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Serpent Lord – The Once Forgotten Ways of Old Review

After reviewing Crotaline in April and Dimmu Borgir’s Grand Serpent Rising earlier this month, 2026 is shaping up…
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https://www.newsbeep.com/ca/767268/

Serpent Lord – The Once Forgotten Ways of Old Review

After reviewing Crotaline in April and Dimmu Borgir’s Grand Serpent Rising earlier this month, 2026 is shaping up…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2.5 #2026 #AliceInChains #AmericanMetal #BlackMetal #Crotaline #DimmuBorgir #Eisenwald #EisenwaldRecords #Entertainment #GrandSerpentRising #May26 #Mayhem #PaganBlackMetal #Rauhnåcht #review #Reviews #SerpentLord #TheOnceForgottenWaysofOld #Uada #UK #UnitedKingdom
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https://www.europesays.com/uk/1055763/ Serpent Lord – The Once Forgotten Ways of Old Review #25 #2026 #AliceInChains #AmericanMetal #BlackMetal #Crotaline #DimmuBorgir #Eisenwald #EisenwaldRecords #Entertainment #GrandSerpentRising #May26 #mayhem #music #PaganBlackMetal #Rauhnåcht #Review #Reviews #SerpentLord #TheOnceForgottenWaysOfOld #Uada #UK #UnitedKingdom

https://www.europesays.com/ie/558528/ Serpent Lord – The Once Forgotten Ways of Old Review #25 #2026 #AliceInChains #AmericanMetal #BlackMetal #Crotaline #DimmuBorgir #Éire #Eisenwald #EisenwaldRecords #Entertainment #GrandSerpentRising #IE #Ireland #May26 #mayhem #Music #PaganBlackMetal #Rauhnåcht #Review #Reviews #SerpentLord #TheOnceForgottenWaysOfOld #uada

After reviewing Crotaline1 in April and Dimmu Borgir’s Grand Serpent Rising earlier this month, 2026 is shaping up as the Year of the Snake—at least for me. Now at the end of May, Battleground, Washington’s Serpent Lord emerges from a protracted brumation to deliver a dose of venom fermenting for over twenty years. After recording a split and two demos between 2003 and 2004, one-man band Jake Superchi (Uada, Ceremonial Castings) shelved the project for a couple decades. Now Superchi has resurrected his defunct sobriquet to record The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, Serpent Lord’s long-gestating debut LP. After an extended incubation period, does Serpent Lord rejuvenate the Ways of Old, or should the act have remained Forgotten?

Like Uada, Serpent Lord falls under the broader umbrella of black metal. Rather than expansive meloblack, though, Serpent Lord basks in the light of pagan gods, eliciting forlorn calls to umbral deities scoured from memory by the winds of time. Rhythmic grooves and hypnotic guitar refrains lay the foundation for The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, imbuing the album with enough ritualistic zest that you may catch faint whiffs of incense and petrichor while listening. Three of the album’s six songs push past the eight-minute mark, and it’s these moments where Serpent Lord best embodies heathen incantations. In particular, “Aries Ram” and the title track conjure visions of enigmatic and arcane rites, evoking mystical practices that lurch and brood in the dark.

On The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, Serpent Lord summons inspirations and reshapes them into a well-developed and distinct character. Most immediately, Serpent Lord reminds me of Rauhnåcht without the folk instrumentation, particularly when the slower, plaintive guitar leads slither above swirling riffs and unyielding drums (“A Pagan’s Spell,” “Enter Serpentagram”). Superchi’s vocals cover an array of deliveries, ranging from frenetic, blackened barking and rasping (“Constrictor”) to droning harangue, where the latter strikes similarities to Mayhem’s Attila Csihar’s cleaner stylings (“The Once Forgotten Ways of Old”). The sermonizing works well, but the harsher vocals occasionally blur with the cascading guitars in the mix, obscuring Superchi’s voice and packing too much sound into too narrow a band. The harsh deliveries work better when there’s room to breathe, like the back half of “Forever on the Grounds of Battle” (which features guitar work recalling Alice in Chains’ “Whale & Wasp” midway through). Regardless, the star performances belong to the guitars and drums, which pack a potent, two-pronged punch as they wend and weave through The Once Forgotten Ways of Old.

