#britishmetal — Public Fediverse posts

In the spirit of Noctule—Svalbard frontwoman Serena Cherry’s solo meloblack/Covid lockdown project—and their video game theming, I have lore with this band. Noctule’s debut, 2021’s Skyrim tribute Wretched Abyss, was the subject of my audition review for this very blog. Given the assignment was to review an album you’d rate as mixed/2.5, you can infer my assessment of it. So, why then was I so excited to relieve Dear Hollow of reviewing Noctule’s follow-up, Extinguish Thy Flame? It’s not because it’s tackling Elden Ring this time,1 a game Cherry credits in the promo with saving her life.2 It’s because, though Wretched Abyss was a one-note record, that one note was massive. Noctule’s coiling melodies kick ludicrous butt on that album, and I had long hoped Cherry would give her side-project another swing. Well, here it is: Extinguish Thy Flame. Does Noctule seize upon their potential, or is their flame more meager than I had believed?

Rest assured that the aspects that made Noctule’s debut compelling remain untarnished on Extinguish Thy Flame. Wretched Abyss’s formula of interwoven hyper-melodic leads soaring over pummeling drums and Cherry’s commanding bellows was potent in 2021, and you’d best believe it works just as well today. Behold “Become My Blade Once More” and true opener “Devour the Gods;” disregarding Extinguish Thy Flame’s clearer production, these songs could’ve been off the debut. Noctule is still an approachable, hook-first project, typified by surefire bangers like “Grafted,” swapping between chuggy chops and spacious melodies and “Hallowhorn Grounds” with its surprisingly bright atmospheres. The only strength of the debut that takes a minor backstep on Extinguish Thy Flame is in its pacing, as two brief interludes in “Welcome to Limgrave” and “O’ Death” delay/interrupt the action a smidge more than Wretched Abyss ever did. Even so, Extinguish Thy Flame is still a tight and vital listen, and Noctule’s approach to melodic black metal is just as enjoyable as before.

However, Extinguish Thy Flame improves on Wretched Abyss’s greatest weakness: monotony. Where Noctule struggled in refreshing their formula before, an injection of melodeath into their style drastically ups Extinguish Thy Flame’s memorability. Adopting the school of InsOmnium Gatherum sad boi gorl melodeath riffing, Noctule sounds supercharged on emotional barnburners like “Lord of Blood” and “Age of the Stars,” sounding more precise and simply bigger than ever. “Age of the Stars,” “Devour the Gods,” and “Become My Blade Once More” alone have better-quality melodeath riffing than most bands not named At the Gates in 2026. “Big” is ultimately the word for Extinguish Thy Flame; Noctule embed gravitas into cuts like “Lament of the Omen King” and “Grafted” through rich and capacious arrangements, tom-heavy fills, and synth-backed symphonics. Where Wretched Abyss had few moments that broke its mold, every song on Extinguish Thy Flame has its standout aspect. Although monotony does show somewhat in Extinguish Thy Flame’s mostly uniform tempo, Noctule only needed a touch more diversity to level up their game.3

Against the opulence of Extinguish Thy Flame, Noctule casts a shadow of sadness across its runtime. It’s a Serena Cherry album, after all. Noctule manifests as a less confessional, more grandiose version of Svalbard on Extinguish Thy Flame, bearing Cherry’s signature burden of sorrow across its fiery tracks. Overt mourning weighs heavy on “Goddess of Rot”‘s slower tempo and tortured wails, while “Hallowhorn Grounds” wields Svalbard’s bittersweet post-hardcore riffing with conviction. Clean and acoustic guitars coil and harmonize like their distorted counterparts across Extinguish Thy Flame, most noticeably in bridging “Grafted” and “Goddess of Rot,” and succeed in evoking sadness as convincingly as the distorted harmonies do in raising hell. Lyrically, Cherry succeeds in drawing out the tragedy of Elden Ring’s various storylines (“Goddess of Rot,” “Age of the Stars”), proving further the beauty of a bad time. Noctule is as easy-listening as black metal gets, but that doesn’t mean Cherry’s not gonna try and pluck at your heartstrings on Extinguish Thy Flame.

Just as I’d hoped, Extinguish Thy Flame is Noctule better realized. Stronger arrangements, stronger musicianship, a more varied songwriting approach; there was no question that Noctule could weave a killer hook, but their sophomore outing proves the project has legitimate staying power. If you like your extreme metal big and melodic, you owe yourself a listen to Extinguish Thy Flame. If I discover future wannabe N00bs auditioning with this record, I will personally see them snuffed promoted back into the readership expeditiously. Detractors of Extinguish Thy Flame, I brook thee no quarter.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: noctule.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/noctuleband
Releases Worldwide: September 25th, 2026

Before the world was known, streams fed rivers, not wallets, and clouds held rain, not data. There was a time when natural phenomena birthed myth and wonder, not funding opportunities dressed up as scientific studies. It is this era, when Homo sapiens still crawled, and magic yet breathed, that drives and inspires Wyrdstæf.1 Based in the United Kingdom, Wyrdstæf harkens back to an era of great change, when Paleolithic frosts gave way to Mesolithic mists. Channeling the Stone Age through modern instruments, Wyrdstæf invites you to return to the dawn of humankind and remember what was forgotten. Is debut LP Primordial Bloodlines a doorway to a bygone age, or is all this sound and fury for naught?

Primordial Bloodlines kicks off with a ceremonial invocation, “White Spring.” Urzhan’s fierce chants and Malang’s ritualistic drums sanctify the ground and stir the blood. Strings join in the last third, adding fuel to an already potent fire. Wyrdstæf’s theatrical sensibilities here strongly evoke the likes of Nytt Land, positioning the listener amidst the proceedings, enhancing immersion. Searing black metal in the veins of Wiegedood and Kampfar erupts from the flames in the form of “Great Migrations.” Shaman and Revenant unleash descending, frostbitten riffs and determined mid-paced marches, backed by hammering double bass and blast beats. After a slightly overlong ambient intro, “Hyperborean” treks further north, adding icy synths and atavistic shouts to an already vicious, blackened brew. If Wyrdstæf continued with this formula, Primordial Bloodlines would be a very strong debut offering.

Alas, that is not the case. Primordial Bloodlines’ two longest tracks—“Parhelion” and “Primordial Bloodlines”—bring things grinding to a halt. Similar to “White Spring,” “Parhelion” focuses on ritualistic ambience, but rather than placing the listener in the middle of the action, it sounds removed, like a field recording or a documentary. As a result, the first four minutes just feel like an egregiously long sample. Two additional passages round out the track’s nine-minute runtime, but none of the three sections seem strongly connected, giving “Parhelion” a Frankenstein-esque feel. “Primordial Bloodlines” shifts to a more cinematic, heavy metal sound. While it does have a more modern and accessible musical structure, it struggles under the weight of a nine-minute runtime, as well. The title track strives for culminating, emotional poignancy, but without strong prior material to support it, “Primordial Bloodlines” falls flat, feeling toothless and hollow.

These last two tracks drive notable pacing and momentum issues on Primordial Bloodlines, but that’s not my biggest gripe here. Ranging from black metal to grandiose heavy/post-metal and incorporating tribal ambience, both immersive and detached, shows Wyrdstæf to be quite talented and committed, but they’re terribly unfocused. The promo material hints at a loosely conceptual nature to the album, but had I not already known, I certainly wouldn’t have gleaned that from the music itself. Even allowing for the compositional flexibility of a concept album, Wyrdstæf doesn’t establish a baseline from which to branch out. Playing three or four separate styles across five tracks feels more like an ill-advised compilation than a cohesive album. Focusing on any one of these would have lent Primordial Bloodlines some much-needed stability.

Primordial Bloodlines started incredibly strong. “White Spring” and “Great Migrations” are both killer tracks that work well together. Red flags began to appear with “Hyperborean,” but its blackened fury was enough to sit through a questionable, sample-adjacent front half. It’s the back half of the album where Wyrdstæf really drops the ball. “Parhelion” feels aimless and nearly anthropological, and the overly ambitious title track fails to achieve its goal and ultimately feels like another waste of time. Combined, they cover more than half of Primordial Bloodlines’ 32-minute runtime. When Wyrdstæf hits, they really hit, but with precipitously diminishing returns past the 14-minute mark, Primordial Bloodlines fails as an album. If the band can settle on a singular compositional identity and use that as a base to incorporate other elements moving forward, there’s potential for a much more impressive offering. But as it stands, the most I’ll recommend is cutting out choice tracks for playlist fodder.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Apocalyptic Witchcraft Recordings
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 4th, 2026

New sixth and final Memoriam LP 'Endgame' comes out January 2027. What a way to start the new year. Here's the cover art, by Dan Seagrave.

