#bathory — Public Fediverse posts

If these Danes had their way, the entrance to Valhalla would greet the deceased with the sounds of bagpipes, tin whistles, violins, and, of course, your standard heavy metal instruments. Vansind has been marrying Viking metal with folk instruments since 2019. While it took them four years to release their debut, Mørket, they released singles and an EP in trickles while showing off their stuff live. Now, 2026 sees them return with a vengeance on Hævnen. I mean that semantically rather than literally—hævnen is the Danish word for revenge, and Vansind seeks to explore “themes of revenge, betrayal, freedom, and sacrifice.”1 So put on your best Viking garb and pour yourself a heaping cup of mead as we check out what these Danes have to offer.

Take the melodic death metal of Amon Amarth and mix it with the energetic folk of Finntroll, and you’ve got a good base for Vansind. Despite the darker subject matter at hand, Hævnen is a much more upbeat sort of Viking metal than the likes of Bathory or Thyrfing—in fact, it’s much closer in style to symphonic power metal. Songs follow formulaic structures with catchy choruses and tons of hooks. Vansind has a little Coronatus in them, and their blend of beauty and beast style vocalists bears comparisons to Epica. J. Asgaard takes on the role of the beast, with death growls reminiscent of Amon Amarth’s Johann Hegg, and he allows enough melody to permeate his performance to create a compelling presence. Line Burglin, as Asgaard’s foil, has an uplifting, folky lilt and practically steals the show. Just listening to her part on the showstopping opener “Det Største Offer,” as she accompanies an inspired tin whistle, is pure bliss. Then on “Alvild,” while Asgaard’s growls portend darkness, Burglin’s catchy chorus transports you to a happier place. When Hævnen ends on the lower energy “Skæbnens Tunge Vej,” it’s thanks to her that the track doesn’t feel out of place.

Due to their adherence to unique folk instruments, Vansind has a distinct sound. And boy do they have hooks: guitar hooks, bagpipe hooks, tin whistle hooks, vocal hooks, right hooks, left—whoops! Wrong sport. The promo credits Rikke Klint Johansen with the bulk of the folk stuff, namely bagpipes, tin whistles, and keyboards. She does a commendable job of making those instruments some of the most memorable parts on Hævnen. The whistle in particular, plays a surprisingly prominent role. Along with the opening song, Johansen performs some catchy whistle parts on “Blodhævn” and “Det Sidste Nådeskys.” She’s also excellent on the bagpipes, with some great moments on “Alvild,” “I Yggdrasils Skygge,” and the finale.2 And, of course, the heavy metal parts are no slouch either. Danni Jelsgaard’s work on the kit provides a huge boost of energy that never wavers until the final tune. Kirk Backarach and Nikolaj Madsen both play some enjoyable melodic leads (“Det Største Offer,” “Blodhævn,” “Truslen Fra Dybet”) and a nice solo on “Alvild.” Instrumentally, there’s no weak link.

Though tons of fun, Hævnen lacks the edge and daring to really push it into great territory. One issue is Asgaard’s vocals. While overall an enjoyable performance, they feel too polished, monotonous, and lacking in power. Some extra volume and depth from his growls would have helped the tracks carry more weight, but either Asgaard or the mixing falls short. While the formulaic nature of the music serves to highlight the hooks, it also means Vansind plays things a little too safe. Some might also take issue with the song lengths, which mostly run at 5+ minutes. “Det Største Offer,” for example, is the longest at nine minutes, but I personally never felt bothered by this. When the hooks are as great as they are here, it’s tough to complain about repetitive formulas or songs running a little longer than usual.

Vansind have put out an incredibly fun piece of folk metal. “Det Største Offer” currently sits atop my song o’ the year list, and it’s going to be a tough one to top. While the rest of Hævnen doesn’t quite reach the lofty heights of that opener, there are plenty of other bangers throughout. This fun sophomore outing instills lots of hope for what Vansind can offer in the future. While the halls of Valhalla promise plenty of ecstasies for warriors slain in battle, Hævnen serves as an adequate substitute for the rest of us, especially alongside a generous helping of mead.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Mighty Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 1st, 2026

If these Danes had their way, the entrance to Valhalla would greet the deceased with the sounds of bagpipes, tin whistles, violins, and, of course, your standard heavy metal instruments. Vansind has been marrying Viking metal with folk instruments since 2019. While it took them four years to release their debut, Mørket, they released singles and an EP in trickles while showing off their stuff live. Now, 2026 sees them return with a vengeance on Hævnen. I mean that semantically rather than literally—hævnen is the Danish word for revenge, and Vansind seeks to explore “themes of revenge, betrayal, freedom, and sacrifice.”1 So put on your best Viking garb and pour yourself a heaping cup of mead as we check out what these Danes have to offer.

Take the melodic death metal of Amon Amarth and mix it with the energetic folk of Finntroll, and you’ve got a good base for Vansind. Despite the darker subject matter at hand, Hævnen is a much more upbeat sort of Viking metal than the likes of Bathory or Thyrfing—in fact, it’s much closer in style to symphonic power metal. Songs follow formulaic structures with catchy choruses and tons of hooks. Vansind has a little Coronatus in them, and their blend of beauty and beast style vocalists bears comparisons to Epica. J. Asgaard takes on the role of the beast, with death growls reminiscent of Amon Amarth’s Johann Hegg, and he allows enough melody to permeate his performance to create a compelling presence. Line Burglin, as Asgaard’s foil, has an uplifting, folky lilt and practically steals the show. Just listening to her part on the showstopping opener “Det Største Offer,” as she accompanies an inspired tin whistle, is pure bliss. Then on “Alvild,” while Asgaard’s growls portend darkness, Burglin’s catchy chorus transports you to a happier place. When Hævnen ends on the lower energy “Skæbnens Tunge Vej,” it’s thanks to her that the track doesn’t feel out of place.

Due to their adherence to unique folk instruments, Vansind has a distinct sound. And boy do they have hooks: guitar hooks, bagpipe hooks, tin whistle hooks, vocal hooks, right hooks, left—whoops! Wrong sport. The promo credits Rikke Klint Johansen with the bulk of the folk stuff, namely bagpipes, tin whistles, and keyboards. She does a commendable job of making those instruments some of the most memorable parts on Hævnen. The whistle in particular, plays a surprisingly prominent role. Along with the opening song, Johansen performs some catchy whistle parts on “Blodhævn” and “Det Sidste Nådeskys.” She’s also excellent on the bagpipes, with some great moments on “Alvild,” “I Yggdrasils Skygge,” and the finale.2 And, of course, the heavy metal parts are no slouch either. Danni Jelsgaard’s work on the kit provides a huge boost of energy that never wavers until the final tune. Kirk Backarach and Nikolaj Madsen both play some enjoyable melodic leads (“Det Største Offer,” “Blodhævn,” “Truslen Fra Dybet”) and a nice solo on “Alvild.” Instrumentally, there’s no weak link.

Though tons of fun, Hævnen lacks the edge and daring to really push it into great territory. One issue is Asgaard’s vocals. While overall an enjoyable performance, they feel too polished, monotonous, and lacking in power. Some extra volume and depth from his growls would have helped the tracks carry more weight, but either Asgaard or the mixing falls short. While the formulaic nature of the music serves to highlight the hooks, it also means Vansind plays things a little too safe. Some might also take issue with the song lengths, which mostly run at 5+ minutes. “Det Største Offer,” for example, is the longest at nine minutes, but I personally never felt bothered by this. When the hooks are as great as they are here, it’s tough to complain about repetitive formulas or songs running a little longer than usual.

Vansind have put out an incredibly fun piece of folk metal. “Det Største Offer” currently sits atop my song o’ the year list, and it’s going to be a tough one to top. While the rest of Hævnen doesn’t quite reach the lofty heights of that opener, there are plenty of other bangers throughout. This fun sophomore outing instills lots of hope for what Vansind can offer in the future. While the halls of Valhalla promise plenty of ecstasies for warriors slain in battle, Hævnen serves as an adequate substitute for the rest of us, especially alongside a generous helping of mead.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Mighty Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 1st, 2026

If these Danes had their way, the entrance to Valhalla would greet the deceased with the sounds of bagpipes, tin whistles, violins, and, of course, your standard heavy metal instruments. Vansind has been marrying Viking metal with folk instruments since 2019. While it took them four years to release their debut, Mørket, they released singles and an EP in trickles while showing off their stuff live. Now, 2026 sees them return with a vengeance on Hævnen. I mean that semantically rather than literally—hævnen is the Danish word for revenge, and Vansind seeks to explore “themes of revenge, betrayal, freedom, and sacrifice.”1 So put on your best Viking garb and pour yourself a heaping cup of mead as we check out what these Danes have to offer.

Take the melodic death metal of Amon Amarth and mix it with the energetic folk of Finntroll, and you’ve got a good base for Vansind. Despite the darker subject matter at hand, Hævnen is a much more upbeat sort of Viking metal than the likes of Bathory or Thyrfing—in fact, it’s much closer in style to symphonic power metal. Songs follow formulaic structures with catchy choruses and tons of hooks. Vansind has a little Coronatus in them, and their blend of beauty and beast style vocalists bears comparisons to Epica. J. Asgaard takes on the role of the beast, with death growls reminiscent of Amon Amarth’s Johann Hegg, and he allows enough melody to permeate his performance to create a compelling presence. Line Burglin, as Asgaard’s foil, has an uplifting, folky lilt and practically steals the show. Just listening to her part on the showstopping opener “Det Største Offer,” as she accompanies an inspired tin whistle, is pure bliss. Then on “Alvild,” while Asgaard’s growls portend darkness, Burglin’s catchy chorus transports you to a happier place. When Hævnen ends on the lower energy “Skæbnens Tunge Vej,” it’s thanks to her that the track doesn’t feel out of place.

Due to their adherence to unique folk instruments, Vansind has a distinct sound. And boy do they have hooks: guitar hooks, bagpipe hooks, tin whistle hooks, vocal hooks, right hooks, left—whoops! Wrong sport. The promo credits Rikke Klint Johansen with the bulk of the folk stuff, namely bagpipes, tin whistles, and keyboards. She does a commendable job of making those instruments some of the most memorable parts on Hævnen. The whistle in particular, plays a surprisingly prominent role. Along with the opening song, Johansen performs some catchy whistle parts on “Blodhævn” and “Det Sidste Nådeskys.” She’s also excellent on the bagpipes, with some great moments on “Alvild,” “I Yggdrasils Skygge,” and the finale.2 And, of course, the heavy metal parts are no slouch either. Danni Jelsgaard’s work on the kit provides a huge boost of energy that never wavers until the final tune. Kirk Backarach and Nikolaj Madsen both play some enjoyable melodic leads (“Det Største Offer,” “Blodhævn,” “Truslen Fra Dybet”) and a nice solo on “Alvild.” Instrumentally, there’s no weak link.

Though tons of fun, Hævnen lacks the edge and daring to really push it into great territory. One issue is Asgaard’s vocals. While overall an enjoyable performance, they feel too polished, monotonous, and lacking in power. Some extra volume and depth from his growls would have helped the tracks carry more weight, but either Asgaard or the mixing falls short. While the formulaic nature of the music serves to highlight the hooks, it also means Vansind plays things a little too safe. Some might also take issue with the song lengths, which mostly run at 5+ minutes. “Det Største Offer,” for example, is the longest at nine minutes, but I personally never felt bothered by this. When the hooks are as great as they are here, it’s tough to complain about repetitive formulas or songs running a little longer than usual.

Vansind have put out an incredibly fun piece of folk metal. “Det Største Offer” currently sits atop my song o’ the year list, and it’s going to be a tough one to top. While the rest of Hævnen doesn’t quite reach the lofty heights of that opener, there are plenty of other bangers throughout. This fun sophomore outing instills lots of hope for what Vansind can offer in the future. While the halls of Valhalla promise plenty of ecstasies for warriors slain in battle, Hævnen serves as an adequate substitute for the rest of us, especially alongside a generous helping of mead.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Mighty Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 1st, 2026

If these Danes had their way, the entrance to Valhalla would greet the deceased with the sounds of bagpipes, tin whistles, violins, and, of course, your standard heavy metal instruments. Vansind has been marrying Viking metal with folk instruments since 2019. While it took them four years to release their debut, Mørket, they released singles and an EP in trickles while showing off their stuff live. Now, 2026 sees them return with a vengeance on Hævnen. I mean that semantically rather than literally—hævnen is the Danish word for revenge, and Vansind seeks to explore “themes of revenge, betrayal, freedom, and sacrifice.”1 So put on your best Viking garb and pour yourself a heaping cup of mead as we check out what these Danes have to offer.

Take the melodic death metal of Amon Amarth and mix it with the energetic folk of Finntroll, and you’ve got a good base for Vansind. Despite the darker subject matter at hand, Hævnen is a much more upbeat sort of Viking metal than the likes of Bathory or Thyrfing—in fact, it’s much closer in style to symphonic power metal. Songs follow formulaic structures with catchy choruses and tons of hooks. Vansind has a little Coronatus in them, and their blend of beauty and beast style vocalists bears comparisons to Epica. J. Asgaard takes on the role of the beast, with death growls reminiscent of Amon Amarth’s Johann Hegg, and he allows enough melody to permeate his performance to create a compelling presence. Line Burglin, as Asgaard’s foil, has an uplifting, folky lilt and practically steals the show. Just listening to her part on the showstopping opener “Det Største Offer,” as she accompanies an inspired tin whistle, is pure bliss. Then on “Alvild,” while Asgaard’s growls portend darkness, Burglin’s catchy chorus transports you to a happier place. When Hævnen ends on the lower energy “Skæbnens Tunge Vej,” it’s thanks to her that the track doesn’t feel out of place.

Due to their adherence to unique folk instruments, Vansind has a distinct sound. And boy do they have hooks: guitar hooks, bagpipe hooks, tin whistle hooks, vocal hooks, right hooks, left—whoops! Wrong sport. The promo credits Rikke Klint Johansen with the bulk of the folk stuff, namely bagpipes, tin whistles, and keyboards. She does a commendable job of making those instruments some of the most memorable parts on Hævnen. The whistle in particular, plays a surprisingly prominent role. Along with the opening song, Johansen performs some catchy whistle parts on “Blodhævn” and “Det Sidste Nådeskys.” She’s also excellent on the bagpipes, with some great moments on “Alvild,” “I Yggdrasils Skygge,” and the finale.2 And, of course, the heavy metal parts are no slouch either. Danni Jelsgaard’s work on the kit provides a huge boost of energy that never wavers until the final tune. Kirk Backarach and Nikolaj Madsen both play some enjoyable melodic leads (“Det Største Offer,” “Blodhævn,” “Truslen Fra Dybet”) and a nice solo on “Alvild.” Instrumentally, there’s no weak link.

Though tons of fun, Hævnen lacks the edge and daring to really push it into great territory. One issue is Asgaard’s vocals. While overall an enjoyable performance, they feel too polished, monotonous, and lacking in power. Some extra volume and depth from his growls would have helped the tracks carry more weight, but either Asgaard or the mixing falls short. While the formulaic nature of the music serves to highlight the hooks, it also means Vansind plays things a little too safe. Some might also take issue with the song lengths, which mostly run at 5+ minutes. “Det Største Offer,” for example, is the longest at nine minutes, but I personally never felt bothered by this. When the hooks are as great as they are here, it’s tough to complain about repetitive formulas or songs running a little longer than usual.

Vansind have put out an incredibly fun piece of folk metal. “Det Største Offer” currently sits atop my song o’ the year list, and it’s going to be a tough one to top. While the rest of Hævnen doesn’t quite reach the lofty heights of that opener, there are plenty of other bangers throughout. This fun sophomore outing instills lots of hope for what Vansind can offer in the future. While the halls of Valhalla promise plenty of ecstasies for warriors slain in battle, Hævnen serves as an adequate substitute for the rest of us, especially alongside a generous helping of mead.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Mighty Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 1st, 2026

If these Danes had their way, the entrance to Valhalla would greet the deceased with the sounds of bagpipes, tin whistles, violins, and, of course, your standard heavy metal instruments. Vansind has been marrying Viking metal with folk instruments since 2019. While it took them four years to release their debut, Mørket, they released singles and an EP in trickles while showing off their stuff live. Now, 2026 sees them return with a vengeance on Hævnen. I mean that semantically rather than literally—hævnen is the Danish word for revenge, and Vansind seeks to explore “themes of revenge, betrayal, freedom, and sacrifice.”1 So put on your best Viking garb and pour yourself a heaping cup of mead as we check out what these Danes have to offer.

Take the melodic death metal of Amon Amarth and mix it with the energetic folk of Finntroll, and you’ve got a good base for Vansind. Despite the darker subject matter at hand, Hævnen is a much more upbeat sort of Viking metal than the likes of Bathory or Thyrfing—in fact, it’s much closer in style to symphonic power metal. Songs follow formulaic structures with catchy choruses and tons of hooks. Vansind has a little Coronatus in them, and their blend of beauty and beast style vocalists bears comparisons to Epica. J. Asgaard takes on the role of the beast, with death growls reminiscent of Amon Amarth’s Johann Hegg, and he allows enough melody to permeate his performance to create a compelling presence. Line Burglin, as Asgaard’s foil, has an uplifting, folky lilt and practically steals the show. Just listening to her part on the showstopping opener “Det Største Offer,” as she accompanies an inspired tin whistle, is pure bliss. Then on “Alvild,” while Asgaard’s growls portend darkness, Burglin’s catchy chorus transports you to a happier place. When Hævnen ends on the lower energy “Skæbnens Tunge Vej,” it’s thanks to her that the track doesn’t feel out of place.

Due to their adherence to unique folk instruments, Vansind has a distinct sound. And boy do they have hooks: guitar hooks, bagpipe hooks, tin whistle hooks, vocal hooks, right hooks, left—whoops! Wrong sport. The promo credits Rikke Klint Johansen with the bulk of the folk stuff, namely bagpipes, tin whistles, and keyboards. She does a commendable job of making those instruments some of the most memorable parts on Hævnen. The whistle in particular, plays a surprisingly prominent role. Along with the opening song, Johansen performs some catchy whistle parts on “Blodhævn” and “Det Sidste Nådeskys.” She’s also excellent on the bagpipes, with some great moments on “Alvild,” “I Yggdrasils Skygge,” and the finale.2 And, of course, the heavy metal parts are no slouch either. Danni Jelsgaard’s work on the kit provides a huge boost of energy that never wavers until the final tune. Kirk Backarach and Nikolaj Madsen both play some enjoyable melodic leads (“Det Største Offer,” “Blodhævn,” “Truslen Fra Dybet”) and a nice solo on “Alvild.” Instrumentally, there’s no weak link.