For all that Serpent Lord achieves, The Once Forgotten Ways of Old proves a slippery and elusive beast. Despite the many things done well, I struggle to remember most of it once the music fades from my speakers, and the snippets that stick drive me back to the inspirations more than the Ways of Old. Serpent Lord nails the aesthetic of pagan black metal, and The Once Forgotten Ways of Old is a record I feel like should resonate more than it does. What ultimately undercuts Serpent Lord’s success is the lack of fulfilling climaxes.2 Superchi does a fabulous job of orchestrating tension through the give and take of guitars and drums, yet few moments capitalize on that buildup. This songwriting oversight is most telling at the ends of tracks, as four of the album’s six songs close with a fade. Concluding a song this way isn’t one of my pet peeves, and I typically don’t notice them, but their abundance here stands out and suggests the opportunity to finish with a bang every now and again.

The Once Forgotten Ways of Old convinces me that Serpent Lord seethes with potential, but will need to shed its current approach to actualize it. I spent a lot of time traversing The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, and while I enjoyed them, I recognize the album doesn’t offer enough for me to return once the proverbial ink dries on this review. Even so, a few minor tweaks would rid this danger noodle of musical impotence, and I look forward to listening to Serpent Lord’s next worship service if and when it comes.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Eisenwald Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

After reviewing Crotaline1 in April and Dimmu Borgir’s Grand Serpent Rising earlier this month, 2026 is shaping up as the Year of the Snake—at least for me. Now at the end of May, Battleground, Washington’s Serpent Lord emerges from a protracted brumation to deliver a dose of venom fermenting for over twenty years. After recording a split and two demos between 2003 and 2004, one-man band Jake Superchi (Uada, Ceremonial Castings) shelved the project for a couple decades. Now Superchi has resurrected his defunct sobriquet to record The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, Serpent Lord’s long-gestating debut LP. After an extended incubation period, does Serpent Lord rejuvenate the Ways of Old, or should the act have remained Forgotten?

Like Uada, Serpent Lord falls under the broader umbrella of black metal. Rather than expansive meloblack, though, Serpent Lord basks in the light of pagan gods, eliciting forlorn calls to umbral deities scoured from memory by the winds of time. Rhythmic grooves and hypnotic guitar refrains lay the foundation for The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, imbuing the album with enough ritualistic zest that you may catch faint whiffs of incense and petrichor while listening. Three of the album’s six songs push past the eight-minute mark, and it’s these moments where Serpent Lord best embodies heathen incantations. In particular, “Aries Ram” and the title track conjure visions of enigmatic and arcane rites, evoking mystical practices that lurch and brood in the dark.

On The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, Serpent Lord summons inspirations and reshapes them into a well-developed and distinct character. Most immediately, Serpent Lord reminds me of Rauhnåcht without the folk instrumentation, particularly when the slower, plaintive guitar leads slither above swirling riffs and unyielding drums (“A Pagan’s Spell,” “Enter Serpentagram”). Superchi’s vocals cover an array of deliveries, ranging from frenetic, blackened barking and rasping (“Constrictor”) to droning harangue, where the latter strikes similarities to Mayhem’s Attila Csihar’s cleaner stylings (“The Once Forgotten Ways of Old”). The sermonizing works well, but the harsher vocals occasionally blur with the cascading guitars in the mix, obscuring Superchi’s voice and packing too much sound into too narrow a band. The harsh deliveries work better when there’s room to breathe, like the back half of “Forever on the Grounds of Battle” (which features guitar work recalling Alice in Chains’ “Whale & Wasp” midway through). Regardless, the star performances belong to the guitars and drums, which pack a potent, two-pronged punch as they wend and weave through The Once Forgotten Ways of Old.

