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https://www.europesays.com/uk/942329/ Electric Sun Defence – Estuary Review #2026 #40 #CultOfLuna #Dvne #ElectricSunDefence #Entertainment #Estuary #May26 #music #PgLost #PostRock #PostMetal #ProgressiveMetal #RedSparowes #Review #Reviews #RoadToMasochist #ScottishMetal #TheMassacreCave #TheOcean #UK #UnitedKingdom #VoidOfLight

It’s easy to take the Internet for granted, given how ubiquitous it is these days. A couple of decades ago, it would have been unthinkable for someone like me who lives in the United States to stumble upon music made by a group from Eigg. Hailing from this small Scottish island—with a population of only about 100—Joe Cormack and Pete Colquhoun formed Electric Sun Defence following the early dissolution of their former group, The Massacre Cave, after just one album that was released in 2020. Estuary represents the next step along this trail of spirited progressive/post-metal that these two bandmates began blazing years ago.

It turns out that Estuary is an apt metaphor for Electric Sun Defence’s music. Estuaries, formed when freshwater rivers mix with the salty ocean, account for some of the world’s most productive wildlife ecosystems. Similarly, Estuary inhabits the sweet spot between the melodicism of prog and the coarse textures of post-metal. Much like The Ocean and Void of Light, Electric Sun Defence is prone to change from tranquil to tempestuous at a moment’s notice. The flurries of activity are glued together with delicious, delicate post-rock segments in the vein of pg.lost or Red Sparowes. The balance between these competing interests can feel fragile at times, but they manage to coexist and enrich their musical environment together.

Estuary’s standout strength is the masterful buildup and discharge of tension. This is immediately clear as the title track begins, layering bass and horns atop cymbal taps and serene guitars, then eventually erupting into a furious post-metal wave. “Fountain of Blood” takes things further with harsh guitar riffs that also contain the perfect amount of groove. “The Master’s Garden” deftly winds between glassy post-rock and distorted chords, climaxing with an intricate guitar melody. Though the intensity waxes and wanes, there is a clear trend of increasing aggression as Estuary progresses, becoming more like a combination of Cult of Luna and Dvne for the final two tracks, “Phantom Limb Amputee” and “In Bestia.” During the latter, Pete Colquhoun really gets to let loose with forceful and frenetic rhythms behind the kit. Don’t let the monochromatic album art fool you; Electric Sun Defence paints with a wide array of aural hues.

The dynamic composition is good, but when paired with an intuitive flow, the experience borders on transcendent. Each track fluidly transitions to the next, and the fact that none of them exceeds 8 minutes helps to keep Estuary from becoming stale. This is a rare instance of the shorter interlude tracks serving a larger purpose, albeit in a subtle way. “Spiderweb” is pretty enough that I can look past its bothersome soundbites, and “Dysmorph” functions as a reprieve while setting the stage for the raging “Phantom Limb Amputee” that follows. The grouping of these tracks with the shoegaze elements in “Choke Leper” causes the momentum to sag a little, but not terribly so. Another minor weak point is that the vocals—especially the cleans—can sound muffled, but the strength of the instruments helps compensate.

Though I entered Estuary with no expectations, it turned out to be exactly what I was looking for at the time. It keeps the listener guessing from moment to moment with the continual assurance that they’ll love whatever comes next. Electric Sun Defence shows their versatility by wielding both emotive melody and crushing ferocity. Albums like this make me pause and appreciate the privilege we have to conveniently access great music from all over the world. Electric Sun Defence might be the best metal group in Eigg by default, but they can give others in larger regions a serious run for their money too.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Road To Masochist
Websites: electricsundefence.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/people/Electric-Sun-Defence
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

It’s easy to take the Internet for granted, given how ubiquitous it is these days. A couple of decades ago, it would have been unthinkable for someone like me who lives in the United States to stumble upon music made by a group from Eigg. Hailing from this small Scottish island—with a population of only about 100—Joe Cormack and Pete Colquhoun formed Electric Sun Defence following the early dissolution of their former group, The Massacre Cave, after just one album that was released in 2020. Estuary represents the next step along this trail of spirited progressive/post-metal that these two bandmates began blazing years ago.

It turns out that Estuary is an apt metaphor for Electric Sun Defence’s music. Estuaries, formed when freshwater rivers mix with the salty ocean, account for some of the world’s most productive wildlife ecosystems. Similarly, Estuary inhabits the sweet spot between the melodicism of prog and the coarse textures of post-metal. Much like The Ocean and Void of Light, Electric Sun Defence is prone to change from tranquil to tempestuous at a moment’s notice. The flurries of activity are glued together with delicious, delicate post-rock segments in the vein of pg.lost or Red Sparowes. The balance between these competing interests can feel fragile at times, but they manage to coexist and enrich their musical environment together.

Estuary’s standout strength is the masterful buildup and discharge of tension. This is immediately clear as the title track begins, layering bass and horns atop cymbal taps and serene guitars, then eventually erupting into a furious post-metal wave. “Fountain of Blood” takes things further with harsh guitar riffs that also contain the perfect amount of groove. “The Master’s Garden” deftly winds between glassy post-rock and distorted chords, climaxing with an intricate guitar melody. Though the intensity waxes and wanes, there is a clear trend of increasing aggression as Estuary progresses, becoming more like a combination of Cult of Luna and Dvne for the final two tracks, “Phantom Limb Amputee” and “In Bestia.” During the latter, Pete Colquhoun really gets to let loose with forceful and frenetic rhythms behind the kit. Don’t let the monochromatic album art fool you; Electric Sun Defence paints with a wide array of aural hues.

The dynamic composition is good, but when paired with an intuitive flow, the experience borders on transcendent. Each track fluidly transitions to the next, and the fact that none of them exceeds 8 minutes helps to keep Estuary from becoming stale. This is a rare instance of the shorter interlude tracks serving a larger purpose, albeit in a subtle way. “Spiderweb” is pretty enough that I can look past its bothersome soundbites, and “Dysmorph” functions as a reprieve while setting the stage for the raging “Phantom Limb Amputee” that follows. The grouping of these tracks with the shoegaze elements in “Choke Leper” causes the momentum to sag a little, but not terribly so. Another minor weak point is that the vocals—especially the cleans—can sound muffled, but the strength of the instruments helps compensate.