Though tons of fun, Hævnen lacks the edge and daring to really push it into great territory. One issue is Asgaard’s vocals. While overall an enjoyable performance, they feel too polished, monotonous, and lacking in power. Some extra volume and depth from his growls would have helped the tracks carry more weight, but either Asgaard or the mixing falls short. While the formulaic nature of the music serves to highlight the hooks, it also means Vansind plays things a little too safe. Some might also take issue with the song lengths, which mostly run at 5+ minutes. “Det Største Offer,” for example, is the longest at nine minutes, but I personally never felt bothered by this. When the hooks are as great as they are here, it’s tough to complain about repetitive formulas or songs running a little longer than usual.

Vansind have put out an incredibly fun piece of folk metal. “Det Største Offer” currently sits atop my song o’ the year list, and it’s going to be a tough one to top. While the rest of Hævnen doesn’t quite reach the lofty heights of that opener, there are plenty of other bangers throughout. This fun sophomore outing instills lots of hope for what Vansind can offer in the future. While the halls of Valhalla promise plenty of ecstasies for warriors slain in battle, Hævnen serves as an adequate substitute for the rest of us, especially alongside a generous helping of mead.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Mighty Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 1st, 2026

https://www.europesays.com/es/489082/ BEHEMOTH estrenan versión de BATHORY. DARK ANGEL sin sello. Single de Stephen Pearcy. #BATHORY #BEHEMOTH #DARKANGEL #Entertainment #Entretenimiento #ES #España #Music #Música #Spain #STEPHENPEARCY

Crotaline – The Embrace of Cloacal Desire Review

When it comes to snakes and music, I’m a simple man. I think of Testament’s Brotherhood of the…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #1.5 #2026 #AmericanMetal #Apr26 #AU #Australia #Bathory #BlackMetal #CelticFrost #Crotaline #Darkthrone #Deicide #Emperor #Entertainment #Hellhammer #HighonFire #Immortal #LiminalDreadProductions #mayhem #review #reviews #SirMix-A-Lot #Testament #TheEmbraceofCloacalDesire #Triptykon #Venom
https://www.newsbeep.com/au/591284/

Crotaline – The Embrace of Cloacal Desire Review

When it comes to snakes and music, I’m a simple man. I think of Testament’s Brotherhood of the…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #1.5 #2026 #AmericanMetal #Apr26 #AU #Australia #Bathory #BlackMetal #CelticFrost #Crotaline #Darkthrone #Deicide #Emperor #Entertainment #Hellhammer #HighonFire #Immortal #LiminalDreadProductions #mayhem #review #reviews #SirMix-A-Lot #Testament #TheEmbraceofCloacalDesire #Triptykon #Venom
https://www.newsbeep.com/au/591284/

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

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

The Embrace of Cloacal Desire by Crotaline

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Embrace of Cloacal Desire by Crotaline

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Embrace of Cloacal Desire by Crotaline

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Embrace of Cloacal Desire by Crotaline

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Embrace of Cloacal Desire by Crotaline

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

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

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

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

Album du jour
Voici un nouvel article de ma série où je vous présente un album que j'écoute en ce moment ou que j'apprécie tout simplement. La sélection est irrégulière et aléatoire. Il ne s'agit pas forcément de #metal, ni d'une nouveauté.
Tous ces albums font partie de ma collection (Vinyle, CD, FLAC, MP3, etc.).

Album du jour:
MARTHE (Italie) – Further In Evil (2023)

Une artiste solo originaire de Bologne, en Italie.
Elle se décrit comme #antifasciste, #féministe et #misanthrope.

#metal #bathory #BlackMetal #CrustPunk #RiotGrrrl #Italy #Rock#musik #music #musique #minetosh

Album des Tages
Eine weitere Folge in der Reihe meiner Posts in denen ich ein Album vorstelle, das ich gerade höre oder einfach nur mag. In unregelmäßiger Folge und auch zufällig ausgewählt. Muss und wird nicht immer #Metal sein. Es werden auch nicht immer aktuelle Alben sein.
Aber alle vorgestellten Alben sind Teil meiner Sammlung (Vinyl, CD, FLAC, MP3, ...)

Heutiges Album des Tages:
MARTHE (Italien) – Further In Evil (2023)

Eine one woman band aus Bologna, Italien.
Beschreibt sich selbst als #antifascist, #feminist, #misanthropic.

#metal #bathory #BlackMetal #CrustPunk #RiotGrrrl #Italy #Rock#musik #music #musique #minetosh

Weekend-Classic:

BATHORY - 'Blood, Fire, Death' (1988) by @bathoryofficialig & @officialblackmarkproduction

#bathory
#blackmetal
#vinyl
#blackmark
#metalpunksteel
#speedmetalpunks
https://www.instagram.com/p/DVAzB6ODIa0/?igsh=MTNxbjVheWI3cWZmOA==

Weekend-Classic:

BATHORY - 'Blood, Fire, Death' (1988) by @bathoryofficialig & @officialblackmarkproduction

#bathory
#blackmetal
#vinyl
#blackmark
#metalpunksteel
#speedmetalpunks
https://www.instagram.com/p/DVAzB6ODIa0/?igsh=MTNxbjVheWI3cWZmOA==

https://youtu.be/-3F66jrULfM?si=B8cNXp9vvSp20JuS
#bathory #metal #thelake #\m/

Sepulchral – Beneath the Shroud Review

By Steel Druhm

I’m not at all well-versed on the Spanish death metal scene, but the descriptions for Sepulchral’s sophomore opus Beneath the Shroud intrigued me sufficiently to take a cautious flyer on them for a December review. End-of-year promo offerings are always a mötley stew of rejects, wannabes, never-weres, tricksy re-releases, and lo-fi basement black metal albums set to release on Christmas day, so I didn’t expect much. What I got was something interesting indeed. Sepulchral rock a very old school death metal approach with a prominent blackened streak that sometimes takes center stage. There are nods to early Entombed and the punkier Autopsy releases, and more than a little similarity to proto-black metal bands like Bathory and early Sodom. The resulting racket is brutish, slack-jawed, entertaining, and certainly nostalgia-inducing for olde heads like Yours Steely. This is pure throwback glory, and it isn’t going to move any needles forward, but it sure tries to bend them backward.

After a refined and tasteful instrumental intro, Sepulchral come out with a greasy, filthy bang on the title track, which splits the baby between d-beat-heavy Swedeath and Bathory’s immortal second album, The Return. It’s retro-as-fook, but endearing as all get out. Vocals are like early days Quothorn mixed with Autopsy’s Chris Reifert, and the frantic, bouncy riffs will remind the aged metalhead of any number of 80s proto-death and proto-metal acts. At its core, it’s just a fun, over-the-top dose of thrashy, punky death with swagger and charm. “Abandoned Feretrum” is a macap, thrashing, tantrum of a tune with awkward, stuttering riffs that bulldoze everything and everyone into a muddy mass grave as crazed vocals babble, croak, and vomit forth nonsense. I loved this one immediately and I just keep playing it. Those simple caveman power chugs that pop up are pure gainz fuel for gym time. With the basic template thus set, Sepulchral proceed to blast, hammer, smoosh, and squish you with slight variations of it over the next 35 minutes.

This very singular approach works great on “Conflagration of Sacred Bones” and the remorseless wargrinder that is “Cloaked Spectres,” which feels unstoppable due to its penchant for big, dumb, power chugs. Slower selections like “From the Crypt, the Putrid Mist” remind of long-buried 80s proto-black metallers N.M.E., due to that clonky bass sound.1 “Gravestone Covenant” is a rumbling, brain-crushing Panzer of a song that annihilates everything in its path, and “Poison Wind” is an unabated beat down, brainless and bloodthirsty. As fun as the core Sepulchral sound is, they can run into issues when they stretch songs out and try for different moods. “Torchless Crossroads” is good, but it attempts to mellow things out too much on the back-end, creating a dull, dead space that doesn’t add any real atmosphere. “Gravestone Covenant” opts for a doomy wind-out but pulls it off better, though it would be better if it were left off entirely. Another issue is the tendency for the songs to all bleed together into an agitated, writhing mush. It’s a fun one to be sure, but it does feel like a lot of the same hash and beans by the time the album wraps.

Guitarist “Gorka” digs deep into the 80s for inspiration, offering a rabid, rotten collection of riffs that sound like they were culled from the first few Bathory albums and then dumped into an Entombed-ifier filter, only to be abandoned in a public toilet with Autopsy’s Shitfun. It’s moldy, and the stench is formidable, but 90% of the fun here is generated by the frantic, unceasing riffage and chuggery. And boy, those power chugs drain IQ points at a startling rate, but I can’t get enough of them. “Gaueko” provides gruesome vocals that sit exactly between death and black metal and are often no more than a raw bark or croak. His penchant for adding frequent vomit and spewing noises as accents is a plus, and he’s a reliable narrator for the horrors Sepulchral describes. His thumping, thudding bass-work is a boon as well, bubbling away in the background and foreground as needed.

Venturing Beneath the Shroud reveals something nasty, profane, and grotesque that cannot be unheard. It’s more fun than expected, though there are noticeable warts, boils, and blemishes along the way. Sepulchral may never end up a household name outside of their area of influence, but they have something cool going on with this mega-retro sound. If you appreciate the early days of extreme metal, take a whiff of this piece of offal.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Soulseller Records
Websites: sepulchraldeathmetal.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/sepulchraldeathmetal | instagram.com/sepulchral.osdm
Releases Worldwide: December 5th, 2025

#2025 #30 #autopsy #bathory #beneathTheShroud #deathMetal #dec25 #entombed #nME #review #reviews #sepulchral #sodom #soulsellerRecords #spanishMetal

Sepulchral – Beneath the Shroud Review

By Steel Druhm

I’m not at all well-versed on the Spanish death metal scene, but the descriptions for Sepulchral’s sophomore opus Beneath the Shroud intrigued me sufficiently to take a cautious flyer on them for a December review. End-of-year promo offerings are always a mötley stew of rejects, wannabes, never-weres, tricksy re-releases, and lo-fi basement black metal albums set to release on Christmas day, so I didn’t expect much. What I got was something interesting indeed. Sepulchral rock a very old school death metal approach with a prominent blackened streak that sometimes takes center stage. There are nods to early Entombed and the punkier Autopsy releases, and more than a little similarity to proto-black metal bands like Bathory and early Sodom. The resulting racket is brutish, slack-jawed, entertaining, and certainly nostalgia-inducing for olde heads like Yours Steely. This is pure throwback glory, and it isn’t going to move any needles forward, but it sure tries to bend them backward.

After a refined and tasteful instrumental intro, Sepulchral come out with a greasy, filthy bang on the title track, which splits the baby between d-beat-heavy Swedeath and Bathory’s immortal second album, The Return. It’s retro-as-fook, but endearing as all get out. Vocals are like early days Quothorn mixed with Autopsy’s Chris Reifert, and the frantic, bouncy riffs will remind the aged metalhead of any number of 80s proto-death and proto-metal acts. At its core, it’s just a fun, over-the-top dose of thrashy, punky death with swagger and charm. “Abandoned Feretrum” is a macap, thrashing, tantrum of a tune with awkward, stuttering riffs that bulldoze everything and everyone into a muddy mass grave as crazed vocals babble, croak, and vomit forth nonsense. I loved this one immediately and I just keep playing it. Those simple caveman power chugs that pop up are pure gainz fuel for gym time. With the basic template thus set, Sepulchral proceed to blast, hammer, smoosh, and squish you with slight variations of it over the next 35 minutes.

This very singular approach works great on “Conflagration of Sacred Bones” and the remorseless wargrinder that is “Cloaked Spectres,” which feels unstoppable due to its penchant for big, dumb, power chugs. Slower selections like “From the Crypt, the Putrid Mist” remind of long-buried 80s proto-black metallers N.M.E., due to that clonky bass sound.1 “Gravestone Covenant” is a rumbling, brain-crushing Panzer of a song that annihilates everything in its path, and “Poison Wind” is an unabated beat down, brainless and bloodthirsty. As fun as the core Sepulchral sound is, they can run into issues when they stretch songs out and try for different moods. “Torchless Crossroads” is good, but it attempts to mellow things out too much on the back-end, creating a dull, dead space that doesn’t add any real atmosphere. “Gravestone Covenant” opts for a doomy wind-out but pulls it off better, though it would be better if it were left off entirely. Another issue is the tendency for the songs to all bleed together into an agitated, writhing mush. It’s a fun one to be sure, but it does feel like a lot of the same hash and beans by the time the album wraps.

Guitarist “Gorka” digs deep into the 80s for inspiration, offering a rabid, rotten collection of riffs that sound like they were culled from the first few Bathory albums and then dumped into an Entombed-ifier filter, only to be abandoned in a public toilet with Autopsy’s Shitfun. It’s moldy, and the stench is formidable, but 90% of the fun here is generated by the frantic, unceasing riffage and chuggery. And boy, those power chugs drain IQ points at a startling rate, but I can’t get enough of them. “Gaueko” provides gruesome vocals that sit exactly between death and black metal and are often no more than a raw bark or croak. His penchant for adding frequent vomit and spewing noises as accents is a plus, and he’s a reliable narrator for the horrors Sepulchral describes. His thumping, thudding bass-work is a boon as well, bubbling away in the background and foreground as needed.

Venturing Beneath the Shroud reveals something nasty, profane, and grotesque that cannot be unheard. It’s more fun than expected, though there are noticeable warts, boils, and blemishes along the way. Sepulchral may never end up a household name outside of their area of influence, but they have something cool going on with this mega-retro sound. If you appreciate the early days of extreme metal, take a whiff of this piece of offal.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Soulseller Records
Websites: sepulchraldeathmetal.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/sepulchraldeathmetal | instagram.com/sepulchral.osdm
Releases Worldwide: December 5th, 2025

#2025 #30 #autopsy #bathory #beneathTheShroud #deathMetal #dec25 #entombed #nME #review #reviews #sepulchral #sodom #soulsellerRecords #spanishMetal

Sepulchral – Beneath the Shroud Review

By Steel Druhm

I’m not at all well-versed on the Spanish death metal scene, but the descriptions for Sepulchral’s sophomore opus Beneath the Shroud intrigued me sufficiently to take a cautious flyer on them for a December review. End-of-year promo offerings are always a mötley stew of rejects, wannabes, never-weres, tricksy re-releases, and lo-fi basement black metal albums set to release on Christmas day, so I didn’t expect much. What I got was something interesting indeed. Sepulchral rock a very old school death metal approach with a prominent blackened streak that sometimes takes center stage. There are nods to early Entombed and the punkier Autopsy releases, and more than a little similarity to proto-black metal bands like Bathory and early Sodom. The resulting racket is brutish, slack-jawed, entertaining, and certainly nostalgia-inducing for olde heads like Yours Steely. This is pure throwback glory, and it isn’t going to move any needles forward, but it sure tries to bend them backward.

After a refined and tasteful instrumental intro, Sepulchral come out with a greasy, filthy bang on the title track, which splits the baby between d-beat-heavy Swedeath and Bathory’s immortal second album, The Return. It’s retro-as-fook, but endearing as all get out. Vocals are like early days Quothorn mixed with Autopsy’s Chris Reifert, and the frantic, bouncy riffs will remind the aged metalhead of any number of 80s proto-death and proto-metal acts. At its core, it’s just a fun, over-the-top dose of thrashy, punky death with swagger and charm. “Abandoned Feretrum” is a macap, thrashing, tantrum of a tune with awkward, stuttering riffs that bulldoze everything and everyone into a muddy mass grave as crazed vocals babble, croak, and vomit forth nonsense. I loved this one immediately and I just keep playing it. Those simple caveman power chugs that pop up are pure gainz fuel for gym time. With the basic template thus set, Sepulchral proceed to blast, hammer, smoosh, and squish you with slight variations of it over the next 35 minutes.

This very singular approach works great on “Conflagration of Sacred Bones” and the remorseless wargrinder that is “Cloaked Spectres,” which feels unstoppable due to its penchant for big, dumb, power chugs. Slower selections like “From the Crypt, the Putrid Mist” remind of long-buried 80s proto-black metallers N.M.E., due to that clonky bass sound.1 “Gravestone Covenant” is a rumbling, brain-crushing Panzer of a song that annihilates everything in its path, and “Poison Wind” is an unabated beat down, brainless and bloodthirsty. As fun as the core Sepulchral sound is, they can run into issues when they stretch songs out and try for different moods. “Torchless Crossroads” is good, but it attempts to mellow things out too much on the back-end, creating a dull, dead space that doesn’t add any real atmosphere. “Gravestone Covenant” opts for a doomy wind-out but pulls it off better, though it would be better if it were left off entirely. Another issue is the tendency for the songs to all bleed together into an agitated, writhing mush. It’s a fun one to be sure, but it does feel like a lot of the same hash and beans by the time the album wraps.

Guitarist “Gorka” digs deep into the 80s for inspiration, offering a rabid, rotten collection of riffs that sound like they were culled from the first few Bathory albums and then dumped into an Entombed-ifier filter, only to be abandoned in a public toilet with Autopsy’s Shitfun. It’s moldy, and the stench is formidable, but 90% of the fun here is generated by the frantic, unceasing riffage and chuggery. And boy, those power chugs drain IQ points at a startling rate, but I can’t get enough of them. “Gaueko” provides gruesome vocals that sit exactly between death and black metal and are often no more than a raw bark or croak. His penchant for adding frequent vomit and spewing noises as accents is a plus, and he’s a reliable narrator for the horrors Sepulchral describes. His thumping, thudding bass-work is a boon as well, bubbling away in the background and foreground as needed.

