#avantgardeblackmetal — Public Fediverse posts

BESATT (Noruega) presenta nou single: "Atomkriger" #Besatt #AvantGardeBlackMetal #Maig2026 #Noruega #NouSingle #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

BESATT (Noruega) presenta nou single: "Atomkriger" #Besatt #AvantGardeBlackMetal #Maig2026 #Noruega #NouSingle #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

https://www.europesays.com/uk/894737/ Review: Bekor Qilish – Consecrated Abysses of Dread #2026 #75 #AvantGardeBlackMetal #EnglishLyrics #Entertainment #IVoidhangerRecords #Italy #March #MixedVocals #music #ProgressiveBlackMetal #ProgressiveDeathMetal #UK #UnitedKingdom

BESATT (Noruega) presenta nou single: "Viktoria" #Besatt #AvantGardeBlackMetal #Abril2026 #Noruega #NouSingle #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

BESATT (Noruega) presenta nou single: "Viktoria" #Besatt #AvantGardeBlackMetal #Abril2026 #Noruega #NouSingle #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

BONE FRAGMENTS (Estats Units) presenta nou Split: "The Vanishing" #BoneFragments #AvantGardeBlackMetal #Abril2026 #EstatsUnits #NouSplit #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

BONE FRAGMENTS (Estats Units) presenta nou Split: "The Vanishing" #BoneFragments #AvantGardeBlackMetal #Abril2026 #EstatsUnits #NouSplit #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

Foghazer – He Left The Temple
#BlackMetal #ExperimentalBlackMetal #Metal #ambientblackmetal #atmosphericblackmetal #avantgardeblackmetal #deathdoom #doommetal #postrock #triphop #Amadora
CC BY-NC (#CreativeCommons Attribution Non Commercial) #ccmusic
https://hypnoticdirgerecords.bandcamp.com/album/he-left-the-temple

I swear I’ve seen that saguaro before, in Pima County, standing just off the side of the road, marked among the millions crowding the bajadas. At that size, the sun rising over the Ajos has cast its strange shadow westward tens of thousands of times, yet it’s still young; a few generations removed from a pre-invasion Sonoran desert that thrived before the mountains had Spanish names, before the concept of the gringo, before the thousands of hung-over ones flattened every snake living within half a mile of Highway 85 driving back from “Rocky Point.” Maybe its great-great-grandmother’s seeds were carried by a coyote, lips stained sticky sanguine, slinking under the monsoon clouds when the only people around were O’Odham, themselves too distracted by the bounty to notice her stealing one more fruit from their baskets. Four generations later, a gray fox takes a pit stop under a creosote, setting a lucky propagule up for seventy years of extension, inch by inch, towards the noon summer sun, until a freak event smears its meristem into a radiate new form, ending this lineage forever.

Just after that point, someone takes its picture, and a couple of Italian guys slap it on a black metal album. A black metal album bent on re-orienting the genre away from a frostbitten North and towards an imaginary sun-bleached South, the saguaro being perhaps the most resilient (and, tellingly, clichéd) symbol thereof. Ambitions often crumble against this landscape; the schemes of miners fall through, the hopeful homesteads dry into rubble, at the bodies of desperate migrants collapse in the canyons. Beauty and hostility, available in such great measure here, produce the romance of the desert, the basis for Radici. Diespnea fail to capture either.

Radici by Diespnea

Diespnea practice oddball black metal in the Dødheimsgard idiom, attempting to reinvigorate a staid sound with odd and abrupt inclusions. At the end of “Radici,” they iron a bass groove flat onto gridded electronic beats, then gradually build vocals, drums, and guitars back into the matrix in what would be the record’s most memorable section if it didn’t feel almost identical to the ending of “Vultures.” When the tactic comes around yet again in “Mescalynia,” the effect is more of annoyance than interest. When the duo isn’t dabbling in dull electronica, they’re often whooping and cackling in what seems to be an awful pastiche of pre-Columbian musical traditions.

But the core failure of Radici isn’t in its lazy discursions but the soporific black metal that they depart from. Say what you will about 666 International, there’s no denying the intensity on display. Radici’s official kvlt tab book leads are usually played at three-quarters speed, and the spaces between them sag even more in tempo. Creative songwriting on cuts like “Radici” and “Mescalynia” is hard to appreciate when dragged out for six minutes, though tediously predictable guitar work, and the dull production and brickwalled master don’t do the record any favors. It’s a bit too on-the-nose for a band called Diespnea to sound this asthmatic.

Diespnea have the creativity to embark on something adventurous, but lack the curiosity to decide on a destination, instead floating around their “imaginary South” totally insulated from the confrontation with the real. It’s a painful missed opportunity; the places and traditions and feelings that the duo smudge at are truly profound, and Diespnea’s lazy Tintin “South” is at best an obfuscation and at worst a downright parody of the beauty that desert landscapes, their life, and their peoples hold.

The key to survival in the desert is specificity. In the Sonoran desert, oaks cling only to shady canyon bottoms; senitas populate only the hottest, sandiest washes; water scorpions flourish in ephemeral pools the size of bathtubs, and whole biotas erupt and disappear with the summer monsoons. The desert’s beauty comes from millions of years of coevolution, from novelty and extinction and cycles of glaciation that have stripped away that which does not belong again and again until everything that remains has its place and is fighting to keep it. Radici’s vagaries have nothing in common with places like this, and what Diespnea offer beyond those vagaries is just as unconvincing. And so, Radici comes nearly dead on arrival.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Code 666 Records
Websites: facebook.com/diespnea | diespnea.com | diespnea.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

Kassad – London Orbital
#BlackMetal #Metal #PostBlackMetal #atmosphericblackmetal #avantgardeblackmetal #deathdoom #doommetal #postrock #urbanblackmetal #Amadora
CC BY-NC (#CreativeCommons Attribution Non Commercial) #ccmusic
https://hypnoticdirgerecords.bandcamp.com/album/london-orbital

Hard to decide for an Imperial Triumphant song to share... they are just all so good!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KnNHaH2kfkE

#BlackMetal #AvantGardeBlackMetal #ProgMetal #ProgBlackMetal

As 2025 winds to a close, the depleted promo pit growls with hunger, eager for the new year and a fresh bucket o’ chum.1 As I sift through the meager mid-December hopefuls, I detect a flash of black and silver. Snatching the promo, I discover clarinet-wielding Vittorio Sabelli and his project Dawn of a Dark Age, along with ninth album Ver Sacrum. Released between 2014 and 2017, the band’s first five albums examined The Six Elements. Ver Sacrum is the conclusion of a tetralogy that explores the Samnites, a Roman-conquered civilization with roots in modern-day central Italy.2 Dear Hollow found the first part of the tetralogy wondrous at its best, but undercut by a tedious, ill-conceived back half. Even so, I couldn’t resist the allure of clarinet metal. After nine albums and a bit of baggage, can Sabelli & Co. bring a warm light to dreary days, or are we left in the dark of a false dawn?

At its core, Dawn of a Dark Age plays avant-garde black metal with folksy instrumentation, and on Ver Sacrum they set aside the scathing hostility found on earlier works to hone mood and atmosphere. Though the speed varies throughout the album, proceedings mostly stick to mid-paced tempos. Sound-wise, Dawn of a Dark Age sits at a crossroads of influences, eliciting the tribal spirit of Wardruna, the wistful temperament of Primordial, and the post-black pangs of White Ward.3 While these comparisons help orient expectations, Dawn of a Dark Age’s milieu is uniquely their own, and despite some imperfections, the band clearly demonstrates lessons learned.

Ver Sacrum by DAWN OF A DARK AGE

In addition to supplying much of the instrumentation throughout Ver Sacrum, Sabelli surrounds himself with a strong cast. Drummer Diego ‘Aeternus’ Tasciotti returns, skillfully supporting Dawn of a Dark Age with subdued cymbals and calculated double-bass rolls. In fact, Aeternus’ subtle kitwork deftly boosts the drama as slower passages accelerate and guitars and bass frolic with clarinets and keys. I particularly enjoy the accordion’s role, conjuring vivid Arcadian imagery as its lilting wheeze plays counter to delicate bass grooves and acoustic strums. Most distinctive, though, are the clarinet and bass clarinet. Outside Van Halen’s “Big Bad Bill (Is Sweet William Now),” I don’t recall any clarinet-centric passages in metal, and Ver Sacrum gives the ol’ licorice stick headlining prominence. Mixing clarinets with metal isn’t a combination I’d ever considered, but on Ver Sacrum, Dawn of a Dark Age convinces me there’s plenty of room for its warm, sulky timbre. Atop the music, new vocalist Ignazio Cuga saunters in with a deep, resonant style that ably treads ground covering croaks, growls, and throat singing.4 All told, Ver Sacrum creates an evocative atmosphere that mostly enchants with its rustic drones and occasional black metal bursts.

While Dawn of a Dark Age sharply demonstrates invigorated songwriting and improvements on the pitfalls from prior outings, Ver Sacrum still encounters a few snags. The 40-minute album length is just right, but the tendency to linger on passages remains, drawing beguiling moments past their prime. And though the awkward transitions found on La Tovola Osca have been largely addressed, a few are present here. Aside from these, performances sizzle, the production suits the music, and the assorted instruments and pacing concoct an engaging, well-manicured experience. The only thing holding back Ver Sacrum from higher praise is the lack of standout moments. I sink into the music every time I spin it, yet once it’s over, I’m left with impressions of the overall sound, absent specific refrains to call me back. Multiple listens reinforce Dawn of a Dark Age’s understated grace, but transitioning away from passages earlier would help build bigger climaxes and elevate Ver Sacrum’s immediacy.

Over eleven years and nine albums, Dawn of a Dark Age has whetted an uncanny aptitude for creating diverse textures and ambiances. Despite my gripes, Ver Sacrum hits more often than misses, and stands as a solid release in a month where good new music is in short supply. Further, this is a must-listen for anyone who wants to like black metal but generally finds it inaccessible. Dawn of a Dark Age takes harsher components of the genre and softens the edges, creating a concise yet engrossing experience for anyone looking to dip their toes into befolkened black waters.

Rating: Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: My Kingdom Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 2025

As 2025 winds to a close, the depleted promo pit growls with hunger, eager for the new year and a fresh bucket o’ chum.1 As I sift through the meager mid-December hopefuls, I detect a flash of black and silver. Snatching the promo, I discover clarinet-wielding Vittorio Sabelli and his project Dawn of a Dark Age, along with ninth album Ver Sacrum. Released between 2014 and 2017, the band’s first five albums examined The Six Elements. Ver Sacrum is the conclusion of a tetralogy that explores the Samnites, a Roman-conquered civilization with roots in modern-day central Italy.2 Dear Hollow found the first part of the tetralogy wondrous at its best, but undercut by a tedious, ill-conceived back half. Even so, I couldn’t resist the allure of clarinet metal. After nine albums and a bit of baggage, can Sabelli & Co. bring a warm light to dreary days, or are we left in the dark of a false dawn?

At its core, Dawn of a Dark Age plays avant-garde black metal with folksy instrumentation, and on Ver Sacrum they set aside the scathing hostility found on earlier works to hone mood and atmosphere. Though the speed varies throughout the album, proceedings mostly stick to mid-paced tempos. Sound-wise, Dawn of a Dark Age sits at a crossroads of influences, eliciting the tribal spirit of Wardruna, the wistful temperament of Primordial, and the post-black pangs of White Ward.3 While these comparisons help orient expectations, Dawn of a Dark Age’s milieu is uniquely their own, and despite some imperfections, the band clearly demonstrates lessons learned.