Though I entered Estuary with no expectations, it turned out to be exactly what I was looking for at the time. It keeps the listener guessing from moment to moment with the continual assurance that they’ll love whatever comes next. Electric Sun Defence shows their versatility by wielding both emotive melody and crushing ferocity. Albums like this make me pause and appreciate the privilege we have to conveniently access great music from all over the world. Electric Sun Defence might be the best metal group in Eigg by default, but they can give others in larger regions a serious run for their money too.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Road To Masochist
Websites: electricsundefence.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/people/Electric-Sun-Defence
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

It’s easy to take the Internet for granted, given how ubiquitous it is these days. A couple of decades ago, it would have been unthinkable for someone like me who lives in the United States to stumble upon music made by a group from Eigg. Hailing from this small Scottish island—with a population of only about 100—Joe Cormack and Pete Colquhoun formed Electric Sun Defence following the early dissolution of their former group, The Massacre Cave, after just one album that was released in 2020. Estuary represents the next step along this trail of spirited progressive/post-metal that these two bandmates began blazing years ago.

It turns out that Estuary is an apt metaphor for Electric Sun Defence’s music. Estuaries, formed when freshwater rivers mix with the salty ocean, account for some of the world’s most productive wildlife ecosystems. Similarly, Estuary inhabits the sweet spot between the melodicism of prog and the coarse textures of post-metal. Much like The Ocean and Void of Light, Electric Sun Defence is prone to change from tranquil to tempestuous at a moment’s notice. The flurries of activity are glued together with delicious, delicate post-rock segments in the vein of pg.lost or Red Sparowes. The balance between these competing interests can feel fragile at times, but they manage to coexist and enrich their musical environment together.

Estuary’s standout strength is the masterful buildup and discharge of tension. This is immediately clear as the title track begins, layering bass and horns atop cymbal taps and serene guitars, then eventually erupting into a furious post-metal wave. “Fountain of Blood” takes things further with harsh guitar riffs that also contain the perfect amount of groove. “The Master’s Garden” deftly winds between glassy post-rock and distorted chords, climaxing with an intricate guitar melody. Though the intensity waxes and wanes, there is a clear trend of increasing aggression as Estuary progresses, becoming more like a combination of Cult of Luna and Dvne for the final two tracks, “Phantom Limb Amputee” and “In Bestia.” During the latter, Pete Colquhoun really gets to let loose with forceful and frenetic rhythms behind the kit. Don’t let the monochromatic album art fool you; Electric Sun Defence paints with a wide array of aural hues.

The dynamic composition is good, but when paired with an intuitive flow, the experience borders on transcendent. Each track fluidly transitions to the next, and the fact that none of them exceeds 8 minutes helps to keep Estuary from becoming stale. This is a rare instance of the shorter interlude tracks serving a larger purpose, albeit in a subtle way. “Spiderweb” is pretty enough that I can look past its bothersome soundbites, and “Dysmorph” functions as a reprieve while setting the stage for the raging “Phantom Limb Amputee” that follows. The grouping of these tracks with the shoegaze elements in “Choke Leper” causes the momentum to sag a little, but not terribly so. Another minor weak point is that the vocals—especially the cleans—can sound muffled, but the strength of the instruments helps compensate.

Though I entered Estuary with no expectations, it turned out to be exactly what I was looking for at the time. It keeps the listener guessing from moment to moment with the continual assurance that they’ll love whatever comes next. Electric Sun Defence shows their versatility by wielding both emotive melody and crushing ferocity. Albums like this make me pause and appreciate the privilege we have to conveniently access great music from all over the world. Electric Sun Defence might be the best metal group in Eigg by default, but they can give others in larger regions a serious run for their money too.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Road To Masochist
Websites: electricsundefence.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/people/Electric-Sun-Defence
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

It’s easy to take the Internet for granted, given how ubiquitous it is these days. A couple of decades ago, it would have been unthinkable for someone like me who lives in the United States to stumble upon music made by a group from Eigg. Hailing from this small Scottish island—with a population of only about 100—Joe Cormack and Pete Colquhoun formed Electric Sun Defence following the early dissolution of their former group, The Massacre Cave, after just one album that was released in 2020. Estuary represents the next step along this trail of spirited progressive/post-metal that these two bandmates began blazing years ago.

It turns out that Estuary is an apt metaphor for Electric Sun Defence’s music. Estuaries, formed when freshwater rivers mix with the salty ocean, account for some of the world’s most productive wildlife ecosystems. Similarly, Estuary inhabits the sweet spot between the melodicism of prog and the coarse textures of post-metal. Much like The Ocean and Void of Light, Electric Sun Defence is prone to change from tranquil to tempestuous at a moment’s notice. The flurries of activity are glued together with delicious, delicate post-rock segments in the vein of pg.lost or Red Sparowes. The balance between these competing interests can feel fragile at times, but they manage to coexist and enrich their musical environment together.

Estuary’s standout strength is the masterful buildup and discharge of tension. This is immediately clear as the title track begins, layering bass and horns atop cymbal taps and serene guitars, then eventually erupting into a furious post-metal wave. “Fountain of Blood” takes things further with harsh guitar riffs that also contain the perfect amount of groove. “The Master’s Garden” deftly winds between glassy post-rock and distorted chords, climaxing with an intricate guitar melody. Though the intensity waxes and wanes, there is a clear trend of increasing aggression as Estuary progresses, becoming more like a combination of Cult of Luna and Dvne for the final two tracks, “Phantom Limb Amputee” and “In Bestia.” During the latter, Pete Colquhoun really gets to let loose with forceful and frenetic rhythms behind the kit. Don’t let the monochromatic album art fool you; Electric Sun Defence paints with a wide array of aural hues.

The dynamic composition is good, but when paired with an intuitive flow, the experience borders on transcendent. Each track fluidly transitions to the next, and the fact that none of them exceeds 8 minutes helps to keep Estuary from becoming stale. This is a rare instance of the shorter interlude tracks serving a larger purpose, albeit in a subtle way. “Spiderweb” is pretty enough that I can look past its bothersome soundbites, and “Dysmorph” functions as a reprieve while setting the stage for the raging “Phantom Limb Amputee” that follows. The grouping of these tracks with the shoegaze elements in “Choke Leper” causes the momentum to sag a little, but not terribly so. Another minor weak point is that the vocals—especially the cleans—can sound muffled, but the strength of the instruments helps compensate.