Venturing Beneath the Shroud reveals something nasty, profane, and grotesque that cannot be unheard. It’s more fun than expected, though there are noticeable warts, boils, and blemishes along the way. Sepulchral may never end up a household name outside of their area of influence, but they have something cool going on with this mega-retro sound. If you appreciate the early days of extreme metal, take a whiff of this piece of offal.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Soulseller Records
Websites: sepulchraldeathmetal.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/sepulchraldeathmetal | instagram.com/sepulchral.osdm
Releases Worldwide: December 5th, 2025

#2025 #30 #autopsy #bathory #beneathTheShroud #deathMetal #dec25 #entombed #nME #review #reviews #sepulchral #sodom #soulsellerRecords #spanishMetal

Sepulchral – Beneath the Shroud Review

By Steel Druhm

I’m not at all well-versed on the Spanish death metal scene, but the descriptions for Sepulchral’s sophomore opus Beneath the Shroud intrigued me sufficiently to take a cautious flyer on them for a December review. End-of-year promo offerings are always a mötley stew of rejects, wannabes, never-weres, tricksy re-releases, and lo-fi basement black metal albums set to release on Christmas day, so I didn’t expect much. What I got was something interesting indeed. Sepulchral rock a very old school death metal approach with a prominent blackened streak that sometimes takes center stage. There are nods to early Entombed and the punkier Autopsy releases, and more than a little similarity to proto-black metal bands like Bathory and early Sodom. The resulting racket is brutish, slack-jawed, entertaining, and certainly nostalgia-inducing for olde heads like Yours Steely. This is pure throwback glory, and it isn’t going to move any needles forward, but it sure tries to bend them backward.

After a refined and tasteful instrumental intro, Sepulchral come out with a greasy, filthy bang on the title track, which splits the baby between d-beat-heavy Swedeath and Bathory’s immortal second album, The Return. It’s retro-as-fook, but endearing as all get out. Vocals are like early days Quothorn mixed with Autopsy’s Chris Reifert, and the frantic, bouncy riffs will remind the aged metalhead of any number of 80s proto-death and proto-metal acts. At its core, it’s just a fun, over-the-top dose of thrashy, punky death with swagger and charm. “Abandoned Feretrum” is a macap, thrashing, tantrum of a tune with awkward, stuttering riffs that bulldoze everything and everyone into a muddy mass grave as crazed vocals babble, croak, and vomit forth nonsense. I loved this one immediately and I just keep playing it. Those simple caveman power chugs that pop up are pure gainz fuel for gym time. With the basic template thus set, Sepulchral proceed to blast, hammer, smoosh, and squish you with slight variations of it over the next 35 minutes.

This very singular approach works great on “Conflagration of Sacred Bones” and the remorseless wargrinder that is “Cloaked Spectres,” which feels unstoppable due to its penchant for big, dumb, power chugs. Slower selections like “From the Crypt, the Putrid Mist” remind of long-buried 80s proto-black metallers N.M.E., due to that clonky bass sound.1 “Gravestone Covenant” is a rumbling, brain-crushing Panzer of a song that annihilates everything in its path, and “Poison Wind” is an unabated beat down, brainless and bloodthirsty. As fun as the core Sepulchral sound is, they can run into issues when they stretch songs out and try for different moods. “Torchless Crossroads” is good, but it attempts to mellow things out too much on the back-end, creating a dull, dead space that doesn’t add any real atmosphere. “Gravestone Covenant” opts for a doomy wind-out but pulls it off better, though it would be better if it were left off entirely. Another issue is the tendency for the songs to all bleed together into an agitated, writhing mush. It’s a fun one to be sure, but it does feel like a lot of the same hash and beans by the time the album wraps.

Guitarist “Gorka” digs deep into the 80s for inspiration, offering a rabid, rotten collection of riffs that sound like they were culled from the first few Bathory albums and then dumped into an Entombed-ifier filter, only to be abandoned in a public toilet with Autopsy’s Shitfun. It’s moldy, and the stench is formidable, but 90% of the fun here is generated by the frantic, unceasing riffage and chuggery. And boy, those power chugs drain IQ points at a startling rate, but I can’t get enough of them. “Gaueko” provides gruesome vocals that sit exactly between death and black metal and are often no more than a raw bark or croak. His penchant for adding frequent vomit and spewing noises as accents is a plus, and he’s a reliable narrator for the horrors Sepulchral describes. His thumping, thudding bass-work is a boon as well, bubbling away in the background and foreground as needed.

Venturing Beneath the Shroud reveals something nasty, profane, and grotesque that cannot be unheard. It’s more fun than expected, though there are noticeable warts, boils, and blemishes along the way. Sepulchral may never end up a household name outside of their area of influence, but they have something cool going on with this mega-retro sound. If you appreciate the early days of extreme metal, take a whiff of this piece of offal.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Soulseller Records
Websites: sepulchraldeathmetal.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/sepulchraldeathmetal | instagram.com/sepulchral.osdm
Releases Worldwide: December 5th, 2025

#2025 #30 #autopsy #bathory #beneathTheShroud #deathMetal #dec25 #entombed #nME #review #reviews #sepulchral #sodom #soulsellerRecords #spanishMetal

Sepulchral – Beneath the Shroud Review

By Steel Druhm

I’m not at all well-versed on the Spanish death metal scene, but the descriptions for Sepulchral’s sophomore opus Beneath the Shroud intrigued me sufficiently to take a cautious flyer on them for a December review. End-of-year promo offerings are always a mötley stew of rejects, wannabes, never-weres, tricksy re-releases, and lo-fi basement black metal albums set to release on Christmas day, so I didn’t expect much. What I got was something interesting indeed. Sepulchral rock a very old school death metal approach with a prominent blackened streak that sometimes takes center stage. There are nods to early Entombed and the punkier Autopsy releases, and more than a little similarity to proto-black metal bands like Bathory and early Sodom. The resulting racket is brutish, slack-jawed, entertaining, and certainly nostalgia-inducing for olde heads like Yours Steely. This is pure throwback glory, and it isn’t going to move any needles forward, but it sure tries to bend them backward.

After a refined and tasteful instrumental intro, Sepulchral come out with a greasy, filthy bang on the title track, which splits the baby between d-beat-heavy Swedeath and Bathory’s immortal second album, The Return. It’s retro-as-fook, but endearing as all get out. Vocals are like early days Quothorn mixed with Autopsy’s Chris Reifert, and the frantic, bouncy riffs will remind the aged metalhead of any number of 80s proto-death and proto-metal acts. At its core, it’s just a fun, over-the-top dose of thrashy, punky death with swagger and charm. “Abandoned Feretrum” is a macap, thrashing, tantrum of a tune with awkward, stuttering riffs that bulldoze everything and everyone into a muddy mass grave as crazed vocals babble, croak, and vomit forth nonsense. I loved this one immediately and I just keep playing it. Those simple caveman power chugs that pop up are pure gainz fuel for gym time. With the basic template thus set, Sepulchral proceed to blast, hammer, smoosh, and squish you with slight variations of it over the next 35 minutes.

This very singular approach works great on “Conflagration of Sacred Bones” and the remorseless wargrinder that is “Cloaked Spectres,” which feels unstoppable due to its penchant for big, dumb, power chugs. Slower selections like “From the Crypt, the Putrid Mist” remind of long-buried 80s proto-black metallers N.M.E., due to that clonky bass sound.1 “Gravestone Covenant” is a rumbling, brain-crushing Panzer of a song that annihilates everything in its path, and “Poison Wind” is an unabated beat down, brainless and bloodthirsty. As fun as the core Sepulchral sound is, they can run into issues when they stretch songs out and try for different moods. “Torchless Crossroads” is good, but it attempts to mellow things out too much on the back-end, creating a dull, dead space that doesn’t add any real atmosphere. “Gravestone Covenant” opts for a doomy wind-out but pulls it off better, though it would be better if it were left off entirely. Another issue is the tendency for the songs to all bleed together into an agitated, writhing mush. It’s a fun one to be sure, but it does feel like a lot of the same hash and beans by the time the album wraps.

Guitarist “Gorka” digs deep into the 80s for inspiration, offering a rabid, rotten collection of riffs that sound like they were culled from the first few Bathory albums and then dumped into an Entombed-ifier filter, only to be abandoned in a public toilet with Autopsy’s Shitfun. It’s moldy, and the stench is formidable, but 90% of the fun here is generated by the frantic, unceasing riffage and chuggery. And boy, those power chugs drain IQ points at a startling rate, but I can’t get enough of them. “Gaueko” provides gruesome vocals that sit exactly between death and black metal and are often no more than a raw bark or croak. His penchant for adding frequent vomit and spewing noises as accents is a plus, and he’s a reliable narrator for the horrors Sepulchral describes. His thumping, thudding bass-work is a boon as well, bubbling away in the background and foreground as needed.

Venturing Beneath the Shroud reveals something nasty, profane, and grotesque that cannot be unheard. It’s more fun than expected, though there are noticeable warts, boils, and blemishes along the way. Sepulchral may never end up a household name outside of their area of influence, but they have something cool going on with this mega-retro sound. If you appreciate the early days of extreme metal, take a whiff of this piece of offal.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Soulseller Records
Websites: sepulchraldeathmetal.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/sepulchraldeathmetal | instagram.com/sepulchral.osdm
Releases Worldwide: December 5th, 2025

#2025 #30 #autopsy #bathory #beneathTheShroud #deathMetal #dec25 #entombed #nME #review #reviews #sepulchral #sodom #soulsellerRecords #spanishMetal

Änterbila – Avart Review

By Grin Reaper

Billed as blackened folk metal and boasting a sound that will remind listeners of the aughts-era Darkthrone, Änterbila1 returns with sophomore album Avart. Three years removed from their self-titled debut, the foursome from Gävleborg County, Sweden, retains the core sonic principles of Änterbila and dunks them into the muck, invoking a darker, grimier aura. Where the plight of peasantry informed Änterbila’s sensibilities, Avart looks to national folklore for inspiration. Rather than interpreting that folklore through the eyes of those who passed the stories on, though, Avart revisits lore from the perspective of the other side, the witch to Grimms’ Hansel und Gretel, imparting a sinister edge to the music. Is Änterbila’s latest platter sharp enough to brandish, or does it need more time with the honing rod?

The marriage of black and folk metal can take different forms, with folk infusions coming from instrumentation, melodies, and/or folk and pagan themes. Änterbila offers all of them, but presented disparately as stark components rather than fused together as an interconnected whole. Bookend instrumentals “Låt till Far” and “Eklnundapolskan” feature strings, a bagpipe, and choral harmonies between them, not unlike Saor or Summoning. These tracks conjure rustic firesides with an air of excitement as strange tales are told around them. Avart’s other six tracks are categorically different, hovering between pagan-leaning, late-eighties Bathory (“Kniven”) and the punky pluck of early Vreid (“Jordfäst”). I even catch a whiff of Bizarrekult (“Årsgång”) in the midst. None of the flavors are bad on their own, but without more cohesion, they’re a bit confusing on the same plate.

Avart is a lively affair, with snappy licks, punky riffs, and burbling kick rolls that whisk listeners through half an hour of sprightly black metal. Bandleader and founder Jerff wields axe and vocal duties, with Raamt abetting in six-string antics. The guitars trem pick their way through Avart, embracing an unadorned style that takes a few simple melodies, interchanges them every now and then, and rides through four or five minutes. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this stripped-down approach, but without more distinctive hooks or emotive vocals, the songs bleed together. Drop me in the middle of any of the songs, and I’ll have a tough time naming which one it is unless Jerff repeats the title several times (“Kniven,” “Jordfäst”). Another issue Änterbila grapples with throughout Avart is repetition. Even with such a compact runtime, there’s not always enough substance to justify track lengths. “Jordfäst” could explore its ideas in two-thirds the time, for example, but instead pushes them past optimal duration. As it currently stands, there’s enough material for a solid EP, but relentless refrains without variations make shallow wells, and drawing from them too often becomes tedious.

Änterbila’s strengths lie in creating a dangerously charming atmosphere and not overstaying their welcome. Avart’s old school production underscores its low-fi mood, perfect for settings of yore where things lurking within shadows go bump in the night. Even though the mix isn’t polished, it ably captures Svaltunga’s punchy bass and drummer Monstrum’s quadrupedal onslaught. There flows an energy in the music that crackles with roguish vigor, and it’s here that Änterbila excels. It’s a shame lyrics weren’t included as part of the press kit since dark folklore provides such fertile ground for music. Understanding what the (presumed) native Swedish translates to could have heightened my appreciation for what secrets Avart holds. Still, the runtime is trim and helps deflect some of the monotony of simpler song structures, keeping the overall package easily digestible.

Änterbila possesses all the ingredients for a rollocking good time, but fumbles with the recipe. The folk metal tag is a bit misleading, and given that the folk elements are so well-executed in the intro and outro, it’s disappointing that Änterbila didn’t incorporate them throughout the entire album. Doing so could have thwarted the uniformity across the remaining songs, adding dynamism and a through-line that brings everything together with reinforced congruity. Every time I spin Avart, I hope to find something I’d missed previously, because I want to like it more than I do. Avart seethes with potential, and while I don’t regret any of the time I spent with the album, I don’t expect to return to it, either. Hopefully, the next iteration delivers on the promise Änterbila has established here.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nordvis Produktion
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#20 #2025 #anterbila #avart #bathory #bizarrekult #blackFolkMetal #blackMetal #darkthrone #folkMetal #metal #nordvisProduktion #nov25 #review #reviews #saor #summoning #swedish #vreid

Änterbila – Avart Review

By Grin Reaper

Billed as blackened folk metal and boasting a sound that will remind listeners of the aughts-era Darkthrone, Änterbila1 returns with sophomore album Avart. Three years removed from their self-titled debut, the foursome from Gävleborg County, Sweden, retains the core sonic principles of Änterbila and dunks them into the muck, invoking a darker, grimier aura. Where the plight of peasantry informed Änterbila’s sensibilities, Avart looks to national folklore for inspiration. Rather than interpreting that folklore through the eyes of those who passed the stories on, though, Avart revisits lore from the perspective of the other side, the witch to Grimms’ Hansel und Gretel, imparting a sinister edge to the music. Is Änterbila’s latest platter sharp enough to brandish, or does it need more time with the honing rod?

The marriage of black and folk metal can take different forms, with folk infusions coming from instrumentation, melodies, and/or folk and pagan themes. Änterbila offers all of them, but presented disparately as stark components rather than fused together as an interconnected whole. Bookend instrumentals “Låt till Far” and “Eklnundapolskan” feature strings, a bagpipe, and choral harmonies between them, not unlike Saor or Summoning. These tracks conjure rustic firesides with an air of excitement as strange tales are told around them. Avart’s other six tracks are categorically different, hovering between pagan-leaning, late-eighties Bathory (“Kniven”) and the punky pluck of early Vreid (“Jordfäst”). I even catch a whiff of Bizarrekult (“Årsgång”) in the midst. None of the flavors are bad on their own, but without more cohesion, they’re a bit confusing on the same plate.

Avart is a lively affair, with snappy licks, punky riffs, and burbling kick rolls that whisk listeners through half an hour of sprightly black metal. Bandleader and founder Jerff wields axe and vocal duties, with Raamt abetting in six-string antics. The guitars trem pick their way through Avart, embracing an unadorned style that takes a few simple melodies, interchanges them every now and then, and rides through four or five minutes. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this stripped-down approach, but without more distinctive hooks or emotive vocals, the songs bleed together. Drop me in the middle of any of the songs, and I’ll have a tough time naming which one it is unless Jerff repeats the title several times (“Kniven,” “Jordfäst”). Another issue Änterbila grapples with throughout Avart is repetition. Even with such a compact runtime, there’s not always enough substance to justify track lengths. “Jordfäst” could explore its ideas in two-thirds the time, for example, but instead pushes them past optimal duration. As it currently stands, there’s enough material for a solid EP, but relentless refrains without variations make shallow wells, and drawing from them too often becomes tedious.

Änterbila’s strengths lie in creating a dangerously charming atmosphere and not overstaying their welcome. Avart’s old school production underscores its low-fi mood, perfect for settings of yore where things lurking within shadows go bump in the night. Even though the mix isn’t polished, it ably captures Svaltunga’s punchy bass and drummer Monstrum’s quadrupedal onslaught. There flows an energy in the music that crackles with roguish vigor, and it’s here that Änterbila excels. It’s a shame lyrics weren’t included as part of the press kit since dark folklore provides such fertile ground for music. Understanding what the (presumed) native Swedish translates to could have heightened my appreciation for what secrets Avart holds. Still, the runtime is trim and helps deflect some of the monotony of simpler song structures, keeping the overall package easily digestible.

Änterbila possesses all the ingredients for a rollocking good time, but fumbles with the recipe. The folk metal tag is a bit misleading, and given that the folk elements are so well-executed in the intro and outro, it’s disappointing that Änterbila didn’t incorporate them throughout the entire album. Doing so could have thwarted the uniformity across the remaining songs, adding dynamism and a through-line that brings everything together with reinforced congruity. Every time I spin Avart, I hope to find something I’d missed previously, because I want to like it more than I do. Avart seethes with potential, and while I don’t regret any of the time I spent with the album, I don’t expect to return to it, either. Hopefully, the next iteration delivers on the promise Änterbila has established here.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nordvis Produktion
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#20 #2025 #anterbila #avart #bathory #bizarrekult #blackFolkMetal #blackMetal #darkthrone #folkMetal #metal #nordvisProduktion #nov25 #review #reviews #saor #summoning #swedish #vreid

Änterbila – Avart Review

By Grin Reaper

Billed as blackened folk metal and boasting a sound that will remind listeners of the aughts-era Darkthrone, Änterbila1 returns with sophomore album Avart. Three years removed from their self-titled debut, the foursome from Gävleborg County, Sweden, retains the core sonic principles of Änterbila and dunks them into the muck, invoking a darker, grimier aura. Where the plight of peasantry informed Änterbila’s sensibilities, Avart looks to national folklore for inspiration. Rather than interpreting that folklore through the eyes of those who passed the stories on, though, Avart revisits lore from the perspective of the other side, the witch to Grimms’ Hansel und Gretel, imparting a sinister edge to the music. Is Änterbila’s latest platter sharp enough to brandish, or does it need more time with the honing rod?