#metal #DeathMetal #2027Albums #2027Records #Memoriam #BritishMetal #DanSeagrave @wendigo @HailsandAles @swampgas

Green Lung has always flirted with metal’s ponderous weight and classic rock’s sly melodicism, uniting two musical forces I love. Before I dove into metal whole hog, I spent years soaking up the classics. Rush and Boston were in constant rotation alongside Black Sabbath and Metallica, looping endlessly on my 5-disc CD stereo through high school and college. Gradually, my listening gave way to more extreme acts as I succumbed to what my mother endearingly calls ‘devil music.’ Despite my unflinching commitment to placing my immortal soul in peril, I just can’t resist acts that channel the music I grew up listening to, and London’s Green Lung sticks this balance expertly. Hypnotic grooves, bouncing riffs, and heartfelt vocals run rampant across Green Lung’s fourth album Necropolitan, invoking the rumble of ecclesiastical dynamite and ghoulish glee. But are Necropolitan’s enchanting atmospheres and retro pleasures enough to wreck your Nec to?

Since forming in 2017, Green Lung has celebrated nature and the ways of olde, often through a lens of freewheeling paganism. Their earliest material saturated sylvan rituals with fuzz and thunder, ensconcing songs in the Green haze of stoner metal. Black Harvest redirected attention to elements of occult rituals recalling 1970s horror films like The Wicker Man and The Blood on Satan’s Claw, placing a greater emphasis on hooky riffs and John Wright’s organ, while This Heathen Land adopted a backdrop rooted in history that found Green Lung wallowing in doomier arrangements. Necropolitan hews much closer to Black Harvest, crafting a bevy of heavy earworms and begetting their catchiest and most immediate platter to date. Conceptually, Necropolitan finds Green Lung drawing inspiration from the sprawling necropolis grounds built during the Victorian era to resolve the calculus of too many bodies and too few burial plots. The upkeep of these gardens collapsed in the 1960s, and since then Earth has slowly reclaimed and transformed these gravesites into pockets of wilderness, incidentally furnishing Necropolitan with a fascinating intersection of nature and the occult.

Reference points abound on Necropolitan, although Green Lung always adheres to their own guiding sonic principles. Vocalist Tom Templar’s voice strongly echoes Tobias Forge’s, and there’s also a smidge of Ian Gillan’s upper register as well,1 albeit with punky snottiness. Speaking of Gillan, “Necropolitan Line” is the best song Deep Purple never wrote (and might be my “Mambo No. 5”), and “Evil in This House” strikes me as a more upbeat musical take on Sabbath’s “Electric Funeral.” “Oxymandias” oozes with a swagger that reminds me of Clutch, “Black Magic Radio” marries the pop-forward sensibilities of Ghost with the heft of Black Sabbath or Cathedral, and closer “To the Gallows Born” begins with gorgeous harmonization reminiscent of “The Wellerman”2 before dipping into Wytch Hazel levels of lilting beauty.

Throughout Necropolitan Green Lung dispenses sharp performances in a lean package that offers enough to satisfy yet leaves me wanting more. Templar’s voice smolders as he directs listeners through Necropolitan’s lush landscapes. “Dance to the Grave” and “Black Magic Radio” mesh his top-notch croon with elephantine riffs while “Necropolitan Line” and “To the Gallows Born” gush with Templar’s sweltering magnetism. Guitarist Scott Black wields his fuzz tone with surgical precision, hitting swells and transitions with impeccable instincts and sexy tones (the solo into the bridge on “Oxymandias,” for example) while John Wright’s organ grinding ignites melodies with fabulous vintage verve. Meanwhile, bassist Joseph Ghast unchains a terrific low-end showcase with audible yet unobtrusive obbligatos (“Necropolitan Line,” “To the Gallows Born”) and drummer Matt Wiseman looses frills and fills with measured gusto (“Black Magic Radio,” “Evil in this House”). In all, everyone in Green Lung brings their A-game to Necropolitan.

Everything about Necropolitan leaves me wanting more, and I can’t stop listening to the damned thing. At forty-one minutes, it’s an irresistibly easy listen and has quickly become one of my most played albums this year. The guitar-and-keys interplay is exquisite, the grooves bowl me over with unholy spirit, and the choruses make a fool of me as I try to sing along. Admittedly, “Together in Death” lacks the indispensability of other tracks, and “Dance to the Grave” and “Black Magic Radio” blur together a tad one after the other, but these are minor cavils in what is one of the best damn stoner-adjacent releases this year. So don’t let Green Lung and their latest wares pass you by—hop a rail down “Necropolitan Line” and breathe in the Greatness.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 11th, 2026

London, England’s Fen has a storied history at AMG, with five reviews spread across three different writers. The illustrious Madam X reviewed them thrice with mixed results, followed by Doom_et_Al’s laudatory commentary on The Dead Light and, most recently, Cherd’s favorable-but-less-impressed impression of Monuments to Absence. You should read their words because they’re excellent writers,1 but the upshot of their analysis is that Fen often crafts gorgeous layers of music that sometimes lose focus or take too long to spool out. Imagine my delight, then, when I discovered Fen’s newest album, Elemental Part One: Mourning Earth only runs forty-seven minutes.2 While the overall album length suggests improved self-editing, Mourning Earth is the first part of a greater effort and carries the risk of either feeling incomplete or disguising bloat between multiple releases. In the end, does Fen free their songwriting from the mires that held back some previous albums?

Throughout Mourning Earth, Fen conjures familiar reference points while evoking less obvious connections as well. Opener “Glacier” reminds me of “Storm Son,” the opening track to Enslaved’s E, with its prog-leaning clean guitars playing over galloping blast beats and beautifully written choral arrangements. The last third of “Glacier” and follow-up “Techtonic” rumble and quake with calls to Blood Mountain-era Mastodon,3 while “Massif” and “Abyssal Plain” drift into gazey waters, where shimmering guitars and haunting vocal stacks tread alongside Alcest. The opening riff on “Barrow” reminds me of a cross between Helloween’s “Future World” and something off Avatar’s Feathers & Flesh, casting ties to genres I never previously linked to Fen. Meanwhile, closing track “Moor” begins with sparkling builds akin to Saor and Agalloch, but when the atmosphere gives way to melody,4 I suddenly hear mid-aughts Amon Amarth. Everything on Mourning Earth points to a band harnessing a vast reach of styles and influences and fusing them into a vision uniquely their own.

Given Mourning Earth’s eclectic backdrop, its cohesion and effectiveness remain refreshingly intact. Throughout, Fen’s jaw-droppingly gorgeous textures harken to primordial environs that imbue the album with nature’s innate beauty. Mourning Earth’s midsection broods within layers of reverb and melancholy, entrancing listeners with hypnotic refrains and crystalline guitar work. “Massif,” though, kicks up past the halfway point, recalling the groove and melody from its first half while dialing up the heft and drama. “Techtonic” and “Barrow” both charge out in rollicking fashion, hitting hard early on. “Barrow” even permutates melodies from “Tectonic”‘s midsection, tethering the two songs in a satisfying harmony that took me many listens to notice and appreciate. Bookends “Glacier” and “Moor” round out Mourning Earth’s synchronicity as the longest tracks on the album, supplying grandeur and gravitas that ensure it begins and ends with fully baked moods.

In the past, Fen’s releases initially fascinated me yet lacked the staying power to compel frequent visits despite stellar moments. Mourning Earth changes that, and its forty-seven-minute runtime proves an incredible boon as the band expertly strikes the balance between anticipation and payoff. And despite being Fen’s shortest LP to date, Mourning Earth achieves a remarkable diversity of sounds and influences without ever sacrificing its singular identity. With the bloat plaguing earlier albums gone, not much else requires attention. More space within the mix would give the wealth of sounds a bit more breathing room, particularly on busier songs like “Tectonic” and “Barrow,” and “Abyssal Plain” doesn’t quite live up to the heights of other tracks. In all, though, Mourning Earth stands uncontested as my favorite Fen album to date.

Mourning Earth’s magic takes time to gestate, and over my repeated listens Fen’s hooks unfurled and took root as I helplessly succumbed to their enthralling collection of swamp songs. The Watcher’s spritely and ethereal guitars weave melodic threads throughout, even during atmospheric passages, and his withered rasps and roars scrape like the dry crackle of leaves while the wistful cleans brim with forlorn charm. Mourning Earth bursts at the seams with ideas and styles, and it continues to entice me as my time with this review draws nigh. I’m unclear on when Elemental Part Two may arrive or what it will be about, but Part One lets listeners know that this trio has plenty more to say before they Fenish.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: August 21st, 2026

Towards the tail end of last year, a humble group from the UK called Asira shook up my top ten list. Little did I suspect that I would hear from some of these fine musicians again so soon. Five out of the six members of the blackgaze band Cairiss contributed in some way to As Ink in Water, and now they break a decade-long silence since debut album Fall. Wilderness seeks to express and overcome personal trauma and suffering while also validating those of its audience who are waging their own solitary or unseen battles. As such, this work of art transcends sole beauty or entertainment value to extend an invitation to process and heal in whatever way may be personally needed.