Though I entered Estuary with no expectations, it turned out to be exactly what I was looking for at the time. It keeps the listener guessing from moment to moment with the continual assurance that they’ll love whatever comes next. Electric Sun Defence shows their versatility by wielding both emotive melody and crushing ferocity. Albums like this make me pause and appreciate the privilege we have to conveniently access great music from all over the world. Electric Sun Defence might be the best metal group in Eigg by default, but they can give others in larger regions a serious run for their money too.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Road To Masochist
Websites: electricsundefence.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/people/Electric-Sun-Defence
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

It’s easy to take the Internet for granted, given how ubiquitous it is these days. A couple of decades ago, it would have been unthinkable for someone like me who lives in the United States to stumble upon music made by a group from Eigg. Hailing from this small Scottish island—with a population of only about 100—Joe Cormack and Pete Colquhoun formed Electric Sun Defence following the early dissolution of their former group, The Massacre Cave, after just one album that was released in 2020. Estuary represents the next step along this trail of spirited progressive/post-metal that these two bandmates began blazing years ago.

It turns out that Estuary is an apt metaphor for Electric Sun Defence’s music. Estuaries, formed when freshwater rivers mix with the salty ocean, account for some of the world’s most productive wildlife ecosystems. Similarly, Estuary inhabits the sweet spot between the melodicism of prog and the coarse textures of post-metal. Much like The Ocean and Void of Light, Electric Sun Defence is prone to change from tranquil to tempestuous at a moment’s notice. The flurries of activity are glued together with delicious, delicate post-rock segments in the vein of pg.lost or Red Sparowes. The balance between these competing interests can feel fragile at times, but they manage to coexist and enrich their musical environment together.

Estuary’s standout strength is the masterful buildup and discharge of tension. This is immediately clear as the title track begins, layering bass and horns atop cymbal taps and serene guitars, then eventually erupting into a furious post-metal wave. “Fountain of Blood” takes things further with harsh guitar riffs that also contain the perfect amount of groove. “The Master’s Garden” deftly winds between glassy post-rock and distorted chords, climaxing with an intricate guitar melody. Though the intensity waxes and wanes, there is a clear trend of increasing aggression as Estuary progresses, becoming more like a combination of Cult of Luna and Dvne for the final two tracks, “Phantom Limb Amputee” and “In Bestia.” During the latter, Pete Colquhoun really gets to let loose with forceful and frenetic rhythms behind the kit. Don’t let the monochromatic album art fool you; Electric Sun Defence paints with a wide array of aural hues.

The dynamic composition is good, but when paired with an intuitive flow, the experience borders on transcendent. Each track fluidly transitions to the next, and the fact that none of them exceeds 8 minutes helps to keep Estuary from becoming stale. This is a rare instance of the shorter interlude tracks serving a larger purpose, albeit in a subtle way. “Spiderweb” is pretty enough that I can look past its bothersome soundbites, and “Dysmorph” functions as a reprieve while setting the stage for the raging “Phantom Limb Amputee” that follows. The grouping of these tracks with the shoegaze elements in “Choke Leper” causes the momentum to sag a little, but not terribly so. Another minor weak point is that the vocals—especially the cleans—can sound muffled, but the strength of the instruments helps compensate.

Though I entered Estuary with no expectations, it turned out to be exactly what I was looking for at the time. It keeps the listener guessing from moment to moment with the continual assurance that they’ll love whatever comes next. Electric Sun Defence shows their versatility by wielding both emotive melody and crushing ferocity. Albums like this make me pause and appreciate the privilege we have to conveniently access great music from all over the world. Electric Sun Defence might be the best metal group in Eigg by default, but they can give others in larger regions a serious run for their money too.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Road To Masochist
Websites: electricsundefence.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/people/Electric-Sun-Defence
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

https://www.europesays.com/nl/178293/ Ultha – A Light So Dim #2026 #ALightSoDim #ambient #AmbientBlackMetal #Amusement #AshBorer #atmospheric #BlackMetal #BlutAusNord #CultOfLuna #Dutch #Entertainment #Music #Muziek #Nederland #Nederlanden #Nederlands #Netherlands #NL #recensie #SunWorship #swans #ultha #VendettaRecords #weakling #wiegedood #WolvesInTheThroneRoom #YellowEyes #ZwareMetalen

https://www.europesays.com/be-nl/38889/ Ultha – A Light So Dim #2026 #ALightSoDim #ambient #AmbientBlackMetal #Amusement #AshBorer #atmospheric #BE #België #Belgium #BlackMetal #BlutAusNord #CultOfLuna #Entertainment #Music #Muziek #recensie #SunWorship #swans #ultha #VendettaRecords #weakling #wiegedood #WolvesInTheThroneRoom #YellowEyes #ZwareMetalen

RE: https://mastodon.social/@fyre_festivals/116084993670722405

Voor de hoeveelste keer?! #cultofluna #roadburn #gaap

Back in 2004, an album called Fallout dropped from an unheralded little band called Slumber. It was a lush, gorgeous piece of melodic doom in the vein of early Katatonia, Rapture, and Insomnium, and there was something very special about the moods created within. It remains a beloved album of Yours Steely, and I often wonder why it isn’t better known. Slumber guitarist/songwriter Jari Lindholm would go on to start Enshine, and their Origin and Singulariuty albums took the Slumber aesthetic forward to new soundscapes. Singularity was my Album o’ the Year in 2015, and I still get dragged into its glorious depths at regular intervals. It’s been a long wait for a new Enshine opus as Jari puttered with his ExGenesis and self-titled projects, but word broke in December that a new Enshine was imminent. Elevation was dropped without much fanfare or advanced promo campaigns, so we had to get our greasy mitts on it the same way the filthy masses do. As with past Enshine efforts, Elevation finds Jari Lindholm teamed with Sébastien Pierre, and their classic sound is present, still sitting somewhere between melodoom and melancholic melodeath, and naturally, it’s beautifully rendered. But can it maintain the same high level as the earlier works?

Opener “Shimmering” suggests it can as you’re greeted by the expected cavalcade of opulent trilling leads with melancholic flourishes. Everything is highly polished and bright as the sun, with guitar and keyboards rising and swelling in melodic waves. The music reminds me of modern Insomnium and the mellower moments on Omnium Gatherum’s New World Shadows. Sébastien Pierre provides effective death metal roars that suit the music, and the pieces all fit together well. It’s not the best thing Enshine’s ever done, but it’s pretty damn good. It soon becomes apparent, however, that the opener is one of the most lively tracks on offer. “Heartbliss” has harsher vocals, but they’re wrapped up in a glossy pancake of airy, ethereal melodoom without much in the way of an actual “doom” component to ground things and provide real impact. Jari’s guitar work is ephemeral, stunning, and I could listen to it for days, but the song itself doesn’t stick in my memory. I enjoy it as it floats past, but cannot recall it thereafter. “Where the Sunrise is Felt” self-corrects, providing a beefier riffing foundation, and Sébastien sounds extra spicy here. You still get a deluge of ethereal noodling to float upon, but it’s balanced by some beef, and that makes a difference.

