each song tells a story about a distinctive demonic entity with its own unique “physical traits” and “specific weapon” is extremely silly, yet Killerdemons proves to be a catchy and cool affair. Borrower claim Motörhead, Judas Priest, and Dio as their main influences, and they write spare, riff-tastic tunes in their honor. The guitars carry much more heft than their influences, however, with enough reverb to take tunes dangerously close to stoner territory a lá High on Fire and Black Sabbath. This marriage between speed and stoner proves effective. “El Degollador” oscillates between lightning-fast, “Ace of Spades”-inspired riffs and slower, “War Pigs”-style stoner riffs in a performance that’s sure to give you whiplash. Taking a cue from AC/DC, Borrower keeps their song structures simple yet catchy. The rollicking “Stay Alive” best demonstrates this virtue with crisp songwriting and energetic pacing. Each track has distinctive riffs that are far more powerful than the demons it conjures.

In the eight years since their 2018 EP, A Plague Chapter…, Borrower has vastly improved their sound and instrumental prowess. The two Matteos have played a major role in this transformation. Marini’s fuzzy guitar tone adds heft where the EP’s guitars sounded tinny. His blending of Motörhead-style riffcrafting with the density of High on Fire and Mastodon adds an extra oomph to tracks like “Der Todessoldat” and “Tough Fight.” Marzo’s bass takes a commanding presence as well. He adds depth and backbone to the music, making his presence especially felt on the slower moments of “Knocking on the Coffins.” Formoso takes a restrained approach behind the kit, occasionally blasting the cymbals (“Dream on Fire”), but mostly setting the pace with an effective simplicity. The wild card of the group is vocalist Ratano. He seemingly channels Lemmy, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Fozzie Bear in a truly strange, yet somehow endearing performance. His Italian accent, which drags out the words “kee-ler dee-mons” during the chorus of “Killerdemons,” adds a level of camp that contributes to the goofy fun.

While Borrower keeps Killerdemons to a concise 36 minutes, the record does falter on the two songs that stray from the 3-4 minute range. The first, “Knocking on the Coffins,” has some memorable riffs, including a cool, old school solo, but at over five minutes, it drags on a bit too long. Positioned between the album’s two best tracks, it also proves to be a major momentum killer. The biggest sore thumb, however, is the six-plus minute finale, “A Chaos Vortex.” Not only does it lack memorable riffs, but it falters in its final two minutes as the band sorely misjudges when to best wrap it up. Trimming 2-3 minutes from each of these songs would have immensely improved the album’s otherwise incredible pacing.

As I established last month, metal tends to invite some weird characters, and the killer demon universe created here is certainly an odd one. But that’s also what makes metal so much fun. Bands feel free to try out their off-the-wall ideas, from literary– or video game-inspired themes to the creation of fantasy or sci-fi realms. And sometimes these ideas actually work. Borrower finally sees through their vision, or at least the start of it, and presents it in such a catchy, cool way. I love to see original ideas performed with such care and passion, and I hope these guys continue to cultivate their ideas and musical talents.



Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Website: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

Unlike some of our staff, I’ve never been in a band. However, I can imagine the feeling of satisfaction in putting together and releasing that first full-length record. For every band that achieves this milestone, countless more never do. Italy’s Borrower was nearly among that number. Formed in 1993, Borrower released three demos in the ’90s, a fourth in 2005, and then disappeared until 2018 with their debut EP. Whatever interrupted their musical career, the dream remained, and they finally released their first album (and signed to a label, to boot) 33 years later with their founding vocalist, Massano Ratano, and drummer, Frank Formoso, joined by new guitarists Matteo Marzo and Matteo Marini. Behold their vision, a story of killer, humanoid demons as told through music that harks back to some of the legends of ’80s and ’90s speed metal.

Granted, the concept of an album where each song tells a story about a distinctive demonic entity with its own unique “physical traits” and “specific weapon” is extremely silly, yet Killerdemons proves to be a catchy and cool affair. Borrower claim Motörhead, Judas Priest, and Dio as their main influences, and they write spare, riff-tastic tunes in their honor. The guitars carry much more heft than their influences, however, with enough reverb to take tunes dangerously close to stoner territory a lá High on Fire and Black Sabbath. This marriage between speed and stoner proves effective. “El Degollador” oscillates between lightning-fast, “Ace of Spades”-inspired riffs and slower, “War Pigs”-style stoner riffs in a performance that’s sure to give you whiplash. Taking a cue from AC/DC, Borrower keeps their song structures simple yet catchy. The rollicking “Stay Alive” best demonstrates this virtue with crisp songwriting and energetic pacing. Each track has distinctive riffs that are far more powerful than the demons it conjures.

In the eight years since their 2018 EP, A Plague Chapter…, Borrower has vastly improved their sound and instrumental prowess. The two Matteos have played a major role in this transformation. Marini’s fuzzy guitar tone adds heft where the EP’s guitars sounded tinny. His blending of Motörhead-style riffcrafting with the density of High on Fire and Mastodon adds an extra oomph to tracks like “Der Todessoldat” and “Tough Fight.” Marzo’s bass takes a commanding presence as well. He adds depth and backbone to the music, making his presence especially felt on the slower moments of “Knocking on the Coffins.” Formoso takes a restrained approach behind the kit, occasionally blasting the cymbals (“Dream on Fire”), but mostly setting the pace with an effective simplicity. The wild card of the group is vocalist Ratano. He seemingly channels Lemmy, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Fozzie Bear in a truly strange, yet somehow endearing performance. His Italian accent, which drags out the words “kee-ler dee-mons” during the chorus of “Killerdemons,” adds a level of camp that contributes to the goofy fun.

While Borrower keeps Killerdemons to a concise 36 minutes, the record does falter on the two songs that stray from the 3-4 minute range. The first, “Knocking on the Coffins,” has some memorable riffs, including a cool, old school solo, but at over five minutes, it drags on a bit too long. Positioned between the album’s two best tracks, it also proves to be a major momentum killer. The biggest sore thumb, however, is the six-plus minute finale, “A Chaos Vortex.” Not only does it lack memorable riffs, but it falters in its final two minutes as the band sorely misjudges when to best wrap it up. Trimming 2-3 minutes from each of these songs would have immensely improved the album’s otherwise incredible pacing.

As I established last month, metal tends to invite some weird characters, and the killer demon universe created here is certainly an odd one. But that’s also what makes metal so much fun. Bands feel free to try out their off-the-wall ideas, from literary– or video game-inspired themes to the creation of fantasy or sci-fi realms. And sometimes these ideas actually work. Borrower finally sees through their vision, or at least the start of it, and presents it in such a catchy, cool way. I love to see original ideas performed with such care and passion, and I hope these guys continue to cultivate their ideas and musical talents.



Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Website: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

Unlike some of our staff, I’ve never been in a band. However, I can imagine the feeling of satisfaction in putting together and releasing that first full-length record. For every band that achieves this milestone, countless more never do. Italy’s Borrower was nearly among that number. Formed in 1993, Borrower released three demos in the ’90s, a fourth in 2005, and then disappeared until 2018 with their debut EP. Whatever interrupted their musical career, the dream remained, and they finally released their first album (and signed to a label, to boot) 33 years later with their founding vocalist, Massano Ratano, and drummer, Frank Formoso, joined by new guitarists Matteo Marzo and Matteo Marini. Behold their vision, a story of killer, humanoid demons as told through music that harks back to some of the legends of ’80s and ’90s speed metal.

Granted, the concept of an album where each song tells a story about a distinctive demonic entity with its own unique “physical traits” and “specific weapon” is extremely silly, yet Killerdemons proves to be a catchy and cool affair. Borrower claim Motörhead, Judas Priest, and Dio as their main influences, and they write spare, riff-tastic tunes in their honor. The guitars carry much more heft than their influences, however, with enough reverb to take tunes dangerously close to stoner territory a lá High on Fire and Black Sabbath. This marriage between speed and stoner proves effective. “El Degollador” oscillates between lightning-fast, “Ace of Spades”-inspired riffs and slower, “War Pigs”-style stoner riffs in a performance that’s sure to give you whiplash. Taking a cue from AC/DC, Borrower keeps their song structures simple yet catchy. The rollicking “Stay Alive” best demonstrates this virtue with crisp songwriting and energetic pacing. Each track has distinctive riffs that are far more powerful than the demons it conjures.

In the eight years since their 2018 EP, A Plague Chapter…, Borrower has vastly improved their sound and instrumental prowess. The two Matteos have played a major role in this transformation. Marini’s fuzzy guitar tone adds heft where the EP’s guitars sounded tinny. His blending of Motörhead-style riffcrafting with the density of High on Fire and Mastodon adds an extra oomph to tracks like “Der Todessoldat” and “Tough Fight.” Marzo’s bass takes a commanding presence as well. He adds depth and backbone to the music, making his presence especially felt on the slower moments of “Knocking on the Coffins.” Formoso takes a restrained approach behind the kit, occasionally blasting the cymbals (“Dream on Fire”), but mostly setting the pace with an effective simplicity. The wild card of the group is vocalist Ratano. He seemingly channels Lemmy, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Fozzie Bear in a truly strange, yet somehow endearing performance. His Italian accent, which drags out the words “kee-ler dee-mons” during the chorus of “Killerdemons,” adds a level of camp that contributes to the goofy fun.

While Borrower keeps Killerdemons to a concise 36 minutes, the record does falter on the two songs that stray from the 3-4 minute range. The first, “Knocking on the Coffins,” has some memorable riffs, including a cool, old school solo, but at over five minutes, it drags on a bit too long. Positioned between the album’s two best tracks, it also proves to be a major momentum killer. The biggest sore thumb, however, is the six-plus minute finale, “A Chaos Vortex.” Not only does it lack memorable riffs, but it falters in its final two minutes as the band sorely misjudges when to best wrap it up. Trimming 2-3 minutes from each of these songs would have immensely improved the album’s otherwise incredible pacing.

As I established last month, metal tends to invite some weird characters, and the killer demon universe created here is certainly an odd one. But that’s also what makes metal so much fun. Bands feel free to try out their off-the-wall ideas, from literary– or video game-inspired themes to the creation of fantasy or sci-fi realms. And sometimes these ideas actually work. Borrower finally sees through their vision, or at least the start of it, and presents it in such a catchy, cool way. I love to see original ideas performed with such care and passion, and I hope these guys continue to cultivate their ideas and musical talents.



Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Website: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

Unlike some of our staff, I’ve never been in a band. However, I can imagine the feeling of satisfaction in putting together and releasing that first full-length record. For every band that achieves this milestone, countless more never do. Italy’s Borrower was nearly among that number. Formed in 1993, Borrower released three demos in the ’90s, a fourth in 2005, and then disappeared until 2018 with their debut EP. Whatever interrupted their musical career, the dream remained, and they finally released their first album (and signed to a label, to boot) 33 years later with their founding vocalist, Massano Ratano, and drummer, Frank Formoso, joined by new guitarists Matteo Marzo and Matteo Marini. Behold their vision, a story of killer, humanoid demons as told through music that harks back to some of the legends of ’80s and ’90s speed metal.

Granted, the concept of an album where each song tells a story about a distinctive demonic entity with its own unique “physical traits” and “specific weapon” is extremely silly, yet Killerdemons proves to be a catchy and cool affair. Borrower claim Motörhead, Judas Priest, and Dio as their main influences, and they write spare, riff-tastic tunes in their honor. The guitars carry much more heft than their influences, however, with enough reverb to take tunes dangerously close to stoner territory a lá High on Fire and Black Sabbath. This marriage between speed and stoner proves effective. “El Degollador” oscillates between lightning-fast, “Ace of Spades”-inspired riffs and slower, “War Pigs”-style stoner riffs in a performance that’s sure to give you whiplash. Taking a cue from AC/DC, Borrower keeps their song structures simple yet catchy. The rollicking “Stay Alive” best demonstrates this virtue with crisp songwriting and energetic pacing. Each track has distinctive riffs that are far more powerful than the demons it conjures.

In the eight years since their 2018 EP, A Plague Chapter…, Borrower has vastly improved their sound and instrumental prowess. The two Matteos have played a major role in this transformation. Marini’s fuzzy guitar tone adds heft where the EP’s guitars sounded tinny. His blending of Motörhead-style riffcrafting with the density of High on Fire and Mastodon adds an extra oomph to tracks like “Der Todessoldat” and “Tough Fight.” Marzo’s bass takes a commanding presence as well. He adds depth and backbone to the music, making his presence especially felt on the slower moments of “Knocking on the Coffins.” Formoso takes a restrained approach behind the kit, occasionally blasting the cymbals (“Dream on Fire”), but mostly setting the pace with an effective simplicity. The wild card of the group is vocalist Ratano. He seemingly channels Lemmy, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Fozzie Bear in a truly strange, yet somehow endearing performance. His Italian accent, which drags out the words “kee-ler dee-mons” during the chorus of “Killerdemons,” adds a level of camp that contributes to the goofy fun.