The marriage of black and folk metal can take different forms, with folk infusions coming from instrumentation, melodies, and/or folk and pagan themes. Änterbila offers all of them, but presented disparately as stark components rather than fused together as an interconnected whole. Bookend instrumentals “Låt till Far” and “Eklnundapolskan” feature strings, a bagpipe, and choral harmonies between them, not unlike Saor or Summoning. These tracks conjure rustic firesides with an air of excitement as strange tales are told around them. Avart’s other six tracks are categorically different, hovering between pagan-leaning, late-eighties Bathory (“Kniven”) and the punky pluck of early Vreid (“Jordfäst”). I even catch a whiff of Bizarrekult (“Årsgång”) in the midst. None of the flavors are bad on their own, but without more cohesion, they’re a bit confusing on the same plate.

Avart is a lively affair, with snappy licks, punky riffs, and burbling kick rolls that whisk listeners through half an hour of sprightly black metal. Bandleader and founder Jerff wields axe and vocal duties, with Raamt abetting in six-string antics. The guitars trem pick their way through Avart, embracing an unadorned style that takes a few simple melodies, interchanges them every now and then, and rides through four or five minutes. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this stripped-down approach, but without more distinctive hooks or emotive vocals, the songs bleed together. Drop me in the middle of any of the songs, and I’ll have a tough time naming which one it is unless Jerff repeats the title several times (“Kniven,” “Jordfäst”). Another issue Änterbila grapples with throughout Avart is repetition. Even with such a compact runtime, there’s not always enough substance to justify track lengths. “Jordfäst” could explore its ideas in two-thirds the time, for example, but instead pushes them past optimal duration. As it currently stands, there’s enough material for a solid EP, but relentless refrains without variations make shallow wells, and drawing from them too often becomes tedious.

Änterbila’s strengths lie in creating a dangerously charming atmosphere and not overstaying their welcome. Avart’s old school production underscores its low-fi mood, perfect for settings of yore where things lurking within shadows go bump in the night. Even though the mix isn’t polished, it ably captures Svaltunga’s punchy bass and drummer Monstrum’s quadrupedal onslaught. There flows an energy in the music that crackles with roguish vigor, and it’s here that Änterbila excels. It’s a shame lyrics weren’t included as part of the press kit since dark folklore provides such fertile ground for music. Understanding what the (presumed) native Swedish translates to could have heightened my appreciation for what secrets Avart holds. Still, the runtime is trim and helps deflect some of the monotony of simpler song structures, keeping the overall package easily digestible.

Änterbila possesses all the ingredients for a rollocking good time, but fumbles with the recipe. The folk metal tag is a bit misleading, and given that the folk elements are so well-executed in the intro and outro, it’s disappointing that Änterbila didn’t incorporate them throughout the entire album. Doing so could have thwarted the uniformity across the remaining songs, adding dynamism and a through-line that brings everything together with reinforced congruity. Every time I spin Avart, I hope to find something I’d missed previously, because I want to like it more than I do. Avart seethes with potential, and while I don’t regret any of the time I spent with the album, I don’t expect to return to it, either. Hopefully, the next iteration delivers on the promise Änterbila has established here.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nordvis Produktion
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#20 #2025 #anterbila #avart #bathory #bizarrekult #blackFolkMetal #blackMetal #darkthrone #folkMetal #metal #nordvisProduktion #nov25 #review #reviews #saor #summoning #swedish #vreid

Änterbila – Avart Review

By Grin Reaper

Billed as blackened folk metal and boasting a sound that will remind listeners of the aughts-era Darkthrone, Änterbila1 returns with sophomore album Avart. Three years removed from their self-titled debut, the foursome from Gävleborg County, Sweden, retains the core sonic principles of Änterbila and dunks them into the muck, invoking a darker, grimier aura. Where the plight of peasantry informed Änterbila’s sensibilities, Avart looks to national folklore for inspiration. Rather than interpreting that folklore through the eyes of those who passed the stories on, though, Avart revisits lore from the perspective of the other side, the witch to Grimms’ Hansel und Gretel, imparting a sinister edge to the music. Is Änterbila’s latest platter sharp enough to brandish, or does it need more time with the honing rod?

The marriage of black and folk metal can take different forms, with folk infusions coming from instrumentation, melodies, and/or folk and pagan themes. Änterbila offers all of them, but presented disparately as stark components rather than fused together as an interconnected whole. Bookend instrumentals “Låt till Far” and “Eklnundapolskan” feature strings, a bagpipe, and choral harmonies between them, not unlike Saor or Summoning. These tracks conjure rustic firesides with an air of excitement as strange tales are told around them. Avart’s other six tracks are categorically different, hovering between pagan-leaning, late-eighties Bathory (“Kniven”) and the punky pluck of early Vreid (“Jordfäst”). I even catch a whiff of Bizarrekult (“Årsgång”) in the midst. None of the flavors are bad on their own, but without more cohesion, they’re a bit confusing on the same plate.

Avart is a lively affair, with snappy licks, punky riffs, and burbling kick rolls that whisk listeners through half an hour of sprightly black metal. Bandleader and founder Jerff wields axe and vocal duties, with Raamt abetting in six-string antics. The guitars trem pick their way through Avart, embracing an unadorned style that takes a few simple melodies, interchanges them every now and then, and rides through four or five minutes. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this stripped-down approach, but without more distinctive hooks or emotive vocals, the songs bleed together. Drop me in the middle of any of the songs, and I’ll have a tough time naming which one it is unless Jerff repeats the title several times (“Kniven,” “Jordfäst”). Another issue Änterbila grapples with throughout Avart is repetition. Even with such a compact runtime, there’s not always enough substance to justify track lengths. “Jordfäst” could explore its ideas in two-thirds the time, for example, but instead pushes them past optimal duration. As it currently stands, there’s enough material for a solid EP, but relentless refrains without variations make shallow wells, and drawing from them too often becomes tedious.

Änterbila’s strengths lie in creating a dangerously charming atmosphere and not overstaying their welcome. Avart’s old school production underscores its low-fi mood, perfect for settings of yore where things lurking within shadows go bump in the night. Even though the mix isn’t polished, it ably captures Svaltunga’s punchy bass and drummer Monstrum’s quadrupedal onslaught. There flows an energy in the music that crackles with roguish vigor, and it’s here that Änterbila excels. It’s a shame lyrics weren’t included as part of the press kit since dark folklore provides such fertile ground for music. Understanding what the (presumed) native Swedish translates to could have heightened my appreciation for what secrets Avart holds. Still, the runtime is trim and helps deflect some of the monotony of simpler song structures, keeping the overall package easily digestible.

Änterbila possesses all the ingredients for a rollocking good time, but fumbles with the recipe. The folk metal tag is a bit misleading, and given that the folk elements are so well-executed in the intro and outro, it’s disappointing that Änterbila didn’t incorporate them throughout the entire album. Doing so could have thwarted the uniformity across the remaining songs, adding dynamism and a through-line that brings everything together with reinforced congruity. Every time I spin Avart, I hope to find something I’d missed previously, because I want to like it more than I do. Avart seethes with potential, and while I don’t regret any of the time I spent with the album, I don’t expect to return to it, either. Hopefully, the next iteration delivers on the promise Änterbila has established here.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nordvis Produktion
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#20 #2025 #anterbila #avart #bathory #bizarrekult #blackFolkMetal #blackMetal #darkthrone #folkMetal #metal #nordvisProduktion #nov25 #review #reviews #saor #summoning #swedish #vreid

Änterbila – Avart Review

By Grin Reaper

Billed as blackened folk metal and boasting a sound that will remind listeners of the aughts-era Darkthrone, Änterbila1 returns with sophomore album Avart. Three years removed from their self-titled debut, the foursome from Gävleborg County, Sweden, retains the core sonic principles of Änterbila and dunks them into the muck, invoking a darker, grimier aura. Where the plight of peasantry informed Änterbila’s sensibilities, Avart looks to national folklore for inspiration. Rather than interpreting that folklore through the eyes of those who passed the stories on, though, Avart revisits lore from the perspective of the other side, the witch to Grimms’ Hansel und Gretel, imparting a sinister edge to the music. Is Änterbila’s latest platter sharp enough to brandish, or does it need more time with the honing rod?

The marriage of black and folk metal can take different forms, with folk infusions coming from instrumentation, melodies, and/or folk and pagan themes. Änterbila offers all of them, but presented disparately as stark components rather than fused together as an interconnected whole. Bookend instrumentals “Låt till Far” and “Eklnundapolskan” feature strings, a bagpipe, and choral harmonies between them, not unlike Saor or Summoning. These tracks conjure rustic firesides with an air of excitement as strange tales are told around them. Avart’s other six tracks are categorically different, hovering between pagan-leaning, late-eighties Bathory (“Kniven”) and the punky pluck of early Vreid (“Jordfäst”). I even catch a whiff of Bizarrekult (“Årsgång”) in the midst. None of the flavors are bad on their own, but without more cohesion, they’re a bit confusing on the same plate.

Avart is a lively affair, with snappy licks, punky riffs, and burbling kick rolls that whisk listeners through half an hour of sprightly black metal. Bandleader and founder Jerff wields axe and vocal duties, with Raamt abetting in six-string antics. The guitars trem pick their way through Avart, embracing an unadorned style that takes a few simple melodies, interchanges them every now and then, and rides through four or five minutes. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this stripped-down approach, but without more distinctive hooks or emotive vocals, the songs bleed together. Drop me in the middle of any of the songs, and I’ll have a tough time naming which one it is unless Jerff repeats the title several times (“Kniven,” “Jordfäst”). Another issue Änterbila grapples with throughout Avart is repetition. Even with such a compact runtime, there’s not always enough substance to justify track lengths. “Jordfäst” could explore its ideas in two-thirds the time, for example, but instead pushes them past optimal duration. As it currently stands, there’s enough material for a solid EP, but relentless refrains without variations make shallow wells, and drawing from them too often becomes tedious.

Änterbila’s strengths lie in creating a dangerously charming atmosphere and not overstaying their welcome. Avart’s old school production underscores its low-fi mood, perfect for settings of yore where things lurking within shadows go bump in the night. Even though the mix isn’t polished, it ably captures Svaltunga’s punchy bass and drummer Monstrum’s quadrupedal onslaught. There flows an energy in the music that crackles with roguish vigor, and it’s here that Änterbila excels. It’s a shame lyrics weren’t included as part of the press kit since dark folklore provides such fertile ground for music. Understanding what the (presumed) native Swedish translates to could have heightened my appreciation for what secrets Avart holds. Still, the runtime is trim and helps deflect some of the monotony of simpler song structures, keeping the overall package easily digestible.

Änterbila possesses all the ingredients for a rollocking good time, but fumbles with the recipe. The folk metal tag is a bit misleading, and given that the folk elements are so well-executed in the intro and outro, it’s disappointing that Änterbila didn’t incorporate them throughout the entire album. Doing so could have thwarted the uniformity across the remaining songs, adding dynamism and a through-line that brings everything together with reinforced congruity. Every time I spin Avart, I hope to find something I’d missed previously, because I want to like it more than I do. Avart seethes with potential, and while I don’t regret any of the time I spent with the album, I don’t expect to return to it, either. Hopefully, the next iteration delivers on the promise Änterbila has established here.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nordvis Produktion
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#20 #2025 #anterbila #avart #bathory #bizarrekult #blackFolkMetal #blackMetal #darkthrone #folkMetal #metal #nordvisProduktion #nov25 #review #reviews #saor #summoning #swedish #vreid

https://www.europesays.com/ie/196060/ Ildaruni – Divinum Sanguinem Review #2.5 #2025 #ArmenianMetal #Bathory #BlackLionRecords #BlackMetal #DivinumSanguinem #Éire #Emperor #Entertainment #IE #Ildaruni #Immortal #Ireland #Music #Nov25 #Review #Reviews

Ildaruni – Divinum Sanguinem Review

The mystic, the subliminal, the macabre: the fixings of good black metal and the bread and butter of…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2.5 #2025 #ArmenianMetal #Bathory #BlackLionRecords #BlackMetal #CA #Canada #DivinumSanguinem #Emperor #Entertainment #Ildaruni #Immortal #Nov25 #review #reviews
https://www.newsbeep.com/ca/298714/

Ildaruni – Divinum Sanguinem Review

By Andy-War-Hall

The mystic, the subliminal, the macabre: the fixings of good black metal and the bread and butter of Armenian pagans Ildaruni. Four years ago, they entered the blackened sphere with their debut Beyond Unseen Gateways, a folk-infused take on black metal that, while promising in several regards, felt bloated and unfocused. Its pagan, medieval-y acoustic passages felt tacked on, lethargic and a bit hokey, and I think Ildaruni agree with my assessment, as this year’s Divinum Sanguinem ditches the lutes and stuff for “a more tenebrous and ferocious black metal path.” At nine songs and 53 minutes, Divinum Sanguinem is yet another considerable offering from Ildaruni. Will this one prove more vital than the last?

This time, Ildaruni ain’t faffing about;1 Divinum Sanguinem is out for blood. Second-wave styling permeates Divinum Sanguinem, but without its typical murk. Utterly furious tremolo riffs and blast beats abound, wrought to vicious effect on songs like “Forged with Glaive and Blood” and “The Ascension of Kosmokrator,” while Narek Avedyan’s burly shrieks command the calamity into a lean, focused undertaking. This is black metal of a riff-centric nature, Immortal-like, but with the odd Bathory military march (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator”) and chant (“Zurvan Akrane”) to instill a greater sense of grandeur into Iladruni’s palette. Riffs are a’plenty, but it’s drummer Arthur Poghosyan who steals the show, just crushing the blasts on every song and layering everything with impressive symbol work. Divinum Sanguinem is a hefty record, but unlike Beyond Unseen Gateways, it isn’t bogged down with momentum-killing diversions. Exemplified on “Divinum Sanguinem”—where all eight minutes of imperial procession feel, bombastic dynamics and eerie bridges feel critical and purposeful—Divinum Sanguinem is lean, mean and blackened as anything.

Ildaruni hold a workman-like commitment to evil. There’s an Emperor-like dark majesty to Divinum Sanguinem, though Ildaruni forgo synths and orchestras for grandiose guitar leads to accomplish this (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator,” “Divinum Sanguinem”). Thrash riffs grace “Zurvan Akrane” beside metalface-inducing chugs on “Forged with Glaive and Blood” and “Arcane Sermon,” and even instances of Qanun (“Scorching Pathways to Samachi”)2 and bagpipe (“Forged with Glaive and Blood”)3 add to the sinister feel of Divinum Sanguinem. Similarly, the various instances of choir (“Of Nomos and Flaming Flint Stone,” “Arcane Sermon” and “Scorching Pathways to Samachi”),4 chant and clean singing (“Divinum Sanguinem”)5 add dimensions to the vocal front of Ildaruni, breaking from the incessant shrieks but not from its malignancy. Pagan folk elements from Iladruni’s previous work remain, but are relegated to folkish distorted guitar leads (and bagpipes) to keep from clashing with the breakneck nature of Divinum Sanguinem. Sometimes ritualistically ominous (“Divinum Sanguinem”) and frequently hostile (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator”), Ildaruni crafted something pointedly dark with Divinum Sanguinem.

But Ildaruni play a limited, well-trodden style, and Divinum Sanguinem is stretched too thin to inspire frequent replay. While Divinum Sanguinem’s songs feature brief moments of differentiation, the near constant tremolos, blast beats and shrieks that encompass the majority of most tracks lose their lustre with use. If a song doesn’t immediately open with trems and blasts, like on “Of Nomos and Flaming Flint Stone” or “Zurvan Akrane,” rest assured that they’ll reemerge before the verse, still competently played but with little melodic variation between them all, losing effect with overexposure. The near-uniformity of Ildaruni’s track lengths adds to this sense of sameness, as songs seem to go through the same or similar motions for similar amounts of time, which doesn’t bode well for memorability. An exception to this trend, “Immersion into Empyrean”— with its mid-paced tempo and open arpeggios—is borderline catchy and provides a stark illustration of how one-note much of the rest of the album is. Ildaruni are all business here, but there’s too much business on Divinum Sanguinem and not enough variety, novelty or abundance of hooks to make getting through it consistently engaging.

Though Divinum Sanguinem is marred by considerable songwriting issues, it still marks considerable improvement for Ildaruni and proves there’s a future for the band. When it works, Divinum Sanguinem is a powerhouse of a record, both atmospheric and immediate. When Ildaruni’s tricks run dry, however, it becomes too easy to let the music slip into the background. Perhaps genre diehards will get more out of the album than I did, but I found myself losing interest too often to offer it high marks. Still, if you’re in the market for black metal that riffs hard, you could do a lot worse than Divinum Sanguinem.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Black Lion Records
Websites: ildaruni.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Ildaruni | instagram.com/ildaruni
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#25 #2025 #armenianMetal #bathory #blackLionRecords #blackMetal #divinumSanguinem #emperor #ildaruni #immortal #nov25 #review #reviews

Ildaruni – Divinum Sanguinem Review

By Andy-War-Hall

The mystic, the subliminal, the macabre: the fixings of good black metal and the bread and butter of Armenian pagans Ildaruni. Four years ago, they entered the blackened sphere with their debut Beyond Unseen Gateways, a folk-infused take on black metal that, while promising in several regards, felt bloated and unfocused. Its pagan, medieval-y acoustic passages felt tacked on, lethargic and a bit hokey, and I think Ildaruni agree with my assessment, as this year’s Divinum Sanguinem ditches the lutes and stuff for “a more tenebrous and ferocious black metal path.” At nine songs and 53 minutes, Divinum Sanguinem is yet another considerable offering from Ildaruni. Will this one prove more vital than the last?

This time, Ildaruni ain’t faffing about;1 Divinum Sanguinem is out for blood. Second-wave styling permeates Divinum Sanguinem, but without its typical murk. Utterly furious tremolo riffs and blast beats abound, wrought to vicious effect on songs like “Forged with Glaive and Blood” and “The Ascension of Kosmokrator,” while Narek Avedyan’s burly shrieks command the calamity into a lean, focused undertaking. This is black metal of a riff-centric nature, Immortal-like, but with the odd Bathory military march (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator”) and chant (“Zurvan Akrane”) to instill a greater sense of grandeur into Iladruni’s palette. Riffs are a’plenty, but it’s drummer Arthur Poghosyan who steals the show, just crushing the blasts on every song and layering everything with impressive symbol work. Divinum Sanguinem is a hefty record, but unlike Beyond Unseen Gateways, it isn’t bogged down with momentum-killing diversions. Exemplified on “Divinum Sanguinem”—where all eight minutes of imperial procession feel, bombastic dynamics and eerie bridges feel critical and purposeful—Divinum Sanguinem is lean, mean and blackened as anything.