Ver Sacrum by DAWN OF A DARK AGE

In addition to supplying much of the instrumentation throughout Ver Sacrum, Sabelli surrounds himself with a strong cast. Drummer Diego ‘Aeternus’ Tasciotti returns, skillfully supporting Dawn of a Dark Age with subdued cymbals and calculated double-bass rolls. In fact, Aeternus’ subtle kitwork deftly boosts the drama as slower passages accelerate and guitars and bass frolic with clarinets and keys. I particularly enjoy the accordion’s role, conjuring vivid Arcadian imagery as its lilting wheeze plays counter to delicate bass grooves and acoustic strums. Most distinctive, though, are the clarinet and bass clarinet. Outside Van Halen’s “Big Bad Bill (Is Sweet William Now),” I don’t recall any clarinet-centric passages in metal, and Ver Sacrum gives the ol’ licorice stick headlining prominence. Mixing clarinets with metal isn’t a combination I’d ever considered, but on Ver Sacrum, Dawn of a Dark Age convinces me there’s plenty of room for its warm, sulky timbre. Atop the music, new vocalist Ignazio Cuga saunters in with a deep, resonant style that ably treads ground covering croaks, growls, and throat singing.4 All told, Ver Sacrum creates an evocative atmosphere that mostly enchants with its rustic drones and occasional black metal bursts.

While Dawn of a Dark Age sharply demonstrates invigorated songwriting and improvements on the pitfalls from prior outings, Ver Sacrum still encounters a few snags. The 40-minute album length is just right, but the tendency to linger on passages remains, drawing beguiling moments past their prime. And though the awkward transitions found on La Tovola Osca have been largely addressed, a few are present here. Aside from these, performances sizzle, the production suits the music, and the assorted instruments and pacing concoct an engaging, well-manicured experience. The only thing holding back Ver Sacrum from higher praise is the lack of standout moments. I sink into the music every time I spin it, yet once it’s over, I’m left with impressions of the overall sound, absent specific refrains to call me back. Multiple listens reinforce Dawn of a Dark Age’s understated grace, but transitioning away from passages earlier would help build bigger climaxes and elevate Ver Sacrum’s immediacy.

Over eleven years and nine albums, Dawn of a Dark Age has whetted an uncanny aptitude for creating diverse textures and ambiances. Despite my gripes, Ver Sacrum hits more often than misses, and stands as a solid release in a month where good new music is in short supply. Further, this is a must-listen for anyone who wants to like black metal but generally finds it inaccessible. Dawn of a Dark Age takes harsher components of the genre and softens the edges, creating a concise yet engrossing experience for anyone looking to dip their toes into befolkened black waters.

Rating: Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: My Kingdom Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 2025

As 2025 winds to a close, the depleted promo pit growls with hunger, eager for the new year and a fresh bucket o’ chum.1 As I sift through the meager mid-December hopefuls, I detect a flash of black and silver. Snatching the promo, I discover clarinet-wielding Vittorio Sabelli and his project Dawn of a Dark Age, along with ninth album Ver Sacrum. Released between 2014 and 2017, the band’s first five albums examined The Six Elements. Ver Sacrum is the conclusion of a tetralogy that explores the Samnites, a Roman-conquered civilization with roots in modern-day central Italy.2 Dear Hollow found the first part of the tetralogy wondrous at its best, but undercut by a tedious, ill-conceived back half. Even so, I couldn’t resist the allure of clarinet metal. After nine albums and a bit of baggage, can Sabelli & Co. bring a warm light to dreary days, or are we left in the dark of a false dawn?

At its core, Dawn of a Dark Age plays avant-garde black metal with folksy instrumentation, and on Ver Sacrum they set aside the scathing hostility found on earlier works to hone mood and atmosphere. Though the speed varies throughout the album, proceedings mostly stick to mid-paced tempos. Sound-wise, Dawn of a Dark Age sits at a crossroads of influences, eliciting the tribal spirit of Wardruna, the wistful temperament of Primordial, and the post-black pangs of White Ward.3 While these comparisons help orient expectations, Dawn of a Dark Age’s milieu is uniquely their own, and despite some imperfections, the band clearly demonstrates lessons learned.

Ver Sacrum by DAWN OF A DARK AGE

In addition to supplying much of the instrumentation throughout Ver Sacrum, Sabelli surrounds himself with a strong cast. Drummer Diego ‘Aeternus’ Tasciotti returns, skillfully supporting Dawn of a Dark Age with subdued cymbals and calculated double-bass rolls. In fact, Aeternus’ subtle kitwork deftly boosts the drama as slower passages accelerate and guitars and bass frolic with clarinets and keys. I particularly enjoy the accordion’s role, conjuring vivid Arcadian imagery as its lilting wheeze plays counter to delicate bass grooves and acoustic strums. Most distinctive, though, are the clarinet and bass clarinet. Outside Van Halen’s “Big Bad Bill (Is Sweet William Now),” I don’t recall any clarinet-centric passages in metal, and Ver Sacrum gives the ol’ licorice stick headlining prominence. Mixing clarinets with metal isn’t a combination I’d ever considered, but on Ver Sacrum, Dawn of a Dark Age convinces me there’s plenty of room for its warm, sulky timbre. Atop the music, new vocalist Ignazio Cuga saunters in with a deep, resonant style that ably treads ground covering croaks, growls, and throat singing.4 All told, Ver Sacrum creates an evocative atmosphere that mostly enchants with its rustic drones and occasional black metal bursts.

While Dawn of a Dark Age sharply demonstrates invigorated songwriting and improvements on the pitfalls from prior outings, Ver Sacrum still encounters a few snags. The 40-minute album length is just right, but the tendency to linger on passages remains, drawing beguiling moments past their prime. And though the awkward transitions found on La Tovola Osca have been largely addressed, a few are present here. Aside from these, performances sizzle, the production suits the music, and the assorted instruments and pacing concoct an engaging, well-manicured experience. The only thing holding back Ver Sacrum from higher praise is the lack of standout moments. I sink into the music every time I spin it, yet once it’s over, I’m left with impressions of the overall sound, absent specific refrains to call me back. Multiple listens reinforce Dawn of a Dark Age’s understated grace, but transitioning away from passages earlier would help build bigger climaxes and elevate Ver Sacrum’s immediacy.

Over eleven years and nine albums, Dawn of a Dark Age has whetted an uncanny aptitude for creating diverse textures and ambiances. Despite my gripes, Ver Sacrum hits more often than misses, and stands as a solid release in a month where good new music is in short supply. Further, this is a must-listen for anyone who wants to like black metal but generally finds it inaccessible. Dawn of a Dark Age takes harsher components of the genre and softens the edges, creating a concise yet engrossing experience for anyone looking to dip their toes into befolkened black waters.

Rating: Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: My Kingdom Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 2025

As 2025 winds to a close, the depleted promo pit growls with hunger, eager for the new year and a fresh bucket o’ chum.1 As I sift through the meager mid-December hopefuls, I detect a flash of black and silver. Snatching the promo, I discover clarinet-wielding Vittorio Sabelli and his project Dawn of a Dark Age, along with ninth album Ver Sacrum. Released between 2014 and 2017, the band’s first five albums examined The Six Elements. Ver Sacrum is the conclusion of a tetralogy that explores the Samnites, a Roman-conquered civilization with roots in modern-day central Italy.2 Dear Hollow found the first part of the tetralogy wondrous at its best, but undercut by a tedious, ill-conceived back half. Even so, I couldn’t resist the allure of clarinet metal. After nine albums and a bit of baggage, can Sabelli & Co. bring a warm light to dreary days, or are we left in the dark of a false dawn?

At its core, Dawn of a Dark Age plays avant-garde black metal with folksy instrumentation, and on Ver Sacrum they set aside the scathing hostility found on earlier works to hone mood and atmosphere. Though the speed varies throughout the album, proceedings mostly stick to mid-paced tempos. Sound-wise, Dawn of a Dark Age sits at a crossroads of influences, eliciting the tribal spirit of Wardruna, the wistful temperament of Primordial, and the post-black pangs of White Ward.3 While these comparisons help orient expectations, Dawn of a Dark Age’s milieu is uniquely their own, and despite some imperfections, the band clearly demonstrates lessons learned.

Ver Sacrum by DAWN OF A DARK AGE

In addition to supplying much of the instrumentation throughout Ver Sacrum, Sabelli surrounds himself with a strong cast. Drummer Diego ‘Aeternus’ Tasciotti returns, skillfully supporting Dawn of a Dark Age with subdued cymbals and calculated double-bass rolls. In fact, Aeternus’ subtle kitwork deftly boosts the drama as slower passages accelerate and guitars and bass frolic with clarinets and keys. I particularly enjoy the accordion’s role, conjuring vivid Arcadian imagery as its lilting wheeze plays counter to delicate bass grooves and acoustic strums. Most distinctive, though, are the clarinet and bass clarinet. Outside Van Halen’s “Big Bad Bill (Is Sweet William Now),” I don’t recall any clarinet-centric passages in metal, and Ver Sacrum gives the ol’ licorice stick headlining prominence. Mixing clarinets with metal isn’t a combination I’d ever considered, but on Ver Sacrum, Dawn of a Dark Age convinces me there’s plenty of room for its warm, sulky timbre. Atop the music, new vocalist Ignazio Cuga saunters in with a deep, resonant style that ably treads ground covering croaks, growls, and throat singing.4 All told, Ver Sacrum creates an evocative atmosphere that mostly enchants with its rustic drones and occasional black metal bursts.

While Dawn of a Dark Age sharply demonstrates invigorated songwriting and improvements on the pitfalls from prior outings, Ver Sacrum still encounters a few snags. The 40-minute album length is just right, but the tendency to linger on passages remains, drawing beguiling moments past their prime. And though the awkward transitions found on La Tovola Osca have been largely addressed, a few are present here. Aside from these, performances sizzle, the production suits the music, and the assorted instruments and pacing concoct an engaging, well-manicured experience. The only thing holding back Ver Sacrum from higher praise is the lack of standout moments. I sink into the music every time I spin it, yet once it’s over, I’m left with impressions of the overall sound, absent specific refrains to call me back. Multiple listens reinforce Dawn of a Dark Age’s understated grace, but transitioning away from passages earlier would help build bigger climaxes and elevate Ver Sacrum’s immediacy.

Over eleven years and nine albums, Dawn of a Dark Age has whetted an uncanny aptitude for creating diverse textures and ambiances. Despite my gripes, Ver Sacrum hits more often than misses, and stands as a solid release in a month where good new music is in short supply. Further, this is a must-listen for anyone who wants to like black metal but generally finds it inaccessible. Dawn of a Dark Age takes harsher components of the genre and softens the edges, creating a concise yet engrossing experience for anyone looking to dip their toes into befolkened black waters.

Rating: Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: My Kingdom Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 2025

As 2025 winds to a close, the depleted promo pit growls with hunger, eager for the new year and a fresh bucket o’ chum.1 As I sift through the meager mid-December hopefuls, I detect a flash of black and silver. Snatching the promo, I discover clarinet-wielding Vittorio Sabelli and his project Dawn of a Dark Age, along with ninth album Ver Sacrum. Released between 2014 and 2017, the band’s first five albums examined The Six Elements. Ver Sacrum is the conclusion of a tetralogy that explores the Samnites, a Roman-conquered civilization with roots in modern-day central Italy.2 Dear Hollow found the first part of the tetralogy wondrous at its best, but undercut by a tedious, ill-conceived back half. Even so, I couldn’t resist the allure of clarinet metal. After nine albums and a bit of baggage, can Sabelli & Co. bring a warm light to dreary days, or are we left in the dark of a false dawn?

At its core, Dawn of a Dark Age plays avant-garde black metal with folksy instrumentation, and on Ver Sacrum they set aside the scathing hostility found on earlier works to hone mood and atmosphere. Though the speed varies throughout the album, proceedings mostly stick to mid-paced tempos. Sound-wise, Dawn of a Dark Age sits at a crossroads of influences, eliciting the tribal spirit of Wardruna, the wistful temperament of Primordial, and the post-black pangs of White Ward.3 While these comparisons help orient expectations, Dawn of a Dark Age’s milieu is uniquely their own, and despite some imperfections, the band clearly demonstrates lessons learned.