While Borrower keeps Killerdemons to a concise 36 minutes, the record does falter on the two songs that stray from the 3-4 minute range. The first, “Knocking on the Coffins,” has some memorable riffs, including a cool, old school solo, but at over five minutes, it drags on a bit too long. Positioned between the album’s two best tracks, it also proves to be a major momentum killer. The biggest sore thumb, however, is the six-plus minute finale, “A Chaos Vortex.” Not only does it lack memorable riffs, but it falters in its final two minutes as the band sorely misjudges when to best wrap it up. Trimming 2-3 minutes from each of these songs would have immensely improved the album’s otherwise incredible pacing.

As I established last month, metal tends to invite some weird characters, and the killer demon universe created here is certainly an odd one. But that’s also what makes metal so much fun. Bands feel free to try out their off-the-wall ideas, from literary– or video game-inspired themes to the creation of fantasy or sci-fi realms. And sometimes these ideas actually work. Borrower finally sees through their vision, or at least the start of it, and presents it in such a catchy, cool way. I love to see original ideas performed with such care and passion, and I hope these guys continue to cultivate their ideas and musical talents.



Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Website: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

Sleeping Giant – The Beauty of Obliteration Review

“Sleeping Giant” was always a standout song for me on Mastodon’s Blood Mountain. After two thrashy, pummeling tracks,…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #ArgonautaRecords #BlackSabbath #CA #Canada #DoomMetal #Entertainment #Feb26 #HighonFire #IcelandicMetal #Mastodon #OctopusRising #review #reviews #SleepingGiant #SludgeMetal #StonerMetal #TheBeautyofObliteration
https://www.newsbeep.com/ca/489303/

“Sleeping Giant” was always a standout song for me on Mastodon’s Blood Mountain. After two thrashy, pummeling tracks, “Sleeping Giant” slows the pace and ups the atmosphere, doling out chunky riffs and creepy leads. Its name aptly captures its role on Blood Mountain, feeling like the stirrings of an album (and a band) with gigantic aspirations. Speaking of slow risers, Iceland’s Sleeping Giant has finally roused for their first LP after forming in 2006.1 It’s eminently plausible that this sludgy stoner-doom sextet derives their moniker from the Blood Mountain song, seeing as they cite early Mastodon as a sonic touchstone. Though it would be unfair to expect The Beauty of Obliteration to make as big a first impression as Remission, it’s more than fair to expect a debut with punishing riffs, gnarly vocals, and some curveballs.

The Beauty of Obliteration demonstrates some mighty fine riff-smithing. This may be because Sleeping Giant—expanding upon the maxim that ‘two heads are better than one’—is working with three heads. The guitar Cerberus of Finnbogi Jökull, Árni Björn Björnsson, and Guðmundur Eiríksson wield an arsenal of doomy dirges (“Conqueror”), stonery shuffles (“Abysmal Flame”), and thrashy assaults (“Venom Ripper, Gorgon Blaster”). Some of these riffs even go straight to the source, boasting a Sabbathy swagger (“The Monk”). Early Mastodon certainly resonates throughout, but the guitarwork makes it clear that these Icelanders also get High on Fire. Indeed, the recurring shifts between stoner-doom and thrash, coupled with the beefy guitar tones, summon the presence of latter-day Matt Pike. But Sleeping Giant aren’t just their three-headed guitar monster; drummer Ásmundur Jóhannsson and bassist Einar Darri Einarsson hold down the low end. Einarsson in particular shines, tastefully filling up negative space with bluesy runs (“Conqueror”).

Mobilizer of Evil by Sleeping Giant

Rounding out Sleeping Giant’s lineup is vocalist Oddur Freyr Þorsteinsson, who gives The Beauty of Obliteration a death metal edge. Thusly calling the band death-doom, though, wouldn’t be accurate—’necrotic stoner-doom’ is my best attempt at describing the band’s layering of an extreme aesthetic over a mostly traditional riffing style. Þorsteinsson possesses a powerful guttural, reminding me of the low registers of Travis Ryan and Randy Blythe. He even dips into some slimy gurgling on “The Monk” as it shifts into a faster, more melodic gear. Though these gurgles provide contrast, it’s a contrast that doesn’t necessarily add to or accentuate the part. This gurgling is a microcosm of how I feel about the vocals on The Beauty of Obliteration as a whole. They are performed well and don’t overtly clash with the instrumentation, and yet I’m not sure if they are doing anything other than marking Sleeping Giant as ‘extreme.’

As a unit, Sleeping Giant have molded a debut that roves between riff styles, for better or worse. “Conqueror” and “Mobilizer of Evil” map out the terrain the rest of the album explores, showing a band comfortable with both low and high BPMs. “The Monk” gets closest to the kind of unhinged glory of early Mastodon, though its shift from doom to thrash feels a bit redundant, even at this early juncture in the album. The biggest curveball on The Beauty of Obliteration is its penultimate track, “Venom Rippers, Gorgon Blaster.” A thrash ripper under three minutes, it’s an enlivening change of pace from tracks that otherwise hover between four and nine minutes. It’s also an effective transition between the orgiastic riff-fest of “Slay the King of Hell” (my favorite track) and the closer. “Abysmal Flame” starts strong with a chunky monkey that morphs into an almost melodeath-style earworm. The sparse, feedbacky ending, however, is an underwhelming sendoff.

Their namesake may create unrealistic expectations, but Sleeping Giant has delivered the goods with their long-awaited debut. At 6 tracks in 35 minutes, The Beauty of Obliteration is a tight, well-produced package with tons of hummable riffs. Though the songwriting is by no means bad, the riffs themselves feel more noteworthy than the songs they populate. The gutturals give Sleeping Giant a different vibe than typical stoner-doom, but I hope that future outings see the vocals actively serving the songs more. If you dig giant riffs, you won’t want to sleep on these Icelanders.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: V4 OR ~316 kb/s VBR mp3
Label: Octopus Rising (sub-label of Argonauta Records)
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

“Sleeping Giant” was always a standout song for me on Mastodon’s Blood Mountain. After two thrashy, pummeling tracks, “Sleeping Giant” slows the pace and ups the atmosphere, doling out chunky riffs and creepy leads. Its name aptly captures its role on Blood Mountain, feeling like the stirrings of an album (and a band) with gigantic aspirations. Speaking of slow risers, Iceland’s Sleeping Giant has finally roused for their first LP after forming in 2006.1 It’s eminently plausible that this sludgy stoner-doom sextet derives their moniker from the Blood Mountain song, seeing as they cite early Mastodon as a sonic touchstone. Though it would be unfair to expect The Beauty of Obliteration to make as big a first impression as Remission, it’s more than fair to expect a debut with punishing riffs, gnarly vocals, and some curveballs.

The Beauty of Obliteration demonstrates some mighty fine riff-smithing. This may be because Sleeping Giant—expanding upon the maxim that ‘two heads are better than one’—is working with three heads. The guitar Cerberus of Finnbogi Jökull, Árni Björn Björnsson, and Guðmundur Eiríksson wield an arsenal of doomy dirges (“Conqueror”), stonery shuffles (“Abysmal Flame”), and thrashy assaults (“Venom Ripper, Gorgon Blaster”). Some of these riffs even go straight to the source, boasting a Sabbathy swagger (“The Monk”). Early Mastodon certainly resonates throughout, but the guitarwork makes it clear that these Icelanders also get High on Fire. Indeed, the recurring shifts between stoner-doom and thrash, coupled with the beefy guitar tones, summon the presence of latter-day Matt Pike. But Sleeping Giant aren’t just their three-headed guitar monster; drummer Ásmundur Jóhannsson and bassist Einar Darri Einarsson hold down the low end. Einarsson in particular shines, tastefully filling up negative space with bluesy runs (“Conqueror”).

Mobilizer of Evil by Sleeping Giant

Rounding out Sleeping Giant’s lineup is vocalist Oddur Freyr Þorsteinsson, who gives The Beauty of Obliteration a death metal edge. Thusly calling the band death-doom, though, wouldn’t be accurate—’necrotic stoner-doom’ is my best attempt at describing the band’s layering of an extreme aesthetic over a mostly traditional riffing style. Þorsteinsson possesses a powerful guttural, reminding me of the low registers of Travis Ryan and Randy Blythe. He even dips into some slimy gurgling on “The Monk” as it shifts into a faster, more melodic gear. Though these gurgles provide contrast, it’s a contrast that doesn’t necessarily add to or accentuate the part. This gurgling is a microcosm of how I feel about the vocals on The Beauty of Obliteration as a whole. They are performed well and don’t overtly clash with the instrumentation, and yet I’m not sure if they are doing anything other than marking Sleeping Giant as ‘extreme.’

As a unit, Sleeping Giant have molded a debut that roves between riff styles, for better or worse. “Conqueror” and “Mobilizer of Evil” map out the terrain the rest of the album explores, showing a band comfortable with both low and high BPMs. “The Monk” gets closest to the kind of unhinged glory of early Mastodon, though its shift from doom to thrash feels a bit redundant, even at this early juncture in the album. The biggest curveball on The Beauty of Obliteration is its penultimate track, “Venom Rippers, Gorgon Blaster.” A thrash ripper under three minutes, it’s an enlivening change of pace from tracks that otherwise hover between four and nine minutes. It’s also an effective transition between the orgiastic riff-fest of “Slay the King of Hell” (my favorite track) and the closer. “Abysmal Flame” starts strong with a chunky monkey that morphs into an almost melodeath-style earworm. The sparse, feedbacky ending, however, is an underwhelming sendoff.

Their namesake may create unrealistic expectations, but Sleeping Giant has delivered the goods with their long-awaited debut. At 6 tracks in 35 minutes, The Beauty of Obliteration is a tight, well-produced package with tons of hummable riffs. Though the songwriting is by no means bad, the riffs themselves feel more noteworthy than the songs they populate. The gutturals give Sleeping Giant a different vibe than typical stoner-doom, but I hope that future outings see the vocals actively serving the songs more. If you dig giant riffs, you won’t want to sleep on these Icelanders.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: V4 OR ~316 kb/s VBR mp3
Label: Octopus Rising (sub-label of Argonauta Records)
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

“Sleeping Giant” was always a standout song for me on Mastodon’s Blood Mountain. After two thrashy, pummeling tracks, “Sleeping Giant” slows the pace and ups the atmosphere, doling out chunky riffs and creepy leads. Its name aptly captures its role on Blood Mountain, feeling like the stirrings of an album (and a band) with gigantic aspirations. Speaking of slow risers, Iceland’s Sleeping Giant has finally roused for their first LP after forming in 2006.1 It’s eminently plausible that this sludgy stoner-doom sextet derives their moniker from the Blood Mountain song, seeing as they cite early Mastodon as a sonic touchstone. Though it would be unfair to expect The Beauty of Obliteration to make as big a first impression as Remission, it’s more than fair to expect a debut with punishing riffs, gnarly vocals, and some curveballs.

The Beauty of Obliteration demonstrates some mighty fine riff-smithing. This may be because Sleeping Giant—expanding upon the maxim that ‘two heads are better than one’—is working with three heads. The guitar Cerberus of Finnbogi Jökull, Árni Björn Björnsson, and Guðmundur Eiríksson wield an arsenal of doomy dirges (“Conqueror”), stonery shuffles (“Abysmal Flame”), and thrashy assaults (“Venom Ripper, Gorgon Blaster”). Some of these riffs even go straight to the source, boasting a Sabbathy swagger (“The Monk”). Early Mastodon certainly resonates throughout, but the guitarwork makes it clear that these Icelanders also get High on Fire. Indeed, the recurring shifts between stoner-doom and thrash, coupled with the beefy guitar tones, summon the presence of latter-day Matt Pike. But Sleeping Giant aren’t just their three-headed guitar monster; drummer Ásmundur Jóhannsson and bassist Einar Darri Einarsson hold down the low end. Einarsson in particular shines, tastefully filling up negative space with bluesy runs (“Conqueror”).

Mobilizer of Evil by Sleeping Giant

Rounding out Sleeping Giant’s lineup is vocalist Oddur Freyr Þorsteinsson, who gives The Beauty of Obliteration a death metal edge. Thusly calling the band death-doom, though, wouldn’t be accurate—’necrotic stoner-doom’ is my best attempt at describing the band’s layering of an extreme aesthetic over a mostly traditional riffing style. Þorsteinsson possesses a powerful guttural, reminding me of the low registers of Travis Ryan and Randy Blythe. He even dips into some slimy gurgling on “The Monk” as it shifts into a faster, more melodic gear. Though these gurgles provide contrast, it’s a contrast that doesn’t necessarily add to or accentuate the part. This gurgling is a microcosm of how I feel about the vocals on The Beauty of Obliteration as a whole. They are performed well and don’t overtly clash with the instrumentation, and yet I’m not sure if they are doing anything other than marking Sleeping Giant as ‘extreme.’