Ildaruni hold a workman-like commitment to evil. There’s an Emperor-like dark majesty to Divinum Sanguinem, though Ildaruni forgo synths and orchestras for grandiose guitar leads to accomplish this (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator,” “Divinum Sanguinem”). Thrash riffs grace “Zurvan Akrane” beside metalface-inducing chugs on “Forged with Glaive and Blood” and “Arcane Sermon,” and even instances of Qanun (“Scorching Pathways to Samachi”)2 and bagpipe (“Forged with Glaive and Blood”)3 add to the sinister feel of Divinum Sanguinem. Similarly, the various instances of choir (“Of Nomos and Flaming Flint Stone,” “Arcane Sermon” and “Scorching Pathways to Samachi”),4 chant and clean singing (“Divinum Sanguinem”)5 add dimensions to the vocal front of Ildaruni, breaking from the incessant shrieks but not from its malignancy. Pagan folk elements from Iladruni’s previous work remain, but are relegated to folkish distorted guitar leads (and bagpipes) to keep from clashing with the breakneck nature of Divinum Sanguinem. Sometimes ritualistically ominous (“Divinum Sanguinem”) and frequently hostile (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator”), Ildaruni crafted something pointedly dark with Divinum Sanguinem.

But Ildaruni play a limited, well-trodden style, and Divinum Sanguinem is stretched too thin to inspire frequent replay. While Divinum Sanguinem’s songs feature brief moments of differentiation, the near constant tremolos, blast beats and shrieks that encompass the majority of most tracks lose their lustre with use. If a song doesn’t immediately open with trems and blasts, like on “Of Nomos and Flaming Flint Stone” or “Zurvan Akrane,” rest assured that they’ll reemerge before the verse, still competently played but with little melodic variation between them all, losing effect with overexposure. The near-uniformity of Ildaruni’s track lengths adds to this sense of sameness, as songs seem to go through the same or similar motions for similar amounts of time, which doesn’t bode well for memorability. An exception to this trend, “Immersion into Empyrean”— with its mid-paced tempo and open arpeggios—is borderline catchy and provides a stark illustration of how one-note much of the rest of the album is. Ildaruni are all business here, but there’s too much business on Divinum Sanguinem and not enough variety, novelty or abundance of hooks to make getting through it consistently engaging.

Though Divinum Sanguinem is marred by considerable songwriting issues, it still marks considerable improvement for Ildaruni and proves there’s a future for the band. When it works, Divinum Sanguinem is a powerhouse of a record, both atmospheric and immediate. When Ildaruni’s tricks run dry, however, it becomes too easy to let the music slip into the background. Perhaps genre diehards will get more out of the album than I did, but I found myself losing interest too often to offer it high marks. Still, if you’re in the market for black metal that riffs hard, you could do a lot worse than Divinum Sanguinem.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Black Lion Records
Websites: ildaruni.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Ildaruni | instagram.com/ildaruni
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#25 #2025 #armenianMetal #bathory #blackLionRecords #blackMetal #divinumSanguinem #emperor #ildaruni #immortal #nov25 #review #reviews

Ildaruni – Divinum Sanguinem Review

By Andy-War-Hall

The mystic, the subliminal, the macabre: the fixings of good black metal and the bread and butter of Armenian pagans Ildaruni. Four years ago, they entered the blackened sphere with their debut Beyond Unseen Gateways, a folk-infused take on black metal that, while promising in several regards, felt bloated and unfocused. Its pagan, medieval-y acoustic passages felt tacked on, lethargic and a bit hokey, and I think Ildaruni agree with my assessment, as this year’s Divinum Sanguinem ditches the lutes and stuff for “a more tenebrous and ferocious black metal path.” At nine songs and 53 minutes, Divinum Sanguinem is yet another considerable offering from Ildaruni. Will this one prove more vital than the last?

This time, Ildaruni ain’t faffing about;1 Divinum Sanguinem is out for blood. Second-wave styling permeates Divinum Sanguinem, but without its typical murk. Utterly furious tremolo riffs and blast beats abound, wrought to vicious effect on songs like “Forged with Glaive and Blood” and “The Ascension of Kosmokrator,” while Narek Avedyan’s burly shrieks command the calamity into a lean, focused undertaking. This is black metal of a riff-centric nature, Immortal-like, but with the odd Bathory military march (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator”) and chant (“Zurvan Akrane”) to instill a greater sense of grandeur into Iladruni’s palette. Riffs are a’plenty, but it’s drummer Arthur Poghosyan who steals the show, just crushing the blasts on every song and layering everything with impressive symbol work. Divinum Sanguinem is a hefty record, but unlike Beyond Unseen Gateways, it isn’t bogged down with momentum-killing diversions. Exemplified on “Divinum Sanguinem”—where all eight minutes of imperial procession feel, bombastic dynamics and eerie bridges feel critical and purposeful—Divinum Sanguinem is lean, mean and blackened as anything.

Ildaruni hold a workman-like commitment to evil. There’s an Emperor-like dark majesty to Divinum Sanguinem, though Ildaruni forgo synths and orchestras for grandiose guitar leads to accomplish this (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator,” “Divinum Sanguinem”). Thrash riffs grace “Zurvan Akrane” beside metalface-inducing chugs on “Forged with Glaive and Blood” and “Arcane Sermon,” and even instances of Qanun (“Scorching Pathways to Samachi”)2 and bagpipe (“Forged with Glaive and Blood”)3 add to the sinister feel of Divinum Sanguinem. Similarly, the various instances of choir (“Of Nomos and Flaming Flint Stone,” “Arcane Sermon” and “Scorching Pathways to Samachi”),4 chant and clean singing (“Divinum Sanguinem”)5 add dimensions to the vocal front of Ildaruni, breaking from the incessant shrieks but not from its malignancy. Pagan folk elements from Iladruni’s previous work remain, but are relegated to folkish distorted guitar leads (and bagpipes) to keep from clashing with the breakneck nature of Divinum Sanguinem. Sometimes ritualistically ominous (“Divinum Sanguinem”) and frequently hostile (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator”), Ildaruni crafted something pointedly dark with Divinum Sanguinem.

But Ildaruni play a limited, well-trodden style, and Divinum Sanguinem is stretched too thin to inspire frequent replay. While Divinum Sanguinem’s songs feature brief moments of differentiation, the near constant tremolos, blast beats and shrieks that encompass the majority of most tracks lose their lustre with use. If a song doesn’t immediately open with trems and blasts, like on “Of Nomos and Flaming Flint Stone” or “Zurvan Akrane,” rest assured that they’ll reemerge before the verse, still competently played but with little melodic variation between them all, losing effect with overexposure. The near-uniformity of Ildaruni’s track lengths adds to this sense of sameness, as songs seem to go through the same or similar motions for similar amounts of time, which doesn’t bode well for memorability. An exception to this trend, “Immersion into Empyrean”— with its mid-paced tempo and open arpeggios—is borderline catchy and provides a stark illustration of how one-note much of the rest of the album is. Ildaruni are all business here, but there’s too much business on Divinum Sanguinem and not enough variety, novelty or abundance of hooks to make getting through it consistently engaging.

Though Divinum Sanguinem is marred by considerable songwriting issues, it still marks considerable improvement for Ildaruni and proves there’s a future for the band. When it works, Divinum Sanguinem is a powerhouse of a record, both atmospheric and immediate. When Ildaruni’s tricks run dry, however, it becomes too easy to let the music slip into the background. Perhaps genre diehards will get more out of the album than I did, but I found myself losing interest too often to offer it high marks. Still, if you’re in the market for black metal that riffs hard, you could do a lot worse than Divinum Sanguinem.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Black Lion Records
Websites: ildaruni.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Ildaruni | instagram.com/ildaruni
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#25 #2025 #armenianMetal #bathory #blackLionRecords #blackMetal #divinumSanguinem #emperor #ildaruni #immortal #nov25 #review #reviews

Ildaruni – Divinum Sanguinem Review

By Andy-War-Hall

The mystic, the subliminal, the macabre: the fixings of good black metal and the bread and butter of Armenian pagans Ildaruni. Four years ago, they entered the blackened sphere with their debut Beyond Unseen Gateways, a folk-infused take on black metal that, while promising in several regards, felt bloated and unfocused. Its pagan, medieval-y acoustic passages felt tacked on, lethargic and a bit hokey, and I think Ildaruni agree with my assessment, as this year’s Divinum Sanguinem ditches the lutes and stuff for “a more tenebrous and ferocious black metal path.” At nine songs and 53 minutes, Divinum Sanguinem is yet another considerable offering from Ildaruni. Will this one prove more vital than the last?

This time, Ildaruni ain’t faffing about;1 Divinum Sanguinem is out for blood. Second-wave styling permeates Divinum Sanguinem, but without its typical murk. Utterly furious tremolo riffs and blast beats abound, wrought to vicious effect on songs like “Forged with Glaive and Blood” and “The Ascension of Kosmokrator,” while Narek Avedyan’s burly shrieks command the calamity into a lean, focused undertaking. This is black metal of a riff-centric nature, Immortal-like, but with the odd Bathory military march (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator”) and chant (“Zurvan Akrane”) to instill a greater sense of grandeur into Iladruni’s palette. Riffs are a’plenty, but it’s drummer Arthur Poghosyan who steals the show, just crushing the blasts on every song and layering everything with impressive symbol work. Divinum Sanguinem is a hefty record, but unlike Beyond Unseen Gateways, it isn’t bogged down with momentum-killing diversions. Exemplified on “Divinum Sanguinem”—where all eight minutes of imperial procession feel, bombastic dynamics and eerie bridges feel critical and purposeful—Divinum Sanguinem is lean, mean and blackened as anything.

Ildaruni hold a workman-like commitment to evil. There’s an Emperor-like dark majesty to Divinum Sanguinem, though Ildaruni forgo synths and orchestras for grandiose guitar leads to accomplish this (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator,” “Divinum Sanguinem”). Thrash riffs grace “Zurvan Akrane” beside metalface-inducing chugs on “Forged with Glaive and Blood” and “Arcane Sermon,” and even instances of Qanun (“Scorching Pathways to Samachi”)2 and bagpipe (“Forged with Glaive and Blood”)3 add to the sinister feel of Divinum Sanguinem. Similarly, the various instances of choir (“Of Nomos and Flaming Flint Stone,” “Arcane Sermon” and “Scorching Pathways to Samachi”),4 chant and clean singing (“Divinum Sanguinem”)5 add dimensions to the vocal front of Ildaruni, breaking from the incessant shrieks but not from its malignancy. Pagan folk elements from Iladruni’s previous work remain, but are relegated to folkish distorted guitar leads (and bagpipes) to keep from clashing with the breakneck nature of Divinum Sanguinem. Sometimes ritualistically ominous (“Divinum Sanguinem”) and frequently hostile (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator”), Ildaruni crafted something pointedly dark with Divinum Sanguinem.

But Ildaruni play a limited, well-trodden style, and Divinum Sanguinem is stretched too thin to inspire frequent replay. While Divinum Sanguinem’s songs feature brief moments of differentiation, the near constant tremolos, blast beats and shrieks that encompass the majority of most tracks lose their lustre with use. If a song doesn’t immediately open with trems and blasts, like on “Of Nomos and Flaming Flint Stone” or “Zurvan Akrane,” rest assured that they’ll reemerge before the verse, still competently played but with little melodic variation between them all, losing effect with overexposure. The near-uniformity of Ildaruni’s track lengths adds to this sense of sameness, as songs seem to go through the same or similar motions for similar amounts of time, which doesn’t bode well for memorability. An exception to this trend, “Immersion into Empyrean”— with its mid-paced tempo and open arpeggios—is borderline catchy and provides a stark illustration of how one-note much of the rest of the album is. Ildaruni are all business here, but there’s too much business on Divinum Sanguinem and not enough variety, novelty or abundance of hooks to make getting through it consistently engaging.

Though Divinum Sanguinem is marred by considerable songwriting issues, it still marks considerable improvement for Ildaruni and proves there’s a future for the band. When it works, Divinum Sanguinem is a powerhouse of a record, both atmospheric and immediate. When Ildaruni’s tricks run dry, however, it becomes too easy to let the music slip into the background. Perhaps genre diehards will get more out of the album than I did, but I found myself losing interest too often to offer it high marks. Still, if you’re in the market for black metal that riffs hard, you could do a lot worse than Divinum Sanguinem.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Black Lion Records
Websites: ildaruni.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Ildaruni | instagram.com/ildaruni
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#25 #2025 #armenianMetal #bathory #blackLionRecords #blackMetal #divinumSanguinem #emperor #ildaruni #immortal #nov25 #review #reviews

Ildaruni – Divinum Sanguinem Review

By Andy-War-Hall

The mystic, the subliminal, the macabre: the fixings of good black metal and the bread and butter of Armenian pagans Ildaruni. Four years ago, they entered the blackened sphere with their debut Beyond Unseen Gateways, a folk-infused take on black metal that, while promising in several regards, felt bloated and unfocused. Its pagan, medieval-y acoustic passages felt tacked on, lethargic and a bit hokey, and I think Ildaruni agree with my assessment, as this year’s Divinum Sanguinem ditches the lutes and stuff for “a more tenebrous and ferocious black metal path.” At nine songs and 53 minutes, Divinum Sanguinem is yet another considerable offering from Ildaruni. Will this one prove more vital than the last?

This time, Ildaruni ain’t faffing about;1 Divinum Sanguinem is out for blood. Second-wave styling permeates Divinum Sanguinem, but without its typical murk. Utterly furious tremolo riffs and blast beats abound, wrought to vicious effect on songs like “Forged with Glaive and Blood” and “The Ascension of Kosmokrator,” while Narek Avedyan’s burly shrieks command the calamity into a lean, focused undertaking. This is black metal of a riff-centric nature, Immortal-like, but with the odd Bathory military march (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator”) and chant (“Zurvan Akrane”) to instill a greater sense of grandeur into Iladruni’s palette. Riffs are a’plenty, but it’s drummer Arthur Poghosyan who steals the show, just crushing the blasts on every song and layering everything with impressive symbol work. Divinum Sanguinem is a hefty record, but unlike Beyond Unseen Gateways, it isn’t bogged down with momentum-killing diversions. Exemplified on “Divinum Sanguinem”—where all eight minutes of imperial procession feel, bombastic dynamics and eerie bridges feel critical and purposeful—Divinum Sanguinem is lean, mean and blackened as anything.

Ildaruni hold a workman-like commitment to evil. There’s an Emperor-like dark majesty to Divinum Sanguinem, though Ildaruni forgo synths and orchestras for grandiose guitar leads to accomplish this (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator,” “Divinum Sanguinem”). Thrash riffs grace “Zurvan Akrane” beside metalface-inducing chugs on “Forged with Glaive and Blood” and “Arcane Sermon,” and even instances of Qanun (“Scorching Pathways to Samachi”)2 and bagpipe (“Forged with Glaive and Blood”)3 add to the sinister feel of Divinum Sanguinem. Similarly, the various instances of choir (“Of Nomos and Flaming Flint Stone,” “Arcane Sermon” and “Scorching Pathways to Samachi”),4 chant and clean singing (“Divinum Sanguinem”)5 add dimensions to the vocal front of Ildaruni, breaking from the incessant shrieks but not from its malignancy. Pagan folk elements from Iladruni’s previous work remain, but are relegated to folkish distorted guitar leads (and bagpipes) to keep from clashing with the breakneck nature of Divinum Sanguinem. Sometimes ritualistically ominous (“Divinum Sanguinem”) and frequently hostile (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator”), Ildaruni crafted something pointedly dark with Divinum Sanguinem.

But Ildaruni play a limited, well-trodden style, and Divinum Sanguinem is stretched too thin to inspire frequent replay. While Divinum Sanguinem’s songs feature brief moments of differentiation, the near constant tremolos, blast beats and shrieks that encompass the majority of most tracks lose their lustre with use. If a song doesn’t immediately open with trems and blasts, like on “Of Nomos and Flaming Flint Stone” or “Zurvan Akrane,” rest assured that they’ll reemerge before the verse, still competently played but with little melodic variation between them all, losing effect with overexposure. The near-uniformity of Ildaruni’s track lengths adds to this sense of sameness, as songs seem to go through the same or similar motions for similar amounts of time, which doesn’t bode well for memorability. An exception to this trend, “Immersion into Empyrean”— with its mid-paced tempo and open arpeggios—is borderline catchy and provides a stark illustration of how one-note much of the rest of the album is. Ildaruni are all business here, but there’s too much business on Divinum Sanguinem and not enough variety, novelty or abundance of hooks to make getting through it consistently engaging.

Though Divinum Sanguinem is marred by considerable songwriting issues, it still marks considerable improvement for Ildaruni and proves there’s a future for the band. When it works, Divinum Sanguinem is a powerhouse of a record, both atmospheric and immediate. When Ildaruni’s tricks run dry, however, it becomes too easy to let the music slip into the background. Perhaps genre diehards will get more out of the album than I did, but I found myself losing interest too often to offer it high marks. Still, if you’re in the market for black metal that riffs hard, you could do a lot worse than Divinum Sanguinem.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Black Lion Records
Websites: ildaruni.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Ildaruni | instagram.com/ildaruni
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#25 #2025 #armenianMetal #bathory #blackLionRecords #blackMetal #divinumSanguinem #emperor #ildaruni #immortal #nov25 #review #reviews

Been waiting for this one -- 'Blood Fire Deathgrind', the new Cadaveric Incubator/Depression split where they each do a Bathory cover. It's sick. Yet more Iron Corpse goodness 🔥

https://ironcorpse.bandcamp.com/album/blood-fire-deathgrind

#NowPlaying #metal #deathgrind #DeathMetal #Bathory #IronCorpse #grind @brian @HailsandAles @nnenov @guffo @rtw @swampgas @umrk @c0m4 @Kitty

Gruta – Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem Review

By Spicie Forrest

In his most recent visit to terrorize the unwashed masses known as writers, Steel gave me a choice: volunteer to cover Gruta or be voluntold to cover something (else) of his choosing. So it was that I found myself reviewing Gruta’s sophomore release, Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem. Hailing from Bogotá, Colombia, Gruta plays a style of black metal they’ve labeled “Chaos Black, a twisted gnarled amalgamation of black metal’s most vicious bits.”1 Between this description, loudly antifascist messaging, and opening the record by sampling the Dark Lord Sauron, my expectations were high. Does Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem deliver, or is Gruta just another passionate young band in search of their identity?