Wilderness is both a continuation and amplification of the potential teased on Fall. Cairiss remains rooted at the intersection of the gossamer elegance of Sylvaine and the blackened anguish of Unreqvited. This is an uncommon type of blackgaze that successfully flits between grandiose and intimate. Freya Brown, who previously handled all vocals, is now devoted primarily to those of the harsh variety.1 Her hard work paid off—her snarls and screams are much sharper, more expressive, and more dynamic all-around. Newcomer Lydia Williams takes charge of the clean singing with similarly breathtaking results. Additionally, the instrumental melodies are more poignant; hints of Asira’s and Opeth’s soulful, progressive guitarwork can be found throughout Wilderness (“The Guide,” “Dissociate”).

In my review of As Ink in Water, I noted that Asira showed a mastery of contrast, and this is even more true of Cairiss. It’s particularly evident every time the different vocalists overlap. When Lydia’s operatic singing crests into view in “The Guide” and interlaces with Freya’s fierce growls, the effect is chill-inducing. On the mellower side, “Integrate” brings Martin Williams’ voice to the forefront for the first and only time on Wilderness as he and Lydia harmonize into a blissful siren song. But perhaps no song encapsulates Cairiss’ wondrously dichotomous nature more than album closer ‘Wildfire.” It sounds like Freya poured every ounce of feeling she possessed into each syllable of her screams, which are periodically assuaged by soothing singing and an emotive guitar solo. I’m impressed by how well Cairiss can bring together such opposing elements without one ever overwhelming the other.

Wilderness is also well-balanced in other ways. This is a carefully constructed album wherein every moment serves a purpose. None of the songs ever stall or dissolve into aimlessness. Crescendos and climaxes arrive and depart in a smooth, natural flow (“Retrace,” “The Guide,” “Dissociate”), facilitated in large part by Connor Frapwell’s percussion. He excels at building and releasing dramatic tension, evoking the ebb and flow of a thunderstorm in “Retrace” and helping the extended intro of “Nervosa” feel much shorter than it is. The total runtime is a sensible 43 minutes, suggesting a good deal of self-editing, and I’m left wanting more as the final howl in “Wildfire” dies. If I have any complaints about Wilderness, it’s that I wish that the bass lines were a bit more prominent.

Time does not heal all wounds. Some must be confronted head-on, and that is what Cairiss does heartwrenchingly and unequivocally. While I wish that it had not needed to be born from a place of such anguish, Wilderness is one of the most authentic and cathartic pieces of music I’ve heard this year so far. Cairiss has leveled up considerably in the last ten years, each member’s individual strengths shining brightly in a musical subgenre where contrast is intrinsic. Fans of blackgaze—or the beautiful sides of metal in general—should heed the beckoning to venture off the beaten path into the Wilderness.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: cairiss.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Cairiss
Releases Worldwide: July 31st, 2026

Hecate Enthroned – The Corpse of a Titan, a Lament Long Buried Review

Black metal veterans Hecate Enthroned have spent decades trying to step out of Cradle of Filth’s shadow—and not…
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https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/622958/

Hecate Enthroned – The Corpse of a Titan, a Lament Long Buried Review

Black metal veterans Hecate Enthroned have spent decades trying to step out of Cradle of Filth’s shadow—and not…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2.5 #2026 #AtmosphericBlackMetal #BlackMetal #BritishMetal #CradleofFilth #emperor #Entertainment #HecateEnthroned #M-Theory #May26 #review #reviews #TheCorpseofaTitanALamentLongBuried
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/686019/

Black metal veterans Hecate Enthroned have spent decades trying to step out of Cradle of Filth’s shadow—and not without reason. The two are widely credited with helping shape the UK black metal scene, sharing close stylistic similarities and even swapping a member or two at various points. In the late ’90s, they were nearly as inseparable as a pair of sultry vampiric twins until Cradle of Filth’s theatrical bombast launched them into the mainstream, landing their merch in Hot Topic stores and on the backs of angsty teenagers everywhere. Meanwhile, Hecate Enthroned remained largely underground. Over the course of six albums, they’ve largely stayed true to their sound, and while consistent, their discography has often felt average. 2019’s Embrace of the Godless Aeon was no different, receiving a modest rating from these hallowed halls. Their seventh effort, The Corpse of a Titan, A Lament Long Buried, harkens the return of these blackened aficionados after a seven-year break, and given these lads’ history, curiosity led me to snag Corpse from the promo bin.

Continuing the trajectory set by its predecessor, Corpse pushes Hecate Enthroned further into Emperor’s nocturnal, foreboding soundscapes rather than Cradle of Filth’s, injecting some fresh touches that come as a pleasant surprise. Tracks like “Steed of the Still Water,” “Spirits Stir Within Our Ancestors Tombs” and “The Arcane Golem” elicit solid songwriting and build on the same orchestral arrangements Lord Doom previously deemed gutless. This time, however, the symphonics feel more varied, robust, and commanding, often drawing my attention amid the group’s tight and confident performances. Corpse also ventures into atmo-black territory on songs like “Deathless in the Dryad Glade” and “Steed of the Still Water,” while vocalist Joe Stamps adds welcome variety to the classic Dani Filth-esque shrieks of albums past with a smattering of demonic growls and coarse shouts that lend a sharper edge previously missing.

Hecate Enthroned’s sharp performances, well-executed melodic passages, and occasional bursts of groove and heaviness reinforce that these are seasoned veterans who understand their craft. Throughout Corpse—especially in its first half—there are numerous moments that suggest a more focused version of the group is finally emerging. “The Arcane Golem” and “Spirits Stir Within Our Ancestors Tombs” pair incisive tremolos with hooky riffing and cinematic orchestral flourishes, while Stamps’ rasp and growl attack cuts through the mix with authority. Similarly, “Deathless in the Dryad Glade” and “Steed of the Still Water” highlight the sextet’s melodic instincts and sense of dynamics, weaving vulnerable, atmo-black-inspired intros into blazing tremolos, acoustic and violin textures, and piano accents that coalesce into some of the album’s best moments. The latter’s opening groove and added vocal heft make it one of the record’s most complete cuts, standing out clearly from the rest.

While Hecate Enthroned’s musicianship is rarely in doubt, the record’s high points constantly clash with its more persistent shortcomings. Long runtimes, abrupt transitions, and questionable structural choices—like the six‑minute interlude “Pwca,” which builds to nothing, or the jarring segue that kills the momentum of “A Gallery of Rotting Portraits”—are frustrating because they erode Corpse’s potential. And at 53-minutes, the album’s songwriting is often too bloated for the material it contains. Several tracks stretch past seven minutes despite having ideas suited for far shorter runtimes, resulting in repetition and stagnation. Mid-song atmospheric interludes also routinely overstay their welcome and muddled thematic and structural decisions only compound things. The outcome is a record where the standout moments feel like exceptions rather than the rule and where uneven, overextended songwriting undermines Hecate Enthroned’s skill.

The phrase “what you see is what you get” applies perfectly here, as Corpse largely walks the well-trodden path Hecate Enthroned have been treading for over twenty years. A great record has long eluded these Brits, and the streak continues with Corpse. I enjoyed several cuts on this record, and it was close to coalescing into something greater, but inconsistent songwriting, structural missteps, and homogeneity limit its upside. Corpse’s strengths prove Hecate Enthroned still have the technical ability and atmospheric instincts to craft compelling symphonic black metal, even if they appear too sporadically to define Corpse as a whole. Longtime fans will certainly find lots to be excited about here and likely appreciate how faithfully they’ve stayed true to their roots while pushing other aspects forward. For listeners like me, however, Hecate Enthroned remain adrift in a crowded black sea of similarly minded bands that are competent, occasionally compelling, but far from essential.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: M-Theory
Websites: Bandcamp | hecateenthroned.com | facebook.com/HecateEnthroned
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

UK doom metal saviors Godthrymm are a damn good band. If you’ve had a chance to listen to either their full-length debut Reflections or their follow-up in 2023’s mighty Distortions, you already know just how talented and outright heavy their brand of doom and traditional metal can get. Then again, you’d also know that their pedigree (with stints in Vallenfyre, Solstice, and of course My Dying Bride, among others) pretty much guaranteed a rock-solid backdrop to their sound. With all that said, I’ve awaited Projections, their final piece to their Visions, for as long as it was announced. Now that it’s upon us, and I’ve had a chance to spend a good, solid week with it, I’ve got some major concerns.