As a unit, Sleeping Giant have molded a debut that roves between riff styles, for better or worse. “Conqueror” and “Mobilizer of Evil” map out the terrain the rest of the album explores, showing a band comfortable with both low and high BPMs. “The Monk” gets closest to the kind of unhinged glory of early Mastodon, though its shift from doom to thrash feels a bit redundant, even at this early juncture in the album. The biggest curveball on The Beauty of Obliteration is its penultimate track, “Venom Rippers, Gorgon Blaster.” A thrash ripper under three minutes, it’s an enlivening change of pace from tracks that otherwise hover between four and nine minutes. It’s also an effective transition between the orgiastic riff-fest of “Slay the King of Hell” (my favorite track) and the closer. “Abysmal Flame” starts strong with a chunky monkey that morphs into an almost melodeath-style earworm. The sparse, feedbacky ending, however, is an underwhelming sendoff.

Their namesake may create unrealistic expectations, but Sleeping Giant has delivered the goods with their long-awaited debut. At 6 tracks in 35 minutes, The Beauty of Obliteration is a tight, well-produced package with tons of hummable riffs. Though the songwriting is by no means bad, the riffs themselves feel more noteworthy than the songs they populate. The gutturals give Sleeping Giant a different vibe than typical stoner-doom, but I hope that future outings see the vocals actively serving the songs more. If you dig giant riffs, you won’t want to sleep on these Icelanders.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: V4 OR ~316 kb/s VBR mp3
Label: Octopus Rising (sub-label of Argonauta Records)
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

“Sleeping Giant” was always a standout song for me on Mastodon’s Blood Mountain. After two thrashy, pummeling tracks, “Sleeping Giant” slows the pace and ups the atmosphere, doling out chunky riffs and creepy leads. Its name aptly captures its role on Blood Mountain, feeling like the stirrings of an album (and a band) with gigantic aspirations. Speaking of slow risers, Iceland’s Sleeping Giant has finally roused for their first LP after forming in 2006.1 It’s eminently plausible that this sludgy stoner-doom sextet derives their moniker from the Blood Mountain song, seeing as they cite early Mastodon as a sonic touchstone. Though it would be unfair to expect The Beauty of Obliteration to make as big a first impression as Remission, it’s more than fair to expect a debut with punishing riffs, gnarly vocals, and some curveballs.

The Beauty of Obliteration demonstrates some mighty fine riff-smithing. This may be because Sleeping Giant—expanding upon the maxim that ‘two heads are better than one’—is working with three heads. The guitar Cerberus of Finnbogi Jökull, Árni Björn Björnsson, and Guðmundur Eiríksson wield an arsenal of doomy dirges (“Conqueror”), stonery shuffles (“Abysmal Flame”), and thrashy assaults (“Venom Ripper, Gorgon Blaster”). Some of these riffs even go straight to the source, boasting a Sabbathy swagger (“The Monk”). Early Mastodon certainly resonates throughout, but the guitarwork makes it clear that these Icelanders also get High on Fire. Indeed, the recurring shifts between stoner-doom and thrash, coupled with the beefy guitar tones, summon the presence of latter-day Matt Pike. But Sleeping Giant aren’t just their three-headed guitar monster; drummer Ásmundur Jóhannsson and bassist Einar Darri Einarsson hold down the low end. Einarsson in particular shines, tastefully filling up negative space with bluesy runs (“Conqueror”).

Mobilizer of Evil by Sleeping Giant

Rounding out Sleeping Giant’s lineup is vocalist Oddur Freyr Þorsteinsson, who gives The Beauty of Obliteration a death metal edge. Thusly calling the band death-doom, though, wouldn’t be accurate—’necrotic stoner-doom’ is my best attempt at describing the band’s layering of an extreme aesthetic over a mostly traditional riffing style. Þorsteinsson possesses a powerful guttural, reminding me of the low registers of Travis Ryan and Randy Blythe. He even dips into some slimy gurgling on “The Monk” as it shifts into a faster, more melodic gear. Though these gurgles provide contrast, it’s a contrast that doesn’t necessarily add to or accentuate the part. This gurgling is a microcosm of how I feel about the vocals on The Beauty of Obliteration as a whole. They are performed well and don’t overtly clash with the instrumentation, and yet I’m not sure if they are doing anything other than marking Sleeping Giant as ‘extreme.’

As a unit, Sleeping Giant have molded a debut that roves between riff styles, for better or worse. “Conqueror” and “Mobilizer of Evil” map out the terrain the rest of the album explores, showing a band comfortable with both low and high BPMs. “The Monk” gets closest to the kind of unhinged glory of early Mastodon, though its shift from doom to thrash feels a bit redundant, even at this early juncture in the album. The biggest curveball on The Beauty of Obliteration is its penultimate track, “Venom Rippers, Gorgon Blaster.” A thrash ripper under three minutes, it’s an enlivening change of pace from tracks that otherwise hover between four and nine minutes. It’s also an effective transition between the orgiastic riff-fest of “Slay the King of Hell” (my favorite track) and the closer. “Abysmal Flame” starts strong with a chunky monkey that morphs into an almost melodeath-style earworm. The sparse, feedbacky ending, however, is an underwhelming sendoff.

Their namesake may create unrealistic expectations, but Sleeping Giant has delivered the goods with their long-awaited debut. At 6 tracks in 35 minutes, The Beauty of Obliteration is a tight, well-produced package with tons of hummable riffs. Though the songwriting is by no means bad, the riffs themselves feel more noteworthy than the songs they populate. The gutturals give Sleeping Giant a different vibe than typical stoner-doom, but I hope that future outings see the vocals actively serving the songs more. If you dig giant riffs, you won’t want to sleep on these Icelanders.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: V4 OR ~316 kb/s VBR mp3
Label: Octopus Rising (sub-label of Argonauta Records)
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

“Sleeping Giant” was always a standout song for me on Mastodon’s Blood Mountain. After two thrashy, pummeling tracks, “Sleeping Giant” slows the pace and ups the atmosphere, doling out chunky riffs and creepy leads. Its name aptly captures its role on Blood Mountain, feeling like the stirrings of an album (and a band) with gigantic aspirations. Speaking of slow risers, Iceland’s Sleeping Giant has finally roused for their first LP after forming in 2006.1 It’s eminently plausible that this sludgy stoner-doom sextet derives their moniker from the Blood Mountain song, seeing as they cite early Mastodon as a sonic touchstone. Though it would be unfair to expect The Beauty of Obliteration to make as big a first impression as Remission, it’s more than fair to expect a debut with punishing riffs, gnarly vocals, and some curveballs.

The Beauty of Obliteration demonstrates some mighty fine riff-smithing. This may be because Sleeping Giant—expanding upon the maxim that ‘two heads are better than one’—is working with three heads. The guitar Cerberus of Finnbogi Jökull, Árni Björn Björnsson, and Guðmundur Eiríksson wield an arsenal of doomy dirges (“Conqueror”), stonery shuffles (“Abysmal Flame”), and thrashy assaults (“Venom Ripper, Gorgon Blaster”). Some of these riffs even go straight to the source, boasting a Sabbathy swagger (“The Monk”). Early Mastodon certainly resonates throughout, but the guitarwork makes it clear that these Icelanders also get High on Fire. Indeed, the recurring shifts between stoner-doom and thrash, coupled with the beefy guitar tones, summon the presence of latter-day Matt Pike. But Sleeping Giant aren’t just their three-headed guitar monster; drummer Ásmundur Jóhannsson and bassist Einar Darri Einarsson hold down the low end. Einarsson in particular shines, tastefully filling up negative space with bluesy runs (“Conqueror”).

Mobilizer of Evil by Sleeping Giant

Rounding out Sleeping Giant’s lineup is vocalist Oddur Freyr Þorsteinsson, who gives The Beauty of Obliteration a death metal edge. Thusly calling the band death-doom, though, wouldn’t be accurate—’necrotic stoner-doom’ is my best attempt at describing the band’s layering of an extreme aesthetic over a mostly traditional riffing style. Þorsteinsson possesses a powerful guttural, reminding me of the low registers of Travis Ryan and Randy Blythe. He even dips into some slimy gurgling on “The Monk” as it shifts into a faster, more melodic gear. Though these gurgles provide contrast, it’s a contrast that doesn’t necessarily add to or accentuate the part. This gurgling is a microcosm of how I feel about the vocals on The Beauty of Obliteration as a whole. They are performed well and don’t overtly clash with the instrumentation, and yet I’m not sure if they are doing anything other than marking Sleeping Giant as ‘extreme.’

As a unit, Sleeping Giant have molded a debut that roves between riff styles, for better or worse. “Conqueror” and “Mobilizer of Evil” map out the terrain the rest of the album explores, showing a band comfortable with both low and high BPMs. “The Monk” gets closest to the kind of unhinged glory of early Mastodon, though its shift from doom to thrash feels a bit redundant, even at this early juncture in the album. The biggest curveball on The Beauty of Obliteration is its penultimate track, “Venom Rippers, Gorgon Blaster.” A thrash ripper under three minutes, it’s an enlivening change of pace from tracks that otherwise hover between four and nine minutes. It’s also an effective transition between the orgiastic riff-fest of “Slay the King of Hell” (my favorite track) and the closer. “Abysmal Flame” starts strong with a chunky monkey that morphs into an almost melodeath-style earworm. The sparse, feedbacky ending, however, is an underwhelming sendoff.

Their namesake may create unrealistic expectations, but Sleeping Giant has delivered the goods with their long-awaited debut. At 6 tracks in 35 minutes, The Beauty of Obliteration is a tight, well-produced package with tons of hummable riffs. Though the songwriting is by no means bad, the riffs themselves feel more noteworthy than the songs they populate. The gutturals give Sleeping Giant a different vibe than typical stoner-doom, but I hope that future outings see the vocals actively serving the songs more. If you dig giant riffs, you won’t want to sleep on these Icelanders.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: V4 OR ~316 kb/s VBR mp3
Label: Octopus Rising (sub-label of Argonauta Records)
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

Tarlung – Axis Mundi Review

Vienna, Austria’s Tarlung has been coughing up thick clouds of resinous doom and smoky sludge since 2013, when,…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #3.5 #ArgonautaRecords #AustrianMetal #AxisMundi #Crowbar #DoomMetal #Dopethrone #Entertainment #HighonFire #Jan26 #review #SludgeMetal #StonerDoom #Tarlung #UK #UnitedKingdom
https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/409471/

Tarlung – Axis Mundi Review

Vienna, Austria’s Tarlung has been coughing up thick clouds of resinous doom and smoky sludge since 2013, when,…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2026 #3.5 #ArgonautaRecords #AustrianMetal #AxisMundi #Crowbar #DoomMetal #Dopethrone #Entertainment #HighonFire #Jan26 #review #SludgeMetal #StonerDoom #Tarlung
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/450682/

Tarlung – Axis Mundi Review

Vienna, Austria’s Tarlung has been coughing up thick clouds of resinous doom and smoky sludge since 2013, when,…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2026 #3.5 #ArgonautaRecords #AustrianMetal #AxisMundi #Crowbar #DoomMetal #Dopethrone #Entertainment #HighonFire #Jan26 #review #SludgeMetal #StonerDoom #Tarlung
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/450682/

https://www.europesays.com/uk/744240/ Tarlung – Axis Mundi Review #2026 #3.5 #ArgonautaRecords #AustrianMetal #AxisMundi #Crowbar #DoomMetal #Dopethrone #Entertainment #HighOnFire #Jan26 #music #Review #SludgeMetal #StonerDoom #Tarlung #UK #UnitedKingdom

Vienna, Austria’s Tarlung has been coughing up thick clouds of resinous doom and smoky sludge since 2013, when, after just six months in existence and having never performed live, they released their eponymous debut album. Now, with two additional full-lengths—2017’s Beyond the Black Pyramid and 2021’s Architect—and some healthy touring under their belts, Tarlung braces to bring their fourth album in nearly five years, Axis Mundi, to the masses. With a catalog predicated on fair to middling sludgy doom, I was curious to hear if Axis Mundi would be the product of a Tarlung doing more of the same, or if the album would represent a defining ‘center’ in the discography and, per its namesake, link the Tarlung of old to the Tarlung that’s progressing into the future.