Just as things seem to be moving in the right direction, “Distant Glow” hits with 4 minutes of bright, sugar-coated synthwave devoid of vocals or the slightest edge. It’s moody but dull, and it derails the energy Elevation was beginning to establish. Around this point, it dawned on me that the album is something they could play at a new age spa without disrupting the tranquility or displacing anyone’s chakra. I suppose there’s a place for “spa-metal,” but not on my goddamn property. The remainder of Elevation is loaded with languid, lustrous melodoom with the emphasis on the melo part. I’m reminded of Omnium Gatherum and later era Anathema, and the ravishing sounds are omnipresent, but it’s often sleepy and overly restrained. Here and there, Sébastien or Jari lapses into a whispered delivery, and that choice sums up Elevation as well as anything: it’s dialed-back music designed to avoid any emotion beyond a sullen glaze-over. It’s gorgeous but without real peaks and valleys or much in the way of dramatic impact. Without memorable individual moments, it becomes too easy to lose focus while listening, and the music very quickly slips into the background. Not only does the material tend to sit in the back row of your attention, but the songs tend to bleed together into an ornate, noodly mush. Lovely but unmemorable.

I’m a huge fan of Jari Lindholm’s guitar work, and his brilliance is on display all over Elevation. He has a unique ability to craft such gorgeous and moody guitar lines and layer them in a way that generates a fog of emotion. While his talents are in force here, the end result is less immediate and dynamic than on past works. There’s no shortage of sumptuous leads and delicate solos, but the overall effect is too often lethargy rather than emotional pangs and pulses. A lot of Elevation simply washes over and past me without activating my memory circuits. Jari and Sébastien share vocals, and though Sébastien’s death roars are good, they don’t add as much pop to the material as they could. Sébastien also handles keyboards, and at times his playing becomes a touch cloying and even cheesy. Ultimately, I spend too much time waiting for Jari and/or Sébastien to go harder and provide more oomph to the proceedings, but they rarely do.

Elevation is a gorgeous listen, but there aren’t many songs that I recall once the album ends. It’s a worthwhile listen, and I doubt Enshine could make a bad album, but this really makes me want to spin Singularity or Origin instead. That’s a big bummer for me, and I hope your melo mileage varies. Now go find that Slumber album and learn!

Rating: 3.0/5.01
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: enshine.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/enshine.band
Releases Worldwide: January 3rd, 2026

Maddog

I can’t overstate Enshine’s impact on my music taste. As a teen, I enjoyed melodic death metal, but struggled with the genre’s doomier acts. One day, I stumbled upon Enshine’s 2013 debut Origin. Having never heard of Jari Lindholm’s landmark band Slumber, I came in with few expectations. Eschewing the nondescript riffs that I had come to expect from doom, Origin captivated me with its creative melodies, gigantic climaxes, and synth-laced atmosphere. Most importantly, it brought tears to my eyes. Singularity followed suit in 2015, dragging slightly but hitting hard nonetheless. While Lindholm has released other albums via Exgenesis and his solo work in the interim, Elevation breaks a decade-long silence for Enshine. While it can’t match my first wide-eyed listen through Origin, Elevation is a worthy companion to a sorrowful night.

Enshine has always made every instrument count. Rather than fading into the background, Giannis Koskinas’ (Ocean of Grief) bass steals the show with lively lead melodies (“The Moment”). Conversely, on tracks like “Where the Sunrise Is Felt,” the rhythm section supplies a simple but hefty backbone to steer the song along. Sébastien Pierre’s keyboard is as active as ever, providing both center-stage melodies and a canvas for the other instruments. It’s remarkable how well this works; indeed, the key-heavy instrumental “Distant Glow” is one of Elevation’s most haunting cuts. Pierre and Lindholm’s vocals are unremarkable but get the job done, and the vocal lines are perfectly timed to accentuate the album’s peaks. Of course, while each of these pieces is compelling, Elevation’s guitars are a masterclass. Serving up huge Insomnium riffs, tear-jerking melodies, and minimalist interludes, Lindholm’s guitar work is varied but consistently impressive. Rounded out by a rich tone, Elevation is a full-blown sonic tapestry.

Elevation by Enshine

Enshine’s best work excels in both its climaxes and the journeys between them. Enshine’s riffs are more enormous than ever, with “The Purity of Emptiness” showcasing some pounding specimens. The rhythm section accentuates this riffwork like a thundering heartbeat. Elevation’s melodic peaks are just as lofty, and an explosive guitar solo makes the opener “Shimmering” an early contender for song of the year. As always, Enshine knows when and how to dial it back. For instance, the opening melody of “Heartbliss” serves as a serene counterpoint to the song’s beefier moments, while the closer “Reignite” relieves tension through its sparse midsection. While Elevation often flits masterfully between these extremes, it sometimes fizzles out. The aforementioned “Heartbliss” and “Reignite,” the two longest tracks, both spend their last few minutes in forgettable melodic ramblings. More generally, the album’s back half often settles into a neutral middle ground that neither excites nor calms. Elevation sometimes loses its footing, but most of its runtime is a dexterous volley between aggression and tranquility.

Accordingly, Elevation packs a powerful but inconsistent emotional punch. The most conventional source is the album’s soaring melodies, like those on “Shimmering.” But Enshine’s heart often hides in unlikely spots. “The Moment” hypnotizes the listener with a simple guitar riff, transmutes it into a tragic behemoth, and culminates in rhythmic repetition that evokes Cult of Luna. The key-driven “Distant Glow” remains the album’s most unlikely triumph. By rooting itself in one bittersweet melodic motif, “Distant Glow” evolves seamlessly from a chamomile-infused Infected Mushroom trance to punchy melodeath riffs. The result is a four-minute track that feels like a lifetime, in the best possible way. In contrast, parts of Elevation feel clinical. Songs like “The Purity of Emptiness” rely on interchangeable mid-paced riffs that fade from memory, and even stronger tracks fall into the same age-old trap (“Where the Sunrise Is Felt”). Enshine hasn’t lost their secret sauce, but they have diluted it.