Before I get into the reasons why, let’s focus on the good. There are no poor performances on the album from anybody. Lead-off single “Truth in My Own” is classic Godthrymm through and through, with Hamish Glencross and newcomer Kris McLaughlin throwing down riff after heavy riff, and Hamish’s voice is once again in fine form, especially when he sings alongside his wife, keyboardist Catherine Glencross. Elsewhere, “Endure My Skin” features a fine performance by former My Dying Bride (and current High Parasite) vocalist, Aaron Stainthorpe, reuniting him with Hamish and fellow MDB alumni, drummer Shaun Taylor-Steels. Those two songs are Godthrymm personified.

Sadly, there are four other songs on here,1 and that’s where the concerns lie. Opener “Trenches Deep,” which features Adie Bailey (English Dogs) and Jay Walsh (Xentrix) providing additional vocals, starts off promising enough, but for whatever reason, transitions into a thrash tune that sounds eerily like MDB’s “The Forever People,” and the way it was shoehorned in is anything but natural. At the other end, closer “Hope is Eternal” starts off with an impressive drum fill by Taylor-Steels, and a somber performance by Catherine, until we get to the chorus, which features Catherine wailing “MEEEEEEeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeee…” repeatedly. In fact, Catherine features more vocally on this album than Hamish, which isn’t a bad thing at all. I just wish the songs were better, with the other two songs, “Jewels” and “The Sun Never Fell,” not making an impact with me no matter how many times I listen, and no matter who is singing.

It doesn’t help that there are production issues as well. For some inexplicable reason, about halfway through the thrash portion of “Trenches Deep,” there’s a noticeable volume dip, as well as some major compression. I don’t know if this was intentional, but it’s highly off-putting. That volume dip would later reverse itself as “The Sun Never Fell” jacks the volume back up for no reason at all. On my first listen, I thought I was imagining things when it came to the production side, but on repeated listens, they’re right there, and they’re distracting on an album that’s already having a tough time winning me over on a songwriting level. And that absolutely sucks to say, especially since Godthrymm, up until now, has been delivering nothing but slam dunks on each of their preceding albums.

This is not how I envisioned reviewing Projections. In what should have been a hat trick, I’m left baffled and more than a little disappointed. I’m hoping this is just a hiccup, as Godthrymm stand toe-to-toe with the absolute best in British doom metal, rivaling the best that many of the heroes of that genre. With Reflections, they channeled the very best love letter to the classics of yore. On Distortions, they added their own flavor and punch to that sound, resulting in my favorite album of 2023. Sadly, on Projections, I’m listening to this solely for writing this review, and little else. This is not how I wanted things to transpire.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Profound Lore
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Sorry, but I can’t resist: It was in the month of May that I sat down to review the newest album by the British folk-rockers Albion, titled It Was In The Month of May I.1 This gaggle of self-declared whippersnappers blew this reviewer away with their 2024 album Lakesongs of Elbid. What started as an unassuming filter piece grew on me more and more to the point it made my (and my co-conspirator Killjoy’s) end-of-year list. Albion’s timeless, joyful folk-rock music has enjoyed constant rotations in the Hugebeard tower since then, and so a new album has been a hotly anticipated affair. Now that it’s in our hands, has Albion continued their trend for quality?

For those unfamiliar with Albion, they play a flute-heavy, wistful sort of progressive folk-rock that draws an obvious comparison to Jethro Tull and reminds me a great deal of Big Big Train. For those a little more familiar, it’s worth mentioning that It Was In The Month of May has somewhat toned down the already limited metal crunch that graced Lakesongs of Elbid. Rest assured, this is no criticism, as this album remains energetic and adventurous in all the right ways. The opening prelude, “Mis Mai,” followed by the first true foray into the album’s essence, “The Green Knight,” demonstrate Albion’s sonic strengths right out of the gates. “Mis Mai” highlights the dulcet pipes of Joe Parrish-James as he lathers the song’s Welsh lyrics in decadent velvet, while “The Green Knight” starts the album in usual Albion fashion with grandiose flute melodies explored atop galloping guitar strumming.

What I love about Albion’s music, and what they maintain in It Was In The Month of May, is a sense of effortlessness. The music is fun, it’s accessible, it’s breezy, it’s comfortably warm and full of well-crafted little moments so crisp and yet so obvious it almost makes you wonder how no one else thought of it first. The pub-rock verse of “Down With The Hero” and the epic call-and-response between the flutes and guitars in the middle of “Calan Mai” come especially to mind. In the album’s longer songs, Albion are quite eager to just let the music run free through the meadow in spacious explorations of riffs and solos, but it never feels aimless. The melodies of “The Green Knight” and “Eldest” in particular see the guitars and flutes bounce merrily along in an endless up-and-down like the rolling hills stretching before you as you prepare for adventure. The closer, “Calan Mai,” is the longest at ten minutes, but even at its most unrestrained, the song’s melodies wield graceful finality in a way that always feels satisfying.

It Was In The Month of May is almost 20 minutes shorter than its predecessor, Lakesongs, which makes for an overall cleaner listening experience. However, the album’s pacing does waver a little by over-saturating the latter half with lower-energy tunes. I really quite love “Hymn to Elbereth,” as it has this gently twisting nature to it that happily makes me think of Glass Hammer, but it’s misplaced between the otherwise pleasantly acoustic “She Is The River” and the ballad “Cherry Hill,” making for an overly languid sequence of songs. “Cherry Hill” in particular leans a bit too heavily on chorus repetition for its six-minute runtime. Still, the album ends on the right note with “Calan Mai,” and there are no other noteworthy structural issues or damaging patterns affecting the album. However, I simply must mention the “la-da-da’s” and “doo-do-do’s” in the chorus of “Down With The Hero.” I don’t mind vocalizations at all and they work perfectly well as little interstitial passages like in “Eldest,” but I find it to be a heavily misguided choice for them to carry the chorus of the album’s most upbeat song.

It Was In The Month of May is warm, adventurous, inviting, and once again, and I simply cannot stress this enough, extraordinarily British. While this album never gripped me quite like Lakesongs of Elbid did, the final word on this review is nevertheless one of eager positivity. Albion is a band I tend to think of no matter the musical flavor I’m looking for, and It Was In The Month of May only furthers that trend. This is music that is just so pleasant to listen to, no matter the day, and there are some damn good bangers to be found here for any fan of folk, British rock, or prog.

Rating: Good!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: FLAC
Label: Self-Release
Websites: official | facebook | bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: May 26th, 2026

Killjoy

In the year 2021, I unexpectedly became acquainted with the debut EP of a very special folk rock group from England. The potential that Albion showed on Pryderi was immediately obvious, and I longed for more. My wish was granted in 2024 by the whopping 70-minute full-length debut Lakesongs of Elbid, for which my esteemed colleague (and now review partner), Mystikus Hugebeard, wrote a splendid filter piece. Albion has wasted no time since then, here to regale our ears again with cheery tunes. It Was in the Month of May seeks to honor the magical time of year when spring sunsets and will soon cede to warmer temperatures.

Albion’s music is wholesome for the soul, whispering to the part of human consciousness that yearns for carefree meadows and being in nature. They primarily achieve this through the exquisite pairing of flute and guitars (both acoustic and electric). This, of course, invites comparisons to Jethro Tull,2 although Albion perhaps hews a bit closer to folk music. Take, for example, the beautiful acoustic guitar fingerpicking and Welsh singing3 in “Mis Mai.” Further, Albion plays a more modernized style of rock than Jethro Tull. “Down with the Hero” is a rousing, ultra-catchy pub rock number and the guitarwork in “The Green Knight” is elaborate, sounding like a slightly slower and proggier Dark Forest. The way that Albion harmoniously blends the old with the new is genuinely refreshing.

It Was in the Month of May similarly succeeds in striking a balance between humble and epic. In both the quiet and upbeat moments, there is an air of unassuming regality. Therefore, it makes perfect sense that Albion composed a pair of songs about Tolkien’s characters Tom Bombadil and his wife, Goldberry. “Eldest (Tom Bombadil)” contains gorgeous guitar and flute swells evoking endless verdant hillsides, as well as a Celtic folk-influenced jig reminiscent of Tuatha de Danann or Braia. “She Is the River (Goldberry)” is entirely acoustic and percussion-less (save for hand claps), with sunny guitar strumming and pleasantly poetic lyrics. Continuing with Tolkien subject matters, “Hymn to Elbereth” features vocal harmonization by Joe and Rhiannon Parrish-James which is as fair as the elves who Frodo, Sam, and Pippin overheard singing these very words in The Fellowship of the Ring. Rhiannon adds her voice to Joe’s at various other times throughout the record, and I would love to hear her take center stage in the future.