Tarlung remains devoted to the almighty riff, but with a sound that has become increasingly less fuzzy over the years. Guitarists Rotten and Phillip Seiler deliver massive doses of ear-drum damage via swampy, thick riffs bristling with taut, chuggy muscle (“State Noise,” “Between the Earth and Moon”) and bluesy swagger (“Swans”), which serve as the bong water for most of these melodies to bubble up through. Seiler’s chesty, Akerfeldtian roars are ever-present, which, along with Marian Weibl’s beastly drum beatings, provide the excess sonic weight Tarlung has become increasingly known for. Purveyors of Crowbar, High on Fire, and Dopethrone will find warm pockets of familiarity here. Yet, Axis Mundi indeed signals a progression as Tarlung evolves its sound, introducing elements of refined psychedelia and vocal variation.

Axis Mundi by TarLung

Axis Mundi takes marked steps to set itself apart from the rest of Tarlung’s catalog. With an airy, soft-strummed melody and some subdued, clean vocals to start, “Burning Out” evokes a feeling akin to lying alone in a country field, exhaling smoky clouds of organic green and staring at kaleidoscopic prisms of light as they filter through dew drops on sun-dappled daffodils. Even after the track picks up a little steam with a chugging riff that seems to build more speed than it does, and Seiler’s growls return, the warm feeling doesn’t dissipate. Follow-up “Sea of Drowned Souls” continues down an experimental path, as its mournful melodies merge with clean vocals from Thérèse Lanz and Casey Rogers of Mares of Thrace in pensive passages that keep giving me Alice in Chains vibes. Particularly effective here, too, is the vocal interplay between Seiler and Lantz as each takes brutal swipes at the mic; Lantz’s visceral, blackened screams serving as a satisfying counterpoint to Seiler’s guttural grumblings. These two tracks really stood out to me and make up the core of my overall Axis Mundi experience.

Axis Mundi represents Tarlung operating at its most mature. Beautifully simplistic and wildly effective songwriting that, with repeated spins, did nothing but chip away at my critiques. What first seemed like a lagging back half continued to sink its claws into my brain. Before long, I was looking forward to the laid-back melodies of “Full Circle,” where Seiler channels his inner Matt Pike (High on Fire) to significant effect, and anticipating the very Crowbaric pounding of album closer “Axis Mundi.” Running just thirty-eight minutes, it became easier and easier to hit that replay button every time. There are moments when the melodies seem to trip over themselves, like on the bluesy main riff of “Swans,” which gets a bit muddy at times, but not so much that it took me out of the experience.

Fans of Tarlung are in for a special surprise, and if you’re just now getting to the party, Axis Mundi is an excellent place to get started. I hadn’t spent any time at all with this power trio before writing this review, and I can wholeheartedly say Tarlung has won me over. After a more than cursory dive into the bands previous efforts I can say without a doubt, Axis Mundi is the best Tarlung album to date. A slow-paced ride that delivers riffs for days and melodies that settle in, wrapping you in blankets of crushing warmth for one helluva satisfying experience.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

Vienna, Austria’s Tarlung has been coughing up thick clouds of resinous doom and smoky sludge since 2013, when, after just six months in existence and having never performed live, they released their eponymous debut album. Now, with two additional full-lengths—2017’s Beyond the Black Pyramid and 2021’s Architect—and some healthy touring under their belts, Tarlung braces to bring their fourth album in nearly five years, Axis Mundi, to the masses. With a catalog predicated on fair to middling sludgy doom, I was curious to hear if Axis Mundi would be the product of a Tarlung doing more of the same, or if the album would represent a defining ‘center’ in the discography and, per its namesake, link the Tarlung of old to the Tarlung that’s progressing into the future.

Tarlung remains devoted to the almighty riff, but with a sound that has become increasingly less fuzzy over the years. Guitarists Rotten and Phillip Seiler deliver massive doses of ear-drum damage via swampy, thick riffs bristling with taut, chuggy muscle (“State Noise,” “Between the Earth and Moon”) and bluesy swagger (“Swans”), which serve as the bong water for most of these melodies to bubble up through. Seiler’s chesty, Akerfeldtian roars are ever-present, which, along with Marian Weibl’s beastly drum beatings, provide the excess sonic weight Tarlung has become increasingly known for. Purveyors of Crowbar, High on Fire, and Dopethrone will find warm pockets of familiarity here. Yet, Axis Mundi indeed signals a progression as Tarlung evolves its sound, introducing elements of refined psychedelia and vocal variation.

Axis Mundi by TarLung

Axis Mundi takes marked steps to set itself apart from the rest of Tarlung’s catalog. With an airy, soft-strummed melody and some subdued, clean vocals to start, “Burning Out” evokes a feeling akin to lying alone in a country field, exhaling smoky clouds of organic green and staring at kaleidoscopic prisms of light as they filter through dew drops on sun-dappled daffodils. Even after the track picks up a little steam with a chugging riff that seems to build more speed than it does, and Seiler’s growls return, the warm feeling doesn’t dissipate. Follow-up “Sea of Drowned Souls” continues down an experimental path, as its mournful melodies merge with clean vocals from Thérèse Lanz and Casey Rogers of Mares of Thrace in pensive passages that keep giving me Alice in Chains vibes. Particularly effective here, too, is the vocal interplay between Seiler and Lantz as each takes brutal swipes at the mic; Lantz’s visceral, blackened screams serving as a satisfying counterpoint to Seiler’s guttural grumblings. These two tracks really stood out to me and make up the core of my overall Axis Mundi experience.

Axis Mundi represents Tarlung operating at its most mature. Beautifully simplistic and wildly effective songwriting that, with repeated spins, did nothing but chip away at my critiques. What first seemed like a lagging back half continued to sink its claws into my brain. Before long, I was looking forward to the laid-back melodies of “Full Circle,” where Seiler channels his inner Matt Pike (High on Fire) to significant effect, and anticipating the very Crowbaric pounding of album closer “Axis Mundi.” Running just thirty-eight minutes, it became easier and easier to hit that replay button every time. There are moments when the melodies seem to trip over themselves, like on the bluesy main riff of “Swans,” which gets a bit muddy at times, but not so much that it took me out of the experience.

Fans of Tarlung are in for a special surprise, and if you’re just now getting to the party, Axis Mundi is an excellent place to get started. I hadn’t spent any time at all with this power trio before writing this review, and I can wholeheartedly say Tarlung has won me over. After a more than cursory dive into the bands previous efforts I can say without a doubt, Axis Mundi is the best Tarlung album to date. A slow-paced ride that delivers riffs for days and melodies that settle in, wrapping you in blankets of crushing warmth for one helluva satisfying experience.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

Vienna, Austria’s Tarlung has been coughing up thick clouds of resinous doom and smoky sludge since 2013, when, after just six months in existence and having never performed live, they released their eponymous debut album. Now, with two additional full-lengths—2017’s Beyond the Black Pyramid and 2021’s Architect—and some healthy touring under their belts, Tarlung braces to bring their fourth album in nearly five years, Axis Mundi, to the masses. With a catalog predicated on fair to middling sludgy doom, I was curious to hear if Axis Mundi would be the product of a Tarlung doing more of the same, or if the album would represent a defining ‘center’ in the discography and, per its namesake, link the Tarlung of old to the Tarlung that’s progressing into the future.

Tarlung remains devoted to the almighty riff, but with a sound that has become increasingly less fuzzy over the years. Guitarists Rotten and Phillip Seiler deliver massive doses of ear-drum damage via swampy, thick riffs bristling with taut, chuggy muscle (“State Noise,” “Between the Earth and Moon”) and bluesy swagger (“Swans”), which serve as the bong water for most of these melodies to bubble up through. Seiler’s chesty, Akerfeldtian roars are ever-present, which, along with Marian Weibl’s beastly drum beatings, provide the excess sonic weight Tarlung has become increasingly known for. Purveyors of Crowbar, High on Fire, and Dopethrone will find warm pockets of familiarity here. Yet, Axis Mundi indeed signals a progression as Tarlung evolves its sound, introducing elements of refined psychedelia and vocal variation.

Axis Mundi by TarLung

Axis Mundi takes marked steps to set itself apart from the rest of Tarlung’s catalog. With an airy, soft-strummed melody and some subdued, clean vocals to start, “Burning Out” evokes a feeling akin to lying alone in a country field, exhaling smoky clouds of organic green and staring at kaleidoscopic prisms of light as they filter through dew drops on sun-dappled daffodils. Even after the track picks up a little steam with a chugging riff that seems to build more speed than it does, and Seiler’s growls return, the warm feeling doesn’t dissipate. Follow-up “Sea of Drowned Souls” continues down an experimental path, as its mournful melodies merge with clean vocals from Thérèse Lanz and Casey Rogers of Mares of Thrace in pensive passages that keep giving me Alice in Chains vibes. Particularly effective here, too, is the vocal interplay between Seiler and Lantz as each takes brutal swipes at the mic; Lantz’s visceral, blackened screams serving as a satisfying counterpoint to Seiler’s guttural grumblings. These two tracks really stood out to me and make up the core of my overall Axis Mundi experience.

Axis Mundi represents Tarlung operating at its most mature. Beautifully simplistic and wildly effective songwriting that, with repeated spins, did nothing but chip away at my critiques. What first seemed like a lagging back half continued to sink its claws into my brain. Before long, I was looking forward to the laid-back melodies of “Full Circle,” where Seiler channels his inner Matt Pike (High on Fire) to significant effect, and anticipating the very Crowbaric pounding of album closer “Axis Mundi.” Running just thirty-eight minutes, it became easier and easier to hit that replay button every time. There are moments when the melodies seem to trip over themselves, like on the bluesy main riff of “Swans,” which gets a bit muddy at times, but not so much that it took me out of the experience.

Fans of Tarlung are in for a special surprise, and if you’re just now getting to the party, Axis Mundi is an excellent place to get started. I hadn’t spent any time at all with this power trio before writing this review, and I can wholeheartedly say Tarlung has won me over. After a more than cursory dive into the bands previous efforts I can say without a doubt, Axis Mundi is the best Tarlung album to date. A slow-paced ride that delivers riffs for days and melodies that settle in, wrapping you in blankets of crushing warmth for one helluva satisfying experience.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

Vienna, Austria’s Tarlung has been coughing up thick clouds of resinous doom and smoky sludge since 2013, when, after just six months in existence and having never performed live, they released their eponymous debut album. Now, with two additional full-lengths—2017’s Beyond the Black Pyramid and 2021’s Architect—and some healthy touring under their belts, Tarlung braces to bring their fourth album in nearly five years, Axis Mundi, to the masses. With a catalog predicated on fair to middling sludgy doom, I was curious to hear if Axis Mundi would be the product of a Tarlung doing more of the same, or if the album would represent a defining ‘center’ in the discography and, per its namesake, link the Tarlung of old to the Tarlung that’s progressing into the future.

Tarlung remains devoted to the almighty riff, but with a sound that has become increasingly less fuzzy over the years. Guitarists Rotten and Phillip Seiler deliver massive doses of ear-drum damage via swampy, thick riffs bristling with taut, chuggy muscle (“State Noise,” “Between the Earth and Moon”) and bluesy swagger (“Swans”), which serve as the bong water for most of these melodies to bubble up through. Seiler’s chesty, Akerfeldtian roars are ever-present, which, along with Marian Weibl’s beastly drum beatings, provide the excess sonic weight Tarlung has become increasingly known for. Purveyors of Crowbar, High on Fire, and Dopethrone will find warm pockets of familiarity here. Yet, Axis Mundi indeed signals a progression as Tarlung evolves its sound, introducing elements of refined psychedelia and vocal variation.

Axis Mundi by TarLung

Axis Mundi takes marked steps to set itself apart from the rest of Tarlung’s catalog. With an airy, soft-strummed melody and some subdued, clean vocals to start, “Burning Out” evokes a feeling akin to lying alone in a country field, exhaling smoky clouds of organic green and staring at kaleidoscopic prisms of light as they filter through dew drops on sun-dappled daffodils. Even after the track picks up a little steam with a chugging riff that seems to build more speed than it does, and Seiler’s growls return, the warm feeling doesn’t dissipate. Follow-up “Sea of Drowned Souls” continues down an experimental path, as its mournful melodies merge with clean vocals from Thérèse Lanz and Casey Rogers of Mares of Thrace in pensive passages that keep giving me Alice in Chains vibes. Particularly effective here, too, is the vocal interplay between Seiler and Lantz as each takes brutal swipes at the mic; Lantz’s visceral, blackened screams serving as a satisfying counterpoint to Seiler’s guttural grumblings. These two tracks really stood out to me and make up the core of my overall Axis Mundi experience.

Axis Mundi represents Tarlung operating at its most mature. Beautifully simplistic and wildly effective songwriting that, with repeated spins, did nothing but chip away at my critiques. What first seemed like a lagging back half continued to sink its claws into my brain. Before long, I was looking forward to the laid-back melodies of “Full Circle,” where Seiler channels his inner Matt Pike (High on Fire) to significant effect, and anticipating the very Crowbaric pounding of album closer “Axis Mundi.” Running just thirty-eight minutes, it became easier and easier to hit that replay button every time. There are moments when the melodies seem to trip over themselves, like on the bluesy main riff of “Swans,” which gets a bit muddy at times, but not so much that it took me out of the experience.