But even more so than usual, I’m an unreliable narrator trapped in the tiniest of prisons. My twelve years with Enshine both paint and taint my perspective. So yes, “Reignite” is Enshine’s worst closer; but that’s because I remember the months I leaned on “Apex” and the friendship I strengthened with “Constellation.” And yes, Elevation sometimes gets lost in meandering riffs; but that sticks out because Origin is the pinnacle of concise melodeath-doom. Enshine’s former glory offers a convenient template for critiquing its follow-ups. In truth, Elevation is an enchanting release from a band that I’d feared would never return. Whether you’re an Enshine addict, a curious first-timer, or even a non-metalhead, Elevation demands and earns your attention.



Rating: 3.5/5.02

Back in 2004, an album called Fallout dropped from an unheralded little band called Slumber. It was a lush, gorgeous piece of melodic doom in the vein of early Katatonia, Rapture, and Insomnium, and there was something very special about the moods created within. It remains a beloved album of Yours Steely, and I often wonder why it isn’t better known. Slumber guitarist/songwriter Jari Lindholm would go on to start Enshine, and their Origin and Singulariuty albums took the Slumber aesthetic forward to new soundscapes. Singularity was my Album o’ the Year in 2015, and I still get dragged into its glorious depths at regular intervals. It’s been a long wait for a new Enshine opus as Jari puttered with his ExGenesis and self-titled projects, but word broke in December that a new Enshine was imminent. Elevation was dropped without much fanfare or advanced promo campaigns, so we had to get our greasy mitts on it the same way the filthy masses do. As with past Enshine efforts, Elevation finds Jari Lindholm teamed with Sébastien Pierre, and their classic sound is present, still sitting somewhere between melodoom and melancholic melodeath, and naturally, it’s beautifully rendered. But can it maintain the same high level as the earlier works?

Opener “Shimmering” suggests it can as you’re greeted by the expected cavalcade of opulent trilling leads with melancholic flourishes. Everything is highly polished and bright as the sun, with guitar and keyboards rising and swelling in melodic waves. The music reminds me of modern Insomnium and the mellower moments on Omnium Gatherum’s New World Shadows. Sébastien Pierre provides effective death metal roars that suit the music, and the pieces all fit together well. It’s not the best thing Enshine’s ever done, but it’s pretty damn good. It soon becomes apparent, however, that the opener is one of the most lively tracks on offer. “Heartbliss” has harsher vocals, but they’re wrapped up in a glossy pancake of airy, ethereal melodoom without much in the way of an actual “doom” component to ground things and provide real impact. Jari’s guitar work is ephemeral, stunning, and I could listen to it for days, but the song itself doesn’t stick in my memory. I enjoy it as it floats past, but cannot recall it thereafter. “Where the Sunrise is Felt” self-corrects, providing a beefier riffing foundation, and Sébastien sounds extra spicy here. You still get a deluge of ethereal noodling to float upon, but it’s balanced by some beef, and that makes a difference.

Just as things seem to be moving in the right direction, “Distant Glow” hits with 4 minutes of bright, sugar-coated synthwave devoid of vocals or the slightest edge. It’s moody but dull, and it derails the energy Elevation was beginning to establish. Around this point, it dawned on me that the album is something they could play at a new age spa without disrupting the tranquility or displacing anyone’s chakra. I suppose there’s a place for “spa-metal,” but not on my goddamn property. The remainder of Elevation is loaded with languid, lustrous melodoom with the emphasis on the melo part. I’m reminded of Omnium Gatherum and later era Anathema, and the ravishing sounds are omnipresent, but it’s often sleepy and overly restrained. Here and there, Sébastien or Jari lapses into a whispered delivery, and that choice sums up Elevation as well as anything: it’s dialed-back music designed to avoid any emotion beyond a sullen glaze-over. It’s gorgeous but without real peaks and valleys or much in the way of dramatic impact. Without memorable individual moments, it becomes too easy to lose focus while listening, and the music very quickly slips into the background. Not only does the material tend to sit in the back row of your attention, but the songs tend to bleed together into an ornate, noodly mush. Lovely but unmemorable.

I’m a huge fan of Jari Lindholm’s guitar work, and his brilliance is on display all over Elevation. He has a unique ability to craft such gorgeous and moody guitar lines and layer them in a way that generates a fog of emotion. While his talents are in force here, the end result is less immediate and dynamic than on past works. There’s no shortage of sumptuous leads and delicate solos, but the overall effect is too often lethargy rather than emotional pangs and pulses. A lot of Elevation simply washes over and past me without activating my memory circuits. Jari and Sébastien share vocals, and though Sébastien’s death roars are good, they don’t add as much pop to the material as they could. Sébastien also handles keyboards, and at times his playing becomes a touch cloying and even cheesy. Ultimately, I spend too much time waiting for Jari and/or Sébastien to go harder and provide more oomph to the proceedings, but they rarely do.

Elevation is a gorgeous listen, but there aren’t many songs that I recall once the album ends. It’s a worthwhile listen, and I doubt Enshine could make a bad album, but this really makes me want to spin Singularity or Origin instead. That’s a big bummer for me, and I hope your melo mileage varies. Now go find that Slumber album and learn!

Rating: 3.0/5.01
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: enshine.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/enshine.band
Releases Worldwide: January 3rd, 2026

Maddog

I can’t overstate Enshine’s impact on my music taste. As a teen, I enjoyed melodic death metal, but struggled with the genre’s doomier acts. One day, I stumbled upon Enshine’s 2013 debut Origin. Having never heard of Jari Lindholm’s landmark band Slumber, I came in with few expectations. Eschewing the nondescript riffs that I had come to expect from doom, Origin captivated me with its creative melodies, gigantic climaxes, and synth-laced atmosphere. Most importantly, it brought tears to my eyes. Singularity followed suit in 2015, dragging slightly but hitting hard nonetheless. While Lindholm has released other albums via Exgenesis and his solo work in the interim, Elevation breaks a decade-long silence for Enshine. While it can’t match my first wide-eyed listen through Origin, Elevation is a worthy companion to a sorrowful night.

Enshine has always made every instrument count. Rather than fading into the background, Giannis Koskinas’ (Ocean of Grief) bass steals the show with lively lead melodies (“The Moment”). Conversely, on tracks like “Where the Sunrise Is Felt,” the rhythm section supplies a simple but hefty backbone to steer the song along. Sébastien Pierre’s keyboard is as active as ever, providing both center-stage melodies and a canvas for the other instruments. It’s remarkable how well this works; indeed, the key-heavy instrumental “Distant Glow” is one of Elevation’s most haunting cuts. Pierre and Lindholm’s vocals are unremarkable but get the job done, and the vocal lines are perfectly timed to accentuate the album’s peaks. Of course, while each of these pieces is compelling, Elevation’s guitars are a masterclass. Serving up huge Insomnium riffs, tear-jerking melodies, and minimalist interludes, Lindholm’s guitar work is varied but consistently impressive. Rounded out by a rich tone, Elevation is a full-blown sonic tapestry.