Ver Sacrum by DAWN OF A DARK AGE

In addition to supplying much of the instrumentation throughout Ver Sacrum, Sabelli surrounds himself with a strong cast. Drummer Diego ‘Aeternus’ Tasciotti returns, skillfully supporting Dawn of a Dark Age with subdued cymbals and calculated double-bass rolls. In fact, Aeternus’ subtle kitwork deftly boosts the drama as slower passages accelerate and guitars and bass frolic with clarinets and keys. I particularly enjoy the accordion’s role, conjuring vivid Arcadian imagery as its lilting wheeze plays counter to delicate bass grooves and acoustic strums. Most distinctive, though, are the clarinet and bass clarinet. Outside Van Halen’s “Big Bad Bill (Is Sweet William Now),” I don’t recall any clarinet-centric passages in metal, and Ver Sacrum gives the ol’ licorice stick headlining prominence. Mixing clarinets with metal isn’t a combination I’d ever considered, but on Ver Sacrum, Dawn of a Dark Age convinces me there’s plenty of room for its warm, sulky timbre. Atop the music, new vocalist Ignazio Cuga saunters in with a deep, resonant style that ably treads ground covering croaks, growls, and throat singing.4 All told, Ver Sacrum creates an evocative atmosphere that mostly enchants with its rustic drones and occasional black metal bursts.

While Dawn of a Dark Age sharply demonstrates invigorated songwriting and improvements on the pitfalls from prior outings, Ver Sacrum still encounters a few snags. The 40-minute album length is just right, but the tendency to linger on passages remains, drawing beguiling moments past their prime. And though the awkward transitions found on La Tovola Osca have been largely addressed, a few are present here. Aside from these, performances sizzle, the production suits the music, and the assorted instruments and pacing concoct an engaging, well-manicured experience. The only thing holding back Ver Sacrum from higher praise is the lack of standout moments. I sink into the music every time I spin it, yet once it’s over, I’m left with impressions of the overall sound, absent specific refrains to call me back. Multiple listens reinforce Dawn of a Dark Age’s understated grace, but transitioning away from passages earlier would help build bigger climaxes and elevate Ver Sacrum’s immediacy.

Over eleven years and nine albums, Dawn of a Dark Age has whetted an uncanny aptitude for creating diverse textures and ambiances. Despite my gripes, Ver Sacrum hits more often than misses, and stands as a solid release in a month where good new music is in short supply. Further, this is a must-listen for anyone who wants to like black metal but generally finds it inaccessible. Dawn of a Dark Age takes harsher components of the genre and softens the edges, creating a concise yet engrossing experience for anyone looking to dip their toes into befolkened black waters.

Rating: Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: My Kingdom Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 2025

#NowPlaying

For the finish line of the first workday after 3,5 weeks off. Some #blackmetal from the #Ukraine

https://song.link/i/1609693486

#WhiteWard #postblackmetal #AvantgardeBlackMetal

#NowPlaying

For the finish line of the first workday after 3,5 weeks off. Some #blackmetal from the #Ukraine

https://song.link/i/1609693486

#WhiteWard #postblackmetal #AvantgardeBlackMetal

#NowPlaying

For the finish line of the first workday after 3,5 weeks off. Some #blackmetal from the #Ukraine

https://song.link/i/1609693486

#WhiteWard #postblackmetal #AvantgardeBlackMetal

#NowPlaying

For the finish line of the first workday after 3,5 weeks off. Some #blackmetal from the #Ukraine

https://song.link/i/1609693486

#WhiteWard #postblackmetal #AvantgardeBlackMetal

#NowPlaying

For the finish line of the first workday after 3,5 weeks off. Some #blackmetal from the #Ukraine

https://song.link/i/1609693486

#WhiteWard #postblackmetal #AvantgardeBlackMetal

Lychgate – Precipice Review

By Grin Reaper

Dense, dark, and demented, Lychgate’s Precipice breaks nearly six years of silence with music as unsettling as the concept it’s built upon. The album’s primary inspiration draws from E. M. Forster’s short story “The Machine Stops,” a dystopian tale first published in 1909 that cautions against over-reliance on technology.1 In it, The Machine enables people to govern their lives from isolated chambers, interacting virtually rather than in person after the Earth’s surface becomes uninhabitable. Integrating notions such as blind obedience to technology, instantaneous communication, and climate change furnishes a lavish backdrop for London’s Lychgate and their fourth LP.2 Given the promise of its premise, does Precipice step off the ledge and soar, or plummet to the depths of obscurity?

Brandishing a broad array of atmospheres and a flair for generating tension, Lychgate conjures oppressive auras that equally frighten and excite. To that end, Precipice’s aural footprint lands somewhere between Blut aus Nord’s dissonant grooves and a decelerated Imperial Triumphant at their most cinematic (think “Transmission to Mercury”), taking the avant-garde trappings of each and devising a mood and character all Lychgate’s own. Emboldened by jazzy flourishes à la Dødheimsgard, Scarcity’s cacophonous, freeform nonconformity, and Morast’s caustic claustrophobia, Lychgate forges an unforgiving yet layered experience that outstrips single reference points. Tensions runs roughshod throughout Precipice, knotting its nine tracks into gnarled enigmas that demand to be sussed out with care. Gone are the clean vocals from The Contagion in Nine Steps and An Antidote for the Glass Pill, and instead vocalist Greg Chandler focuses solely on barks and snarls that remind of Doug Moore’s urgent rasps. Atop it all, Lychgate further embeds the organ into the band’s core sound and discharges potent riffs at key climactic junctures, leaving Precipice crackling with vitality and unpredictability.

Precipice’s varied compositions and instrumentations coalesce to propel Lychgate to new heights. It’s a mature release that exemplifies the prevailing virtues of prior albums, unifying them into an impressively intricate forty-eight minutes. The organ, credited to permanent member J. C. Young and session musician F. A. Young, plays a central role, spanning the gamut from lunatic funhouse (“Anagnorisis”) to Phantom of the Opera gothic drama (“Mausoleum of Steel”). It keenly weaves a calculated stress, plying tension in ebbs and flows that cleverly and constantly push the album forward. Besides organ and piano, loose guitar structures regularly bleed into riffs plucked out of an eldritch ether, oscillating between Zappa’s Jazz from Hell and unearthly, pit-scorching acrobatics (“Renunciation”). A doleful, introspective melody in “The Meeting of Orion and Scorpio” diversifies the sound and pacing, followed by a hectic skittering in “Hive of Parasites” that gives way to a slow-burn passage heavily featuring jazz flute. Myriad components fuse into a whole that should not sound as cohesive as it does, but Lychgate takes their carnival of sounds and crafts a finely-honed album that deserves more attention than it will get with an end-of-year release.

Lychgate employs a satisfying and well-considered array of ideas in service of Precipice, though a few hiccups are present. Besides the musical diversity, Lychgate flaunts remarkable instincts when it comes to pacing. Having the longest track as the midpoint of the album works well and helps establish a clear listening milestone; I only wish the back end of “Hive of Parasites” had been trimmed a touch, as the last three minutes blur together. The mix is another boon, providing ample space for S. D. Lindsley’s guitar, Tom MacLean’s bass, and T. J. F. Vallely’s drums. The only quibble is Precipice’s density, which could put off those lacking the time to absorb its demure gifts. All told, though, Lychgate earns every bit of praise by merging this many ideas so cohesively.

Despite its late release and complex composition, Lychgate delivers a smash success that commands and indisputably warrants your attention. Precipice isn’t easy to understand, but it’s irresistibly easy to spin again and again. And you should, because it takes time to unravel.3 Precipice has been one of my most played albums of the year at a time when I’ve been busiest both personally and professionally, routinely ensnaring me with its enchanting hooks and wiles. For my money, Lychgate has released the best album of their career, and you owe it to yourself to step up to the Precipice and take a leap of faith.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 19th, 2025

#2025 #40 #AvantGardeBlackMetal #BlackMetal #BlutAusNord #DebemurMortiProductions #Dec25 #Dödheimsgard #EnglishMetal #FrankZappa #ImperialTriumphant #Lychgate #Morast #Precipice #Review #Reviews

Lychgate – Precipice Review

By Grin Reaper

Dense, dark, and demented, Lychgate’s Precipice breaks nearly six years of silence with music as unsettling as the concept it’s built upon. The album’s primary inspiration draws from E. M. Forster’s short story “The Machine Stops,” a dystopian tale first published in 1909 that cautions against over-reliance on technology.1 In it, The Machine enables people to govern their lives from isolated chambers, interacting virtually rather than in person after the Earth’s surface becomes uninhabitable. Integrating notions such as blind obedience to technology, instantaneous communication, and climate change furnishes a lavish backdrop for London’s Lychgate and their fourth LP.2 Given the promise of its premise, does Precipice step off the ledge and soar, or plummet to the depths of obscurity?

Brandishing a broad array of atmospheres and a flair for generating tension, Lychgate conjures oppressive auras that equally frighten and excite. To that end, Precipice’s aural footprint lands somewhere between Blut aus Nord’s dissonant grooves and a decelerated Imperial Triumphant at their most cinematic (think “Transmission to Mercury”), taking the avant-garde trappings of each and devising a mood and character all Lychgate’s own. Emboldened by jazzy flourishes à la Dødheimsgard, Scarcity’s cacophonous, freeform nonconformity, and Morast’s caustic claustrophobia, Lychgate forges an unforgiving yet layered experience that outstrips single reference points. Tensions runs roughshod throughout Precipice, knotting its nine tracks into gnarled enigmas that demand to be sussed out with care. Gone are the clean vocals from The Contagion in Nine Steps and An Antidote for the Glass Pill, and instead vocalist Greg Chandler focuses solely on barks and snarls that remind of Doug Moore’s urgent rasps. Atop it all, Lychgate further embeds the organ into the band’s core sound and discharges potent riffs at key climactic junctures, leaving Precipice crackling with vitality and unpredictability.

Precipice’s varied compositions and instrumentations coalesce to propel Lychgate to new heights. It’s a mature release that exemplifies the prevailing virtues of prior albums, unifying them into an impressively intricate forty-eight minutes. The organ, credited to permanent member J. C. Young and session musician F. A. Young, plays a central role, spanning the gamut from lunatic funhouse (“Anagnorisis”) to Phantom of the Opera gothic drama (“Mausoleum of Steel”). It keenly weaves a calculated stress, plying tension in ebbs and flows that cleverly and constantly push the album forward. Besides organ and piano, loose guitar structures regularly bleed into riffs plucked out of an eldritch ether, oscillating between Zappa’s Jazz from Hell and unearthly, pit-scorching acrobatics (“Renunciation”). A doleful, introspective melody in “The Meeting of Orion and Scorpio” diversifies the sound and pacing, followed by a hectic skittering in “Hive of Parasites” that gives way to a slow-burn passage heavily featuring jazz flute. Myriad components fuse into a whole that should not sound as cohesive as it does, but Lychgate takes their carnival of sounds and crafts a finely-honed album that deserves more attention than it will get with an end-of-year release.

Lychgate employs a satisfying and well-considered array of ideas in service of Precipice, though a few hiccups are present. Besides the musical diversity, Lychgate flaunts remarkable instincts when it comes to pacing. Having the longest track as the midpoint of the album works well and helps establish a clear listening milestone; I only wish the back end of “Hive of Parasites” had been trimmed a touch, as the last three minutes blur together. The mix is another boon, providing ample space for S. D. Lindsley’s guitar, Tom MacLean’s bass, and T. J. F. Vallely’s drums. The only quibble is Precipice’s density, which could put off those lacking the time to absorb its demure gifts. All told, though, Lychgate earns every bit of praise by merging this many ideas so cohesively.

Despite its late release and complex composition, Lychgate delivers a smash success that commands and indisputably warrants your attention. Precipice isn’t easy to understand, but it’s irresistibly easy to spin again and again. And you should, because it takes time to unravel.3 Precipice has been one of my most played albums of the year at a time when I’ve been busiest both personally and professionally, routinely ensnaring me with its enchanting hooks and wiles. For my money, Lychgate has released the best album of their career, and you owe it to yourself to step up to the Precipice and take a leap of faith.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 19th, 2025

#2025 #40 #AvantGardeBlackMetal #BlackMetal #BlutAusNord #DebemurMortiProductions #Dec25 #Dödheimsgard #EnglishMetal #FrankZappa #ImperialTriumphant #Lychgate #Morast #Precipice #Review #Reviews

Lychgate – Precipice Review

By Grin Reaper

Dense, dark, and demented, Lychgate’s Precipice breaks nearly six years of silence with music as unsettling as the concept it’s built upon. The album’s primary inspiration draws from E. M. Forster’s short story “The Machine Stops,” a dystopian tale first published in 1909 that cautions against over-reliance on technology.1 In it, The Machine enables people to govern their lives from isolated chambers, interacting virtually rather than in person after the Earth’s surface becomes uninhabitable. Integrating notions such as blind obedience to technology, instantaneous communication, and climate change furnishes a lavish backdrop for London’s Lychgate and their fourth LP.2 Given the promise of its premise, does Precipice step off the ledge and soar, or plummet to the depths of obscurity?