The core of Gruta’s sound straddles the line between black metal’s first and second waves. Although Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem opens bright and playful à la Slaegt, it quickly settles into something more traditional (“Niebla”). Drummer Flama unleashes blast beats and d-beat-laden assaults in equal measure, while guitarists Agnen and Garmr wildly oscillate between punky Bathory riffcraft and Immortally searing tremolos (“Oda a la Ruina,” “M.A.F.M”2). The resulting baseline is like a distant cousin to Darkthrone. Vocalist Dagnir is nearly a dead ringer for Mayhem, frog voice and all. Whether whipping up a crowd (“Ramas de Araña,” “Sword of Defilement”) or shouting incantations like Saruman over the winds of Caradhras (“Transfiguración”), Dagnir commands an impressive range of rasps, howls, shrieks, and croaks. Rather than choosing between black metal’s punky origins and the icy, atmospheric howl it became, Gruta uses both as a springboard for what they ultimately create.

“Chaos Black” had me expecting unhinged war metal, heavy dissonance, or traces of grindcore. Not so, apparently. While their blackened core is indeed closest to Darkthrone, Gruta incorporates DSBM atmospherics (“Stygos Tou Kosmos,” “M.A.F.M.”), heavy metal (“Oda a la Ruina,” “Ramas de Araña”3), Slayer-esque thrashing (“Al-Shuhada,” “Sword of Defilement”), punky piss and vinegar (“Ramas de Araña,” “M.A.F.M.”) and even emotive atmoblack structures (“Vorágine Espectral”). Rather than a caustic brew, the result shares much in common with Kvelertak. By injecting their formula with such wide-ranging styles, Gruta offers a fun and engaging ride. In crafting this refreshing take on black metal, Ataecina’s bass unexpectedly steals the show. Surprisingly forward in the mix, it’s vibrant and warm, very like Iron Maiden’s early releases. Ataecina weaves and dances around central riffs and rhythms, nimbly alternating between counterpointed leads and supporting Agnen and Garmr’s guitars (“Oda a la Ruina,” “Ramas de Araña”). Gruta is certainly black metal, but it is their ambitious maelstrom of influences that separates them from the pack.

Gruta’s biggest difficulty is in keeping their momentum up through the album. Opener “Niebla” struggles to get off the ground because of a false ending one minute in, and with a slow, atmospheric interlude that takes up a quarter of the track, “Niebla” feels more like a botched teaser than an actual song. “Stygos Tou Kosmos” suffers similarly. It downshifts from mid-paced, Mayhem-heavy black metal to haunting and eerie DSBM around 1:30, lingering there without clear purpose until it fades out two and a half minutes later. I hate to knock a song that literally screams “Death to Fascist Metal,” but “M.A.F.M.” has the same issue; the first half is an absolutely vitriolic barn burner, but the back half runs out of gas early and takes a couple minutes to eke across the finish line. I think if these songs were cut up differently, or perhaps ordered differently, this may not be as much of an issue, but as it stands, I find myself wanting to skip about a third of the album.

Opening with a soundbyte of Sauron the Deceiver is a good foot to start on, but Gruta doesn’t really need it. Retro guitars, iconic vocals, a deliciously clever bass, and punky, energetic drums come together to honor the greats and forge a path all Gruta’s own. Far from the harrowing trip I expected, Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem has a classic, old school feel, decked out in fun, nostalgic threads. Gruta’s style does come dangerously close to the kitchen sink, and I’d like to see a smidge more focus and a keener ear toward holistic composition on future releases. But problems aside, Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem is a solid and exploratory sophomore effort from a passionate band, and I’ll be very interested to see what Gruta does next.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Liminal Dread Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#2025 #30 #Bathory #BlackMetal #ColumbianMetal #Darkthrone #Gruta #HymnusAdAtramMortem #Immortal #IronMaiden #Kvelertak #LiminalDreadProductions #Mayhem #Nov25 #Review #Reviews #Slaegt #Slayer

Gruta – Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem Review

By Spicie Forrest

In his most recent visit to terrorize the unwashed masses known as writers, Steel gave me a choice: volunteer to cover Gruta or be voluntold to cover something (else) of his choosing. So it was that I found myself reviewing Gruta’s sophomore release, Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem. Hailing from Bogotá, Colombia, Gruta plays a style of black metal they’ve labeled “Chaos Black, a twisted gnarled amalgamation of black metal’s most vicious bits.”1 Between this description, loudly antifascist messaging, and opening the record by sampling the Dark Lord Sauron, my expectations were high. Does Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem deliver, or is Gruta just another passionate young band in search of their identity?

The core of Gruta’s sound straddles the line between black metal’s first and second waves. Although Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem opens bright and playful à la Slaegt, it quickly settles into something more traditional (“Niebla”). Drummer Flama unleashes blast beats and d-beat-laden assaults in equal measure, while guitarists Agnen and Garmr wildly oscillate between punky Bathory riffcraft and Immortally searing tremolos (“Oda a la Ruina,” “M.A.F.M”2). The resulting baseline is like a distant cousin to Darkthrone. Vocalist Dagnir is nearly a dead ringer for Mayhem, frog voice and all. Whether whipping up a crowd (“Ramas de Araña,” “Sword of Defilement”) or shouting incantations like Saruman over the winds of Caradhras (“Transfiguración”), Dagnir commands an impressive range of rasps, howls, shrieks, and croaks. Rather than choosing between black metal’s punky origins and the icy, atmospheric howl it became, Gruta uses both as a springboard for what they ultimately create.

“Chaos Black” had me expecting unhinged war metal, heavy dissonance, or traces of grindcore. Not so, apparently. While their blackened core is indeed closest to Darkthrone, Gruta incorporates DSBM atmospherics (“Stygos Tou Kosmos,” “M.A.F.M.”), heavy metal (“Oda a la Ruina,” “Ramas de Araña”3), Slayer-esque thrashing (“Al-Shuhada,” “Sword of Defilement”), punky piss and vinegar (“Ramas de Araña,” “M.A.F.M.”) and even emotive atmoblack structures (“Vorágine Espectral”). Rather than a caustic brew, the result shares much in common with Kvelertak. By injecting their formula with such wide-ranging styles, Gruta offers a fun and engaging ride. In crafting this refreshing take on black metal, Ataecina’s bass unexpectedly steals the show. Surprisingly forward in the mix, it’s vibrant and warm, very like Iron Maiden’s early releases. Ataecina weaves and dances around central riffs and rhythms, nimbly alternating between counterpointed leads and supporting Agnen and Garmr’s guitars (“Oda a la Ruina,” “Ramas de Araña”). Gruta is certainly black metal, but it is their ambitious maelstrom of influences that separates them from the pack.

Gruta’s biggest difficulty is in keeping their momentum up through the album. Opener “Niebla” struggles to get off the ground because of a false ending one minute in, and with a slow, atmospheric interlude that takes up a quarter of the track, “Niebla” feels more like a botched teaser than an actual song. “Stygos Tou Kosmos” suffers similarly. It downshifts from mid-paced, Mayhem-heavy black metal to haunting and eerie DSBM around 1:30, lingering there without clear purpose until it fades out two and a half minutes later. I hate to knock a song that literally screams “Death to Fascist Metal,” but “M.A.F.M.” has the same issue; the first half is an absolutely vitriolic barn burner, but the back half runs out of gas early and takes a couple minutes to eke across the finish line. I think if these songs were cut up differently, or perhaps ordered differently, this may not be as much of an issue, but as it stands, I find myself wanting to skip about a third of the album.

Opening with a soundbyte of Sauron the Deceiver is a good foot to start on, but Gruta doesn’t really need it. Retro guitars, iconic vocals, a deliciously clever bass, and punky, energetic drums come together to honor the greats and forge a path all Gruta’s own. Far from the harrowing trip I expected, Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem has a classic, old school feel, decked out in fun, nostalgic threads. Gruta’s style does come dangerously close to the kitchen sink, and I’d like to see a smidge more focus and a keener ear toward holistic composition on future releases. But problems aside, Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem is a solid and exploratory sophomore effort from a passionate band, and I’ll be very interested to see what Gruta does next.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Liminal Dread Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#2025 #30 #Bathory #BlackMetal #ColumbianMetal #Darkthrone #Gruta #HymnusAdAtramMortem #Immortal #IronMaiden #Kvelertak #LiminalDreadProductions #Mayhem #Nov25 #Review #Reviews #Slaegt #Slayer

Gruta – Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem Review

By Spicie Forrest

In his most recent visit to terrorize the unwashed masses known as writers, Steel gave me a choice: volunteer to cover Gruta or be voluntold to cover something (else) of his choosing. So it was that I found myself reviewing Gruta’s sophomore release, Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem. Hailing from Bogotá, Colombia, Gruta plays a style of black metal they’ve labeled “Chaos Black, a twisted gnarled amalgamation of black metal’s most vicious bits.”1 Between this description, loudly antifascist messaging, and opening the record by sampling the Dark Lord Sauron, my expectations were high. Does Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem deliver, or is Gruta just another passionate young band in search of their identity?

The core of Gruta’s sound straddles the line between black metal’s first and second waves. Although Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem opens bright and playful à la Slaegt, it quickly settles into something more traditional (“Niebla”). Drummer Flama unleashes blast beats and d-beat-laden assaults in equal measure, while guitarists Agnen and Garmr wildly oscillate between punky Bathory riffcraft and Immortally searing tremolos (“Oda a la Ruina,” “M.A.F.M”2). The resulting baseline is like a distant cousin to Darkthrone. Vocalist Dagnir is nearly a dead ringer for Mayhem, frog voice and all. Whether whipping up a crowd (“Ramas de Araña,” “Sword of Defilement”) or shouting incantations like Saruman over the winds of Caradhras (“Transfiguración”), Dagnir commands an impressive range of rasps, howls, shrieks, and croaks. Rather than choosing between black metal’s punky origins and the icy, atmospheric howl it became, Gruta uses both as a springboard for what they ultimately create.

“Chaos Black” had me expecting unhinged war metal, heavy dissonance, or traces of grindcore. Not so, apparently. While their blackened core is indeed closest to Darkthrone, Gruta incorporates DSBM atmospherics (“Stygos Tou Kosmos,” “M.A.F.M.”), heavy metal (“Oda a la Ruina,” “Ramas de Araña”3), Slayer-esque thrashing (“Al-Shuhada,” “Sword of Defilement”), punky piss and vinegar (“Ramas de Araña,” “M.A.F.M.”) and even emotive atmoblack structures (“Vorágine Espectral”). Rather than a caustic brew, the result shares much in common with Kvelertak. By injecting their formula with such wide-ranging styles, Gruta offers a fun and engaging ride. In crafting this refreshing take on black metal, Ataecina’s bass unexpectedly steals the show. Surprisingly forward in the mix, it’s vibrant and warm, very like Iron Maiden’s early releases. Ataecina weaves and dances around central riffs and rhythms, nimbly alternating between counterpointed leads and supporting Agnen and Garmr’s guitars (“Oda a la Ruina,” “Ramas de Araña”). Gruta is certainly black metal, but it is their ambitious maelstrom of influences that separates them from the pack.

Gruta’s biggest difficulty is in keeping their momentum up through the album. Opener “Niebla” struggles to get off the ground because of a false ending one minute in, and with a slow, atmospheric interlude that takes up a quarter of the track, “Niebla” feels more like a botched teaser than an actual song. “Stygos Tou Kosmos” suffers similarly. It downshifts from mid-paced, Mayhem-heavy black metal to haunting and eerie DSBM around 1:30, lingering there without clear purpose until it fades out two and a half minutes later. I hate to knock a song that literally screams “Death to Fascist Metal,” but “M.A.F.M.” has the same issue; the first half is an absolutely vitriolic barn burner, but the back half runs out of gas early and takes a couple minutes to eke across the finish line. I think if these songs were cut up differently, or perhaps ordered differently, this may not be as much of an issue, but as it stands, I find myself wanting to skip about a third of the album.

Opening with a soundbyte of Sauron the Deceiver is a good foot to start on, but Gruta doesn’t really need it. Retro guitars, iconic vocals, a deliciously clever bass, and punky, energetic drums come together to honor the greats and forge a path all Gruta’s own. Far from the harrowing trip I expected, Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem has a classic, old school feel, decked out in fun, nostalgic threads. Gruta’s style does come dangerously close to the kitchen sink, and I’d like to see a smidge more focus and a keener ear toward holistic composition on future releases. But problems aside, Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem is a solid and exploratory sophomore effort from a passionate band, and I’ll be very interested to see what Gruta does next.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Liminal Dread Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#2025 #30 #Bathory #BlackMetal #ColumbianMetal #Darkthrone #Gruta #HymnusAdAtramMortem #Immortal #IronMaiden #Kvelertak #LiminalDreadProductions #Mayhem #Nov25 #Review #Reviews #Slaegt #Slayer

Gruta – Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem Review

By Spicie Forrest

In his most recent visit to terrorize the unwashed masses known as writers, Steel gave me a choice: volunteer to cover Gruta or be voluntold to cover something (else) of his choosing. So it was that I found myself reviewing Gruta’s sophomore release, Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem. Hailing from Bogotá, Colombia, Gruta plays a style of black metal they’ve labeled “Chaos Black, a twisted gnarled amalgamation of black metal’s most vicious bits.”1 Between this description, loudly antifascist messaging, and opening the record by sampling the Dark Lord Sauron, my expectations were high. Does Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem deliver, or is Gruta just another passionate young band in search of their identity?

The core of Gruta’s sound straddles the line between black metal’s first and second waves. Although Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem opens bright and playful à la Slaegt, it quickly settles into something more traditional (“Niebla”). Drummer Flama unleashes blast beats and d-beat-laden assaults in equal measure, while guitarists Agnen and Garmr wildly oscillate between punky Bathory riffcraft and Immortally searing tremolos (“Oda a la Ruina,” “M.A.F.M”2). The resulting baseline is like a distant cousin to Darkthrone. Vocalist Dagnir is nearly a dead ringer for Mayhem, frog voice and all. Whether whipping up a crowd (“Ramas de Araña,” “Sword of Defilement”) or shouting incantations like Saruman over the winds of Caradhras (“Transfiguración”), Dagnir commands an impressive range of rasps, howls, shrieks, and croaks. Rather than choosing between black metal’s punky origins and the icy, atmospheric howl it became, Gruta uses both as a springboard for what they ultimately create.

“Chaos Black” had me expecting unhinged war metal, heavy dissonance, or traces of grindcore. Not so, apparently. While their blackened core is indeed closest to Darkthrone, Gruta incorporates DSBM atmospherics (“Stygos Tou Kosmos,” “M.A.F.M.”), heavy metal (“Oda a la Ruina,” “Ramas de Araña”3), Slayer-esque thrashing (“Al-Shuhada,” “Sword of Defilement”), punky piss and vinegar (“Ramas de Araña,” “M.A.F.M.”) and even emotive atmoblack structures (“Vorágine Espectral”). Rather than a caustic brew, the result shares much in common with Kvelertak. By injecting their formula with such wide-ranging styles, Gruta offers a fun and engaging ride. In crafting this refreshing take on black metal, Ataecina’s bass unexpectedly steals the show. Surprisingly forward in the mix, it’s vibrant and warm, very like Iron Maiden’s early releases. Ataecina weaves and dances around central riffs and rhythms, nimbly alternating between counterpointed leads and supporting Agnen and Garmr’s guitars (“Oda a la Ruina,” “Ramas de Araña”). Gruta is certainly black metal, but it is their ambitious maelstrom of influences that separates them from the pack.

Gruta’s biggest difficulty is in keeping their momentum up through the album. Opener “Niebla” struggles to get off the ground because of a false ending one minute in, and with a slow, atmospheric interlude that takes up a quarter of the track, “Niebla” feels more like a botched teaser than an actual song. “Stygos Tou Kosmos” suffers similarly. It downshifts from mid-paced, Mayhem-heavy black metal to haunting and eerie DSBM around 1:30, lingering there without clear purpose until it fades out two and a half minutes later. I hate to knock a song that literally screams “Death to Fascist Metal,” but “M.A.F.M.” has the same issue; the first half is an absolutely vitriolic barn burner, but the back half runs out of gas early and takes a couple minutes to eke across the finish line. I think if these songs were cut up differently, or perhaps ordered differently, this may not be as much of an issue, but as it stands, I find myself wanting to skip about a third of the album.

Opening with a soundbyte of Sauron the Deceiver is a good foot to start on, but Gruta doesn’t really need it. Retro guitars, iconic vocals, a deliciously clever bass, and punky, energetic drums come together to honor the greats and forge a path all Gruta’s own. Far from the harrowing trip I expected, Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem has a classic, old school feel, decked out in fun, nostalgic threads. Gruta’s style does come dangerously close to the kitchen sink, and I’d like to see a smidge more focus and a keener ear toward holistic composition on future releases. But problems aside, Hymnus Ad Atram Mortem is a solid and exploratory sophomore effort from a passionate band, and I’ll be very interested to see what Gruta does next.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Liminal Dread Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#2025 #30 #Bathory #BlackMetal #ColumbianMetal #Darkthrone #Gruta #HymnusAdAtramMortem #Immortal #IronMaiden #Kvelertak #LiminalDreadProductions #Mayhem #Nov25 #Review #Reviews #Slaegt #Slayer

Bastard Cröss – Crossripper Review

By Tyme

As a massive fan of anything that creeps, crawls, horrifies, or shocks, I enjoy no season more than Halloween. And since October 31st falls on a release day to steel-toed-boot this year, and with me closing in on my first 365-day stint as a staffer at AMG no less, I was especially eager to recover something particularly apropos from the promo pit. Enter Philly’s fresh and ferocious foursome, Bastard Cröss, and their Morbid and Miserable Records debut album, Crossripper. Formed in 2021, with a couple of EPs and splits tucked under their bulleted belts, Bastard Cröss come correct from the crypts of Philadelphia to regale us all with crude, blackened-thrash tales ‘inspired by horror movies’ and ‘notably dark and violent documented events from religious history.’ Sounds like a recipe for tons o’ fetid fun as this most horrible of holidays draws nigh. Does Bastard Cröss have what it takes to toll Samhain’s bell, though, or are they just one more razor-blade-filled treat meant to trick us?