Elevation by Enshine

Enshine’s best work excels in both its climaxes and the journeys between them. Enshine’s riffs are more enormous than ever, with “The Purity of Emptiness” showcasing some pounding specimens. The rhythm section accentuates this riffwork like a thundering heartbeat. Elevation’s melodic peaks are just as lofty, and an explosive guitar solo makes the opener “Shimmering” an early contender for song of the year. As always, Enshine knows when and how to dial it back. For instance, the opening melody of “Heartbliss” serves as a serene counterpoint to the song’s beefier moments, while the closer “Reignite” relieves tension through its sparse midsection. While Elevation often flits masterfully between these extremes, it sometimes fizzles out. The aforementioned “Heartbliss” and “Reignite,” the two longest tracks, both spend their last few minutes in forgettable melodic ramblings. More generally, the album’s back half often settles into a neutral middle ground that neither excites nor calms. Elevation sometimes loses its footing, but most of its runtime is a dexterous volley between aggression and tranquility.

Accordingly, Elevation packs a powerful but inconsistent emotional punch. The most conventional source is the album’s soaring melodies, like those on “Shimmering.” But Enshine’s heart often hides in unlikely spots. “The Moment” hypnotizes the listener with a simple guitar riff, transmutes it into a tragic behemoth, and culminates in rhythmic repetition that evokes Cult of Luna. The key-driven “Distant Glow” remains the album’s most unlikely triumph. By rooting itself in one bittersweet melodic motif, “Distant Glow” evolves seamlessly from a chamomile-infused Infected Mushroom trance to punchy melodeath riffs. The result is a four-minute track that feels like a lifetime, in the best possible way. In contrast, parts of Elevation feel clinical. Songs like “The Purity of Emptiness” rely on interchangeable mid-paced riffs that fade from memory, and even stronger tracks fall into the same age-old trap (“Where the Sunrise Is Felt”). Enshine hasn’t lost their secret sauce, but they have diluted it.

But even more so than usual, I’m an unreliable narrator trapped in the tiniest of prisons. My twelve years with Enshine both paint and taint my perspective. So yes, “Reignite” is Enshine’s worst closer; but that’s because I remember the months I leaned on “Apex” and the friendship I strengthened with “Constellation.” And yes, Elevation sometimes gets lost in meandering riffs; but that sticks out because Origin is the pinnacle of concise melodeath-doom. Enshine’s former glory offers a convenient template for critiquing its follow-ups. In truth, Elevation is an enchanting release from a band that I’d feared would never return. Whether you’re an Enshine addict, a curious first-timer, or even a non-metalhead, Elevation demands and earns your attention.



Rating: 3.5/5.02

Back in 2004, an album called Fallout dropped from an unheralded little band called Slumber. It was a lush, gorgeous piece of melodic doom in the vein of early Katatonia, Rapture, and Insomnium, and there was something very special about the moods created within. It remains a beloved album of Yours Steely, and I often wonder why it isn’t better known. Slumber guitarist/songwriter Jari Lindholm would go on to start Enshine, and their Origin and Singulariuty albums took the Slumber aesthetic forward to new soundscapes. Singularity was my Album o’ the Year in 2015, and I still get dragged into its glorious depths at regular intervals. It’s been a long wait for a new Enshine opus as Jari puttered with his ExGenesis and self-titled projects, but word broke in December that a new Enshine was imminent. Elevation was dropped without much fanfare or advanced promo campaigns, so we had to get our greasy mitts on it the same way the filthy masses do. As with past Enshine efforts, Elevation finds Jari Lindholm teamed with Sébastien Pierre, and their classic sound is present, still sitting somewhere between melodoom and melancholic melodeath, and naturally, it’s beautifully rendered. But can it maintain the same high level as the earlier works?

Opener “Shimmering” suggests it can as you’re greeted by the expected cavalcade of opulent trilling leads with melancholic flourishes. Everything is highly polished and bright as the sun, with guitar and keyboards rising and swelling in melodic waves. The music reminds me of modern Insomnium and the mellower moments on Omnium Gatherum’s New World Shadows. Sébastien Pierre provides effective death metal roars that suit the music, and the pieces all fit together well. It’s not the best thing Enshine’s ever done, but it’s pretty damn good. It soon becomes apparent, however, that the opener is one of the most lively tracks on offer. “Heartbliss” has harsher vocals, but they’re wrapped up in a glossy pancake of airy, ethereal melodoom without much in the way of an actual “doom” component to ground things and provide real impact. Jari’s guitar work is ephemeral, stunning, and I could listen to it for days, but the song itself doesn’t stick in my memory. I enjoy it as it floats past, but cannot recall it thereafter. “Where the Sunrise is Felt” self-corrects, providing a beefier riffing foundation, and Sébastien sounds extra spicy here. You still get a deluge of ethereal noodling to float upon, but it’s balanced by some beef, and that makes a difference.

Just as things seem to be moving in the right direction, “Distant Glow” hits with 4 minutes of bright, sugar-coated synthwave devoid of vocals or the slightest edge. It’s moody but dull, and it derails the energy Elevation was beginning to establish. Around this point, it dawned on me that the album is something they could play at a new age spa without disrupting the tranquility or displacing anyone’s chakra. I suppose there’s a place for “spa-metal,” but not on my goddamn property. The remainder of Elevation is loaded with languid, lustrous melodoom with the emphasis on the melo part. I’m reminded of Omnium Gatherum and later era Anathema, and the ravishing sounds are omnipresent, but it’s often sleepy and overly restrained. Here and there, Sébastien or Jari lapses into a whispered delivery, and that choice sums up Elevation as well as anything: it’s dialed-back music designed to avoid any emotion beyond a sullen glaze-over. It’s gorgeous but without real peaks and valleys or much in the way of dramatic impact. Without memorable individual moments, it becomes too easy to lose focus while listening, and the music very quickly slips into the background. Not only does the material tend to sit in the back row of your attention, but the songs tend to bleed together into an ornate, noodly mush. Lovely but unmemorable.