Brandishing a broad array of atmospheres and a flair for generating tension, Lychgate conjures oppressive auras that equally frighten and excite. To that end, Precipice’s aural footprint lands somewhere between Blut aus Nord’s dissonant grooves and a decelerated Imperial Triumphant at their most cinematic (think “Transmission to Mercury”), taking the avant-garde trappings of each and devising a mood and character all Lychgate’s own. Emboldened by jazzy flourishes à la Dødheimsgard, Scarcity’s cacophonous, freeform nonconformity, and Morast’s caustic claustrophobia, Lychgate forges an unforgiving yet layered experience that outstrips single reference points. Tensions runs roughshod throughout Precipice, knotting its nine tracks into gnarled enigmas that demand to be sussed out with care. Gone are the clean vocals from The Contagion in Nine Steps and An Antidote for the Glass Pill, and instead vocalist Greg Chandler focuses solely on barks and snarls that remind of Doug Moore’s urgent rasps. Atop it all, Lychgate further embeds the organ into the band’s core sound and discharges potent riffs at key climactic junctures, leaving Precipice crackling with vitality and unpredictability.

Precipice’s varied compositions and instrumentations coalesce to propel Lychgate to new heights. It’s a mature release that exemplifies the prevailing virtues of prior albums, unifying them into an impressively intricate forty-eight minutes. The organ, credited to permanent member J. C. Young and session musician F. A. Young, plays a central role, spanning the gamut from lunatic funhouse (“Anagnorisis”) to Phantom of the Opera gothic drama (“Mausoleum of Steel”). It keenly weaves a calculated stress, plying tension in ebbs and flows that cleverly and constantly push the album forward. Besides organ and piano, loose guitar structures regularly bleed into riffs plucked out of an eldritch ether, oscillating between Zappa’s Jazz from Hell and unearthly, pit-scorching acrobatics (“Renunciation”). A doleful, introspective melody in “The Meeting of Orion and Scorpio” diversifies the sound and pacing, followed by a hectic skittering in “Hive of Parasites” that gives way to a slow-burn passage heavily featuring jazz flute. Myriad components fuse into a whole that should not sound as cohesive as it does, but Lychgate takes their carnival of sounds and crafts a finely-honed album that deserves more attention than it will get with an end-of-year release.

Lychgate employs a satisfying and well-considered array of ideas in service of Precipice, though a few hiccups are present. Besides the musical diversity, Lychgate flaunts remarkable instincts when it comes to pacing. Having the longest track as the midpoint of the album works well and helps establish a clear listening milestone; I only wish the back end of “Hive of Parasites” had been trimmed a touch, as the last three minutes blur together. The mix is another boon, providing ample space for S. D. Lindsley’s guitar, Tom MacLean’s bass, and T. J. F. Vallely’s drums. The only quibble is Precipice’s density, which could put off those lacking the time to absorb its demure gifts. All told, though, Lychgate earns every bit of praise by merging this many ideas so cohesively.

Despite its late release and complex composition, Lychgate delivers a smash success that commands and indisputably warrants your attention. Precipice isn’t easy to understand, but it’s irresistibly easy to spin again and again. And you should, because it takes time to unravel.3 Precipice has been one of my most played albums of the year at a time when I’ve been busiest both personally and professionally, routinely ensnaring me with its enchanting hooks and wiles. For my money, Lychgate has released the best album of their career, and you owe it to yourself to step up to the Precipice and take a leap of faith.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 19th, 2025

#2025 #40 #AvantGardeBlackMetal #BlackMetal #BlutAusNord #DebemurMortiProductions #Dec25 #Dödheimsgard #EnglishMetal #FrankZappa #ImperialTriumphant #Lychgate #Morast #Precipice #Review #Reviews

Lychgate – Precipice Review

By Grin Reaper

Dense, dark, and demented, Lychgate’s Precipice breaks nearly six years of silence with music as unsettling as the concept it’s built upon. The album’s primary inspiration draws from E. M. Forster’s short story “The Machine Stops,” a dystopian tale first published in 1909 that cautions against over-reliance on technology.1 In it, The Machine enables people to govern their lives from isolated chambers, interacting virtually rather than in person after the Earth’s surface becomes uninhabitable. Integrating notions such as blind obedience to technology, instantaneous communication, and climate change furnishes a lavish backdrop for London’s Lychgate and their fourth LP.2 Given the promise of its premise, does Precipice step off the ledge and soar, or plummet to the depths of obscurity?

Brandishing a broad array of atmospheres and a flair for generating tension, Lychgate conjures oppressive auras that equally frighten and excite. To that end, Precipice’s aural footprint lands somewhere between Blut aus Nord’s dissonant grooves and a decelerated Imperial Triumphant at their most cinematic (think “Transmission to Mercury”), taking the avant-garde trappings of each and devising a mood and character all Lychgate’s own. Emboldened by jazzy flourishes à la Dødheimsgard, Scarcity’s cacophonous, freeform nonconformity, and Morast’s caustic claustrophobia, Lychgate forges an unforgiving yet layered experience that outstrips single reference points. Tensions runs roughshod throughout Precipice, knotting its nine tracks into gnarled enigmas that demand to be sussed out with care. Gone are the clean vocals from The Contagion in Nine Steps and An Antidote for the Glass Pill, and instead vocalist Greg Chandler focuses solely on barks and snarls that remind of Doug Moore’s urgent rasps. Atop it all, Lychgate further embeds the organ into the band’s core sound and discharges potent riffs at key climactic junctures, leaving Precipice crackling with vitality and unpredictability.

Precipice’s varied compositions and instrumentations coalesce to propel Lychgate to new heights. It’s a mature release that exemplifies the prevailing virtues of prior albums, unifying them into an impressively intricate forty-eight minutes. The organ, credited to permanent member J. C. Young and session musician F. A. Young, plays a central role, spanning the gamut from lunatic funhouse (“Anagnorisis”) to Phantom of the Opera gothic drama (“Mausoleum of Steel”). It keenly weaves a calculated stress, plying tension in ebbs and flows that cleverly and constantly push the album forward. Besides organ and piano, loose guitar structures regularly bleed into riffs plucked out of an eldritch ether, oscillating between Zappa’s Jazz from Hell and unearthly, pit-scorching acrobatics (“Renunciation”). A doleful, introspective melody in “The Meeting of Orion and Scorpio” diversifies the sound and pacing, followed by a hectic skittering in “Hive of Parasites” that gives way to a slow-burn passage heavily featuring jazz flute. Myriad components fuse into a whole that should not sound as cohesive as it does, but Lychgate takes their carnival of sounds and crafts a finely-honed album that deserves more attention than it will get with an end-of-year release.

Lychgate employs a satisfying and well-considered array of ideas in service of Precipice, though a few hiccups are present. Besides the musical diversity, Lychgate flaunts remarkable instincts when it comes to pacing. Having the longest track as the midpoint of the album works well and helps establish a clear listening milestone; I only wish the back end of “Hive of Parasites” had been trimmed a touch, as the last three minutes blur together. The mix is another boon, providing ample space for S. D. Lindsley’s guitar, Tom MacLean’s bass, and T. J. F. Vallely’s drums. The only quibble is Precipice’s density, which could put off those lacking the time to absorb its demure gifts. All told, though, Lychgate earns every bit of praise by merging this many ideas so cohesively.

Despite its late release and complex composition, Lychgate delivers a smash success that commands and indisputably warrants your attention. Precipice isn’t easy to understand, but it’s irresistibly easy to spin again and again. And you should, because it takes time to unravel.3 Precipice has been one of my most played albums of the year at a time when I’ve been busiest both personally and professionally, routinely ensnaring me with its enchanting hooks and wiles. For my money, Lychgate has released the best album of their career, and you owe it to yourself to step up to the Precipice and take a leap of faith.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 19th, 2025

#2025 #40 #AvantGardeBlackMetal #BlackMetal #BlutAusNord #DebemurMortiProductions #Dec25 #Dödheimsgard #EnglishMetal #FrankZappa #ImperialTriumphant #Lychgate #Morast #Precipice #Review #Reviews

Lychgate – Precipice Review

By Grin Reaper

Dense, dark, and demented, Lychgate’s Precipice breaks nearly six years of silence with music as unsettling as the concept it’s built upon. The album’s primary inspiration draws from E. M. Forster’s short story “The Machine Stops,” a dystopian tale first published in 1909 that cautions against over-reliance on technology.1 In it, The Machine enables people to govern their lives from isolated chambers, interacting virtually rather than in person after the Earth’s surface becomes uninhabitable. Integrating notions such as blind obedience to technology, instantaneous communication, and climate change furnishes a lavish backdrop for London’s Lychgate and their fourth LP.2 Given the promise of its premise, does Precipice step off the ledge and soar, or plummet to the depths of obscurity?

Brandishing a broad array of atmospheres and a flair for generating tension, Lychgate conjures oppressive auras that equally frighten and excite. To that end, Precipice’s aural footprint lands somewhere between Blut aus Nord’s dissonant grooves and a decelerated Imperial Triumphant at their most cinematic (think “Transmission to Mercury”), taking the avant-garde trappings of each and devising a mood and character all Lychgate’s own. Emboldened by jazzy flourishes à la Dødheimsgard, Scarcity’s cacophonous, freeform nonconformity, and Morast’s caustic claustrophobia, Lychgate forges an unforgiving yet layered experience that outstrips single reference points. Tensions runs roughshod throughout Precipice, knotting its nine tracks into gnarled enigmas that demand to be sussed out with care. Gone are the clean vocals from The Contagion in Nine Steps and An Antidote for the Glass Pill, and instead vocalist Greg Chandler focuses solely on barks and snarls that remind of Doug Moore’s urgent rasps. Atop it all, Lychgate further embeds the organ into the band’s core sound and discharges potent riffs at key climactic junctures, leaving Precipice crackling with vitality and unpredictability.

Precipice’s varied compositions and instrumentations coalesce to propel Lychgate to new heights. It’s a mature release that exemplifies the prevailing virtues of prior albums, unifying them into an impressively intricate forty-eight minutes. The organ, credited to permanent member J. C. Young and session musician F. A. Young, plays a central role, spanning the gamut from lunatic funhouse (“Anagnorisis”) to Phantom of the Opera gothic drama (“Mausoleum of Steel”). It keenly weaves a calculated stress, plying tension in ebbs and flows that cleverly and constantly push the album forward. Besides organ and piano, loose guitar structures regularly bleed into riffs plucked out of an eldritch ether, oscillating between Zappa’s Jazz from Hell and unearthly, pit-scorching acrobatics (“Renunciation”). A doleful, introspective melody in “The Meeting of Orion and Scorpio” diversifies the sound and pacing, followed by a hectic skittering in “Hive of Parasites” that gives way to a slow-burn passage heavily featuring jazz flute. Myriad components fuse into a whole that should not sound as cohesive as it does, but Lychgate takes their carnival of sounds and crafts a finely-honed album that deserves more attention than it will get with an end-of-year release.

Lychgate employs a satisfying and well-considered array of ideas in service of Precipice, though a few hiccups are present. Besides the musical diversity, Lychgate flaunts remarkable instincts when it comes to pacing. Having the longest track as the midpoint of the album works well and helps establish a clear listening milestone; I only wish the back end of “Hive of Parasites” had been trimmed a touch, as the last three minutes blur together. The mix is another boon, providing ample space for S. D. Lindsley’s guitar, Tom MacLean’s bass, and T. J. F. Vallely’s drums. The only quibble is Precipice’s density, which could put off those lacking the time to absorb its demure gifts. All told, though, Lychgate earns every bit of praise by merging this many ideas so cohesively.