Fans of Tarlung are in for a special surprise, and if you’re just now getting to the party, Axis Mundi is an excellent place to get started. I hadn’t spent any time at all with this power trio before writing this review, and I can wholeheartedly say Tarlung has won me over. After a more than cursory dive into the bands previous efforts I can say without a doubt, Axis Mundi is the best Tarlung album to date. A slow-paced ride that delivers riffs for days and melodies that settle in, wrapping you in blankets of crushing warmth for one helluva satisfying experience.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

Vienna, Austria’s Tarlung has been coughing up thick clouds of resinous doom and smoky sludge since 2013, when, after just six months in existence and having never performed live, they released their eponymous debut album. Now, with two additional full-lengths—2017’s Beyond the Black Pyramid and 2021’s Architect—and some healthy touring under their belts, Tarlung braces to bring their fourth album in nearly five years, Axis Mundi, to the masses. With a catalog predicated on fair to middling sludgy doom, I was curious to hear if Axis Mundi would be the product of a Tarlung doing more of the same, or if the album would represent a defining ‘center’ in the discography and, per its namesake, link the Tarlung of old to the Tarlung that’s progressing into the future.

Tarlung remains devoted to the almighty riff, but with a sound that has become increasingly less fuzzy over the years. Guitarists Rotten and Phillip Seiler deliver massive doses of ear-drum damage via swampy, thick riffs bristling with taut, chuggy muscle (“State Noise,” “Between the Earth and Moon”) and bluesy swagger (“Swans”), which serve as the bong water for most of these melodies to bubble up through. Seiler’s chesty, Akerfeldtian roars are ever-present, which, along with Marian Weibl’s beastly drum beatings, provide the excess sonic weight Tarlung has become increasingly known for. Purveyors of Crowbar, High on Fire, and Dopethrone will find warm pockets of familiarity here. Yet, Axis Mundi indeed signals a progression as Tarlung evolves its sound, introducing elements of refined psychedelia and vocal variation.

Axis Mundi by TarLung

Axis Mundi takes marked steps to set itself apart from the rest of Tarlung’s catalog. With an airy, soft-strummed melody and some subdued, clean vocals to start, “Burning Out” evokes a feeling akin to lying alone in a country field, exhaling smoky clouds of organic green and staring at kaleidoscopic prisms of light as they filter through dew drops on sun-dappled daffodils. Even after the track picks up a little steam with a chugging riff that seems to build more speed than it does, and Seiler’s growls return, the warm feeling doesn’t dissipate. Follow-up “Sea of Drowned Souls” continues down an experimental path, as its mournful melodies merge with clean vocals from Thérèse Lanz and Casey Rogers of Mares of Thrace in pensive passages that keep giving me Alice in Chains vibes. Particularly effective here, too, is the vocal interplay between Seiler and Lantz as each takes brutal swipes at the mic; Lantz’s visceral, blackened screams serving as a satisfying counterpoint to Seiler’s guttural grumblings. These two tracks really stood out to me and make up the core of my overall Axis Mundi experience.

Axis Mundi represents Tarlung operating at its most mature. Beautifully simplistic and wildly effective songwriting that, with repeated spins, did nothing but chip away at my critiques. What first seemed like a lagging back half continued to sink its claws into my brain. Before long, I was looking forward to the laid-back melodies of “Full Circle,” where Seiler channels his inner Matt Pike (High on Fire) to significant effect, and anticipating the very Crowbaric pounding of album closer “Axis Mundi.” Running just thirty-eight minutes, it became easier and easier to hit that replay button every time. There are moments when the melodies seem to trip over themselves, like on the bluesy main riff of “Swans,” which gets a bit muddy at times, but not so much that it took me out of the experience.

Fans of Tarlung are in for a special surprise, and if you’re just now getting to the party, Axis Mundi is an excellent place to get started. I hadn’t spent any time at all with this power trio before writing this review, and I can wholeheartedly say Tarlung has won me over. After a more than cursory dive into the bands previous efforts I can say without a doubt, Axis Mundi is the best Tarlung album to date. A slow-paced ride that delivers riffs for days and melodies that settle in, wrapping you in blankets of crushing warmth for one helluva satisfying experience.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

THRÆDS – Impermanence Review

By Owlswald

Adding to my list of bands with irregular monikers, German progressive post-metal/rock group THRÆDS (pronounced “Threads”) is the latest to fall under the scrutiny of my wide-eyed gaze. Formed in 2019 as a solo project by guitarist Angelos Tzamtzis, THRÆDS has since grown into a multi-national five-piece.1 Their 2021 Akasha EP garnered the attention of Octopus Rising—an imprint of Argonauta Records—which is now releasing their debut full-length, Impermanence. The promotional material for this Berlin-based quintet bills itself as a seamless blend of progressive post-metal alongside atmospheric rock, claiming to fuse the sounds of giants like Gojira, Tool, and Porcupine Tree into a diverse and unique style. Call me cynical, but whenever descriptions throw about such high-caliber names, the reality seldom matches the hype. And, unfortunately, THRÆDS proves to be no exception.

A pervasive sense of familiarity permeates Impermanence’s forty-eight minutes. While “Devolve” delivers a half-time L’Enfant Sauvage stomp with Gojira’s trademark pitch shifts and tracks like “Einstein-Rosen Bridge” and “Clockworks” evoke some of the moody melancholia of Porcupine Tree or Katatonia, THRÆDS ultimately leans too heavily on well-trodden modern rock crutches to convey their moods and textures. As a result, the material on Impermanence is largely standard and unremarkable, offering little in the way of presence or impact. Chuggy palm-muted guitar riffs, delay-heavy arpeggios and gallant distorted chord strumming drive Impermanence during its drawn-out instrumental sections. Celso Borralho’s vocals dither between solemn whines (“Sole Survivor”), gravelly Chester Bennington-esque frys (“Reflections”), and high, soulful croons (“Nothing Good to Say”). While these hint at Borralho’s considerable range, they generally also fall short of his full potential. Despite the self-produced effort registering a mighty DR 10 and Barnabás Mihály’s playful basslines providing some much-needed aptitude, Impermanence exhibits a vanilla disposition with little novelty or energy.

THRÆDS relies on familiar modern rock clichés to drive their songwriting. Rock anthem “Reflections,” with its big, sing-along chorus and radio-ready polish is well-composed but employs repetitive chord progressions and melodic structures a myriad of modern rock groups have used a million times over. Similarly, “Sole Survivor” and “Timeless” lack novelty with formulaic compositions that contrast quiet, delay-saturated post-rock verses with heavier down-tuned choruses filled with garden-variety guitar riffs, foundational rock beats, and cornerstone vocal belting. Borralho frequently toys between his high and low registers, sounding unassured and whiny rather than passionate and introspective as his voice warbles above the melodies. His range and high register are his greatest strengths, yet he seldom leans into them with enough conviction to improve THRÆDS’ simplistic approach. Compounding matters is the sheer length of Impermanence’s songs as “Devolve,” “Timeless,” and “Reflections” all clear six minutes while closer “Story in Reverse” pushes eight, primarily to accommodate Alegros Gramma’s sax solo. Even the shorter “Einstein-Rosen Bridge” contributes to Impermanence’s sense of bloat, stretching thin ideas into wandering Maserati-like post-rock.

Predictably, Impermanence’s stronger moments appear when THRÆDS trim the fat and venture outside of well-trodden tropes. A prime example is the solemn “Nothing Good to Say,” where the quintet crafts a condensed, cohesive, and engaging offering with Borralho’s high, soulful croons floating above playful drum and bass grooves, all enveloped by an eerie, atmospheric feel. Mihály’s bass performance is noteworthy, driving a deep pocket with his rhythmic pulses while capably utilizing space with high-scale runs that explore the full range of his fretboard. Likewise, the chorus in “Story in Reverse” and the verse in “Einstein-Rosen Bridge” point to a more favorable stylistic direction, as THRÆDS momentarily recalls the grunge-saturated sounds of Alice in Chains amid stretches of otherwise tedious material.

From start to finish, Impermanence struggles to find its footing, delivering an unremarkable collection of songs that is more often bland and forgettable than original and engaging. Displaying brief flashes of promise, THRÆDS defaults to the comfort of well-worn rock sounds, resulting in an overly long debut that lacks the confidence one would expect from a group aspiring to stand alongside the giants it name-drops. Ultimately, Impermanence rings hollow, forcing progressive and post-metal fans to look elsewhere for novelty and imagination.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: thraeds.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/threads.project | instagram.com/thraeds.band/
Releases Worldwide: June 6, 2025

Show 1 footnote

1. Members originate from Chile, Greece, Hungary, New Zealand, and Portugal. ↩

#20 #2025 #AliceInChains #ArgonautaRecords #GermanMetal #Gojira #HardRock #impermanence #Jun25 #Katatonia #Maserati #MelodicMetal #OctopusRisingRecords #PorcupineTree #PostMetal #ProgressiveRock #Review #Reviews #Rock #THRÆDS #Tool

An Evening With Knives – End of Time Review

By GardensTale

At the start of the year, I pledged to pick as many promos as I could from those sent to us directly through the contact form, as a way to lift up the smallest of underground acts. But as this week is rather barren, I got to have my choice from the remainder, the label-backed colossi who have all their tedious marketing hubbub taken care of. One band name jumped out at me: An Evening With Knives. A name I’ve seen on plenty a concert bill around here, usually in a supporting capacity. Lo and behold, the lads are local, or rather, they were formed in the next city over. It’s always nice to see geographical peers making waves. But it appears that dear Dear Hollow did not hold the last Evening’s record too dear. Has the trio improved since Sense of Gravity, or is End of Time the end of its 15 minutes of fame?

The review for Sense of Gravity complained of unbalanced songwriting with too many sudden turns, but no such problem arises on End of Time. The songwriting is concise and approachable, shirking most of the languid post-metal trappings for a style more akin to Baroness with early parts leaning punk-hardcore and later leaning fuzzy doom with a progressive slant. It suits An Evening With Knives rather well. The lead guitars braid sinewy hooks atop the heavy twang of the rhythm section, and excel at the emotive solos that dot the running time (“End of Time” and closer “S21” are the best examples). The bass has a pulsing melodic flair, the drums are sharp and energetic. Within this scope, the band carves out a lot of wiggle room, shifting gradually from concise cannon blasts to more long-winded material. It makes for an even-handed album that weighs depth with digestibility.

But my issue with An Evening With Knives is the vocals. Their technical application is not bad, per se; overall it’s middle of the road, somewhat versatile with passable core-style screams yet some pitch problems when skewing cleaner (most noticeable on “End of Time”). However, technique is only one side of vocals; emotional pull and projection are at least as important, and that aspect is largely shot by how strained the vocals sound. When belting, strain is expected; here, though, it’s a constant, even on smaller and quieter passages. Especially in the front half, this results in a likely unintended faux-aggression, even machismo, that completely falls flat. “All They Need” unironically and repeatedly uses ‘That’s how you do it’ with a cringe-inducing swagger, and “Death” doesn’t fare much better. It’s akin to overacting and it undermines the earnestness of the music, to the detriment of the whole package.

But as End of Time goes on and the compositions shift from concise to expansive, the vocal problem becomes less and less pronounced. “Voices” combines panicked wailing guitars and intelligent tempo changes with a more genuine anxious performance on the mic. “The Mistake” packs a fuzzy main riff that sounds like it was borrowed from King Buffalo, and through the patient build-up of the proggy “S21” we even get a few more subdued stanzas that dodge the worst of strain city central. Furthermore, the production is solid. Though the mix is a tad vocal-centric, I love the placement of the bass, and the guitar sound has a lovely buzzing edge that supports both the riffs and the solos quite nicely.

End of Time is not the easiest to score. An Evening With Knives is clearly getting better at identifying the strengths and weaknesses of their line-up, and the songwriting is tight without fully sacrificing a dynamic and exploratory aspect that keeps each song lively and interesting. But the exception seems to be the vocals, and it’s a damn shame how it prevents me from enjoying the front half of the album as much as I’d like. As a result, End of Time is an interesting but heavily backloaded album that holds itself back from becoming something greater. If you like this sort of style, though, give it a spin anyways, because that back half is teasing a diamond in the rough.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: aneveningwithknives.bandcamp.com | aneveningwithknives.com | facebook.com/aneveningwithknives
Releases Worldwide: March 14th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AnEveningWithKnives #ArgonautaRecords #Baroness #DutchMetal #EndOfTime #KingBuffalo #Mar25 #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #Sludge #StonerMetal

An Evening With Knives – End of Time Review

By GardensTale

At the start of the year, I pledged to pick as many promos as I could from those sent to us directly through the contact form, as a way to lift up the smallest of underground acts. But as this week is rather barren, I got to have my choice from the remainder, the label-backed colossi who have all their tedious marketing hubbub taken care of. One band name jumped out at me: An Evening With Knives. A name I’ve seen on plenty a concert bill around here, usually in a supporting capacity. Lo and behold, the lads are local, or rather, they were formed in the next city over. It’s always nice to see geographical peers making waves. But it appears that dear Dear Hollow did not hold the last Evening’s record too dear. Has the trio improved since Sense of Gravity, or is End of Time the end of its 15 minutes of fame?