Overall, It Was in the Month of May is sharper and more focused than its predecessor. As much as I loved Lakesongs of Elbid, opening with a 9-and-a-half minute instrumental track didn’t help it find its footing. “The Green Knight,” the first full song here, isn’t much shorter but its structure is more disciplined, never wavering from its gallant, galloping theme. The other 8+ minute songs, “Eldest (Tom Bombadil)” and “Calan Mai,” also mostly justify their lengths, although the latter feels a bit meandering towards the end. But the larger issue with “Calan Mai” has to do with the track that precedes it. “Cherry Hill (Maya II)” hits like a lullaby, which might have been okay if it were 3 minutes instead of 6, so it ends up stifling the momentum leading into the ornate concluding track. I do appreciate that, with a total runtime of 52 minutes, It Was in the Month of May is easier to listen to in one sitting.

It Was in the Month of May is great for drifting away and forgetting one’s troubles for a while. The uplifting compositions are easy on the ears while offering bountiful details to uncover during return visits. “Cherry Hill (Maya II)” is the main thing holding it back from unqualified greatness. That said, if Albion continues refining their songcraft at this pace, the next album will surely shatter our score safety counter. So, kick back and enjoy time outside with loved ones. It Was in the Month of May is an excellent way to ring in summer in the Northern Hemisphere.

Rating: 3.5/5.0

UK antifascist blackened death/thrash trio Tyrannus caught my attention with the be-castled cover art for their upcoming sophomore record, Mournhold. Having never listened to them prior, I gravitated towards the promise of yet another robust hybrid of styles and sounds. With bands like Antiverse and Skeletonwitch to call on as points of comparison, Tyrannus all but guarantee my appreciation. This is the kind of genre-blending that I crave on an hourly basis. Does Mournhold have the goods to satisfy my voracious needs?

Lead single “Reignfall” demonstrates that Tyrannus aren’t fucking around, boasting an adrenaline-fueled cataclysm of riffs, shreds, pummels, and roars. It is an ideal case study for what Mournhold captures, ensaring the icy raze of black, the fiery vitriol of thrash, and the swaggering aggression of death in one fell swoop. Separated from those superficial attributes, it embodies the Platonic ideal of a great metal track. And so, Tyrannus publish their infernal formula, and Mournhold’s multifaceted application of that formula brews excitement and fun at every turn. Tightly packed into 40 minutes, seven tracks tear through a blunderbuss of cool ideas, hooky motifs, and fun deviations from the expected.

Most surprising of these diversions is center cut “Flesh Eternal,” which recalls the gothic swing of Tribulation if they took the ashen path to black/thrash. A really cool song on its own, “Flesh Eternal” more importantly cements Tyrannus as versatile songwriters and shrewd album composers. It resolves the aggressive black metal scorch of the first three songs—the best of which (“Orbus Non Suffict,” “Seizing Stars”) fulfill the gap left by Skeletonwitch after Serpents Unleashed. At the same time, it sets up the second act, beautifully bisecting Mournhold’s story with something a little more rock-oriented as a palette cleanser. That brief reprieve allows me to properly prepare myself for “Reignfall.” A barnburner of devilish nature, “Reignfall” Hellrips my face clean off with speed-metal riffs, righteous dive-bomb solos, and downright ignorant grooves charred by black metal rasps. A second twist that I hoped for but dared not expect, Mournhold’s back half transitions to altogether darker and moodier spaces than the front. “Slower” and longer form compositions (“Mournhold,” “Back to Grey”) reside in those spaces, creating an expanded stage for Tyrannus’ final ideas to land and settle.

This arrangement allows listeners to bask in more instrumental noodling and melodic storytelling as Mournhold comes to a close, but the risk of drag creeps in. “Mournhold” is certainly thrashy and aggressive enough in its second half to offset that inertia, but at six-and-a-half minutes, it rubs against bloat with a cocky smirk. Closer “Back to Grey” toys that line even more salaciously, teasing attention spans to their limit at nearly eight minutes. Luckily, its classic heavy metal gallop and olde-timey meloblack charm make it hard to hate. Like many tight runtimes, though, 40 minutes suffers more noticeably when any one song overstays its welcome; Mournhold’s final couplet gently cross that threshold. Cutting a minute from each—perhaps fewer repetitions of a riff here, and trimming an intro or bridge there—would make them stronger and thus improve the whole in kind.

Mournhold doesn’t need much improving, though, to be an unqualified success. It’s a rip-roaring fun time, with a youthful personality as exuberant as it is infectious. Tyrannus improved in every aspect on the promise of their debut, refining their voice into something highly recognizable and alluring. If this is just the beginning for Tyrannus, I tremble to think of what they might accomplish on future records. That’s a later Ken problem. For now, I’m content and gunning to storm castles and slay eldritch monsters for an eternity with Mournhold. Join me!

Rating: Great!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: True Cult Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 15th, 2026

It is hard to believe that Ingested is hitting their eighth record. A band that managed to bring slam to the relative mainstream, combining the grotesque, guttural brutality of extreme music with more core-infused elements. Their previous record, The Tide of Death and Fractured Dreams, leaned a little too hard into these elements. Losing much of the slam and focusing on simplified song structures to its detriment. Their latest release, Denigration, marks the first without founding vocalist Jason Evans, someone who defined the sound of Ingested. Unfortunately for the band, the album is also marked by tumult. With the departure of Evans, his replacement was quickly outed over sexual assault allegations, and at the last minute, guitarists Sean Haynes and Andrew Virrueta took over. The album was re-tooled to replace the vocals (something I commend the band for wholeheartedly), but was something excised in the process, or is it a return to form for a band that had seemingly lost its extreme roots?

I hate to break it to you, but Denigration is an album as messy as the story behind its creation. The album starts strongly, and unfortunately enough, with what is probably its best track. Half the band screams the opening line before the song drops into an absolute blast of destructive drumming. The track is simple but effective, and contains just enough variety and speed to keep things interesting. Haynes and Virrueta do an admirable job bringing heft and technical skill to each track, but they too often devolve into the same bouncing slam riffs to the point of bleeding together. Individual songs are hard to tell apart, and while founding drummer Lyn Jeffs has always been talented, the snare production basically kills his entire performance. This is nearly St. Anger levels of snare-tragedy, and the drums aren’t the only victim; production across the record is uniformly terrible.

Denigration’s Achilles heel is its soundscape. While dynamic range isn’t necessarily a surefire sign of quality, this album has songs that go as low as a 2 on the scale. Tracks are a cacophony in the worst way; the snare is downright grating and overly loud, while the rest blends into a miasma of noise and chuggery. This is an album with so little range between individual tracks that it can feel like one long song, which is grueling for a slam record. Top this with the fact that the last-minute fill-in vocalists are clearly amateurs, especially compared to Evans, and you get an album that sounds like a debut by a young band making early mistakes. I have to imagine replacing the vocals at the last minute did serious damage to their original mix, but Ingested has a history of production issues on top of this. Combining these two has made for an album that can hurt to listen to at times.

I don’t mean to disparage the band; in fact, this was a record I was genuinely hoping would be great. I have always had a soft spot for Ingested’s unique brand of slamcore. Evans vocals are top-tier, and they were always willing to take the genre to creative places. Julia Frau’s vocals on “Ashes Lie Still,” Kirk Windstein’s epic chorus on “Another Breath,” and Josh Middleton’s on “Expect to Fail” define the band’s willingness to explore their sound. On Denigration, the guests only work to divert from the monotony between tracks; even then, their addition feels perfunctory. This doesn’t feel like the band that wrote bangers like “Misery Leech,” “Skinned and Fucked,” or “The List.” At least they are trying to emulate their slam roots with a more streamlined sound built around the classic Chug & Guttural™ combo. There will be those who find this record more palatable than Ingested’s recent deathcore-adjacent trajectory, even if the production takes crushed and curb-stomps it.

When I originally started spinning Denigration for review, numerous elements kept coming to my attention that now feel obvious, seeing how many things changed at the last minute. What should have been a creative refresh for a band that felt like it was relying a little too much on vocal talent has turned into the exact opposite. Denigration fails to bring the hooks, a key to any good slam record, while also being hamstrung by terrible production, middling vocals, and a lack of creativity. Hopefully, Ingested can come back stronger from all this and make the great album I know they are capable of, but all Denigration did was send me straight to the band’s better records.

Rating: Bad
DR: 3| Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

A Forest of Stars – Stack Overflow in Corpse Pile Interface Review

There’s a common misconception from readers of this fine blog that we writers are well-versed, well-traveled, and have…
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A Forest of Stars – Stack Overflow in Corpse Pile Interface Review

There’s a common misconception from readers of this fine blog that we writers are well-versed, well-traveled, and have…
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A Forest of Stars – Stack Overflow in Corpse Pile Interface Review

There’s a common misconception from readers of this fine blog that we writers are well-versed, well-traveled, and have…
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There’s a common misconception from readers of this fine blog that we writers are well-versed, well-traveled, and have kept abreast of all the happenings and goings-on within the world of our favorite genre of music. I hate to pop your bubble gum, but that’s wildly untrue. We all have lives, careers, and people in our lives that take time away from listening to new music from artists that we have always loved or, in my case here, artists we’ve been wanting to check out, but for some reason haven’t. A Forest of Stars, the British avant-garde septet, are that band for me. Their newest, Stack Overflow in Corpse Pile Interface, their first album in eight years and sixth overall, is here for dissection, and I’m going in almost completely blind, and without a single note heard prior.