For all that Serpent Lord achieves, The Once Forgotten Ways of Old proves a slippery and elusive beast. Despite the many things done well, I struggle to remember most of it once the music fades from my speakers, and the snippets that stick drive me back to the inspirations more than the Ways of Old. Serpent Lord nails the aesthetic of pagan black metal, and The Once Forgotten Ways of Old is a record I feel like should resonate more than it does. What ultimately undercuts Serpent Lord’s success is the lack of fulfilling climaxes.2 Superchi does a fabulous job of orchestrating tension through the give and take of guitars and drums, yet few moments capitalize on that buildup. This songwriting oversight is most telling at the ends of tracks, as four of the album’s six songs close with a fade. Concluding a song this way isn’t one of my pet peeves, and I typically don’t notice them, but their abundance here stands out and suggests the opportunity to finish with a bang every now and again.

The Once Forgotten Ways of Old convinces me that Serpent Lord seethes with potential, but will need to shed its current approach to actualize it. I spent a lot of time traversing The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, and while I enjoyed them, I recognize the album doesn’t offer enough for me to return once the proverbial ink dries on this review. Even so, a few minor tweaks would rid this danger noodle of musical impotence, and I look forward to listening to Serpent Lord’s next worship service if and when it comes.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Eisenwald Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

After reviewing Crotaline1 in April and Dimmu Borgir’s Grand Serpent Rising earlier this month, 2026 is shaping up as the Year of the Snake—at least for me. Now at the end of May, Battleground, Washington’s Serpent Lord emerges from a protracted brumation to deliver a dose of venom fermenting for over twenty years. After recording a split and two demos between 2003 and 2004, one-man band Jake Superchi (Uada, Ceremonial Castings) shelved the project for a couple decades. Now Superchi has resurrected his defunct sobriquet to record The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, Serpent Lord’s long-gestating debut LP. After an extended incubation period, does Serpent Lord rejuvenate the Ways of Old, or should the act have remained Forgotten?

Like Uada, Serpent Lord falls under the broader umbrella of black metal. Rather than expansive meloblack, though, Serpent Lord basks in the light of pagan gods, eliciting forlorn calls to umbral deities scoured from memory by the winds of time. Rhythmic grooves and hypnotic guitar refrains lay the foundation for The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, imbuing the album with enough ritualistic zest that you may catch faint whiffs of incense and petrichor while listening. Three of the album’s six songs push past the eight-minute mark, and it’s these moments where Serpent Lord best embodies heathen incantations. In particular, “Aries Ram” and the title track conjure visions of enigmatic and arcane rites, evoking mystical practices that lurch and brood in the dark.

On The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, Serpent Lord summons inspirations and reshapes them into a well-developed and distinct character. Most immediately, Serpent Lord reminds me of Rauhnåcht without the folk instrumentation, particularly when the slower, plaintive guitar leads slither above swirling riffs and unyielding drums (“A Pagan’s Spell,” “Enter Serpentagram”). Superchi’s vocals cover an array of deliveries, ranging from frenetic, blackened barking and rasping (“Constrictor”) to droning harangue, where the latter strikes similarities to Mayhem’s Attila Csihar’s cleaner stylings (“The Once Forgotten Ways of Old”). The sermonizing works well, but the harsher vocals occasionally blur with the cascading guitars in the mix, obscuring Superchi’s voice and packing too much sound into too narrow a band. The harsh deliveries work better when there’s room to breathe, like the back half of “Forever on the Grounds of Battle” (which features guitar work recalling Alice in Chains’ “Whale & Wasp” midway through). Regardless, the star performances belong to the guitars and drums, which pack a potent, two-pronged punch as they wend and weave through The Once Forgotten Ways of Old.

For all that Serpent Lord achieves, The Once Forgotten Ways of Old proves a slippery and elusive beast. Despite the many things done well, I struggle to remember most of it once the music fades from my speakers, and the snippets that stick drive me back to the inspirations more than the Ways of Old. Serpent Lord nails the aesthetic of pagan black metal, and The Once Forgotten Ways of Old is a record I feel like should resonate more than it does. What ultimately undercuts Serpent Lord’s success is the lack of fulfilling climaxes.2 Superchi does a fabulous job of orchestrating tension through the give and take of guitars and drums, yet few moments capitalize on that buildup. This songwriting oversight is most telling at the ends of tracks, as four of the album’s six songs close with a fade. Concluding a song this way isn’t one of my pet peeves, and I typically don’t notice them, but their abundance here stands out and suggests the opportunity to finish with a bang every now and again.