The review for Sense of Gravity complained of unbalanced songwriting with too many sudden turns, but no such problem arises on End of Time. The songwriting is concise and approachable, shirking most of the languid post-metal trappings for a style more akin to Baroness with early parts leaning punk-hardcore and later leaning fuzzy doom with a progressive slant. It suits An Evening With Knives rather well. The lead guitars braid sinewy hooks atop the heavy twang of the rhythm section, and excel at the emotive solos that dot the running time (“End of Time” and closer “S21” are the best examples). The bass has a pulsing melodic flair, the drums are sharp and energetic. Within this scope, the band carves out a lot of wiggle room, shifting gradually from concise cannon blasts to more long-winded material. It makes for an even-handed album that weighs depth with digestibility.

But my issue with An Evening With Knives is the vocals. Their technical application is not bad, per se; overall it’s middle of the road, somewhat versatile with passable core-style screams yet some pitch problems when skewing cleaner (most noticeable on “End of Time”). However, technique is only one side of vocals; emotional pull and projection are at least as important, and that aspect is largely shot by how strained the vocals sound. When belting, strain is expected; here, though, it’s a constant, even on smaller and quieter passages. Especially in the front half, this results in a likely unintended faux-aggression, even machismo, that completely falls flat. “All They Need” unironically and repeatedly uses ‘That’s how you do it’ with a cringe-inducing swagger, and “Death” doesn’t fare much better. It’s akin to overacting and it undermines the earnestness of the music, to the detriment of the whole package.

But as End of Time goes on and the compositions shift from concise to expansive, the vocal problem becomes less and less pronounced. “Voices” combines panicked wailing guitars and intelligent tempo changes with a more genuine anxious performance on the mic. “The Mistake” packs a fuzzy main riff that sounds like it was borrowed from King Buffalo, and through the patient build-up of the proggy “S21” we even get a few more subdued stanzas that dodge the worst of strain city central. Furthermore, the production is solid. Though the mix is a tad vocal-centric, I love the placement of the bass, and the guitar sound has a lovely buzzing edge that supports both the riffs and the solos quite nicely.

End of Time is not the easiest to score. An Evening With Knives is clearly getting better at identifying the strengths and weaknesses of their line-up, and the songwriting is tight without fully sacrificing a dynamic and exploratory aspect that keeps each song lively and interesting. But the exception seems to be the vocals, and it’s a damn shame how it prevents me from enjoying the front half of the album as much as I’d like. As a result, End of Time is an interesting but heavily backloaded album that holds itself back from becoming something greater. If you like this sort of style, though, give it a spin anyways, because that back half is teasing a diamond in the rough.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: aneveningwithknives.bandcamp.com | aneveningwithknives.com | facebook.com/aneveningwithknives
Releases Worldwide: March 14th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AnEveningWithKnives #ArgonautaRecords #Baroness #DutchMetal #EndOfTime #KingBuffalo #Mar25 #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #Sludge #StonerMetal

An Evening With Knives – End of Time Review

By GardensTale

At the start of the year, I pledged to pick as many promos as I could from those sent to us directly through the contact form, as a way to lift up the smallest of underground acts. But as this week is rather barren, I got to have my choice from the remainder, the label-backed colossi who have all their tedious marketing hubbub taken care of. One band name jumped out at me: An Evening With Knives. A name I’ve seen on plenty a concert bill around here, usually in a supporting capacity. Lo and behold, the lads are local, or rather, they were formed in the next city over. It’s always nice to see geographical peers making waves. But it appears that dear Dear Hollow did not hold the last Evening’s record too dear. Has the trio improved since Sense of Gravity, or is End of Time the end of its 15 minutes of fame?

The review for Sense of Gravity complained of unbalanced songwriting with too many sudden turns, but no such problem arises on End of Time. The songwriting is concise and approachable, shirking most of the languid post-metal trappings for a style more akin to Baroness with early parts leaning punk-hardcore and later leaning fuzzy doom with a progressive slant. It suits An Evening With Knives rather well. The lead guitars braid sinewy hooks atop the heavy twang of the rhythm section, and excel at the emotive solos that dot the running time (“End of Time” and closer “S21” are the best examples). The bass has a pulsing melodic flair, the drums are sharp and energetic. Within this scope, the band carves out a lot of wiggle room, shifting gradually from concise cannon blasts to more long-winded material. It makes for an even-handed album that weighs depth with digestibility.

But my issue with An Evening With Knives is the vocals. Their technical application is not bad, per se; overall it’s middle of the road, somewhat versatile with passable core-style screams yet some pitch problems when skewing cleaner (most noticeable on “End of Time”). However, technique is only one side of vocals; emotional pull and projection are at least as important, and that aspect is largely shot by how strained the vocals sound. When belting, strain is expected; here, though, it’s a constant, even on smaller and quieter passages. Especially in the front half, this results in a likely unintended faux-aggression, even machismo, that completely falls flat. “All They Need” unironically and repeatedly uses ‘That’s how you do it’ with a cringe-inducing swagger, and “Death” doesn’t fare much better. It’s akin to overacting and it undermines the earnestness of the music, to the detriment of the whole package.

But as End of Time goes on and the compositions shift from concise to expansive, the vocal problem becomes less and less pronounced. “Voices” combines panicked wailing guitars and intelligent tempo changes with a more genuine anxious performance on the mic. “The Mistake” packs a fuzzy main riff that sounds like it was borrowed from King Buffalo, and through the patient build-up of the proggy “S21” we even get a few more subdued stanzas that dodge the worst of strain city central. Furthermore, the production is solid. Though the mix is a tad vocal-centric, I love the placement of the bass, and the guitar sound has a lovely buzzing edge that supports both the riffs and the solos quite nicely.

End of Time is not the easiest to score. An Evening With Knives is clearly getting better at identifying the strengths and weaknesses of their line-up, and the songwriting is tight without fully sacrificing a dynamic and exploratory aspect that keeps each song lively and interesting. But the exception seems to be the vocals, and it’s a damn shame how it prevents me from enjoying the front half of the album as much as I’d like. As a result, End of Time is an interesting but heavily backloaded album that holds itself back from becoming something greater. If you like this sort of style, though, give it a spin anyways, because that back half is teasing a diamond in the rough.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: aneveningwithknives.bandcamp.com | aneveningwithknives.com | facebook.com/aneveningwithknives
Releases Worldwide: March 14th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AnEveningWithKnives #ArgonautaRecords #Baroness #DutchMetal #EndOfTime #KingBuffalo #Mar25 #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #Sludge #StonerMetal

An Evening With Knives – End of Time Review

By GardensTale

At the start of the year, I pledged to pick as many promos as I could from those sent to us directly through the contact form, as a way to lift up the smallest of underground acts. But as this week is rather barren, I got to have my choice from the remainder, the label-backed colossi who have all their tedious marketing hubbub taken care of. One band name jumped out at me: An Evening With Knives. A name I’ve seen on plenty a concert bill around here, usually in a supporting capacity. Lo and behold, the lads are local, or rather, they were formed in the next city over. It’s always nice to see geographical peers making waves. But it appears that dear Dear Hollow did not hold the last Evening’s record too dear. Has the trio improved since Sense of Gravity, or is End of Time the end of its 15 minutes of fame?

The review for Sense of Gravity complained of unbalanced songwriting with too many sudden turns, but no such problem arises on End of Time. The songwriting is concise and approachable, shirking most of the languid post-metal trappings for a style more akin to Baroness with early parts leaning punk-hardcore and later leaning fuzzy doom with a progressive slant. It suits An Evening With Knives rather well. The lead guitars braid sinewy hooks atop the heavy twang of the rhythm section, and excel at the emotive solos that dot the running time (“End of Time” and closer “S21” are the best examples). The bass has a pulsing melodic flair, the drums are sharp and energetic. Within this scope, the band carves out a lot of wiggle room, shifting gradually from concise cannon blasts to more long-winded material. It makes for an even-handed album that weighs depth with digestibility.

But my issue with An Evening With Knives is the vocals. Their technical application is not bad, per se; overall it’s middle of the road, somewhat versatile with passable core-style screams yet some pitch problems when skewing cleaner (most noticeable on “End of Time”). However, technique is only one side of vocals; emotional pull and projection are at least as important, and that aspect is largely shot by how strained the vocals sound. When belting, strain is expected; here, though, it’s a constant, even on smaller and quieter passages. Especially in the front half, this results in a likely unintended faux-aggression, even machismo, that completely falls flat. “All They Need” unironically and repeatedly uses ‘That’s how you do it’ with a cringe-inducing swagger, and “Death” doesn’t fare much better. It’s akin to overacting and it undermines the earnestness of the music, to the detriment of the whole package.

But as End of Time goes on and the compositions shift from concise to expansive, the vocal problem becomes less and less pronounced. “Voices” combines panicked wailing guitars and intelligent tempo changes with a more genuine anxious performance on the mic. “The Mistake” packs a fuzzy main riff that sounds like it was borrowed from King Buffalo, and through the patient build-up of the proggy “S21” we even get a few more subdued stanzas that dodge the worst of strain city central. Furthermore, the production is solid. Though the mix is a tad vocal-centric, I love the placement of the bass, and the guitar sound has a lovely buzzing edge that supports both the riffs and the solos quite nicely.

End of Time is not the easiest to score. An Evening With Knives is clearly getting better at identifying the strengths and weaknesses of their line-up, and the songwriting is tight without fully sacrificing a dynamic and exploratory aspect that keeps each song lively and interesting. But the exception seems to be the vocals, and it’s a damn shame how it prevents me from enjoying the front half of the album as much as I’d like. As a result, End of Time is an interesting but heavily backloaded album that holds itself back from becoming something greater. If you like this sort of style, though, give it a spin anyways, because that back half is teasing a diamond in the rough.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: aneveningwithknives.bandcamp.com | aneveningwithknives.com | facebook.com/aneveningwithknives
Releases Worldwide: March 14th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AnEveningWithKnives #ArgonautaRecords #Baroness #DutchMetal #EndOfTime #KingBuffalo #Mar25 #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #Sludge #StonerMetal

Liljevars Brann – Helja Kor Review

By Mystikus Hugebeard

They say that 75% of a Finnish park ranger’s job is finding black metal bands that got lost in the woods shooting album covers. Suppose the park rangers in Germany had a similar issue. In that case, I imagine they would have the hardest time finding atmospheric black metal newcomers Liljevars Brann, given how musically deep into the woods they seek to take us in their debut album Helja Kor. Written in a fictional blend of German and Norwegian languages and dubbed “mystical black metal with a folkloric edge,” is Helja Kor a strong debut that conjures grasping roots to drag you into the heart of the forest, or are these woods still too close to the parking lot?

Liljevars Brann weaves together slow-tempo black metal with winding acoustic guitar passages. It worked when heavier bands like Panopticon or Ulvik did it,1 and it works here in Helja Kor. Melancholic guitar riffs plod beneath high-pitched harmonizing guitar wails like a reborn The 3rd and the Mortal with a harsher, black metal edge, regularly interspersed with panoramic acoustic sequences. Liljevars Brann excels at folk music; the guitars have a satisfying pluck and pace that happily reminds me of Uaral. The vocals, by frontman Sjelvindur, are one of the most compelling parts of Helja Kor. His clean vocals marry a mysterious folksiness with a warbling gothic cadence, and some of the album’s best moments come from Sjelvindur’s percussive intonation in the outro of “Helja Kor” and the somber shakiness of the beginning of “Krieglande.” Between the winning combination of black metal and folk music with the added edge of Sjelvindur’s unique vocals, the components of a great album are all here.

Unfortunately, Helja Kor struggles to truly find its footing due to meandering songwriting that begins to drag early on. Low intensity is one thing, but Helja Kor is also low energy, which makes it difficult to stay engaged. From the opener “Helja Kor” to the second-to-last “Krieglande,” every song is in the same torturously slow 3/4 time signature with minimal evolution or differentiation between songs. Even the rare black metal sections of the primarily acoustic “Sjelvind” feel melodically identical to those of the more predominantly heavy “Krieglande.” A 3/4 time signature isn’t an issue by itself, but after 40 minutes of overtly similar riffs in a stagnant tempo, it’s impossible not to crave variation. That comes in, blessedly, in “Brannstjeringen,” which ends the album on a miraculously high note through dynamic songwriting in a refreshing 4/4 time signature. “Brannstjeringen” builds towards an exciting, emotionally charged apotheosis that highlights how the remainder of Helja Kor lacks meaningful direction in its song structure, devoid of stirring peaks that move me like “Brannstjeringen” does.