I’m already anticipating the hate mail for this, but from what everyone told me of AFoS, it’s a heady mix of British Black Metal,1 doom metal, and spoken word. All good things, in my book! Plus, Katheryne, Queen of the Ghosts helped bring back the violins for My Dying Bride’s 2009 album, For Lies I Sire, which again is a good thing! And despite it being over 73 minutes, Stack Overflow rarely meandered or sat in place for too long, making for an engaging listen throughout. Opener “Ascension of the Clowns” sets a doomed tone, quietly and somberly setting the scene before Mister Curse begins ranting like the proselytizers across the street from where I work. Maniacal and unrelenting, Curse’s caustic delivery and unhinged performances sometimes seem at odds with the framework of the music, but the two sides need each other as much as they want nothing to do with each other.

And that odd dichotomy propels Stack Overflow, especially in the final half-hour-plus one-two punch of both “Sway, Draped in Vague” and “Not Drinking Water.” The former, also awakening a faux dreamy vibe before sending the listener careening through the backstreets of London, with Curse and Katheryne trading off vocal lines while Mr. T.S. Kettleburner and Mr. William Wight-Barrow unleash some incredible riffs and tremolo melodies blanketing Katheryne’s sweeping violins towards the song’s middle, making the song’s 17 minutes feel like a journey. “Not Drinking Water,” in contrast, feels downtrodden in the beginning, containing some of the album’s slowest moments, before hitting what could accurately be called a humdinger of a jam session right at the song’s midpoint, with solos and hooks galore to wrap up both a fantastic closer, as well as a hell of a way to finish out the album.

Of course, there are some issues with Stack Overflow. While most of the material flows seamlessly, there does seem to be some fat to trim, especially in some of the more atmospheric moments. Also, while there isn’t a single weak moment on the album, it really is best experienced in one sitting with most of the lights off, some candles, your favorite beverage, and (if you partake) your smoking implement of choice, and for some, 73 minutes is a big ask for many of us, especially if you’re busy like I am. However, if you can make the time and get in the right headspace, you will be rewarded handsomely.

I’m due for some weirdness, especially in the departure of Voices.2 Not only does Stack Overflow in Corpse Pile Interface scratch that itch until it bleeds, but it also turned me on to a band that I went from “I need to check them out sometime” to “Okay, how much is their stuff on Bandcamp?” in record time. A Forest of Stars, in a just world, should be heralded as purveyors of odd, eclectic metal. Here’s hoping that Stack Overflow in Corpse Pile Interface is as much a jumping-on point for many of you as it was for me. Believe me, you can do a hell of a lot worse.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Cognizance – In Light, No Shape Review

A “faster is better” philosophy has long defined technical death metal, with bands regularly operating at breakneck speeds.…
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A “faster is better” philosophy has long defined technical death metal, with bands regularly operating at breakneck speeds. While that approach requires undeniable virtuosity, I’ve always gravitated toward the genre’s more restrained, focused, and groove-oriented side. Cognizance initially walked the well-trodden path of bands like The Faceless and The Zenith Passage on their debut, Malignant Dominion, displaying speed and technicality in equal measure, but doing little to distinguish themselves from a crowded field. However, to their credit, the international quintet-turned-quartet has spent the past three albums gradually cementing their identity, culminating with 2024’s Phantazein. Though it got Stuck in the Filter, the record was packed with punishing grooves, strong songwriting, and phenomenal performances, containing all the qualities that keep me returning to the genre regularly. Two short years later, Cognizance returns with In Light, No Shape.

Much of Cognizance’s growth over the years stems from its stable lineup, though the recent departure of longtime vocalist Henry “Big Mac” Pryce disrupted that continuity. Guitarist Alex Baillie has since assumed vocal duties, marking a shift in the group’s sound. Baillie fills the role admirably, trading Pryce’s deathcore-leaning growls for a style closer to David Davidson (Revocation). In fact, In Light, No Shape—particularly tracks like “Vertical Illusion,” “Witness Marks,” “Chasm,” and “The Zone”—leans heavily into Revocation’s progressive stylings to its benefit. Drummers and longtime fans should already know the name David Diepold (ex-Obscura), but for anyone who doesn’t, consider this your required introduction. The dude absolutely cooks on this record. Whether through artful fills or splashy accents, he commands the material like a conductor leading an orchestra, sitting front and center in the record’s solid mix. Not to be outdone, guitarists Apostolis Karydis and Baillie, along with bassist Chris Binns, lock with Diepold effortlessly, never once sounding strained as they ebb between calibrated riffing, evocative solos, and ornate passages across the record’s 37 minutes.

Rather than following the Archspire school of extravagance, In Light, No Shape shows Karydis and Baillie easing off the accelerator, leaning more into atmosphere than velocity, with Diepold shouldering most of the speed. The duo utilizes more spacey arpeggiated passages (“A Reconfiguration,” “Witness Marks,” “A Game of Proliferation”) than on Phantazein, giving In Light, No Shape a feeling of dynamism and expansiveness. Accordingly, the songwriting strikes a keen balance between technical, immersive, and hooky, while leaving room for each element to breathe. Opener “Transient Fixations” wastes no time launching into hyperdrive, blasting and chugging through its sub‑three‑minute runtime, essentially functioning as an intro track that reaffirms that this is still the Cognizance fans will know. And while it feels a bit short, it flows seamlessly into “Inflection Chants'” groovy opening, making it work. Later, the surges of melodic tremolos and blasts that fuel “Chasm” give way to a haunting, aura-rich soundscape, where cymbal accents melt into jaunty tom fills before everything cascades back into overdrive. Similar structures drive tracks like “The Zone” and Song o’ the Year candidate “A Game of Proliferation,” while others (“Induced Contortions,” “Subterranean Incantation”) stick closer to standard tech death.

To state the obvious, tech death production usually sucks. Thankfully, In Light, No Shape isn’t totally brickwalled to hell, clocking in at a DR of 6. While that number looks average on paper,1 the mix retains a surprisingly natural edge while still delivering the punch and low-end presence needed to let the intricacies of the performances shine. Yes, it’s still compressed, but it never totally collapses on itself either. The guitars carry plenty of bite, avoiding the trap of sounding overly synthetic or overproduced, though the solos sit too far back in the mix for my liking. Likewise, the use of robotic spoken word interludes on tracks like “Inflection Chants” and “Transient Fixations” is conceptually fine, but they get lost behind the loud drums and end up feeling pointless. It’s a trade-off I can ultimately live with, though.

After multiple spins, In Light, No Shape stands toe-to-toe with Phantazein. Overcoming a key member’s departure isn’t easy, and while the album’s stylistic changes may feel reactive or too familiar, most come across as deliberate, pointing to a group resettling their identity. Cognizance continues to emerge as one of tech death’s most compelling acts and In Light, No Shape highlights what the genre can achieve when done right.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Willowtip Records
Websites: cognizance.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/cognizanceband
Releases Worldwide: May 1st, 2026

Accessibility in music isn’t something we fuck with here at AMG. It isn’t even really something metal fans in general care about. Many times, even at its most accessible, metal is a genre written off due to how abrasive it is. But what about physical and mental accessibility for fans and musicians? That is the mantra for Mallavora, a band that originally caught my attention in the promo pile with its bold description as an alt-metal group that fuses elements of R&B, Soul, and Middle Eastern trappings. Upon further inspection, they are pushing the frontlines of accessibility, making a point of playing shows in accessible spaces. Lead singer Jessica Douek suffers from fibromyalgia and is disabled herself, and guitarist Larry Sobieraj pulls from his own experience with chronic illness. If you think this slows the band down in any capacity, you would be wrong. Mallavora’s brand of Middle Eastern-infused alt-metal is dynamic, bombastic, and crushing. Their debut record, What If Better Never Comes? looks to answer the question: Is this a band that can back up its positive message with awesome music?