The Once Forgotten Ways of Old convinces me that Serpent Lord seethes with potential, but will need to shed its current approach to actualize it. I spent a lot of time traversing The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, and while I enjoyed them, I recognize the album doesn’t offer enough for me to return once the proverbial ink dries on this review. Even so, a few minor tweaks would rid this danger noodle of musical impotence, and I look forward to listening to Serpent Lord’s next worship service if and when it comes.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Eisenwald Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

After reviewing Crotaline1 in April and Dimmu Borgir’s Grand Serpent Rising earlier this month, 2026 is shaping up as the Year of the Snake—at least for me. Now at the end of May, Battleground, Washington’s Serpent Lord emerges from a protracted brumation to deliver a dose of venom fermenting for over twenty years. After recording a split and two demos between 2003 and 2004, one-man band Jake Superchi (Uada, Ceremonial Castings) shelved the project for a couple decades. Now Superchi has resurrected his defunct sobriquet to record The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, Serpent Lord’s long-gestating debut LP. After an extended incubation period, does Serpent Lord rejuvenate the Ways of Old, or should the act have remained Forgotten?

Like Uada, Serpent Lord falls under the broader umbrella of black metal. Rather than expansive meloblack, though, Serpent Lord basks in the light of pagan gods, eliciting forlorn calls to umbral deities scoured from memory by the winds of time. Rhythmic grooves and hypnotic guitar refrains lay the foundation for The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, imbuing the album with enough ritualistic zest that you may catch faint whiffs of incense and petrichor while listening. Three of the album’s six songs push past the eight-minute mark, and it’s these moments where Serpent Lord best embodies heathen incantations. In particular, “Aries Ram” and the title track conjure visions of enigmatic and arcane rites, evoking mystical practices that lurch and brood in the dark.

On The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, Serpent Lord summons inspirations and reshapes them into a well-developed and distinct character. Most immediately, Serpent Lord reminds me of Rauhnåcht without the folk instrumentation, particularly when the slower, plaintive guitar leads slither above swirling riffs and unyielding drums (“A Pagan’s Spell,” “Enter Serpentagram”). Superchi’s vocals cover an array of deliveries, ranging from frenetic, blackened barking and rasping (“Constrictor”) to droning harangue, where the latter strikes similarities to Mayhem’s Attila Csihar’s cleaner stylings (“The Once Forgotten Ways of Old”). The sermonizing works well, but the harsher vocals occasionally blur with the cascading guitars in the mix, obscuring Superchi’s voice and packing too much sound into too narrow a band. The harsh deliveries work better when there’s room to breathe, like the back half of “Forever on the Grounds of Battle” (which features guitar work recalling Alice in Chains’ “Whale & Wasp” midway through). Regardless, the star performances belong to the guitars and drums, which pack a potent, two-pronged punch as they wend and weave through The Once Forgotten Ways of Old.

For all that Serpent Lord achieves, The Once Forgotten Ways of Old proves a slippery and elusive beast. Despite the many things done well, I struggle to remember most of it once the music fades from my speakers, and the snippets that stick drive me back to the inspirations more than the Ways of Old. Serpent Lord nails the aesthetic of pagan black metal, and The Once Forgotten Ways of Old is a record I feel like should resonate more than it does. What ultimately undercuts Serpent Lord’s success is the lack of fulfilling climaxes.2 Superchi does a fabulous job of orchestrating tension through the give and take of guitars and drums, yet few moments capitalize on that buildup. This songwriting oversight is most telling at the ends of tracks, as four of the album’s six songs close with a fade. Concluding a song this way isn’t one of my pet peeves, and I typically don’t notice them, but their abundance here stands out and suggests the opportunity to finish with a bang every now and again.