Bastard Cröss play Neanderthalic, throwb(l)ack thrash, and it’s clear they poured every ounce of their blood, sweat, and beers into Crossripper as it sounds like a long-lost 1985 album that would’ve had tape traders salivating back in the day. Forged in fires from an age when Slayer were still Showing No Mercy and Bathory had yet to quaff a drop of Blood Fire or Death, and with a pinch or two of punk attitude ala early Motörhead and Anti-Cimex thrown in as well, Crossripper is robustious and raw. Album opener “Parasitic” sets the table by delivering all the Bastard Cröss goods. Infernal Bastard’s pulse-quickening drum intro gives way to Beheader of Priests’ heaving bass and the satisfyingly speedy, dual guitar mayhem of Blasphemous Axe and Heathen Chevalier, who also share vocal duties. Their approach runs the gamut from Quorthonic croaks and Tom Araya-like wails to everyman gutturals that would complement any would-be death outfit to a tee. Adrift in the sea of metal’s retro movement—more modern comparisons to Nocturnal or Deathhammer are apt—Bastard Cröss stand out by injecting perfect amounts of mayhem and melody into Crossripper’s well-written, tightly executed songs.

Bastard Cröss are nothing if not all-out balls-to-the-wall, horns-held-high fun. Memorable moments abound throughout Crossripper’s easily digestible thirty-seven-minute runtime. Whether plodding forth in Morbid Tales-like fashion before death galloping along (“Crossripper”) or wammy diving your ears into liquified submission (“Lycan Knights”), by the time the beer-can popping sound byte accentuates the punk-in-cheek attitude swarming the start of “Satanic Pandemonium,” you should be thrash-stomping your drunk ass all over the living room and smashing empty PBR cans against your forehead. Bastard Cröss even manage to squeeze in an admirable homage to 80s hair-metal cock rock in the form of “Demons at Midnight,” a song possessed by sleazy riffage and another one of Crossripper’s many catchy-as-hell choruses. I even looked forward to the beautifully executed, acoustically driven outro to the excellent album closer “Behead the Priest,” which features some angelic, cherry-on-top vocal emanations from Marisa Monaco.

Everything about Crossripper oozes speed-laced, devil-metal nostalgia. From the primitive, yet perfectly rendered, Sandy Rezalmi cover art to the cheeky, we-mean-business band aesthetic and appropriately raw, period-style production, Bastard Cröss nail so many things on Crossripper, I’m left with little to complain about. In fact, I can’t look back on any part of my time with Crossripper and say I didn’t enjoy it. I suppose my lone critique would be that if Bastard Cröss continue swimming in the pool of retro-80s speed-blackened thrash metal, it might be a bridge too far for them to cross and achieve any level of innovative greatness. Not that this is a death sentence by any means. Should Bastard Cröss continue to put out this level of quality horror-loving retro metal, they’re poised to enjoy a pretty solid career.

I’m not the biggest fan of the phrase ‘mileage may vary,’ but I feel it’s appropriate when it comes to summarizing the Bastard Cröss experience. Crossripper doesn’t do anything you haven’t probably heard before. But what it does do is pretty damn good. In this digital age, when there’s more music at your fingertips than at any other moment in history, it’s assessing what music warrants your time and, in some cases, hard-earned cash that has become the commodity by which reviewers provide the most value. And I can assure you, spending thirty-seven minutes with Bastard Cröss and Crossripper this Halloween is definitely worth yours.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Morbid and Miserable Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: October 31st, 2025

#2025 #35 #AmericanMetal #AntiCimex #BastardCröss #Bathory #BlackMetal #Crossripper #MorbidAndMiserableRecords #Motörhead #Oct25 #Review #Slayer #SpeedMetal #ThrashMetal

Wieviel Metal steckt in der Vergangenheit? Oder: Über Opfer, Horror und Geschichte

Die Druiden, die gebildete #Philosophen​klasse der alten #Kelten, haben nichts aufgeschrieben. Sie hätten es tun können – einige Kelten waren gebildet und schrieben in gallischer Sprache entweder mit dem griechischen oder dem römischen Alphabet –, aber sie taten es aus Prinzip und Gewohnheit nicht.

Nun, eigentlich wissen wir nicht genau, warum sie es nicht taten, weil sie es uns nicht gesagt haben, weil kein einziger Druide jemals etwas aufgeschrieben hat. Julius #Caesar, der damit beschäftigt war, #Gallien (das heutige #Frankreich) zu unterwerfen und zu überfallen, meinte, dass die #Druiden nichts aufschrieben, weil sie dachten, dass das Aufschreiben von Dingen das Gedächtnis schwächt.

Es dauerte 19 oder 20 Jahre #Ausbildung, um Druide zu werden, wodurch sie über umfassende Kenntnisse in #Recht, #Zeremonie​n, #Konfliktlösung und der Bewegung der #Himmelskörper verfügten.

Wahrscheinlich lernten sie auch, wie man Menschen opfert, aber darüber sind sich #Historiker weniger sicher. Wahrscheinlich opferten sie Menschen, indem sie sie unter anderem in riesigen Statuen aus Stroh oder Weidengeflecht lebendig verbrannten, aber das wissen wir nicht mit Sicherheit.

Die meisten zeitgenössischen Schriften über Druiden wurden von ihren Feinden verfasst, die nach einer moralischen #Rechtfertigung für die Eroberung Galliens suchten. Ich habe allerdings meine eigene Theorie, warum sie nie etwas aufgeschrieben haben. Eine Theorie, mit der ich mich vielleicht irre. Ich glaube, sie haben nichts aufgeschrieben, weil das Festhalten von Gesetzen und bewährten Praktiken auf Papier diese unveränderlich macht.

Ich bin mir sicher, dass sich die Lehren der Druiden in den Jahrhunderten oder Jahrtausenden, in denen sie lebten, verändert haben. Obwohl sie wahrscheinlich über ein Gedächtnis verfügten, das uns, die wir uns auf das Schreiben verlassen, in Erstaunen versetzen würde, kann ich mir nicht vorstellen, dass es zwischen den Generationen keine subtilen oder radikalen Veränderungen gab – und ich vermute, dass dies beabsichtigt war. Ich vermute, dass die Druiden keine Angst hatten, hier und da Veränderungen zuzulassen und sich den Umständen anzupassen.

Einige Historiker vermuten zum Beispiel, dass die Kelten schon vor der Erklärung Roms, sie seien böse #Barbaren, die einer ordentlichen Eroberung bedürften, von #Menschenopfer​n abrückten.

Es ist möglich, dass die #Kelten, als überwältigende Legionen aus dem Süden in Gallien und #Britannien einfielen, aus Verzweiflung begannen, sich wieder ihren alten Bräuchen zuzuwenden. Wir werden es wahrscheinlich nie erfahren. Wir wissen nicht viel darüber, was sie dachten, weil sie nichts aufgeschrieben haben.

Wir wissen nicht, ob sie Menschen lebendig in Weidenmännern verbrannten. Wir wissen nicht, ob die Iren ihrem #König die Brustwarzen abschnitten und ihm dann an #Samhain die Kehle durchschnitten, wenn er seine Arbeit schlecht machte. Wir wissen nicht, ob heilige #Frauen in einen ekstatischen Zustand verfielen, eine von ihnen zerfleischten und mit dem zerteilten Körper ihrer Freundin in den Händen herummarschierten. Wir wissen nicht, ob die Kelten dreißig Meter tiefe Löcher gruben, nur um Menschen zu fesseln und hineinzuwerfen. Wir wissen nicht, ob „Woodhenge” (man stelle sich Stonehenge vor, nur aus Holz) durch die Opferung eines dreijährigen Jungen geheiligt wurde.

Die vielleicht wichtigste Frage, die mir beim Studium der Geschichte für meinen #Podcast bleibt, ist: „Wieviel Metal war die Vergangenheit?” Hat Lady #Bathory zur Hautpflege in Jungfrauenblut gebadet? Haben #Astrologen in europäischen Städten des Spätmittelalters #Kinder geopfert, wurden bei schwarzen Messen Unschuldige getötet? Haben irische Könige bei ihrer Krönung wirklich mit Pferden gevögelt? Gab es im mittelalterlichen #Irland #Nudistenkulte, die in Höhlen lebten?

Wenn man über #Europa hinausblickt, werden diese Fragen noch fragwürdiger. Was haben die Menschen getrieben? Wo liegen die Grenzen menschlichen Verhaltens?

Denn wenn wir diese Fragen stellen, wirken zwei konkurrierende gesellschaftliche Kräfte. Zunächst einmal sollte man sich bewusst machen, dass es meist diejenigen waren, die diese Anschuldigungen erhoben, die sie auch niederschrieben. Es sind Gerichtsakten, päpstliche Untersuchungen und #Kriegspropaganda, die alle Übel der antiken und mittelalterlichen Welt katalogisieren.

(...)

Weiterlesen in meiner Übersetzung des Textes "How Metal Is the Past? or: on sacrifice and horror and history" von @margaret / Margaret Killjoy vom 29. Okktober 2025

#Geschichte #History #Geschichtsschreibung #Anarchismus #Wickerman @anarchism

Wieviel Metal steckt in der Vergangenheit? Oder: Über Opfer, Horror und Geschichte

Die Druiden, die gebildete #Philosophen​klasse der alten #Kelten, haben nichts aufgeschrieben. Sie hätten es tun können – einige Kelten waren gebildet und schrieben in gallischer Sprache entweder mit dem griechischen oder dem römischen Alphabet –, aber sie taten es aus Prinzip und Gewohnheit nicht.

Nun, eigentlich wissen wir nicht genau, warum sie es nicht taten, weil sie es uns nicht gesagt haben, weil kein einziger Druide jemals etwas aufgeschrieben hat. Julius #Caesar, der damit beschäftigt war, #Gallien (das heutige #Frankreich) zu unterwerfen und zu überfallen, meinte, dass die #Druiden nichts aufschrieben, weil sie dachten, dass das Aufschreiben von Dingen das Gedächtnis schwächt.

Es dauerte 19 oder 20 Jahre #Ausbildung, um Druide zu werden, wodurch sie über umfassende Kenntnisse in #Recht, #Zeremonie​n, #Konfliktlösung und der Bewegung der #Himmelskörper verfügten.

Wahrscheinlich lernten sie auch, wie man Menschen opfert, aber darüber sind sich #Historiker weniger sicher. Wahrscheinlich opferten sie Menschen, indem sie sie unter anderem in riesigen Statuen aus Stroh oder Weidengeflecht lebendig verbrannten, aber das wissen wir nicht mit Sicherheit.

Die meisten zeitgenössischen Schriften über Druiden wurden von ihren Feinden verfasst, die nach einer moralischen #Rechtfertigung für die Eroberung Galliens suchten. Ich habe allerdings meine eigene Theorie, warum sie nie etwas aufgeschrieben haben. Eine Theorie, mit der ich mich vielleicht irre. Ich glaube, sie haben nichts aufgeschrieben, weil das Festhalten von Gesetzen und bewährten Praktiken auf Papier diese unveränderlich macht.

Ich bin mir sicher, dass sich die Lehren der Druiden in den Jahrhunderten oder Jahrtausenden, in denen sie lebten, verändert haben. Obwohl sie wahrscheinlich über ein Gedächtnis verfügten, das uns, die wir uns auf das Schreiben verlassen, in Erstaunen versetzen würde, kann ich mir nicht vorstellen, dass es zwischen den Generationen keine subtilen oder radikalen Veränderungen gab – und ich vermute, dass dies beabsichtigt war. Ich vermute, dass die Druiden keine Angst hatten, hier und da Veränderungen zuzulassen und sich den Umständen anzupassen.

Einige Historiker vermuten zum Beispiel, dass die Kelten schon vor der Erklärung Roms, sie seien böse #Barbaren, die einer ordentlichen Eroberung bedürften, von #Menschenopfer​n abrückten.

Es ist möglich, dass die #Kelten, als überwältigende Legionen aus dem Süden in Gallien und #Britannien einfielen, aus Verzweiflung begannen, sich wieder ihren alten Bräuchen zuzuwenden. Wir werden es wahrscheinlich nie erfahren. Wir wissen nicht viel darüber, was sie dachten, weil sie nichts aufgeschrieben haben.

Wir wissen nicht, ob sie Menschen lebendig in Weidenmännern verbrannten. Wir wissen nicht, ob die Iren ihrem #König die Brustwarzen abschnitten und ihm dann an #Samhain die Kehle durchschnitten, wenn er seine Arbeit schlecht machte. Wir wissen nicht, ob heilige #Frauen in einen ekstatischen Zustand verfielen, eine von ihnen zerfleischten und mit dem zerteilten Körper ihrer Freundin in den Händen herummarschierten. Wir wissen nicht, ob die Kelten dreißig Meter tiefe Löcher gruben, nur um Menschen zu fesseln und hineinzuwerfen. Wir wissen nicht, ob „Woodhenge” (man stelle sich Stonehenge vor, nur aus Holz) durch die Opferung eines dreijährigen Jungen geheiligt wurde.

Die vielleicht wichtigste Frage, die mir beim Studium der Geschichte für meinen #Podcast bleibt, ist: „Wieviel Metal war die Vergangenheit?” Hat Lady #Bathory zur Hautpflege in Jungfrauenblut gebadet? Haben #Astrologen in europäischen Städten des Spätmittelalters #Kinder geopfert, wurden bei schwarzen Messen Unschuldige getötet? Haben irische Könige bei ihrer Krönung wirklich mit Pferden gevögelt? Gab es im mittelalterlichen #Irland #Nudistenkulte, die in Höhlen lebten?

Wenn man über #Europa hinausblickt, werden diese Fragen noch fragwürdiger. Was haben die Menschen getrieben? Wo liegen die Grenzen menschlichen Verhaltens?

Denn wenn wir diese Fragen stellen, wirken zwei konkurrierende gesellschaftliche Kräfte. Zunächst einmal sollte man sich bewusst machen, dass es meist diejenigen waren, die diese Anschuldigungen erhoben, die sie auch niederschrieben. Es sind Gerichtsakten, päpstliche Untersuchungen und #Kriegspropaganda, die alle Übel der antiken und mittelalterlichen Welt katalogisieren.

(...)

Weiterlesen in meiner Übersetzung des Textes "How Metal Is the Past? or: on sacrifice and horror and history" von @margaret / Margaret Killjoy vom 29. Okktober 2025

#Geschichte #History #Geschichtsschreibung #Anarchismus #Wickerman @anarchism

Wieviel Metal steckt in der Vergangenheit? Oder: Über Opfer, Horror und Geschichte

Die Druiden, die gebildete #Philosophen​klasse der alten #Kelten, haben nichts aufgeschrieben. Sie hätten es tun können – einige Kelten waren gebildet und schrieben in gallischer Sprache entweder mit dem griechischen oder dem römischen Alphabet –, aber sie taten es aus Prinzip und Gewohnheit nicht.

Nun, eigentlich wissen wir nicht genau, warum sie es nicht taten, weil sie es uns nicht gesagt haben, weil kein einziger Druide jemals etwas aufgeschrieben hat. Julius #Caesar, der damit beschäftigt war, #Gallien (das heutige #Frankreich) zu unterwerfen und zu überfallen, meinte, dass die #Druiden nichts aufschrieben, weil sie dachten, dass das Aufschreiben von Dingen das Gedächtnis schwächt.

Es dauerte 19 oder 20 Jahre #Ausbildung, um Druide zu werden, wodurch sie über umfassende Kenntnisse in #Recht, #Zeremonie​n, #Konfliktlösung und der Bewegung der #Himmelskörper verfügten.

Wahrscheinlich lernten sie auch, wie man Menschen opfert, aber darüber sind sich #Historiker weniger sicher. Wahrscheinlich opferten sie Menschen, indem sie sie unter anderem in riesigen Statuen aus Stroh oder Weidengeflecht lebendig verbrannten, aber das wissen wir nicht mit Sicherheit.

Die meisten zeitgenössischen Schriften über Druiden wurden von ihren Feinden verfasst, die nach einer moralischen #Rechtfertigung für die Eroberung Galliens suchten. Ich habe allerdings meine eigene Theorie, warum sie nie etwas aufgeschrieben haben. Eine Theorie, mit der ich mich vielleicht irre. Ich glaube, sie haben nichts aufgeschrieben, weil das Festhalten von Gesetzen und bewährten Praktiken auf Papier diese unveränderlich macht.

Ich bin mir sicher, dass sich die Lehren der Druiden in den Jahrhunderten oder Jahrtausenden, in denen sie lebten, verändert haben. Obwohl sie wahrscheinlich über ein Gedächtnis verfügten, das uns, die wir uns auf das Schreiben verlassen, in Erstaunen versetzen würde, kann ich mir nicht vorstellen, dass es zwischen den Generationen keine subtilen oder radikalen Veränderungen gab – und ich vermute, dass dies beabsichtigt war. Ich vermute, dass die Druiden keine Angst hatten, hier und da Veränderungen zuzulassen und sich den Umständen anzupassen.

Einige Historiker vermuten zum Beispiel, dass die Kelten schon vor der Erklärung Roms, sie seien böse #Barbaren, die einer ordentlichen Eroberung bedürften, von #Menschenopfer​n abrückten.

Es ist möglich, dass die #Kelten, als überwältigende Legionen aus dem Süden in Gallien und #Britannien einfielen, aus Verzweiflung begannen, sich wieder ihren alten Bräuchen zuzuwenden. Wir werden es wahrscheinlich nie erfahren. Wir wissen nicht viel darüber, was sie dachten, weil sie nichts aufgeschrieben haben.