Helja Kor touts a mystical, woodsy atmosphere, and this atmosphere is strong enough to partly compensate for what the songwriting lacks. The folk guitars are effectively paired with Sjelvindur’s vocals, and they just ooze arboreal mysticism. It’s a shame that an excess of melodic/harmonic repetition and languid structure permeate Helja Kor, because by themselves, the guitar harmonies in “Dansa Mej Brodar I Fyre” and “Krieglande” are enjoyable. It boggles the mind, then, how much the drums clash with Helja Kor’s atmosphere through a distracting mix that fails to effectively integrate them. The strength of Liljevars Brann’s acoustics is frequently undone in “Helja Kor,” “Dansa Mej Brodar I Fyre,” and “Sjelvind” by the incessant ting-ting-ting of the cymbals. Even towards the end of “Brannstjeringen,” the drums leave a stain on the song’s highest point with loud, off-tempo blast beats. It’s clear that Liljevars Brann has put a lot of thought into the unique atmosphere they want to create, but it unravels at almost every turn through songwriting that doesn’t support it and a mix that dilutes it.

Helja Kor is the type of record where it’s easier to appreciate what Liljevars Brann is trying to do than enjoy its execution. There are glimpses of a compelling folkloric atmosphere to be found, but Helja Kor flounders in excessive repetition, frequently dissatisfying structure, and irritating production choices. And yet, I abhor the thought of abandoning Liljevars Brann for good because there is a real vision here, and I want to see it realized. Helja Kor has enough individually solid aspects—Sjelvindur’s vocals, the Uaral-esque acoustics, the black metal harmonies, the peaks of “Brannstjeringen”—to compel me to keep my eye on Liljevars Brann in hopes that their next release finds me more lost in the woods than a mere park ranger can handle.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s CBR MP3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: facebook | bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: September 27th, 2024

#20 #2024 #ArgonautaRecords #AtmosphericBlackMetal #BlackFolkMetal #BlackMetal #GermanMetal #HeljaKor #LiljevarsBrann #OctoberFalls #OctopusRising #Panopticon #Sep24 #The3rdAndTheMortal #Uaral #Ulver #Ulvik

Liljevars Brann – Helja Kor Review

By Mystikus Hugebeard

They say that 75% of a Finnish park ranger’s job is finding black metal bands that got lost in the woods shooting album covers. Suppose the park rangers in Germany had a similar issue. In that case, I imagine they would have the hardest time finding atmospheric black metal newcomers Liljevars Brann, given how musically deep into the woods they seek to take us in their debut album Helja Kor. Written in a fictional blend of German and Norwegian languages and dubbed “mystical black metal with a folkloric edge,” is Helja Kor a strong debut that conjures grasping roots to drag you into the heart of the forest, or are these woods still too close to the parking lot?

Liljevars Brann weaves together slow-tempo black metal with winding acoustic guitar passages. It worked when heavier bands like Panopticon or Ulvik did it,1 and it works here in Helja Kor. Melancholic guitar riffs plod beneath high-pitched harmonizing guitar wails like a reborn The 3rd and the Mortal with a harsher, black metal edge, regularly interspersed with panoramic acoustic sequences. Liljevars Brann excels at folk music; the guitars have a satisfying pluck and pace that happily reminds me of Uaral. The vocals, by frontman Sjelvindur, are one of the most compelling parts of Helja Kor. His clean vocals marry a mysterious folksiness with a warbling gothic cadence, and some of the album’s best moments come from Sjelvindur’s percussive intonation in the outro of “Helja Kor” and the somber shakiness of the beginning of “Krieglande.” Between the winning combination of black metal and folk music with the added edge of Sjelvindur’s unique vocals, the components of a great album are all here.

Unfortunately, Helja Kor struggles to truly find its footing due to meandering songwriting that begins to drag early on. Low intensity is one thing, but Helja Kor is also low energy, which makes it difficult to stay engaged. From the opener “Helja Kor” to the second-to-last “Krieglande,” every song is in the same torturously slow 3/4 time signature with minimal evolution or differentiation between songs. Even the rare black metal sections of the primarily acoustic “Sjelvind” feel melodically identical to those of the more predominantly heavy “Krieglande.” A 3/4 time signature isn’t an issue by itself, but after 40 minutes of overtly similar riffs in a stagnant tempo, it’s impossible not to crave variation. That comes in, blessedly, in “Brannstjeringen,” which ends the album on a miraculously high note through dynamic songwriting in a refreshing 4/4 time signature. “Brannstjeringen” builds towards an exciting, emotionally charged apotheosis that highlights how the remainder of Helja Kor lacks meaningful direction in its song structure, devoid of stirring peaks that move me like “Brannstjeringen” does.

Helja Kor touts a mystical, woodsy atmosphere, and this atmosphere is strong enough to partly compensate for what the songwriting lacks. The folk guitars are effectively paired with Sjelvindur’s vocals, and they just ooze arboreal mysticism. It’s a shame that an excess of melodic/harmonic repetition and languid structure permeate Helja Kor, because by themselves, the guitar harmonies in “Dansa Mej Brodar I Fyre” and “Krieglande” are enjoyable. It boggles the mind, then, how much the drums clash with Helja Kor’s atmosphere through a distracting mix that fails to effectively integrate them. The strength of Liljevars Brann’s acoustics is frequently undone in “Helja Kor,” “Dansa Mej Brodar I Fyre,” and “Sjelvind” by the incessant ting-ting-ting of the cymbals. Even towards the end of “Brannstjeringen,” the drums leave a stain on the song’s highest point with loud, off-tempo blast beats. It’s clear that Liljevars Brann has put a lot of thought into the unique atmosphere they want to create, but it unravels at almost every turn through songwriting that doesn’t support it and a mix that dilutes it.

Helja Kor is the type of record where it’s easier to appreciate what Liljevars Brann is trying to do than enjoy its execution. There are glimpses of a compelling folkloric atmosphere to be found, but Helja Kor flounders in excessive repetition, frequently dissatisfying structure, and irritating production choices. And yet, I abhor the thought of abandoning Liljevars Brann for good because there is a real vision here, and I want to see it realized. Helja Kor has enough individually solid aspects—Sjelvindur’s vocals, the Uaral-esque acoustics, the black metal harmonies, the peaks of “Brannstjeringen”—to compel me to keep my eye on Liljevars Brann in hopes that their next release finds me more lost in the woods than a mere park ranger can handle.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s CBR MP3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: facebook | bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: September 27th, 2024

#20 #2024 #ArgonautaRecords #AtmosphericBlackMetal #BlackFolkMetal #BlackMetal #GermanMetal #HeljaKor #LiljevarsBrann #OctoberFalls #OctopusRising #Panopticon #Sep24 #The3rdAndTheMortal #Uaral #Ulver #Ulvik

Liljevars Brann – Helja Kor Review

By Mystikus Hugebeard

They say that 75% of a Finnish park ranger’s job is finding black metal bands that got lost in the woods shooting album covers. Suppose the park rangers in Germany had a similar issue. In that case, I imagine they would have the hardest time finding atmospheric black metal newcomers Liljevars Brann, given how musically deep into the woods they seek to take us in their debut album Helja Kor. Written in a fictional blend of German and Norwegian languages and dubbed “mystical black metal with a folkloric edge,” is Helja Kor a strong debut that conjures grasping roots to drag you into the heart of the forest, or are these woods still too close to the parking lot?

Liljevars Brann weaves together slow-tempo black metal with winding acoustic guitar passages. It worked when heavier bands like Panopticon or Ulvik did it,1 and it works here in Helja Kor. Melancholic guitar riffs plod beneath high-pitched harmonizing guitar wails like a reborn The 3rd and the Mortal with a harsher, black metal edge, regularly interspersed with panoramic acoustic sequences. Liljevars Brann excels at folk music; the guitars have a satisfying pluck and pace that happily reminds me of Uaral. The vocals, by frontman Sjelvindur, are one of the most compelling parts of Helja Kor. His clean vocals marry a mysterious folksiness with a warbling gothic cadence, and some of the album’s best moments come from Sjelvindur’s percussive intonation in the outro of “Helja Kor” and the somber shakiness of the beginning of “Krieglande.” Between the winning combination of black metal and folk music with the added edge of Sjelvindur’s unique vocals, the components of a great album are all here.

Unfortunately, Helja Kor struggles to truly find its footing due to meandering songwriting that begins to drag early on. Low intensity is one thing, but Helja Kor is also low energy, which makes it difficult to stay engaged. From the opener “Helja Kor” to the second-to-last “Krieglande,” every song is in the same torturously slow 3/4 time signature with minimal evolution or differentiation between songs. Even the rare black metal sections of the primarily acoustic “Sjelvind” feel melodically identical to those of the more predominantly heavy “Krieglande.” A 3/4 time signature isn’t an issue by itself, but after 40 minutes of overtly similar riffs in a stagnant tempo, it’s impossible not to crave variation. That comes in, blessedly, in “Brannstjeringen,” which ends the album on a miraculously high note through dynamic songwriting in a refreshing 4/4 time signature. “Brannstjeringen” builds towards an exciting, emotionally charged apotheosis that highlights how the remainder of Helja Kor lacks meaningful direction in its song structure, devoid of stirring peaks that move me like “Brannstjeringen” does.

Helja Kor touts a mystical, woodsy atmosphere, and this atmosphere is strong enough to partly compensate for what the songwriting lacks. The folk guitars are effectively paired with Sjelvindur’s vocals, and they just ooze arboreal mysticism. It’s a shame that an excess of melodic/harmonic repetition and languid structure permeate Helja Kor, because by themselves, the guitar harmonies in “Dansa Mej Brodar I Fyre” and “Krieglande” are enjoyable. It boggles the mind, then, how much the drums clash with Helja Kor’s atmosphere through a distracting mix that fails to effectively integrate them. The strength of Liljevars Brann’s acoustics is frequently undone in “Helja Kor,” “Dansa Mej Brodar I Fyre,” and “Sjelvind” by the incessant ting-ting-ting of the cymbals. Even towards the end of “Brannstjeringen,” the drums leave a stain on the song’s highest point with loud, off-tempo blast beats. It’s clear that Liljevars Brann has put a lot of thought into the unique atmosphere they want to create, but it unravels at almost every turn through songwriting that doesn’t support it and a mix that dilutes it.

Helja Kor is the type of record where it’s easier to appreciate what Liljevars Brann is trying to do than enjoy its execution. There are glimpses of a compelling folkloric atmosphere to be found, but Helja Kor flounders in excessive repetition, frequently dissatisfying structure, and irritating production choices. And yet, I abhor the thought of abandoning Liljevars Brann for good because there is a real vision here, and I want to see it realized. Helja Kor has enough individually solid aspects—Sjelvindur’s vocals, the Uaral-esque acoustics, the black metal harmonies, the peaks of “Brannstjeringen”—to compel me to keep my eye on Liljevars Brann in hopes that their next release finds me more lost in the woods than a mere park ranger can handle.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s CBR MP3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: facebook | bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: September 27th, 2024

#20 #2024 #ArgonautaRecords #AtmosphericBlackMetal #BlackFolkMetal #BlackMetal #GermanMetal #HeljaKor #LiljevarsBrann #OctoberFalls #OctopusRising #Panopticon #Sep24 #The3rdAndTheMortal #Uaral #Ulver #Ulvik

Endonomos – Endonomos II – Enlightenment Review

By Steel Druhm

There’s something extra satisfying about gambling on a completely unknown act in the promo sump and being handsomely rewarded for the biscuit risk. Austria’s Endonomos describe themselves as “epic doom” and on their sophomore outing, Endonomos II – Enlightenment, they unveil a shockingly mature and intoxicating blend of classic doom, post-metal, and death that’s powerful, emotional, and captivating. Part Solitude Aeturnus, part Fvneral Fvkk, part Ghost Brigade and Darkest Era, Endonomos II marries doom’s past with the present in ways that feel organic and unforced, natural and logical. Cobbling together so many successful doom tropes from across multiple genre variants isn’t easy, but Endonomos forge long songs that flow effortlessly, shifting moods and textures as influences intertwine and coalesce into beautiful sadness and elegant despair. Enlightenment indeed!