I’m a huge fan of Jari Lindholm’s guitar work, and his brilliance is on display all over Elevation. He has a unique ability to craft such gorgeous and moody guitar lines and layer them in a way that generates a fog of emotion. While his talents are in force here, the end result is less immediate and dynamic than on past works. There’s no shortage of sumptuous leads and delicate solos, but the overall effect is too often lethargy rather than emotional pangs and pulses. A lot of Elevation simply washes over and past me without activating my memory circuits. Jari and Sébastien share vocals, and though Sébastien’s death roars are good, they don’t add as much pop to the material as they could. Sébastien also handles keyboards, and at times his playing becomes a touch cloying and even cheesy. Ultimately, I spend too much time waiting for Jari and/or Sébastien to go harder and provide more oomph to the proceedings, but they rarely do.

Elevation is a gorgeous listen, but there aren’t many songs that I recall once the album ends. It’s a worthwhile listen, and I doubt Enshine could make a bad album, but this really makes me want to spin Singularity or Origin instead. That’s a big bummer for me, and I hope your melo mileage varies. Now go find that Slumber album and learn!

Rating: 3.0/5.01
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: enshine.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/enshine.band
Releases Worldwide: January 3rd, 2026

Maddog

I can’t overstate Enshine’s impact on my music taste. As a teen, I enjoyed melodic death metal, but struggled with the genre’s doomier acts. One day, I stumbled upon Enshine’s 2013 debut Origin. Having never heard of Jari Lindholm’s landmark band Slumber, I came in with few expectations. Eschewing the nondescript riffs that I had come to expect from doom, Origin captivated me with its creative melodies, gigantic climaxes, and synth-laced atmosphere. Most importantly, it brought tears to my eyes. Singularity followed suit in 2015, dragging slightly but hitting hard nonetheless. While Lindholm has released other albums via Exgenesis and his solo work in the interim, Elevation breaks a decade-long silence for Enshine. While it can’t match my first wide-eyed listen through Origin, Elevation is a worthy companion to a sorrowful night.

Enshine has always made every instrument count. Rather than fading into the background, Giannis Koskinas’ (Ocean of Grief) bass steals the show with lively lead melodies (“The Moment”). Conversely, on tracks like “Where the Sunrise Is Felt,” the rhythm section supplies a simple but hefty backbone to steer the song along. Sébastien Pierre’s keyboard is as active as ever, providing both center-stage melodies and a canvas for the other instruments. It’s remarkable how well this works; indeed, the key-heavy instrumental “Distant Glow” is one of Elevation’s most haunting cuts. Pierre and Lindholm’s vocals are unremarkable but get the job done, and the vocal lines are perfectly timed to accentuate the album’s peaks. Of course, while each of these pieces is compelling, Elevation’s guitars are a masterclass. Serving up huge Insomnium riffs, tear-jerking melodies, and minimalist interludes, Lindholm’s guitar work is varied but consistently impressive. Rounded out by a rich tone, Elevation is a full-blown sonic tapestry.

Elevation by Enshine

Enshine’s best work excels in both its climaxes and the journeys between them. Enshine’s riffs are more enormous than ever, with “The Purity of Emptiness” showcasing some pounding specimens. The rhythm section accentuates this riffwork like a thundering heartbeat. Elevation’s melodic peaks are just as lofty, and an explosive guitar solo makes the opener “Shimmering” an early contender for song of the year. As always, Enshine knows when and how to dial it back. For instance, the opening melody of “Heartbliss” serves as a serene counterpoint to the song’s beefier moments, while the closer “Reignite” relieves tension through its sparse midsection. While Elevation often flits masterfully between these extremes, it sometimes fizzles out. The aforementioned “Heartbliss” and “Reignite,” the two longest tracks, both spend their last few minutes in forgettable melodic ramblings. More generally, the album’s back half often settles into a neutral middle ground that neither excites nor calms. Elevation sometimes loses its footing, but most of its runtime is a dexterous volley between aggression and tranquility.

Accordingly, Elevation packs a powerful but inconsistent emotional punch. The most conventional source is the album’s soaring melodies, like those on “Shimmering.” But Enshine’s heart often hides in unlikely spots. “The Moment” hypnotizes the listener with a simple guitar riff, transmutes it into a tragic behemoth, and culminates in rhythmic repetition that evokes Cult of Luna. The key-driven “Distant Glow” remains the album’s most unlikely triumph. By rooting itself in one bittersweet melodic motif, “Distant Glow” evolves seamlessly from a chamomile-infused Infected Mushroom trance to punchy melodeath riffs. The result is a four-minute track that feels like a lifetime, in the best possible way. In contrast, parts of Elevation feel clinical. Songs like “The Purity of Emptiness” rely on interchangeable mid-paced riffs that fade from memory, and even stronger tracks fall into the same age-old trap (“Where the Sunrise Is Felt”). Enshine hasn’t lost their secret sauce, but they have diluted it.

But even more so than usual, I’m an unreliable narrator trapped in the tiniest of prisons. My twelve years with Enshine both paint and taint my perspective. So yes, “Reignite” is Enshine’s worst closer; but that’s because I remember the months I leaned on “Apex” and the friendship I strengthened with “Constellation.” And yes, Elevation sometimes gets lost in meandering riffs; but that sticks out because Origin is the pinnacle of concise melodeath-doom. Enshine’s former glory offers a convenient template for critiquing its follow-ups. In truth, Elevation is an enchanting release from a band that I’d feared would never return. Whether you’re an Enshine addict, a curious first-timer, or even a non-metalhead, Elevation demands and earns your attention.



Rating: 3.5/5.02

Back in 2004, an album called Fallout dropped from an unheralded little band called Slumber. It was a lush, gorgeous piece of melodic doom in the vein of early Katatonia, Rapture, and Insomnium, and there was something very special about the moods created within. It remains a beloved album of Yours Steely, and I often wonder why it isn’t better known. Slumber guitarist/songwriter Jari Lindholm would go on to start Enshine, and their Origin and Singulariuty albums took the Slumber aesthetic forward to new soundscapes. Singularity was my Album o’ the Year in 2015, and I still get dragged into its glorious depths at regular intervals. It’s been a long wait for a new Enshine opus as Jari puttered with his ExGenesis and self-titled projects, but word broke in December that a new Enshine was imminent. Elevation was dropped without much fanfare or advanced promo campaigns, so we had to get our greasy mitts on it the same way the filthy masses do. As with past Enshine efforts, Elevation finds Jari Lindholm teamed with Sébastien Pierre, and their classic sound is present, still sitting somewhere between melodoom and melancholic melodeath, and naturally, it’s beautifully rendered. But can it maintain the same high level as the earlier works?