Despite its late release and complex composition, Lychgate delivers a smash success that commands and indisputably warrants your attention. Precipice isn’t easy to understand, but it’s irresistibly easy to spin again and again. And you should, because it takes time to unravel.3 Precipice has been one of my most played albums of the year at a time when I’ve been busiest both personally and professionally, routinely ensnaring me with its enchanting hooks and wiles. For my money, Lychgate has released the best album of their career, and you owe it to yourself to step up to the Precipice and take a leap of faith.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 19th, 2025

#2025 #40 #AvantGardeBlackMetal #BlackMetal #BlutAusNord #DebemurMortiProductions #Dec25 #Dödheimsgard #EnglishMetal #FrankZappa #ImperialTriumphant #Lychgate #Morast #Precipice #Review #Reviews

GORYCZ (Polònia) presenta nou àlbum: "Zasypia" #Gorycz #AvantGardeBlackMetal #Octubre2025 #Polònia #NouÀlbum #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

HASARD (França) presenta nou àlbum: "Abgnose" #Hasard #AvantGardeBlackMetal #Setembre2025 #França #NouÀlbum #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

Ashbringer, Mistwalker, Murtenscythe

La Sotterenea, Monday, June 2 at 07:00 PM EDT

Viridian Cult Productions presents:

Minnesota false black metal band Ashbringer will be trekking to Montreal, hot off the heels of their performance at Prepare the Ground this year, for a show at La Sotterenea on Monday, June 2nd!

They will be joined by blackened speed rippers Mistwalker, and progressive death wizards Murtenscythe!

Monday, June 2nd, 2025
@ La Sotterenea
Doors @ 7:00 PM
Show @ 8:00 PM
$15
18+

Ashbringer:
https://ashbringermusic.bandcamp.com/.../we-came-here-to...

Mistwalker:
https://mistwalker.bandcamp.com/album/oceanic-heritage

Murtenscythe:
https://murtenscythe.bandcamp.com/album/vodyanoy

https://montreal.askapunk.net/event/ashbringer-mistwalker-murtenscythe

Ashbringer, Mistwalker, Murtenscythe

La Sotterenea, Monday, June 2 at 07:00 PM EDT

Viridian Cult Productions presents:

Minnesota false black metal band Ashbringer will be trekking to Montreal, hot off the heels of their performance at Prepare the Ground this year, for a show at La Sotterenea on Monday, June 2nd!

They will be joined by blackened speed rippers Mistwalker, and progressive death wizards Murtenscythe!

Monday, June 2nd, 2025
@ La Sotterenea
Doors @ 7:00 PM
Show @ 8:00 PM
$15
18+

Ashbringer:
https://ashbringermusic.bandcamp.com/.../we-came-here-to...

Mistwalker:
https://mistwalker.bandcamp.com/album/oceanic-heritage

Murtenscythe:
https://murtenscythe.bandcamp.com/album/vodyanoy

https://montreal.askapunk.net/event/ashbringer-mistwalker-murtenscythe

Ashbringer, Mistwalker, Murtenscythe

La Sotterenea, Monday, June 2 at 07:00 PM EDT

Viridian Cult Productions presents:

Minnesota false black metal band Ashbringer will be trekking to Montreal, hot off the heels of their performance at Prepare the Ground this year, for a show at La Sotterenea on Monday, June 2nd!

They will be joined by blackened speed rippers Mistwalker, and progressive death wizards Murtenscythe!

Monday, June 2nd, 2025
@ La Sotterenea
Doors @ 7:00 PM
Show @ 8:00 PM
$15
18+

Ashbringer:
https://ashbringermusic.bandcamp.com/.../we-came-here-to...

Mistwalker:
https://mistwalker.bandcamp.com/album/oceanic-heritage

Murtenscythe:
https://murtenscythe.bandcamp.com/album/vodyanoy

https://montreal.askapunk.net/event/ashbringer-mistwalker-murtenscythe

this must be one of the best performances ever recorded 🇳🇴
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tx_TfmEDgas

#Arcturus #AvantgardeBlackMetal #Metal #Norway

BESATT (Noruega) presenta nou àlbum: "Renselse" #Besatt #AvantGardeBlackMetal #Febrer2025 #Noruega #NouÀlbum #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

BESATT (Noruega) presenta nou àlbum: "Renselse" #Besatt #AvantGardeBlackMetal #Febrer2025 #Noruega #NouÀlbum #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

BESATT (Noruega) presenta nou àlbum: "Renselse" #Besatt #AvantGardeBlackMetal #Febrer2025 #Noruega #NouÀlbum #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

BESATT (Noruega) presenta nou àlbum: "Renselse" #Besatt #AvantGardeBlackMetal #Febrer2025 #Noruega #NouÀlbum #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

BESATT (Noruega) presenta nou àlbum: "Renselse" #Besatt #AvantGardeBlackMetal #Febrer2025 #Noruega #NouÀlbum #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

Wow, thank you everyone talking about Spectrum, from my band Am I in Trouble?.

What a nice thing to wake up to!

If you'd like to read about the album's reception so far, check out our Ampwall page!

https://amiintrouble.ampwall.com/album/spectrum

There are links to all reviews there in the Press section

The album is available on vinyl via Bölverk Records and cassette via Negative Wingspan

VINYL
• Ampwall - https://ampwall.com/a/bolverkcollective/album/amiintrouble?merchSlug=am-i-in-trouble-spectrum
• Bölverk Records webshop - https://www.bolverkcollective.com/amiintrouble
• Bandcamp - https://amiintrouble.bandcamp.com/album/spectrum

CASSETTE
• Bandcamp - https://negativewingspan.bandcamp.com/album/spectrum (currently sold out, but more are coming!)

#AmIInTrouble #blackmetal #avantgardemetal #AvantgardeBlackMetal

Wow, thank you everyone talking about Spectrum, from my band Am I in Trouble?.

What a nice thing to wake up to!

If you'd like to read about the album's reception so far, check out our Ampwall page!

https://amiintrouble.ampwall.com/album/spectrum

There are links to all reviews there in the Press section

The album is available on vinyl via Bölverk Records and cassette via Negative Wingspan

VINYL
• Ampwall - https://ampwall.com/a/bolverkcollective/album/amiintrouble?merchSlug=am-i-in-trouble-spectrum
• Bölverk Records webshop - https://www.bolverkcollective.com/amiintrouble
• Bandcamp - https://amiintrouble.bandcamp.com/album/spectrum

CASSETTE
• Bandcamp - https://negativewingspan.bandcamp.com/album/spectrum (currently sold out, but more are coming!)

#AmIInTrouble #blackmetal #avantgardemetal #AvantgardeBlackMetal

Wow, thank you everyone talking about Spectrum, from my band Am I in Trouble?.

What a nice thing to wake up to!

If you'd like to read about the album's reception so far, check out our Ampwall page!

https://amiintrouble.ampwall.com/album/spectrum

There are links to all reviews there in the Press section

The album is available on vinyl via Bölverk Records and cassette via Negative Wingspan

VINYL
• Ampwall - https://ampwall.com/a/bolverkcollective/album/amiintrouble?merchSlug=am-i-in-trouble-spectrum
• Bölverk Records webshop - https://www.bolverkcollective.com/amiintrouble
• Bandcamp - https://amiintrouble.bandcamp.com/album/spectrum

CASSETTE
• Bandcamp - https://negativewingspan.bandcamp.com/album/spectrum (currently sold out, but more are coming!)

#AmIInTrouble #blackmetal #avantgardemetal #AvantgardeBlackMetal

Wow, thank you everyone talking about Spectrum, from my band Am I in Trouble?.

What a nice thing to wake up to!

If you'd like to read about the album's reception so far, check out our Ampwall page!

https://amiintrouble.ampwall.com/album/spectrum

There are links to all reviews there in the Press section

The album is available on vinyl via Bölverk Records and cassette via Negative Wingspan

VINYL
• Ampwall - https://ampwall.com/a/bolverkcollective/album/amiintrouble?merchSlug=am-i-in-trouble-spectrum
• Bölverk Records webshop - https://www.bolverkcollective.com/amiintrouble
• Bandcamp - https://amiintrouble.bandcamp.com/album/spectrum

CASSETTE
• Bandcamp - https://negativewingspan.bandcamp.com/album/spectrum (currently sold out, but more are coming!)

#AmIInTrouble #blackmetal #avantgardemetal #AvantgardeBlackMetal

Wow, thank you everyone talking about Spectrum, from my band Am I in Trouble?.

What a nice thing to wake up to!

If you'd like to read about the album's reception so far, check out our Ampwall page!

https://amiintrouble.ampwall.com/album/spectrum

There are links to all reviews there in the Press section

The album is available on vinyl via Bölverk Records and cassette via Negative Wingspan

VINYL
• Ampwall - https://ampwall.com/a/bolverkcollective/album/amiintrouble?merchSlug=am-i-in-trouble-spectrum
• Bölverk Records webshop - https://www.bolverkcollective.com/amiintrouble
• Bandcamp - https://amiintrouble.bandcamp.com/album/spectrum

CASSETTE
• Bandcamp - https://negativewingspan.bandcamp.com/album/spectrum (currently sold out, but more are coming!)

#AmIInTrouble #blackmetal #avantgardemetal #AvantgardeBlackMetal

Tomorrow! 6:00 PM EST

Join the Bandcamp Listening Party for the debut album by my band Am I in Trouble?— Spectrum

Hear the entire album early, before the January 3 release date. Vinyl and cassettes will also be available to order!

RSVP at this link; would love to have you!

#blackmetal #avantgardemetal #AvantgardeBlackMetal #progressiveblackmetal #ExperimentalBlackMetal #postblackmetal #weirdblackmetal

https://amiintrouble.bandcamp.com/merch/spectrum-listening-party

Zeal & Ardor – GREIF Review

By Carcharodon

There are bands you want to love and you know—I mean, you just know—have a great album in them, which they … continually fail to deliver. If you could just grab hold of their ankles and shake them upside down, you might even shake it out of them. Witchcraft is one such band. Zeal & Ardor was another. The black-metal-meets-delta-blues-meets-slave-gospel project, led by Swiss-American mastermind Manuel Gagneux, understandably caught a lot of people’s attention with 2016 debut, Devil is Fine. It offered something pretty well unique but it also suffered from bloat, unnecessary interludes and half-finished ideas. Its follow-up, Stranger Fruit, was actually my application to write in this hellhole and I suggested there was an absolutely gold-plated EP in there but, as an album, it failed to hang together. Everything changed with the band’s self-titled album: not perfect but a “scorching triumph,” said Doom_et_Al, the “sound of an artist escaping their niche without compromising their vision.” Is GREIF as uncompromising?

Speaking about writing and recording GREIF, Gagneux said he switched things up. Rather than flying creatively solo, as he has previously, he brought his band fully into the fold because the five guys “basically gave this project seven years of their lives on tour, so it felt odd to be the only one on the albums.” The change this has wrought on Zeal & Ardor’s sound is clear to hear. Many of the black metal influences that made the likes of “Row Row” and “Ship on Fire” (Stranger Fruit) or “Götterdämmerung” (self-titled) are gone, replaced by a greater reliance on electronica (“Go Home My Friend” and “369”), as well as something that sounds suspiciously like radio-friendly post-rock (“Kilonova” and “Solace”). Gagneux’s talent for writing raging, heart-wrenching lyrics remains, as do his beautiful, emotive clean vocals, and venomous, half-spoken snarls.

But they are deployed together with some very different material on GREIF. If this was your first exposure to Zeal & Ardor, you would be forgiven for being somewhat bemused. Both “Sugarcoat” and “Disease” feel like rejected B-sides from Queens of the Stone Age’s Song for the Deaf sessions, while “une ville vide” sounds inexplicably like a reimagining of the Stranger Things theme.1 The bright and bouncy first half of “Kilonova” could easily have been penned by the likes of post-indie act Foals, albeit with a darker, gritty note of threat dancing around the edges, while “Thrill” borders on being an Arctic Monkeys track. “Clawing Out” takes the industrial, Nine Inch Nails sound (plus a little late-era Slipknot), which Zeal & Ardor has dabbled in previously, to the next level, and not in a way I enjoyed. On the flip side, the album is bookended with some great cuts. Pretty opener “the Bird, the Lion and the Wildkin” sets a grand stage for “Fend You Off,” which is brimming with frustration, anger, and hurt. So much for the start, closing duo of “Hide in Shade” and “to my ilk” are stunning. The former wouldn’t be out of place on any of their previous albums, seething with a barely controlled rage that boils over into black rasps and blasts in places, its energized and vital, while “to my ilk” is a gorgeous, percussion-free lament that tugs at the heartstrings.