The Once Forgotten Ways of Old convinces me that Serpent Lord seethes with potential, but will need to shed its current approach to actualize it. I spent a lot of time traversing The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, and while I enjoyed them, I recognize the album doesn’t offer enough for me to return once the proverbial ink dries on this review. Even so, a few minor tweaks would rid this danger noodle of musical impotence, and I look forward to listening to Serpent Lord’s next worship service if and when it comes.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Eisenwald Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

After reviewing Crotaline1 in April and Dimmu Borgir’s Grand Serpent Rising earlier this month, 2026 is shaping up as the Year of the Snake—at least for me. Now at the end of May, Battleground, Washington’s Serpent Lord emerges from a protracted brumation to deliver a dose of venom fermenting for over twenty years. After recording a split and two demos between 2003 and 2004, one-man band Jake Superchi (Uada, Ceremonial Castings) shelved the project for a couple decades. Now Superchi has resurrected his defunct sobriquet to record The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, Serpent Lord’s long-gestating debut LP. After an extended incubation period, does Serpent Lord rejuvenate the Ways of Old, or should the act have remained Forgotten?

Like Uada, Serpent Lord falls under the broader umbrella of black metal. Rather than expansive meloblack, though, Serpent Lord basks in the light of pagan gods, eliciting forlorn calls to umbral deities scoured from memory by the winds of time. Rhythmic grooves and hypnotic guitar refrains lay the foundation for The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, imbuing the album with enough ritualistic zest that you may catch faint whiffs of incense and petrichor while listening. Three of the album’s six songs push past the eight-minute mark, and it’s these moments where Serpent Lord best embodies heathen incantations. In particular, “Aries Ram” and the title track conjure visions of enigmatic and arcane rites, evoking mystical practices that lurch and brood in the dark.

On The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, Serpent Lord summons inspirations and reshapes them into a well-developed and distinct character. Most immediately, Serpent Lord reminds me of Rauhnåcht without the folk instrumentation, particularly when the slower, plaintive guitar leads slither above swirling riffs and unyielding drums (“A Pagan’s Spell,” “Enter Serpentagram”). Superchi’s vocals cover an array of deliveries, ranging from frenetic, blackened barking and rasping (“Constrictor”) to droning harangue, where the latter strikes similarities to Mayhem’s Attila Csihar’s cleaner stylings (“The Once Forgotten Ways of Old”). The sermonizing works well, but the harsher vocals occasionally blur with the cascading guitars in the mix, obscuring Superchi’s voice and packing too much sound into too narrow a band. The harsh deliveries work better when there’s room to breathe, like the back half of “Forever on the Grounds of Battle” (which features guitar work recalling Alice in Chains’ “Whale & Wasp” midway through). Regardless, the star performances belong to the guitars and drums, which pack a potent, two-pronged punch as they wend and weave through The Once Forgotten Ways of Old.

For all that Serpent Lord achieves, The Once Forgotten Ways of Old proves a slippery and elusive beast. Despite the many things done well, I struggle to remember most of it once the music fades from my speakers, and the snippets that stick drive me back to the inspirations more than the Ways of Old. Serpent Lord nails the aesthetic of pagan black metal, and The Once Forgotten Ways of Old is a record I feel like should resonate more than it does. What ultimately undercuts Serpent Lord’s success is the lack of fulfilling climaxes.2 Superchi does a fabulous job of orchestrating tension through the give and take of guitars and drums, yet few moments capitalize on that buildup. This songwriting oversight is most telling at the ends of tracks, as four of the album’s six songs close with a fade. Concluding a song this way isn’t one of my pet peeves, and I typically don’t notice them, but their abundance here stands out and suggests the opportunity to finish with a bang every now and again.

The Once Forgotten Ways of Old convinces me that Serpent Lord seethes with potential, but will need to shed its current approach to actualize it. I spent a lot of time traversing The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, and while I enjoyed them, I recognize the album doesn’t offer enough for me to return once the proverbial ink dries on this review. Even so, a few minor tweaks would rid this danger noodle of musical impotence, and I look forward to listening to Serpent Lord’s next worship service if and when it comes.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Eisenwald Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

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