The album art for What If Better Never Comes? depicts a blurred figure staring up at an endless staircase, and I can only imagine how much more terrifying this image is for those with physical disabilities, but as someone who suffers from mental illness, the metaphor of this insurmountable staircase plays out across the album. This is no happy space filled with sappy messaging and generic positive affirmations. “Sick” sees Douek chanting “Sick” to the backing of grooving guitars and Sam Brownlow’s energetic and punchy drumming. The track is a combo of alt and groove metal enhanced by Douek’s incredible vocals. While “Sick” is an easy example of Mallavora’s worldview, the album is peppered with ideas that personify the concept behind the album title and accompanying art. “Hopeless” is a depressing ballad with emo trappings that showcases Doeuk’s absurd vocal range and amazing falsetto. “Break” sees her directly confronting her life in an existence that feels hostile, calling out, “I guess this world just wasn’t made for bodies quite like mine,” before the track leads into “Birth of a Sun,” where she drops the hammer with powerful low gutturals backed by a massive riff that could live on an Orbit Culture album.

What If Better Never Comes? by Mallavora

Mallavora deftly avoids the repetition typical of many metalcore adjacent outfits. Alt-metal is at the forefront, and What If Better Never Comes? Is stuffed with creative left turns and surprising genre switches. “Smile” flips on a dime from all-out fury to a bouncing groove, only to go back to brutal blasts and Douek hitting her lowest growl. The album’s closer, and title track, is a nine-minute epic with massive riffs, an R&B tangent, and gorgeous chanting inspired by Douek’s Jewish and Middle Eastern heritage. Douek’s vocal talent cannot be overstated, and her range and style act as a throughline in the album, helping keep the disparate and chaotic elements cohesive. The clean production still allows for Brownlow’s skin beating to come out clear and brutal, while Ellis James’ bass shines. There is a consistent atmosphere that keeps Mallavora sounding like a veteran band, not one that is only just releasing its debut.

What If Better Never Comes? is a powerhouse debut for a young band, but it isn’t all roses. “Waste” is an unfortunately named track, because it doesn’t really add anything to the album and has some of the weakest lyrics. It also feels the most formulaic of the tracks while never really opening up. The album is also oddly-paced. The variety on display is admirable, but at times it throws the album off course, such as dropping the ballad “Hopeless” too soon, derailing early momentum.

Mallavora has something special with its sound. Douek’s vocals are consistently amazing, and her range is incredible. They use this to the fullest, with an album that goes wherever it wants and is the better for it. The four-piece shines on all fronts. Brownlow’s drumming has a classic rock energy that is infectious, Sobieraj’s riffs are huge, and James’ bass is allowed to shine with unique passages and expansive production. What If Better Never Comes? is as powerful as its message without being trite or treating disability as something to be patronized. It is as complex, flawed, depressed, and hopeful as we all are while remaining an infectiously groovy, anthemic alt-metal album that swings for the fences and mostly hits it.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Church Road Records
Websites: mallavora.co.uk | Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

Hellripper's new album is on Bandcamp

Go! Go! Go! ;) 🎵

Hellripper Cononach

Bandcamp link
https://hellripper.bandcamp.com/album/coronach-24-bit-hd-audio

#BlackMetal #ThrashMetal #BritishMetal

https://www.europesays.com/uk/805955/ Desert Storm – Buried Under the Weight of Reason Review #2026 #35 #Baroness #BeardOfZeuss #BossKeloid #BritishMetal #BuriedUnderTheWeightOfReason #Crowbar #DesertStorm #DoomMetal #Entertainment #HeavyPsychSounds #Mar26 #music #Review #Reviews #SludgeMetal #StonerRock #UK #UnitedKingdom

For nearly two decades, Desert Storm has stood at the cornerstone of England’s fuzz-drenched underground. One can imagine my surprise, then, to find that I claim the first review of their catalog here. The group’s maturation has been a process of trial and error, evolving from smoky, blues-soaked stoner and southern rock roots into a heftier, sludgy, doom-infused form. Despite the unevenness of the Oxford outfit’s earlier efforts—Forked Tongues and Horizontal Life—Desert Storm’s more recent output (specifically Sentinels and Omens) found that sweet spot where sludge, doom, and stoner rock collide. While 2023’s Death Rattle saw these lads largely revisiting their old psychedelic ways, their seventh record, Buried Under the Weight of Reason, reverses course with a Saharan surge of down-tuned, resonant grooves and explosive riff drops poised to shatter many a bong.

As the opening notes of “Newfound Respect” hit, Buried Under the Weight of Reason reveals itself as a blunter, more dynamic beast than its predecessors. The guitars have thickened into a sludge/doom/stoner hybrid of epic proportions, blending Boss Keloid-like phrasing (“Rot to Ruin,” “Newfound Respect”) with Baronessian textures (“Twelve Seasons,” “Law Unto Myself”) and even the occasional djenty chug (“Cut Your Teeth,” “Rot to Ruin”). Huge, low-slung riffs drive Desert Storm’s definitive songwriting pattern. Songs lurch between stampeding verses and clean, crestfallen bridges, often featuring playful bass flourishes and blues refrains. Elliot Cole’s drums hit with massive, tom-forward authority. Each booming strike fuses with new bassist Andrew Keyzor (ex-Beard of Zeuss), carving deep pockets on tracks like “Woodsman” and “Shamanic Echoes.” By the time the first few tracks roll by, it’s obvious that Buried Under the Weight of Reason finds Desert Storm operating squarely in their wheelhouse.

DESERT STORM – Buried Under The Weight Of Reason by HEAVY PSYCH SOUNDS Records

Desert Storm commits to a single mission on Buried Under the Weight of Reason: delivering crushing, irresistible grooves from start to finish. Though lesser bands often bail on a great hook too early, Desert Storm has the confidence to lock in and let a sequence breathe like a fine wine, avoiding the common pitfall of over-complicating a riff before it reaches its zenith. Their controlled songwriting approach shines on the “Woodsman” and “Shamanic Echoes,” where the group adds nuance through minimalist, hook-heavy phrasing that feels both exciting and fresh. “Rot to Ruin” and “Cut Your Teeth” utilize spacious, bluesy transitions to reset the listener’s palate before building toward massive payoffs. The latter succeeds because the quartet holds back, patiently waiting for the precise moment to strike with a mammoth closing riff. The album closes with “Twelve Seasons,” a standout track that balances technical complexity and eccentricity with Desert Storm’s conviction to mine every ounce of a groove’s energy until it runs bone-dry.

Matthew Ryan’s vocals have historically been Desert Storm’s hollow point, but on Buried Under the Weight of Reason, they arrive with a newfound polish and reliability. Hitting with a grizzled, Crowbar-like growl, Ryan provides a solid—albeit largely safe—foundation that underpins Desert Storm’s low-frequency bulk. While Ryan’s vocals struggle to elevate the plethora of high-caliber riffs, they sit comfortably in the mix, serving their purpose without overreaching. Inconsistencies surface, however, on “Woodsman,” where mechanical chanting feels like a unique angle tripped up by its own peculiarity. More jarring is “Dripback,” where Ryan’s barking cadence feels a bit too unhinged, overshadowing an otherwise great groove. Beyond the vocal performance, the compressed mix masks the finer nuances—like the cowbell on “Twelve Seasons”—and the quartet’s commitment to the almighty riff sometimes results in songs feeling overextended. While Desert Storm’s “groove-first” philosophy is surely their strength, it leads to some bloat on the record’s longer cuts (“Rot to Ruin,” “Shamanic Echoes”). Additionally, the inclusion of the interlude “Carry the Weight” feels pointless in the context of the album’s flow.

But for Desert Storm, Buried Under the Weight of Reason is a cause for celebration. By knowing and staying largely within their established limits, the group has created not only a good record, but easily their best to date. While it occasionally oversteps its bounds or struggles to maintain its momentum, the songwriting and groove are infectious enough to have every head in the club bobbing in unison. Their sharpest effort to date, with enough weight to kill an elephant, Buried Under the Weight of Reason is a damn good time and a reminder that sometimes, that’s all a record needs to be.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Heavy Psych Sounds
Websites: desertstorm.bandcamp.com/music | desertstormband.com | facebook.com/desertstormuk
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026

Sylosis – The New Flesh Review

Sylosis has been quietly plugging along in the background for years, a band that, in my anecdotal experience,…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #3.5 #Architects #BritishMetal #CA #Canada #Entertainment #Feb2026 #HeavyMetal #LambofGod #Metalcore #NuclearBlast #review #reviews #Sylosis #TheNewFlesh #ThrashMetal
https://www.newsbeep.com/ca/484198/

Sylosis – The New Flesh Review

Sylosis has been quietly plugging along in the background for years, a band that, in my anecdotal experience,…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #3.5 #Architects #BritishMetal #Entertainment #Feb2026 #HeavyMetal #LambofGod #Metalcore #NuclearBlast #review #Reviews #Sylosis #TheNewFlesh #ThrashMetal #UK #UnitedKingdom
https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/433077/

Sylosis has been quietly plugging along in the background for years, a band that, in my anecdotal experience, many have heard of, but few listen to. When I go to shout about the greatness of albums like Monolith or Dormant Heart from the highest peaks, it seems to fall on deaf ears. No more, I say! Lead vocalist and guitarist Josh Middleton has led the band since Edge of the Earth. As the last remaining original member, he became the de facto songwriter and soul of a group that has seen many members over the years and near dissolution during Middleton’s time with Architects. After returning to Sylosis full-time, the band is on their third release in this latest era, The New Flesh. Marking the second album since Middleton purposefully set a new direction with A Sign of Things to Come. While the title references David Cronenberg’s Videodrome, is The New Flesh transformative for the band or a refinement?