To say that GREIF feels disjointed would be a significant understatement. Like the first two Zeal & Ardor full-lengths, there’s some quality material on here (“are you the only one now,” which reintroduces some of the blackened fury, being another one) but it’s hedged about with perplexing writing choices. Having seen Zeal & Ardor live (they were a highlight of 2022’s ArcTanGent festival), I have nothing but praise for Gagneux’s decision to bring his touring band into the writing and recording process. But, perhaps inevitably, GREIF sounds like the record of a band trying to find its voice and experimenting with various possibilities that simply don’t coalesce. Zeal & Ardor has always been experimental but where the self-titled album felt like Gagneux had found a balance between pushing the envelope and writing a (more or less) cohesive record, GREIF takes us back to square one.

I found this review almost as frustrating to write as GREIF is to listen to. It’s categorically Zeal & Ardor but, for a lot of the record, that’s only because of Gagneux’ hugely emotive and distinctive voice (now ably enhanced by the vocal talents of Marc Obrist and Denis Wagner). Change lead vocalist and I would struggle to identify a lot of this material as Zeal & Ardor. Maybe this is the price we need to pay for this enlarged iteration of the band to finetune its creative processes but it’s infuriating, following the riotous success of their last record, to not only find the band reverting to inconsistent type but also abandoning much of what defined it, in the gospel and black metal fusion. Sadly, that uncompromising drive to evolve has compromised GREIF.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream only2
Label: Self-released
Websites: zealandardor.bandcamp.com | zealandardor.com | facebook.com/zealandardor
Releases Worldwide: August 23rd, 2024

#25 #2024 #ArticMonkeys #Aug24 #AvantGardeBlackMetal #BlackMetal #Blues #Electronica #Foals #GREIF #NineInchNails #PostRock #ProgressiveMetal #QueensOfTheStoneAge #Review #Reviews #SelfReleased #Slipknot #SwissMetal #ZealArdor

Zeal & Ardor – GREIF Review

By Carcharodon

There are bands you want to love and you know—I mean, you just know—have a great album in them, which they … continually fail to deliver. If you could just grab hold of their ankles and shake them upside down, you might even shake it out of them. Witchcraft is one such band. Zeal & Ardor was another. The black-metal-meets-delta-blues-meets-slave-gospel project, led by Swiss-American mastermind Manuel Gagneux, understandably caught a lot of people’s attention with 2016 debut, Devil is Fine. It offered something pretty well unique but it also suffered from bloat, unnecessary interludes and half-finished ideas. Its follow-up, Stranger Fruit, was actually my application to write in this hellhole and I suggested there was an absolutely gold-plated EP in there but, as an album, it failed to hang together. Everything changed with the band’s self-titled album: not perfect but a “scorching triumph,” said Doom_et_Al, the “sound of an artist escaping their niche without compromising their vision.” Is GREIF as uncompromising?

Speaking about writing and recording GREIF, Gagneux said he switched things up. Rather than flying creatively solo, as he has previously, he brought his band fully into the fold because the five guys “basically gave this project seven years of their lives on tour, so it felt odd to be the only one on the albums.” The change this has wrought on Zeal & Ardor’s sound is clear to hear. Many of the black metal influences that made the likes of “Row Row” and “Ship on Fire” (Stranger Fruit) or “Götterdämmerung” (self-titled) are gone, replaced by a greater reliance on electronica (“Go Home My Friend” and “369”), as well as something that sounds suspiciously like radio-friendly post-rock (“Kilonova” and “Solace”). Gagneux’s talent for writing raging, heart-wrenching lyrics remains, as do his beautiful, emotive clean vocals, and venomous, half-spoken snarls.

But they are deployed together with some very different material on GREIF. If this was your first exposure to Zeal & Ardor, you would be forgiven for being somewhat bemused. Both “Sugarcoat” and “Disease” feel like rejected B-sides from Queens of the Stone Age’s Song for the Deaf sessions, while “une ville vide” sounds inexplicably like a reimagining of the Stranger Things theme.1 The bright and bouncy first half of “Kilonova” could easily have been penned by the likes of post-indie act Foals, albeit with a darker, gritty note of threat dancing around the edges, while “Thrill” borders on being an Arctic Monkeys track. “Clawing Out” takes the industrial, Nine Inch Nails sound (plus a little late-era Slipknot), which Zeal & Ardor has dabbled in previously, to the next level, and not in a way I enjoyed. On the flip side, the album is bookended with some great cuts. Pretty opener “the Bird, the Lion and the Wildkin” sets a grand stage for “Fend You Off,” which is brimming with frustration, anger, and hurt. So much for the start, closing duo of “Hide in Shade” and “to my ilk” are stunning. The former wouldn’t be out of place on any of their previous albums, seething with a barely controlled rage that boils over into black rasps and blasts in places, its energized and vital, while “to my ilk” is a gorgeous, percussion-free lament that tugs at the heartstrings.

To say that GREIF feels disjointed would be a significant understatement. Like the first two Zeal & Ardor full-lengths, there’s some quality material on here (“are you the only one now,” which reintroduces some of the blackened fury, being another one) but it’s hedged about with perplexing writing choices. Having seen Zeal & Ardor live (they were a highlight of 2022’s ArcTanGent festival), I have nothing but praise for Gagneux’s decision to bring his touring band into the writing and recording process. But, perhaps inevitably, GREIF sounds like the record of a band trying to find its voice and experimenting with various possibilities that simply don’t coalesce. Zeal & Ardor has always been experimental but where the self-titled album felt like Gagneux had found a balance between pushing the envelope and writing a (more or less) cohesive record, GREIF takes us back to square one.

I found this review almost as frustrating to write as GREIF is to listen to. It’s categorically Zeal & Ardor but, for a lot of the record, that’s only because of Gagneux’ hugely emotive and distinctive voice (now ably enhanced by the vocal talents of Marc Obrist and Denis Wagner). Change lead vocalist and I would struggle to identify a lot of this material as Zeal & Ardor. Maybe this is the price we need to pay for this enlarged iteration of the band to finetune its creative processes but it’s infuriating, following the riotous success of their last record, to not only find the band reverting to inconsistent type but also abandoning much of what defined it, in the gospel and black metal fusion. Sadly, that uncompromising drive to evolve has compromised GREIF.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream only2
Label: Self-released
Websites: zealandardor.bandcamp.com | zealandardor.com | facebook.com/zealandardor
Releases Worldwide: August 23rd, 2024

#25 #2024 #ArticMonkeys #Aug24 #AvantGardeBlackMetal #BlackMetal #Blues #Electronica #Foals #GREIF #NineInchNails #PostRock #ProgressiveMetal #QueensOfTheStoneAge #Review #Reviews #SelfReleased #Slipknot #SwissMetal #ZealArdor

Zeal & Ardor – GREIF Review

By Carcharodon

There are bands you want to love and you know—I mean, you just know—have a great album in them, which they … continually fail to deliver. If you could just grab hold of their ankles and shake them upside down, you might even shake it out of them. Witchcraft is one such band. Zeal & Ardor was another. The black-metal-meets-delta-blues-meets-slave-gospel project, led by Swiss-American mastermind Manuel Gagneux, understandably caught a lot of people’s attention with 2016 debut, Devil is Fine. It offered something pretty well unique but it also suffered from bloat, unnecessary interludes and half-finished ideas. Its follow-up, Stranger Fruit, was actually my application to write in this hellhole and I suggested there was an absolutely gold-plated EP in there but, as an album, it failed to hang together. Everything changed with the band’s self-titled album: not perfect but a “scorching triumph,” said Doom_et_Al, the “sound of an artist escaping their niche without compromising their vision.” Is GREIF as uncompromising?

Speaking about writing and recording GREIF, Gagneux said he switched things up. Rather than flying creatively solo, as he has previously, he brought his band fully into the fold because the five guys “basically gave this project seven years of their lives on tour, so it felt odd to be the only one on the albums.” The change this has wrought on Zeal & Ardor’s sound is clear to hear. Many of the black metal influences that made the likes of “Row Row” and “Ship on Fire” (Stranger Fruit) or “Götterdämmerung” (self-titled) are gone, replaced by a greater reliance on electronica (“Go Home My Friend” and “369”), as well as something that sounds suspiciously like radio-friendly post-rock (“Kilonova” and “Solace”). Gagneux’s talent for writing raging, heart-wrenching lyrics remains, as do his beautiful, emotive clean vocals, and venomous, half-spoken snarls.

But they are deployed together with some very different material on GREIF. If this was your first exposure to Zeal & Ardor, you would be forgiven for being somewhat bemused. Both “Sugarcoat” and “Disease” feel like rejected B-sides from Queens of the Stone Age’s Song for the Deaf sessions, while “une ville vide” sounds inexplicably like a reimagining of the Stranger Things theme.1 The bright and bouncy first half of “Kilonova” could easily have been penned by the likes of post-indie act Foals, albeit with a darker, gritty note of threat dancing around the edges, while “Thrill” borders on being an Arctic Monkeys track. “Clawing Out” takes the industrial, Nine Inch Nails sound (plus a little late-era Slipknot), which Zeal & Ardor has dabbled in previously, to the next level, and not in a way I enjoyed. On the flip side, the album is bookended with some great cuts. Pretty opener “the Bird, the Lion and the Wildkin” sets a grand stage for “Fend You Off,” which is brimming with frustration, anger, and hurt. So much for the start, closing duo of “Hide in Shade” and “to my ilk” are stunning. The former wouldn’t be out of place on any of their previous albums, seething with a barely controlled rage that boils over into black rasps and blasts in places, its energized and vital, while “to my ilk” is a gorgeous, percussion-free lament that tugs at the heartstrings.

To say that GREIF feels disjointed would be a significant understatement. Like the first two Zeal & Ardor full-lengths, there’s some quality material on here (“are you the only one now,” which reintroduces some of the blackened fury, being another one) but it’s hedged about with perplexing writing choices. Having seen Zeal & Ardor live (they were a highlight of 2022’s ArcTanGent festival), I have nothing but praise for Gagneux’s decision to bring his touring band into the writing and recording process. But, perhaps inevitably, GREIF sounds like the record of a band trying to find its voice and experimenting with various possibilities that simply don’t coalesce. Zeal & Ardor has always been experimental but where the self-titled album felt like Gagneux had found a balance between pushing the envelope and writing a (more or less) cohesive record, GREIF takes us back to square one.

I found this review almost as frustrating to write as GREIF is to listen to. It’s categorically Zeal & Ardor but, for a lot of the record, that’s only because of Gagneux’ hugely emotive and distinctive voice (now ably enhanced by the vocal talents of Marc Obrist and Denis Wagner). Change lead vocalist and I would struggle to identify a lot of this material as Zeal & Ardor. Maybe this is the price we need to pay for this enlarged iteration of the band to finetune its creative processes but it’s infuriating, following the riotous success of their last record, to not only find the band reverting to inconsistent type but also abandoning much of what defined it, in the gospel and black metal fusion. Sadly, that uncompromising drive to evolve has compromised GREIF.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream only2
Label: Self-released
Websites: zealandardor.bandcamp.com | zealandardor.com | facebook.com/zealandardor
Releases Worldwide: August 23rd, 2024

#25 #2024 #ArticMonkeys #Aug24 #AvantGardeBlackMetal #BlackMetal #Blues #Electronica #Foals #GREIF #NineInchNails #PostRock #ProgressiveMetal #QueensOfTheStoneAge #Review #Reviews #SelfReleased #Slipknot #SwissMetal #ZealArdor

Stuck in the Filter – November/December’s Angry Misses

By Kenstrosity

It is time for the new year, and yet we spend its initial moments reflecting on works of the past. That’s because the works of the past are clogging up our damn Filter, and we need that to breathe in this hellhole we call a headquarters. We toil in the snow and the slush, freezing as the gunk clings to our definitely OSHA compliant protective suits and face masks. All so that you can maybe like but more likely dunk on the nuggets of treasure we find here.