Wir wissen nicht, ob sie Menschen lebendig in Weidenmännern verbrannten. Wir wissen nicht, ob die Iren ihrem #König die Brustwarzen abschnitten und ihm dann an #Samhain die Kehle durchschnitten, wenn er seine Arbeit schlecht machte. Wir wissen nicht, ob heilige #Frauen in einen ekstatischen Zustand verfielen, eine von ihnen zerfleischten und mit dem zerteilten Körper ihrer Freundin in den Händen herummarschierten. Wir wissen nicht, ob die Kelten dreißig Meter tiefe Löcher gruben, nur um Menschen zu fesseln und hineinzuwerfen. Wir wissen nicht, ob „Woodhenge” (man stelle sich Stonehenge vor, nur aus Holz) durch die Opferung eines dreijährigen Jungen geheiligt wurde.

Die vielleicht wichtigste Frage, die mir beim Studium der Geschichte für meinen #Podcast bleibt, ist: „Wieviel Metal war die Vergangenheit?” Hat Lady #Bathory zur Hautpflege in Jungfrauenblut gebadet? Haben #Astrologen in europäischen Städten des Spätmittelalters #Kinder geopfert, wurden bei schwarzen Messen Unschuldige getötet? Haben irische Könige bei ihrer Krönung wirklich mit Pferden gevögelt? Gab es im mittelalterlichen #Irland #Nudistenkulte, die in Höhlen lebten?

Wenn man über #Europa hinausblickt, werden diese Fragen noch fragwürdiger. Was haben die Menschen getrieben? Wo liegen die Grenzen menschlichen Verhaltens?

Denn wenn wir diese Fragen stellen, wirken zwei konkurrierende gesellschaftliche Kräfte. Zunächst einmal sollte man sich bewusst machen, dass es meist diejenigen waren, die diese Anschuldigungen erhoben, die sie auch niederschrieben. Es sind Gerichtsakten, päpstliche Untersuchungen und #Kriegspropaganda, die alle Übel der antiken und mittelalterlichen Welt katalogisieren.

(...)

Weiterlesen in meiner Übersetzung des Textes "How Metal Is the Past? or: on sacrifice and horror and history" von @margaret / Margaret Killjoy vom 29. Okktober 2025

#Geschichte #History #Geschichtsschreibung #Anarchismus #Wickerman @anarchism

Wieviel Metal steckt in der Vergangenheit? Oder: Über Opfer, Horror und Geschichte

Die Druiden, die gebildete #Philosophen​klasse der alten #Kelten, haben nichts aufgeschrieben. Sie hätten es tun können – einige Kelten waren gebildet und schrieben in gallischer Sprache entweder mit dem griechischen oder dem römischen Alphabet –, aber sie taten es aus Prinzip und Gewohnheit nicht.

Nun, eigentlich wissen wir nicht genau, warum sie es nicht taten, weil sie es uns nicht gesagt haben, weil kein einziger Druide jemals etwas aufgeschrieben hat. Julius #Caesar, der damit beschäftigt war, #Gallien (das heutige #Frankreich) zu unterwerfen und zu überfallen, meinte, dass die #Druiden nichts aufschrieben, weil sie dachten, dass das Aufschreiben von Dingen das Gedächtnis schwächt.

Es dauerte 19 oder 20 Jahre #Ausbildung, um Druide zu werden, wodurch sie über umfassende Kenntnisse in #Recht, #Zeremonie​n, #Konfliktlösung und der Bewegung der #Himmelskörper verfügten.

Wahrscheinlich lernten sie auch, wie man Menschen opfert, aber darüber sind sich #Historiker weniger sicher. Wahrscheinlich opferten sie Menschen, indem sie sie unter anderem in riesigen Statuen aus Stroh oder Weidengeflecht lebendig verbrannten, aber das wissen wir nicht mit Sicherheit.

Die meisten zeitgenössischen Schriften über Druiden wurden von ihren Feinden verfasst, die nach einer moralischen #Rechtfertigung für die Eroberung Galliens suchten. Ich habe allerdings meine eigene Theorie, warum sie nie etwas aufgeschrieben haben. Eine Theorie, mit der ich mich vielleicht irre. Ich glaube, sie haben nichts aufgeschrieben, weil das Festhalten von Gesetzen und bewährten Praktiken auf Papier diese unveränderlich macht.

Ich bin mir sicher, dass sich die Lehren der Druiden in den Jahrhunderten oder Jahrtausenden, in denen sie lebten, verändert haben. Obwohl sie wahrscheinlich über ein Gedächtnis verfügten, das uns, die wir uns auf das Schreiben verlassen, in Erstaunen versetzen würde, kann ich mir nicht vorstellen, dass es zwischen den Generationen keine subtilen oder radikalen Veränderungen gab – und ich vermute, dass dies beabsichtigt war. Ich vermute, dass die Druiden keine Angst hatten, hier und da Veränderungen zuzulassen und sich den Umständen anzupassen.

Einige Historiker vermuten zum Beispiel, dass die Kelten schon vor der Erklärung Roms, sie seien böse #Barbaren, die einer ordentlichen Eroberung bedürften, von #Menschenopfer​n abrückten.

Es ist möglich, dass die #Kelten, als überwältigende Legionen aus dem Süden in Gallien und #Britannien einfielen, aus Verzweiflung begannen, sich wieder ihren alten Bräuchen zuzuwenden. Wir werden es wahrscheinlich nie erfahren. Wir wissen nicht viel darüber, was sie dachten, weil sie nichts aufgeschrieben haben.

Wir wissen nicht, ob sie Menschen lebendig in Weidenmännern verbrannten. Wir wissen nicht, ob die Iren ihrem #König die Brustwarzen abschnitten und ihm dann an #Samhain die Kehle durchschnitten, wenn er seine Arbeit schlecht machte. Wir wissen nicht, ob heilige #Frauen in einen ekstatischen Zustand verfielen, eine von ihnen zerfleischten und mit dem zerteilten Körper ihrer Freundin in den Händen herummarschierten. Wir wissen nicht, ob die Kelten dreißig Meter tiefe Löcher gruben, nur um Menschen zu fesseln und hineinzuwerfen. Wir wissen nicht, ob „Woodhenge” (man stelle sich Stonehenge vor, nur aus Holz) durch die Opferung eines dreijährigen Jungen geheiligt wurde.

Die vielleicht wichtigste Frage, die mir beim Studium der Geschichte für meinen #Podcast bleibt, ist: „Wieviel Metal war die Vergangenheit?” Hat Lady #Bathory zur Hautpflege in Jungfrauenblut gebadet? Haben #Astrologen in europäischen Städten des Spätmittelalters #Kinder geopfert, wurden bei schwarzen Messen Unschuldige getötet? Haben irische Könige bei ihrer Krönung wirklich mit Pferden gevögelt? Gab es im mittelalterlichen #Irland #Nudistenkulte, die in Höhlen lebten?

Wenn man über #Europa hinausblickt, werden diese Fragen noch fragwürdiger. Was haben die Menschen getrieben? Wo liegen die Grenzen menschlichen Verhaltens?

Denn wenn wir diese Fragen stellen, wirken zwei konkurrierende gesellschaftliche Kräfte. Zunächst einmal sollte man sich bewusst machen, dass es meist diejenigen waren, die diese Anschuldigungen erhoben, die sie auch niederschrieben. Es sind Gerichtsakten, päpstliche Untersuchungen und #Kriegspropaganda, die alle Übel der antiken und mittelalterlichen Welt katalogisieren.

(...)

Weiterlesen in meiner Übersetzung des Textes "How Metal Is the Past? or: on sacrifice and horror and history" von @margaret / Margaret Killjoy vom 29. Okktober 2025

#Geschichte #History #Geschichtsschreibung #Anarchismus #Wickerman @anarchism

Wieviel Metal steckt in der Vergangenheit? Oder: Über Opfer, Horror und Geschichte

Die Druiden, die gebildete #Philosophen​klasse der alten #Kelten, haben nichts aufgeschrieben. Sie hätten es tun können – einige Kelten waren gebildet und schrieben in gallischer Sprache entweder mit dem griechischen oder dem römischen Alphabet –, aber sie taten es aus Prinzip und Gewohnheit nicht.

Nun, eigentlich wissen wir nicht genau, warum sie es nicht taten, weil sie es uns nicht gesagt haben, weil kein einziger Druide jemals etwas aufgeschrieben hat. Julius #Caesar, der damit beschäftigt war, #Gallien (das heutige #Frankreich) zu unterwerfen und zu überfallen, meinte, dass die #Druiden nichts aufschrieben, weil sie dachten, dass das Aufschreiben von Dingen das Gedächtnis schwächt.

Es dauerte 19 oder 20 Jahre #Ausbildung, um Druide zu werden, wodurch sie über umfassende Kenntnisse in #Recht, #Zeremonie​n, #Konfliktlösung und der Bewegung der #Himmelskörper verfügten.

Wahrscheinlich lernten sie auch, wie man Menschen opfert, aber darüber sind sich #Historiker weniger sicher. Wahrscheinlich opferten sie Menschen, indem sie sie unter anderem in riesigen Statuen aus Stroh oder Weidengeflecht lebendig verbrannten, aber das wissen wir nicht mit Sicherheit.

Die meisten zeitgenössischen Schriften über Druiden wurden von ihren Feinden verfasst, die nach einer moralischen #Rechtfertigung für die Eroberung Galliens suchten. Ich habe allerdings meine eigene Theorie, warum sie nie etwas aufgeschrieben haben. Eine Theorie, mit der ich mich vielleicht irre. Ich glaube, sie haben nichts aufgeschrieben, weil das Festhalten von Gesetzen und bewährten Praktiken auf Papier diese unveränderlich macht.

Ich bin mir sicher, dass sich die Lehren der Druiden in den Jahrhunderten oder Jahrtausenden, in denen sie lebten, verändert haben. Obwohl sie wahrscheinlich über ein Gedächtnis verfügten, das uns, die wir uns auf das Schreiben verlassen, in Erstaunen versetzen würde, kann ich mir nicht vorstellen, dass es zwischen den Generationen keine subtilen oder radikalen Veränderungen gab – und ich vermute, dass dies beabsichtigt war. Ich vermute, dass die Druiden keine Angst hatten, hier und da Veränderungen zuzulassen und sich den Umständen anzupassen.

Einige Historiker vermuten zum Beispiel, dass die Kelten schon vor der Erklärung Roms, sie seien böse #Barbaren, die einer ordentlichen Eroberung bedürften, von #Menschenopfer​n abrückten.

Es ist möglich, dass die #Kelten, als überwältigende Legionen aus dem Süden in Gallien und #Britannien einfielen, aus Verzweiflung begannen, sich wieder ihren alten Bräuchen zuzuwenden. Wir werden es wahrscheinlich nie erfahren. Wir wissen nicht viel darüber, was sie dachten, weil sie nichts aufgeschrieben haben.

Wir wissen nicht, ob sie Menschen lebendig in Weidenmännern verbrannten. Wir wissen nicht, ob die Iren ihrem #König die Brustwarzen abschnitten und ihm dann an #Samhain die Kehle durchschnitten, wenn er seine Arbeit schlecht machte. Wir wissen nicht, ob heilige #Frauen in einen ekstatischen Zustand verfielen, eine von ihnen zerfleischten und mit dem zerteilten Körper ihrer Freundin in den Händen herummarschierten. Wir wissen nicht, ob die Kelten dreißig Meter tiefe Löcher gruben, nur um Menschen zu fesseln und hineinzuwerfen. Wir wissen nicht, ob „Woodhenge” (man stelle sich Stonehenge vor, nur aus Holz) durch die Opferung eines dreijährigen Jungen geheiligt wurde.

Die vielleicht wichtigste Frage, die mir beim Studium der Geschichte für meinen #Podcast bleibt, ist: „Wieviel Metal war die Vergangenheit?” Hat Lady #Bathory zur Hautpflege in Jungfrauenblut gebadet? Haben #Astrologen in europäischen Städten des Spätmittelalters #Kinder geopfert, wurden bei schwarzen Messen Unschuldige getötet? Haben irische Könige bei ihrer Krönung wirklich mit Pferden gevögelt? Gab es im mittelalterlichen #Irland #Nudistenkulte, die in Höhlen lebten?

Wenn man über #Europa hinausblickt, werden diese Fragen noch fragwürdiger. Was haben die Menschen getrieben? Wo liegen die Grenzen menschlichen Verhaltens?

Denn wenn wir diese Fragen stellen, wirken zwei konkurrierende gesellschaftliche Kräfte. Zunächst einmal sollte man sich bewusst machen, dass es meist diejenigen waren, die diese Anschuldigungen erhoben, die sie auch niederschrieben. Es sind Gerichtsakten, päpstliche Untersuchungen und #Kriegspropaganda, die alle Übel der antiken und mittelalterlichen Welt katalogisieren.

(...)

Weiterlesen in meiner Übersetzung des Textes "How Metal Is the Past? or: on sacrifice and horror and history" von @margaret / Margaret Killjoy vom 29. Okktober 2025

#Geschichte #History #Geschichtsschreibung #Anarchismus #Wickerman @anarchism

Bathory: Countess of Blood (2008) – Official Trailer | VMI Worldwide

#horror – #Trailers – #horrormovies – #BathoryCountessofBlood – @VMIWorld – With an unquenchable thirst for blood, Countess Elizabeth Bathory was one of the most prolific serial killers in history.

#Trailers #Bathory:CountessOfBlood #horror #ad

https://horrornerdonline.com/2025/09/bathory-countess-of-blood-2008-official-trailer-vmi-worldwide/

Ancient Torment – Follow the Echo of Curses Review

“Between grief and nothing, I will take grief.” –William Faulkner, The Wild Palms How do you grieve? Do…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2025 #3.0 #AmericanMetal #AmonAmarth #AncientTorment #AU #Aug25 #Australia #Bathory #BlackMetal #Cruciamentum #DefeatedSanity #Entertainment #EternalDeathRecords #FateofNorns #FollowtheEchoofCurses #review #reviews #WitchKing
https://www.newsbeep.com/au/126672/

@cotillion_89 Good enough bruh, all good. I always love me black metal. Do you dig stuff
like agalloch too? #Neofolk. Watain? Old shit like #Bathory.
#Hulder #Wolvesinthethroneroom

Sexmag – Sexorcyzm Review

By Dr. A.N. Grier

Thanks to the ever flippery Dolph, I am blessed to have the Sexmag in my life. And you will be too. Regardless of whether you hide them away under your bed or display them in the guest bathroom, the sex mag is back to being a staple in all homes. If it’s classy or filthy smut is up to the beholder, just as long as your children don’t find them. While Poland’s Sexmag and new album, Sexorcyzm, sound like a new addition to the Lordi sump of “metal,” they’re far from it. Tagged as a death-thrash outfit, this little foursome is surprisingly fun and versatile for what they do. I’d go even further than these two genres and pin old-school 80s heavy and hints of black metal to their influences, which adds a beautiful depth and uniqueness to their sound that I haven’t heard in some time. I mean, it’s still as slimy as Midnight, but there is much fun on Sexmag’s debut album. Buckle up, fuckers, we’re about to get sexy.

Formed around stalwarts of the Polish underground metal scene, Sexmag appears to have a newcomer to the metal world in the form of vocalist Jacek “Truposz” Wojno. Having never heard his voice before, his odd vocals provide the right amount of support for the band’s songwriting style. In combination with drummer/vocalist Lord Violator, you’ll find everything from low-to-high register rasps, death growls, falsetto screams, and that odd, clean vocal approach that brings to mind Fenriz’s vocal contributions to recent Darkthrone releases. In the same vein of varying vocal approaches, you’ll find old-school death marches, Slayer-esque thrash moments, and impressive guitar leads and solos that reincarnate the spirit of Mercyful Fate. And to top it off, this eight-track, forty-minute debut sees track runtimes ranging from two minutes to seven.

The appropriately (and ridiculously titled) opener, “Intro (Total Metal),” gets things rolling with an instrumental piece that could have worked well on King Diamond’s Conspiracy album. It does a nice job setting the mood for the upcoming tracks, matching the sinister tone of Sexorcyzm before erupting into “Inkubus.” This track showcases an old-school speed lick that morphs into an 80s-inspired death groove. But, like all the tracks on the album, there is never a dull moment in the riff department. As the song progresses, the two vocalists introduce every vocal style they can dish out with the guitars mindfuck you into oblivion. I particularly like this song because it sounds like the band struggles to match the pace between guitars and drums. But that’s a facade once it gets rolling, and the band’s performances throughout are impressive as hell.

While the front half is good, the album’s back half is great. Specifically, the back-to-back-to-back “Sex z diabłem,” “Córy Koryntu,” and “Psalm I – Intronizacja Szatana.” Like the opener, “Sex z diabłem” begins with some eerie synths before unleashing one of the most badass death chugs on the album. Then, as expected, this seven-minute ditty tears through riff after killer riff, providing moments of old-school Slayer before making a U-turn into an 80s heavy metal plod. It also sports the most solos I’ve heard in a single song in a long time. “Córy Koryntu,” on the other hand, is a slimy, mucky Autopsy-inspired cesspool that eventually escapes the mud in favor of pounding drums and clinical riff mastery. “Psalm I – Intronizacja Szatana” is perhaps the favorite here, opening with clean guitars that bring to mind the intro to Mercyful Fate’s “Into the Coven.” Then, it takes a wild turn for the remainder of the song, bringing to life Blood Fire Death Bathoryisms that could have worked as a bonus track to any of Bathory’s Viking era albums.

While the vocal diversity can be outlandish at times, and songs like “Smród palonych dusz” don’t hold up to the others, Sexorcyzm is a hell of a good time and a smart debut record. Coming into this release, I was dead set on dropping a dozen cheeky sex jokes, but Sexorcyzm is too much fun for even Grier to masturbate all over. Take all the impressive skill and well-crafted structure, then add a dynamic DR9 master to it, and you have an orgy that even the strictest Mormon mother can enjoy. I’m not sure what’s to come for these Polish bastards, but if our new pope continues to support the Sexorcyzm, I’m fully on board.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions | Bandcamp
Websites: Too kvlt for this shit
Releases Worldwide: May 23rd, 2025

#2025 #35 #Autopsy #Bathory #BlackMetal #Darkthrone #DeathMetal #DyingVictimsProductions #HeavyMetal #KingDiamond #Lordi #May25 #MercyfulFate #Midnight #PolishMetal #Review #Reviews #Sexmag #Sexorcyzm #Slayer #ThrashMetal