Dormant Heart was the closing chapter on a trio of unfuckwithable albums that deftly melded viscous thrash, modern core sensibilities, and instrumental tangents with guitar heroics rivaling the best bands out there. Post 2020 put the band on a new path, and The New Flesh offers a continuation and evolution of their previous record. For a band with so many past members, their latest shows zero signs of flagging. Clearly, Middleton’s direction has been a north star for the band, and nothing on The New Flesh will surprise longtime fans.

The New Flesh by Sylosis

Sylosis’s obsession with riffs remains intact, and The New Flesh is chock-full of them like every record before it. Middleton’s vocals are as powerful as ever, and his range remains impressive. The band seems almost always to avoid the worst parts of metalcore clean singing, and there is so much pathos in his delivery that you can hear the venom dripping from every word. “All Glory, No Valour” is a drumming tour de force for Ali Richardson, whose feats keep up with Middleton and Conor Marshall’s barreling riffs. It isn’t all roses, though, and Ben Thomas’s low end gets lost in the overly clean modern metal production. While there is enough there to give the riffs proper weight, the bass only occasionally shines and is rarely present without straining your ears.

The New Flesh’s creative focus only occasionally falters, and any song that has one or two individual weak spots has twice as many head-banging turn-arounds. The slightly uninspired chorus of “Erased” is quickly forgotten amid the song’s infectious groove, chest-thumping ethos, and refrain of “Here’s your parting gift,” before it drops into delirious riffing and devastating pick-scraping. Album closer “Seeds In The River” features a bit of tired metaphor, but also has some of the best riffs on the record, and more than enough to keep listeners coming back. The only real blemish on The New Flesh is a tale as old as time, a misplaced ballad. While Sylosis has never shied from clean singing or big melodic swings, “Everywhere At Once” may be the band’s first true “ballad,” and it shows. It lacks the atmosphere of similar songs on past albums like Dormant Heart’s “Quiescent” or the soaring riffs and bombasticity of “Abandon” on Cycle of Suffering. It is entirely skippable, with generic musings about missing family when touring that feel trite compared to Sylosis’ usual lyrical targets and vitriolic delivery.

Outside of those few stumbles, The New Flesh is nearly spotless. “Circle Of Swords” feels like a makeup track after dropping a ballad on the listener, giving some much-needed headbanging whiplash. “Beneath The Surface” kicks things off in wild fashion, “Lacerations” is a stadium melter, and “Spared From The Guillotine” is one of Sylosis’ most unhinged tracks in the last decade. Sans ballad, The New Flesh, is ten tracks of furious, solid, and infectious metal that feel essential in an era lacking in just good old-fashioned headbangers. The band finds a spot where the speed and technical sensibility of thrash meld with the belligerent energy of core and the hooky riffs of groove metal. For modern metal fans, Sylosis deserves a spot at the forefront. Where older acts like Lamb of God seem to have basically lost the creative energy that originally drove them, The New Flesh is here to offer up a no frills heavy metal record that leaves all pretense at the door after kicking it down. Sylosis has more than earned its seat among the modern metal greats, and The New Flesh only further cements that legacy.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast
Websites: www.sylosis-band.com | Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026

https://www.europesays.com/uk/770669/ Cattle Hammer – Dark Thoughts with Lights Out #10 #2026 #BlackMetal #BritishMetal #CattleHammer #DarkThoughtsWithLightsOut #DoomMetal #Drone #Entertainment #Feb26 #Fukpig #mistress #music #PrimitiveMan #Review #Reviews #RoadToMasochist #Sludge #Sumac #TheBody #UK #UnitedKingdom #Weedeater

Cattle Hammer – Dark Thoughts with Lights Out

English is fairly adequate for basic communication, but it falls short for niche communities. In the same way…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #1.0 #2026 #BlackMetal #BritishMetal #CattleHammer #DarkThoughtswithLightsOut #DoomMetal #drone #Entertainment #Feb26 #Fukpig #Mistress #PrimitiveMan #review #reviews #RoadtoMasochist #Sludge #Sumac #TheBody #Weedeater
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/473950/

English is fairly adequate for basic communication, but it falls short for niche communities. In the same way that skiers repurpose “powder” or “carve” and gamers repurpose “own” or “sweaty,” metal fans break and contort language to suit our needs. We talk about “filthy” guitar tones and “razor sharp” riffs, discuss “cavernous” production and “suffocating” weight, and use violent imagery—bleeding ears, caved in skulls—to denote quality. So when I read phrases like “slow, painful march,” “soporific1 dirge,” and “empty decades between chords” on the promo sheet for debut Dark Thoughts with Lights Out, I thought Cattle Hammer was just employing a little dialectical variance, speaking the lingo. Joke’s on me, though. They weren’t.

Based in Birmingham, UK, Cattle Hammer was formed by vocalist/guitarist Duncan Wilkins (Fukpig, Mistress) in 2023. He’s joined by I Cartwright on drums, J Wyles on guitar, and D Von Donovan on bass. Together, they mix a caustic brew of drone, doom, and sludge, but each track on Dark Thoughts with Lights Out has its own identity. “Gloomsower” leans stony, and Wilkins oscillates between deep roars and strangled croaks reminiscent of Weedeater. “Rotting” features short tremolos, although they don’t do much besides check the “blackened” box on the PR sheet. The ambient, noise-tinged intro to “Watchmen, Alone” caught my attention, but repetition of the vocal sample stunts its ability to build tension. Similarly, “Body Puzzle” ends on some interesting synths, but it’s a tough sell so late in the album. If you can’t tell, I’m really reaching for positives here, but there’s not a one that isn’t ultimately a disappointment.

Dark Thoughts With Lights Out by Cattle Hammer

Every time I thought Cattle Hammer might do something interesting or better texturize Dark Thoughts with Lights Out, they shrank from the occasion. The early lead guitar in “Gloomsower” is a bright change of pace amidst thick, doomy passages, but instead of playing a countermelody or variation on the theme or literally anything else, it just plays the same fucking riff in a higher register. This same-riff-different-instrument/key tactic is fairly common (“Rotting,” “Watchmen, Alone”). Organ (“Watchmen, Alone,” “Body Puzzle”) and piano (“Rotting”) make appearances, but fail to deliver anything justifying their inclusion. Static and feedback crop up frequently, but in Cattle Hammer’s hands, they are merely unpleasant and banal. While I was intrigued by the first sample2 and always appreciate Sheri Moon Zombie,3 Cattle Hammer’s sample usage is ham-fisted and melodramatic. Each of these ornaments gave me hope that I might soon feel something besides boredom and frustration, but invariably, Dark Thoughts with Lights Out dashed my hopes and shuffled on.

What astounds me most on Dark Thoughts with Lights Out is how avoidable many of these blunders seem. Percussion is a little lackluster, and the instruments seem a bit compressed in the mix, leaving the vocals too far in front. These aren’t deal breakers, but playing fewer riffs—I’m being generous, calling them that—in 45 minutes than I have fingers is. Structuring the front half of a song to sound like a narrative climax with no build-up or release is (“Watchmen, Alone,” “Body Puzzle”). Rhythmic density rivaling the emptiness of space is. Ambient, feedback-laden outros enough to compile an EP is. This album is ostensibly meant to convey misery and suffering, but devoid of creativity or artistic abstraction, it misses the mark that acts like Primitive Man, The Body, or Sumac hit so well. It’s as if Cattle Hammer has crafted some misguided meta experience, in which the act of listening to the music imparts the misery normally communicated through the music itself.

If there’s one thing Cattle Hammer truly excels at, it’s squandering potential. Every criticism in this review is a place where I saw an opportunity for Dark Thoughts with Lights Out to get better, only for it to stay the course. What’s even more frustrating is that, if any one of these problems weren’t a problem, it could have at least partially salvaged the album. Amidst deeply uninteresting riffs played slow enough for inter-note naps, song constructions that fail to launch, underutilized instrumentation, an impressive lack of variation, repetition ad nauseum, and a totally unjustified runtime, Dark Thoughts with Lights Out isn’t simply unremarkable or uninteresting; it’s a literal chore to listen through. Based on the promo sheet, maybe that’s the point, but whether Cattle Hammer achieved their goal is irrelevant.4 Dark Thoughts with Lights Out is a bad album.

Rating: 1.0/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Road to Masochist
Websites: Bandcamp | Ampwall | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026