Regardless of whether you enjoy what we find, we expect payment for our services. You can submit tithes via Venmo, Paypal, Bitcoin, hobo wine, unicorns, and/or goat sacrifices. Anything less will result in summary dismissal from the Hall!

Kenstrosity’s Heaving Husks

Void // Jadjow [December 8th, 2023 – Brucia Records]

Weird shit is my shit. Challenging albums that dare to subvert my expectations of the music held therein will always garner my respect. Enter UK avant-garde black metal outfit Void and their fourth LP Jadjow. A bizarrely short window spanned between this release and their previous record—only two years compared to eight years between albums one and two, ten between albums two and three. Despite the tight turnaround, the quality of the writing here is nothing to dismiss offhand. Opening duo “Fables From a Post-Truth Era” and “Interdaementional” showcase twisted songwriting dynamics, haunting vocals, squealing black metal riffs, woody blasts, and funky transitions. Consequently, they remind me of Ved Buens Ende, DHG, and Khôra. Yet, Void prove that the art of the riff is not lost in a sea of weirdness, throwing in headbangable themes and windmill-worthy whirlwinds left and right (“Only For You,” “Self Isolation,” “Swamp Dog”). Striking this balance between engaging hooks (“Fables From a Post-Truth Era,” “Swamp Dog”), danceable grooves (“Oduduwa’s Chain”), and intelligent songwriting dynamics (“When Lucifer Dies,” “Iniquitous Owl”) is tricky business, and yet Void take on the task with effortless grace and poise. In turn, fifty-six minutes of oddball progressive black metal fly by in a flash. You blink, you miss it. Don’t blink!

Irityll // Schlafes Bruder [November 23rd, 2023 – Self Release]

Do you ever wonder what melodic black metal would sound like if it had the same HM-2 tone as the filthiest Swedeath around? I sure never have. Yet, Vienna, Austria’s Irityll chose that exact combination to craft their debut LP, Schlafes Bruder. Comprising of two musicians with notable experience in the deathcore and brutal death metal worlds (Spire of Lazarus, Monument of Misanthropy), Irityll unexpectedly nail the icy black metal sound which defines Schlafes Bruder, but enhanced by the novel twist of an HM-2 buzzsaw tone. Ominous melodies and vicious blasting abound, as choice cuts like “Leichnam aus Überzeugung,” “Deppade Leit,” and “Sternengeiβel” all demonstrate with aplomb. Written in the same epic style of bands like Immortal or Dark Funeral, Schlafes Bruder succeeds primarily thanks to a tasty combination of minimalist drama and riff-focused intensity. The way it ebbs and flows between soft passages and ripping black metal, blistering speed and militant marches, all feels natural, effortless, and leads to satisfying payoffs across the forty-four-minute runtime (“Schlafes Bruder,” “Reiter des Sturmes,” “Epitaphion”). And yet, it feels like just the beginning for Irityll. With more refinement and tightening of the screws, the duo could take even greater advantage of their novel sound profile with more distinct, individualized songwriting. I’m excited by that prospect, and you should be too.

Dolphin Whisperer’s Unparalleled Uncoverings

Closet Witch // Chiaroscuro [November 3rd, 2023 – Zegema Beach Records]

If you’re familiar with Closet Witch already, or the closely related in sound and style Cloud Rat, then you’ll know that the brand of caustically-styled, emotionally-chiseled grind that they represent wastes no moment. Equally weighted by the slowing churns of powerviolence and piercing tones of screamo, Chiaroscuro, a name taken from the classical art technique of shadow-use/darkness contrast that creates wholeness, depth, and tone in a piece, uses each of its identities to drill eighteen minutes of caustic music to your memory. Unfortunately for newcomers or passerbys to the sonic assault that Closet Witch embodies, either the fuzz-rattled and blackened riffage, the clanging and splashing kit abuse, or the shrill and shrieking throat sacrifice build like a wall of bleeding noise. But in practice, Chiaroscuro contains an uncanny ebb and flow, finding footing in rhythmic refocusing (“My Words Are Sacred,” “Well-Fed Machine”), noise-assisted tip-offs (“You, Me, and the Venus in Decay,” “To the Cauldron”), and pedal-down thrusts (“Haunting,” “Arlington Cemetary”) to dog ear its shifts and landmarks. In this case, a horror-synth “Intro” and de-escalating, crinkled found-sound “Outro” are necessary to respectively set the stage and close the curtains. You don’t want to go into this cold, but Chiaroscuro burns so hot that you need a cooldown.

Exulansis // Overtures of Uprising [November 17th, 2023 – Bindrune Recordings]

You ever sit there and wonder when you’re finally gonna find a melodic black metal album that’s actually cool? No? How about one that at least incorporates vibrant violin melodies, guitar identities outside of tremolo progressions, and actual growling bass presence? Well, if so, look no further than Exulansis, a folk-inspired four-piece who finds just as much home in the creeping doom of the string work that you’d hear in an old SubRosa jam as they do in the forested black metal of Wolves in the Throne Room. But in this case, Overtures of Uprising’s four tracks will require only thirty-two minutes (it’s not enough!!) of your hard-to-earn time, a healthy balance of two standard-length numbers against two longer explorations. Whereas their previous album, 2019’s Sequestered Symphony attempted to meld a lot more gothic folk into their sound, Exulansis went and trimmed that into a whole separate album (Hymns of Collapse) this go, which has left absolutely nothing to stand in the way of the bell-hammering drive of “Of Nature & Hatred” or the eerie and screeching “A Movement in Silence”.1 And when they do slow it down for the fanciful, classical violin melodies that signal the triumphant title track or the lurching doom of “Dawning,” Exulansis finds a way to capture the beat of an anxious heart. Unified by a melodic dread, Overtures of Uprising pushes this act closer to record that’ll grab me by the hand and never let go. Fortunately, I know these strong voices have more to say.

Saunders’ Slippery Subjects

Deathcode Society // Unlightenment [November 24th, 2023 – Osmose Productions]

My end-of-year filter was badly clogged amidst the rush to finalize Listurnalia and absorb the mammoth number of releases that either flooded through late or had been backlogged. Nevertheless, in the end-of-year wash-up, I stumbled across the sophomore platter from French symphonic black metal act Deathcode Society, and their powerful, bombastic LP, Unlightenment. Traditionally, I am incredibly picky with my modern black metal, and much of the overly symphonic variety tends to fall flat or overdo the cheese. Comprised of seasoned players, Deathcode Society balances the elements deftly to craft an intriguing platter, with modern sheen and orchestral flair roughened up by second-wave influences and whiffs of later-era Emperor. The sympho-black formula can sometimes veer too drastically into melodramatic territory, adding too much fluff to soften the black metal bite. Thankfully, Deathcode Society generally nail things just right. Within the style, Deathcode Society exhibit a versatile and confident approach, as their epic, carefully layered sound ebbs and flows through diverse pastures. A technical edge permeates material that blisters and tears with speed and aggression, contrasting these pleasingly vicious assaults with mostly tasteful symphonic layers, a varied vocal palette, and long, twisty arrangements. Highlights include the potent, blasty one-two opening punch of “Scolopendra” and “Shards” dominate with sheer scope, ferocity and memorability, while the stellar “Mazed Interior” and “Scales” offer in-your-face aggression and more ambitious, head-spinning turns with maximum impact.

#2023 #AvantGarde #AvantGardeBlackMetal #BindruneRecordings #BlackMetal #BlackenedDeathMetal #BruciaRecords #Chiaroscuro #ClosetWitch #CloudRat #DarkFuneral #DeathMetal #DeathcodeSociety #Dec23 #DHG #Emperor #Exulansis #Grind #Immortal #Irityll #Jadjow #Khôra #MelodicBlackMetal #MonumentOfMisanthropy #Nov23 #OrchestralBlackMetal #OsmoseProductions #OverturesOfUprising #ProgressiveBlackMetal #SchlafesBruder #SelfRelease #SpireOfLazarus #StuckInTheFilter #Subrosa #SymphonicBlackMetal #SymphonicMetal #Unlightenment #VedBuensEnde #Vøid #WolvesInTheThroneRoom #ZegemaBeachRecords

Stuck in the Filter – November/December’s Angry Misses

By Kenstrosity

It is time for the new year, and yet we spend its initial moments reflecting on works of the past. That’s because the works of the past are clogging up our damn Filter, and we need that to breathe in this hellhole we call a headquarters. We toil in the snow and the slush, freezing as the gunk clings to our definitely OSHA compliant protective suits and face masks. All so that you can maybe like but more likely dunk on the nuggets of treasure we find here.

Regardless of whether you enjoy what we find, we expect payment for our services. You can submit tithes via Venmo, Paypal, Bitcoin, hobo wine, unicorns, and/or goat sacrifices. Anything less will result in summary dismissal from the Hall!

Kenstrosity’s Heaving Husks

Void // Jadjow [December 8th, 2023 – Brucia Records]

Weird shit is my shit. Challenging albums that dare to subvert my expectations of the music held therein will always garner my respect. Enter UK avant-garde black metal outfit Void and their fourth LP Jadjow. A bizarrely short window spanned between this release and their previous record—only two years compared to eight years between albums one and two, ten between albums two and three. Despite the tight turnaround, the quality of the writing here is nothing to dismiss offhand. Opening duo “Fables From a Post-Truth Era” and “Interdaementional” showcase twisted songwriting dynamics, haunting vocals, squealing black metal riffs, woody blasts, and funky transitions. Consequently, they remind me of Ved Buens Ende, DHG, and Khôra. Yet, Void prove that the art of the riff is not lost in a sea of weirdness, throwing in headbangable themes and windmill-worthy whirlwinds left and right (“Only For You,” “Self Isolation,” “Swamp Dog”). Striking this balance between engaging hooks (“Fables From a Post-Truth Era,” “Swamp Dog”), danceable grooves (“Oduduwa’s Chain”), and intelligent songwriting dynamics (“When Lucifer Dies,” “Iniquitous Owl”) is tricky business, and yet Void take on the task with effortless grace and poise. In turn, fifty-six minutes of oddball progressive black metal fly by in a flash. You blink, you miss it. Don’t blink!

Irityll // Schlafes Bruder [November 23rd, 2023 – Self Release]

Do you ever wonder what melodic black metal would sound like if it had the same HM-2 tone as the filthiest Swedeath around? I sure never have. Yet, Vienna, Austria’s Irityll chose that exact combination to craft their debut LP, Schlafes Bruder. Comprising of two musicians with notable experience in the deathcore and brutal death metal worlds (Spire of Lazarus, Monument of Misanthropy), Irityll unexpectedly nail the icy black metal sound which defines Schlafes Bruder, but enhanced by the novel twist of an HM-2 buzzsaw tone. Ominous melodies and vicious blasting abound, as choice cuts like “Leichnam aus Überzeugung,” “Deppade Leit,” and “Sternengeiβel” all demonstrate with aplomb. Written in the same epic style of bands like Immortal or Dark Funeral, Schlafes Bruder succeeds primarily thanks to a tasty combination of minimalist drama and riff-focused intensity. The way it ebbs and flows between soft passages and ripping black metal, blistering speed and militant marches, all feels natural, effortless, and leads to satisfying payoffs across the forty-four-minute runtime (“Schlafes Bruder,” “Reiter des Sturmes,” “Epitaphion”). And yet, it feels like just the beginning for Irityll. With more refinement and tightening of the screws, the duo could take even greater advantage of their novel sound profile with more distinct, individualized songwriting. I’m excited by that prospect, and you should be too.

Dolphin Whisperer’s Unparalleled Uncoverings

Closet Witch // Chiaroscuro [November 3rd, 2023 – Zegema Beach Records]

If you’re familiar with Closet Witch already, or the closely related in sound and style Cloud Rat, then you’ll know that the brand of caustically-styled, emotionally-chiseled grind that they represent wastes no moment. Equally weighted by the slowing churns of powerviolence and piercing tones of screamo, Chiaroscuro, a name taken from the classical art technique of shadow-use/darkness contrast that creates wholeness, depth, and tone in a piece, uses each of its identities to drill eighteen minutes of caustic music to your memory. Unfortunately for newcomers or passerbys to the sonic assault that Closet Witch embodies, either the fuzz-rattled and blackened riffage, the clanging and splashing kit abuse, or the shrill and shrieking throat sacrifice build like a wall of bleeding noise. But in practice, Chiaroscuro contains an uncanny ebb and flow, finding footing in rhythmic refocusing (“My Words Are Sacred,” “Well-Fed Machine”), noise-assisted tip-offs (“You, Me, and the Venus in Decay,” “To the Cauldron”), and pedal-down thrusts (“Haunting,” “Arlington Cemetary”) to dog ear its shifts and landmarks. In this case, a horror-synth “Intro” and de-escalating, crinkled found-sound “Outro” are necessary to respectively set the stage and close the curtains. You don’t want to go into this cold, but Chiaroscuro burns so hot that you need a cooldown.