You won’t wait long to be impressed either. 9-minute opener “Inversion” is a massive mission statement by Endonomos, delivering everything a doom fancier could ask for and MOAR. Beginning in classic doom style with big riffs and forlorn noodling with hints of prime Katatonia, things shift toward post-rock melodoom akin to Ghost Brigade with chillingly plaintive clean vocals scarring your soul before shifting into booming low register death roars that shake the foundations of burden. The guitars trill funerary lines and weep openly around whatever gravesite your mind manufactures and everything feels so sweetly morose. The song’s half over before you realize it, and you won’t want it to end, such is its depressive allure. Doom perfection. “Atheon Anarkhon” is darker and more dissonant with harsh edges protruding at every turn and death croaks leading the charge until despondent Patrick Walker-esque wailing vocals join the fray. This is more death doom than doom-death and it feels massive and crippling. The last few minutes truly blossom with the achingly forlorn cleans coming forward to spread grief as epic guitar lines borrow from While Heaven Wept to push the song to that next level of awesome.

My first thought upon hearing “Resolve” was that it could be a lost track from Fvneral Fvkk’s masterpiece Carnal Confessions. The way the vocals play off the despairing harmonies is very much the same and the vocals themselves are very reminiscent of the brilliant performance by Simon Schorneck (Cantor Cinedicus). Certain moments remind me of vintage Solitude Aeturnus as well and the guitar work is stunning and beautiful throughout. Ahab’s Daniel Droste provides guest vocals on “Hostile” and the mix of traditional Candlemass / Solitude Aeturnus style doom and modern flavors like Khemmis and Swallow the Sun is expertly realized for another major triumph of the broken heart. All six tracks deliver the rich, anguished goods and depression hasn’t sounded this good to me in a while. At no point do the songs feel bloated or in need of trimming though three of the six push well past 8 minutes. The album’s 48-plus minutes seem to vanish in a blip, making you feel like you lost time somewhere. That’s a sign of high-quality writing.

I’m very taken with the vocals by Lukas Haidinger. He channels a lot of genre heavyweights like Rob Lowe (Solitude Aeturnus), Krum (Darkest Era), Patrick Walker (40 Watt Sun, Warning) and Mikko Kotamäki (Swallow the Sun) and that’s fine company to find oneself in. His ability to sound despondent is a rare gift and his death vocals are top-shelf. He sells the songs like they’re sketchy junkers at a disreputable used car lot and you’ll buy in, with or without complementary undercoating. His bass work is also excellent, providing an ever-present and essential low-end rumble to the proceedings. Philipp Forster and Christoph Steinlechner bring a wealth of doom worship and technical acumen to the album, moving through the years to borrow the best bits from the biggest champions. You hear morose strumming from the Katatonia / Rapture schools sitting next to classic crunching and post-metal/post-rock minimalist wallowing and it all fuses seamlessly. Their riffs are crushing when they should be and the solos are poignant, elegant, and bewitching.

Endonomos find that elusive sweet spot between heavy and melodic and craft a collection of songs that allows them to punch far above their weight. Endonomos II – Enlightenment is easily one of the best doom albums of 2024 and one of the best of the last few years. If 2024 has yet to deliver the doom your masochistic heart longs for, this is it. Don’t miss the Endorama.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 319 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta
Websites: endonomos.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/endonomos | instagram.com/endonomos
Releases Worldwide: September 27th, 2024

#2024 #40 #ArgonautaRecords #AustrianMetal #DarkestEra #DoomMetal #Endonomos #EndonomosIIEnlightenment #FvneralFvkk #GhostBrigade #Katatonia #Rapture #Review #Reviews #SolitudeAeturnus #SwallowTheSun #Votum

Endonomos – Endonomos II – Enlightenment Review

By Steel Druhm

There’s something extra satisfying about gambling on a completely unknown act in the promo sump and being handsomely rewarded for the biscuit risk. Austria’s Endonomos describe themselves as “epic doom” and on their sophomore outing, Endonomos II – Enlightenment, they unveil a shockingly mature and intoxicating blend of classic doom, post-metal, and death that’s powerful, emotional, and captivating. Part Solitude Aeturnus, part Fvneral Fvkk, part Ghost Brigade and Darkest Era, Endonomos II marries doom’s past with the present in ways that feel organic and unforced, natural and logical. Cobbling together so many successful doom tropes from across multiple genre variants isn’t easy, but Endonomos forge long songs that flow effortlessly, shifting moods and textures as influences intertwine and coalesce into beautiful sadness and elegant despair. Enlightenment indeed!

You won’t wait long to be impressed either. 9-minute opener “Inversion” is a massive mission statement by Endonomos, delivering everything a doom fancier could ask for and MOAR. Beginning in classic doom style with big riffs and forlorn noodling with hints of prime Katatonia, things shift toward post-rock melodoom akin to Ghost Brigade with chillingly plaintive clean vocals scarring your soul before shifting into booming low register death roars that shake the foundations of burden. The guitars trill funerary lines and weep openly around whatever gravesite your mind manufactures and everything feels so sweetly morose. The song’s half over before you realize it, and you won’t want it to end, such is its depressive allure. Doom perfection. “Atheon Anarkhon” is darker and more dissonant with harsh edges protruding at every turn and death croaks leading the charge until despondent Patrick Walker-esque wailing vocals join the fray. This is more death doom than doom-death and it feels massive and crippling. The last few minutes truly blossom with the achingly forlorn cleans coming forward to spread grief as epic guitar lines borrow from While Heaven Wept to push the song to that next level of awesome.

My first thought upon hearing “Resolve” was that it could be a lost track from Fvneral Fvkk’s masterpiece Carnal Confessions. The way the vocals play off the despairing harmonies is very much the same and the vocals themselves are very reminiscent of the brilliant performance by Simon Schorneck (Cantor Cinedicus). Certain moments remind me of vintage Solitude Aeturnus as well and the guitar work is stunning and beautiful throughout. Ahab’s Daniel Droste provides guest vocals on “Hostile” and the mix of traditional Candlemass / Solitude Aeturnus style doom and modern flavors like Khemmis and Swallow the Sun is expertly realized for another major triumph of the broken heart. All six tracks deliver the rich, anguished goods and depression hasn’t sounded this good to me in a while. At no point do the songs feel bloated or in need of trimming though three of the six push well past 8 minutes. The album’s 48-plus minutes seem to vanish in a blip, making you feel like you lost time somewhere. That’s a sign of high-quality writing.

I’m very taken with the vocals by Lukas Haidinger. He channels a lot of genre heavyweights like Rob Lowe (Solitude Aeturnus), Krum (Darkest Era), Patrick Walker (40 Watt Sun, Warning) and Mikko Kotamäki (Swallow the Sun) and that’s fine company to find oneself in. His ability to sound despondent is a rare gift and his death vocals are top-shelf. He sells the songs like they’re sketchy junkers at a disreputable used car lot and you’ll buy in, with or without complementary undercoating. His bass work is also excellent, providing an ever-present and essential low-end rumble to the proceedings. Philipp Forster and Christoph Steinlechner bring a wealth of doom worship and technical acumen to the album, moving through the years to borrow the best bits from the biggest champions. You hear morose strumming from the Katatonia / Rapture schools sitting next to classic crunching and post-metal/post-rock minimalist wallowing and it all fuses seamlessly. Their riffs are crushing when they should be and the solos are poignant, elegant, and bewitching.

Endonomos find that elusive sweet spot between heavy and melodic and craft a collection of songs that allows them to punch far above their weight. Endonomos II – Enlightenment is easily one of the best doom albums of 2024 and one of the best of the last few years. If 2024 has yet to deliver the doom your masochistic heart longs for, this is it. Don’t miss the Endorama.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 319 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta
Websites: endonomos.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/endonomos | instagram.com/endonomos
Releases Worldwide: September 27th, 2024

#2024 #40 #ArgonautaRecords #AustrianMetal #DarkestEra #DoomMetal #Endonomos #EndonomosIIEnlightenment #FvneralFvkk #GhostBrigade #Katatonia #Rapture #Review #Reviews #SolitudeAeturnus #SwallowTheSun #Votum

Endonomos – Endonomos II – Enlightenment Review

By Steel Druhm

There’s something extra satisfying about gambling on a completely unknown act in the promo sump and being handsomely rewarded for the biscuit risk. Austria’s Endonomos describe themselves as “epic doom” and on their sophomore outing, Endonomos II – Enlightenment, they unveil a shockingly mature and intoxicating blend of classic doom, post-metal, and death that’s powerful, emotional, and captivating. Part Solitude Aeturnus, part Fvneral Fvkk, part Ghost Brigade and Darkest Era, Endonomos II marries doom’s past with the present in ways that feel organic and unforced, natural and logical. Cobbling together so many successful doom tropes from across multiple genre variants isn’t easy, but Endonomos forge long songs that flow effortlessly, shifting moods and textures as influences intertwine and coalesce into beautiful sadness and elegant despair. Enlightenment indeed!

You won’t wait long to be impressed either. 9-minute opener “Inversion” is a massive mission statement by Endonomos, delivering everything a doom fancier could ask for and MOAR. Beginning in classic doom style with big riffs and forlorn noodling with hints of prime Katatonia, things shift toward post-rock melodoom akin to Ghost Brigade with chillingly plaintive clean vocals scarring your soul before shifting into booming low register death roars that shake the foundations of burden. The guitars trill funerary lines and weep openly around whatever gravesite your mind manufactures and everything feels so sweetly morose. The song’s half over before you realize it, and you won’t want it to end, such is its depressive allure. Doom perfection. “Atheon Anarkhon” is darker and more dissonant with harsh edges protruding at every turn and death croaks leading the charge until despondent Patrick Walker-esque wailing vocals join the fray. This is more death doom than doom-death and it feels massive and crippling. The last few minutes truly blossom with the achingly forlorn cleans coming forward to spread grief as epic guitar lines borrow from While Heaven Wept to push the song to that next level of awesome.

My first thought upon hearing “Resolve” was that it could be a lost track from Fvneral Fvkk’s masterpiece Carnal Confessions. The way the vocals play off the despairing harmonies is very much the same and the vocals themselves are very reminiscent of the brilliant performance by Simon Schorneck (Cantor Cinedicus). Certain moments remind me of vintage Solitude Aeturnus as well and the guitar work is stunning and beautiful throughout. Ahab’s Daniel Droste provides guest vocals on “Hostile” and the mix of traditional Candlemass / Solitude Aeturnus style doom and modern flavors like Khemmis and Swallow the Sun is expertly realized for another major triumph of the broken heart. All six tracks deliver the rich, anguished goods and depression hasn’t sounded this good to me in a while. At no point do the songs feel bloated or in need of trimming though three of the six push well past 8 minutes. The album’s 48-plus minutes seem to vanish in a blip, making you feel like you lost time somewhere. That’s a sign of high-quality writing.

I’m very taken with the vocals by Lukas Haidinger. He channels a lot of genre heavyweights like Rob Lowe (Solitude Aeturnus), Krum (Darkest Era), Patrick Walker (40 Watt Sun, Warning) and Mikko Kotamäki (Swallow the Sun) and that’s fine company to find oneself in. His ability to sound despondent is a rare gift and his death vocals are top-shelf. He sells the songs like they’re sketchy junkers at a disreputable used car lot and you’ll buy in, with or without complementary undercoating. His bass work is also excellent, providing an ever-present and essential low-end rumble to the proceedings. Philipp Forster and Christoph Steinlechner bring a wealth of doom worship and technical acumen to the album, moving through the years to borrow the best bits from the biggest champions. You hear morose strumming from the Katatonia / Rapture schools sitting next to classic crunching and post-metal/post-rock minimalist wallowing and it all fuses seamlessly. Their riffs are crushing when they should be and the solos are poignant, elegant, and bewitching.

Endonomos find that elusive sweet spot between heavy and melodic and craft a collection of songs that allows them to punch far above their weight. Endonomos II – Enlightenment is easily one of the best doom albums of 2024 and one of the best of the last few years. If 2024 has yet to deliver the doom your masochistic heart longs for, this is it. Don’t miss the Endorama.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 319 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta
Websites: endonomos.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/endonomos | instagram.com/endonomos
Releases Worldwide: September 27th, 2024

#2024 #40 #ArgonautaRecords #AustrianMetal #DarkestEra #DoomMetal #Endonomos #EndonomosIIEnlightenment #FvneralFvkk #GhostBrigade #Katatonia #Rapture #Review #Reviews #SolitudeAeturnus #SwallowTheSun #Votum

WITCHORIOUS - The Witch (official single) /// ARGONAUTA Records

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IzncZIIoHJg&t=27

#music #metal #heayvmetal #doommetal #witchorious #argonautarecords

ZOMBIE EATER - Dank Ritual (official video) /// ARGONAUTA Records

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HjqcUNXVKFo&t=9

#music #metal #heavymetal #stonermetal #sludgemetal #zombieeater #argonautarecords

GREENGOAT - Naraka I (official single - visualizer) /// ARGONAUTA Records

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iYiVCkzHjy4

#music #metal #heavymetal #stonermetal #stonerrock #greangoat #argonautarecords