Exulansis // Overtures of Uprising [November 17th, 2023 – Bindrune Recordings]

You ever sit there and wonder when you’re finally gonna find a melodic black metal album that’s actually cool? No? How about one that at least incorporates vibrant violin melodies, guitar identities outside of tremolo progressions, and actual growling bass presence? Well, if so, look no further than Exulansis, a folk-inspired four-piece who finds just as much home in the creeping doom of the string work that you’d hear in an old SubRosa jam as they do in the forested black metal of Wolves in the Throne Room. But in this case, Overtures of Uprising’s four tracks will require only thirty-two minutes (it’s not enough!!) of your hard-to-earn time, a healthy balance of two standard-length numbers against two longer explorations. Whereas their previous album, 2019’s Sequestered Symphony attempted to meld a lot more gothic folk into their sound, Exulansis went and trimmed that into a whole separate album (Hymns of Collapse) this go, which has left absolutely nothing to stand in the way of the bell-hammering drive of “Of Nature & Hatred” or the eerie and screeching “A Movement in Silence”.1 And when they do slow it down for the fanciful, classical violin melodies that signal the triumphant title track or the lurching doom of “Dawning,” Exulansis finds a way to capture the beat of an anxious heart. Unified by a melodic dread, Overtures of Uprising pushes this act closer to record that’ll grab me by the hand and never let go. Fortunately, I know these strong voices have more to say.

Saunders’ Slippery Subjects

Deathcode Society // Unlightenment [November 24th, 2023 – Osmose Productions]

My end-of-year filter was badly clogged amidst the rush to finalize Listurnalia and absorb the mammoth number of releases that either flooded through late or had been backlogged. Nevertheless, in the end-of-year wash-up, I stumbled across the sophomore platter from French symphonic black metal act Deathcode Society, and their powerful, bombastic LP, Unlightenment. Traditionally, I am incredibly picky with my modern black metal, and much of the overly symphonic variety tends to fall flat or overdo the cheese. Comprised of seasoned players, Deathcode Society balances the elements deftly to craft an intriguing platter, with modern sheen and orchestral flair roughened up by second-wave influences and whiffs of later-era Emperor. The sympho-black formula can sometimes veer too drastically into melodramatic territory, adding too much fluff to soften the black metal bite. Thankfully, Deathcode Society generally nail things just right. Within the style, Deathcode Society exhibit a versatile and confident approach, as their epic, carefully layered sound ebbs and flows through diverse pastures. A technical edge permeates material that blisters and tears with speed and aggression, contrasting these pleasingly vicious assaults with mostly tasteful symphonic layers, a varied vocal palette, and long, twisty arrangements. Highlights include the potent, blasty one-two opening punch of “Scolopendra” and “Shards” dominate with sheer scope, ferocity and memorability, while the stellar “Mazed Interior” and “Scales” offer in-your-face aggression and more ambitious, head-spinning turns with maximum impact.

#2023 #AvantGarde #AvantGardeBlackMetal #BindruneRecordings #BlackMetal #BlackenedDeathMetal #BruciaRecords #Chiaroscuro #ClosetWitch #CloudRat #DarkFuneral #DeathMetal #DeathcodeSociety #Dec23 #DHG #Emperor #Exulansis #Grind #Immortal #Irityll #Jadjow #Khôra #MelodicBlackMetal #MonumentOfMisanthropy #Nov23 #OrchestralBlackMetal #OsmoseProductions #OverturesOfUprising #ProgressiveBlackMetal #SchlafesBruder #SelfRelease #SpireOfLazarus #StuckInTheFilter #Subrosa #SymphonicBlackMetal #SymphonicMetal #Unlightenment #VedBuensEnde #Vøid #WolvesInTheThroneRoom #ZegemaBeachRecords

Theophonos – Nightmare Visions [Things You Might Have Missed 2023]

By Maddog

Nightmare Visions is a blackened grindcore debut from Michigan’s Theophonos, the brainchild of Jimmy Hamzey (Serpent Column). If that genre label sounds unappetizing, don’t let that deter you. Theophonos took every hard rock and metal song released since 1967, crammed them all into a woodchipper, and assembled the mangled output into a blackened 30-minute hydra. Miraculously, it works. Whether you like black metal, grindcore, old-school hard rock, speed metal, or death metal, Nightmare Visions has something for you. Beauty, dissonance, and anger coalesce into the most creative record I heard this year.

The “blackened grind” label is a Trojan horse; a fearsome army lurks inside. War metal riffs evoke Concrete Winds with their frenzied rhythms and their chromatic structure, while dissonance and slow melodies build an ominous atmosphere. Unexpected forays into subgenres like drone (“Lost One”) round out Nightmare Visions’ lightspeed tour of extreme metal. But the most exhilarating sections are Theophonos’ digressions into old-school heavy metal. Nightmare Visions’ headbanging riffs recall Led Zeppelin’s “Black Dog” (“Thousand Imaginary Swords”), Motörhead’s “Ace of Spades” (“Go On to Your Gallows”), and Iron Maiden’s “Wrathchild” (“Of Days Past”), with a blackened veneer that sounds distinctly like Theophonos. The album races among its sonic experiments at a grindcore pace, but gives each one enough space to shine, making it a pleasure for grind lovers and haters alike.

Every measure of Nightmare Visions flows perfectly into the next. “Nightmare Visionary” opens with slow chugging, but drops breadcrumbs of speed to lead you into a war metal trap. Later on, the instant when the song’s fury collapses back into a slow sinister melody is a highlight of 2023. Theophonos’ disparate styles often join forces, like the way the serene guitar solo on “Of Days Past” transforms its backing melody into a black metal assault. Throughout Nightmare Visions, the rhythmic gymnastics of the drums and bass help fuse contrasting sections (“Lost One”). Meanwhile, the callbacks between songs reward repeated listens, like when the calm “At Rest in Turbulence” resurrects a descending melody from the vicious “Lost One.” The album’s impeccable flow makes every twist and turn unforgettable, despite the daunting volume of ideas on display.

Nightmare Visions is painstakingly composed, but it doesn’t come off as a mere technical exercise. The black metal riffs are good old-fashioned fun, making the album a pleasure even in my brain-dead moments (“Maps of the Future”). On the other hand, closer “Of Days Past” makes me want to both reminisce and flip over a table, through its blend of sorrowful melodies and extremity. Upbeat melodies make occasional cameo appearances amidst chaos, a haunting technique that reminds me of 2022’s Ultha. I could go on and on. In short, Theophonos’ mastery of climaxes, variety, and transitions drags me to hell, to heaven, and back again.

Writing this piece feels like describing an orchid to a Martian. No matter how exhaustively I describe the petals, the diversity of Orchidaceae, or the beauty of a bloom, it wouldn’t do justice to the experience of seeing one firsthand. So yes, Nightmare Visions is black metal, grindcore, hard rock, death metal, The Velvet Underground, and more; it’s evocative, angry, hypnotic, unsettling, and fun; it’s concise but expansive; it’s chaotic but meticulously written; it is, as Wvrm said of Æther Realm’s Tarot, “all that metal can be”; it might be my favorite record of 2023. But most of all, it’s indescribable. Just listen for yourself.

Tracks to Check Out: “Lost One,” “Nightmare Visionary,” “Of Days Past”

#AmericanMetal #AvantGardeBlackMetal #BlackMetal #ConcreteWinds #DeathMetal #Grind #Grindcore #HardRock #HeavyMetal #IronMaiden #LedZeppelin #Motörhead #NightmareVisions #SerpentColumn #TheVelvetUnderground #Theophonos #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed2023 #TraditionalMetal #TYMHM #Ultha #WarMetal

Theophonos – Nightmare Visions [Things You Might Have Missed 2023]

By Maddog

Nightmare Visions is a blackened grindcore debut from Michigan’s Theophonos, the brainchild of Jimmy Hamzey (Serpent Column). If that genre label sounds unappetizing, don’t let that deter you. Theophonos took every hard rock and metal song released since 1967, crammed them all into a woodchipper, and assembled the mangled output into a blackened 30-minute hydra. Miraculously, it works. Whether you like black metal, grindcore, old-school hard rock, speed metal, or death metal, Nightmare Visions has something for you. Beauty, dissonance, and anger coalesce into the most creative record I heard this year.

The “blackened grind” label is a Trojan horse; a fearsome army lurks inside. War metal riffs evoke Concrete Winds with their frenzied rhythms and their chromatic structure, while dissonance and slow melodies build an ominous atmosphere. Unexpected forays into subgenres like drone (“Lost One”) round out Nightmare Visions’ lightspeed tour of extreme metal. But the most exhilarating sections are Theophonos’ digressions into old-school heavy metal. Nightmare Visions’ headbanging riffs recall Led Zeppelin’s “Black Dog” (“Thousand Imaginary Swords”), Motörhead’s “Ace of Spades” (“Go On to Your Gallows”), and Iron Maiden’s “Wrathchild” (“Of Days Past”), with a blackened veneer that sounds distinctly like Theophonos. The album races among its sonic experiments at a grindcore pace, but gives each one enough space to shine, making it a pleasure for grind lovers and haters alike.

Every measure of Nightmare Visions flows perfectly into the next. “Nightmare Visionary” opens with slow chugging, but drops breadcrumbs of speed to lead you into a war metal trap. Later on, the instant when the song’s fury collapses back into a slow sinister melody is a highlight of 2023. Theophonos’ disparate styles often join forces, like the way the serene guitar solo on “Of Days Past” transforms its backing melody into a black metal assault. Throughout Nightmare Visions, the rhythmic gymnastics of the drums and bass help fuse contrasting sections (“Lost One”). Meanwhile, the callbacks between songs reward repeated listens, like when the calm “At Rest in Turbulence” resurrects a descending melody from the vicious “Lost One.” The album’s impeccable flow makes every twist and turn unforgettable, despite the daunting volume of ideas on display.

Nightmare Visions is painstakingly composed, but it doesn’t come off as a mere technical exercise. The black metal riffs are good old-fashioned fun, making the album a pleasure even in my brain-dead moments (“Maps of the Future”). On the other hand, closer “Of Days Past” makes me want to both reminisce and flip over a table, through its blend of sorrowful melodies and extremity. Upbeat melodies make occasional cameo appearances amidst chaos, a haunting technique that reminds me of 2022’s Ultha. I could go on and on. In short, Theophonos’ mastery of climaxes, variety, and transitions drags me to hell, to heaven, and back again.

Writing this piece feels like describing an orchid to a Martian. No matter how exhaustively I describe the petals, the diversity of Orchidaceae, or the beauty of a bloom, it wouldn’t do justice to the experience of seeing one firsthand. So yes, Nightmare Visions is black metal, grindcore, hard rock, death metal, The Velvet Underground, and more; it’s evocative, angry, hypnotic, unsettling, and fun; it’s concise but expansive; it’s chaotic but meticulously written; it is, as Wvrm said of Æther Realm’s Tarot, “all that metal can be”; it might be my favorite record of 2023. But most of all, it’s indescribable. Just listen for yourself.

Tracks to Check Out: “Lost One,” “Nightmare Visionary,” “Of Days Past”

#AmericanMetal #AvantGardeBlackMetal #BlackMetal #ConcreteWinds #DeathMetal #Grind #Grindcore #HardRock #HeavyMetal #IronMaiden #LedZeppelin #Motörhead #NightmareVisions #SerpentColumn #TheVelvetUnderground #Theophonos #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed2023 #TraditionalMetal #TYMHM #Ultha #WarMetal