Opener “Shimmering” suggests it can as you’re greeted by the expected cavalcade of opulent trilling leads with melancholic flourishes. Everything is highly polished and bright as the sun, with guitar and keyboards rising and swelling in melodic waves. The music reminds me of modern Insomnium and the mellower moments on Omnium Gatherum’s New World Shadows. Sébastien Pierre provides effective death metal roars that suit the music, and the pieces all fit together well. It’s not the best thing Enshine’s ever done, but it’s pretty damn good. It soon becomes apparent, however, that the opener is one of the most lively tracks on offer. “Heartbliss” has harsher vocals, but they’re wrapped up in a glossy pancake of airy, ethereal melodoom without much in the way of an actual “doom” component to ground things and provide real impact. Jari’s guitar work is ephemeral, stunning, and I could listen to it for days, but the song itself doesn’t stick in my memory. I enjoy it as it floats past, but cannot recall it thereafter. “Where the Sunrise is Felt” self-corrects, providing a beefier riffing foundation, and Sébastien sounds extra spicy here. You still get a deluge of ethereal noodling to float upon, but it’s balanced by some beef, and that makes a difference.

Just as things seem to be moving in the right direction, “Distant Glow” hits with 4 minutes of bright, sugar-coated synthwave devoid of vocals or the slightest edge. It’s moody but dull, and it derails the energy Elevation was beginning to establish. Around this point, it dawned on me that the album is something they could play at a new age spa without disrupting the tranquility or displacing anyone’s chakra. I suppose there’s a place for “spa-metal,” but not on my goddamn property. The remainder of Elevation is loaded with languid, lustrous melodoom with the emphasis on the melo part. I’m reminded of Omnium Gatherum and later era Anathema, and the ravishing sounds are omnipresent, but it’s often sleepy and overly restrained. Here and there, Sébastien or Jari lapses into a whispered delivery, and that choice sums up Elevation as well as anything: it’s dialed-back music designed to avoid any emotion beyond a sullen glaze-over. It’s gorgeous but without real peaks and valleys or much in the way of dramatic impact. Without memorable individual moments, it becomes too easy to lose focus while listening, and the music very quickly slips into the background. Not only does the material tend to sit in the back row of your attention, but the songs tend to bleed together into an ornate, noodly mush. Lovely but unmemorable.

I’m a huge fan of Jari Lindholm’s guitar work, and his brilliance is on display all over Elevation. He has a unique ability to craft such gorgeous and moody guitar lines and layer them in a way that generates a fog of emotion. While his talents are in force here, the end result is less immediate and dynamic than on past works. There’s no shortage of sumptuous leads and delicate solos, but the overall effect is too often lethargy rather than emotional pangs and pulses. A lot of Elevation simply washes over and past me without activating my memory circuits. Jari and Sébastien share vocals, and though Sébastien’s death roars are good, they don’t add as much pop to the material as they could. Sébastien also handles keyboards, and at times his playing becomes a touch cloying and even cheesy. Ultimately, I spend too much time waiting for Jari and/or Sébastien to go harder and provide more oomph to the proceedings, but they rarely do.

Elevation is a gorgeous listen, but there aren’t many songs that I recall once the album ends. It’s a worthwhile listen, and I doubt Enshine could make a bad album, but this really makes me want to spin Singularity or Origin instead. That’s a big bummer for me, and I hope your melo mileage varies. Now go find that Slumber album and learn!

Rating: 3.0/5.01
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: enshine.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/enshine.band
Releases Worldwide: January 3rd, 2026

Maddog

I can’t overstate Enshine’s impact on my music taste. As a teen, I enjoyed melodic death metal, but struggled with the genre’s doomier acts. One day, I stumbled upon Enshine’s 2013 debut Origin. Having never heard of Jari Lindholm’s landmark band Slumber, I came in with few expectations. Eschewing the nondescript riffs that I had come to expect from doom, Origin captivated me with its creative melodies, gigantic climaxes, and synth-laced atmosphere. Most importantly, it brought tears to my eyes. Singularity followed suit in 2015, dragging slightly but hitting hard nonetheless. While Lindholm has released other albums via Exgenesis and his solo work in the interim, Elevation breaks a decade-long silence for Enshine. While it can’t match my first wide-eyed listen through Origin, Elevation is a worthy companion to a sorrowful night.

Enshine has always made every instrument count. Rather than fading into the background, Giannis Koskinas’ (Ocean of Grief) bass steals the show with lively lead melodies (“The Moment”). Conversely, on tracks like “Where the Sunrise Is Felt,” the rhythm section supplies a simple but hefty backbone to steer the song along. Sébastien Pierre’s keyboard is as active as ever, providing both center-stage melodies and a canvas for the other instruments. It’s remarkable how well this works; indeed, the key-heavy instrumental “Distant Glow” is one of Elevation’s most haunting cuts. Pierre and Lindholm’s vocals are unremarkable but get the job done, and the vocal lines are perfectly timed to accentuate the album’s peaks. Of course, while each of these pieces is compelling, Elevation’s guitars are a masterclass. Serving up huge Insomnium riffs, tear-jerking melodies, and minimalist interludes, Lindholm’s guitar work is varied but consistently impressive. Rounded out by a rich tone, Elevation is a full-blown sonic tapestry.

Elevation by Enshine

Enshine’s best work excels in both its climaxes and the journeys between them. Enshine’s riffs are more enormous than ever, with “The Purity of Emptiness” showcasing some pounding specimens. The rhythm section accentuates this riffwork like a thundering heartbeat. Elevation’s melodic peaks are just as lofty, and an explosive guitar solo makes the opener “Shimmering” an early contender for song of the year. As always, Enshine knows when and how to dial it back. For instance, the opening melody of “Heartbliss” serves as a serene counterpoint to the song’s beefier moments, while the closer “Reignite” relieves tension through its sparse midsection. While Elevation often flits masterfully between these extremes, it sometimes fizzles out. The aforementioned “Heartbliss” and “Reignite,” the two longest tracks, both spend their last few minutes in forgettable melodic ramblings. More generally, the album’s back half often settles into a neutral middle ground that neither excites nor calms. Elevation sometimes loses its footing, but most of its runtime is a dexterous volley between aggression and tranquility.

Accordingly, Elevation packs a powerful but inconsistent emotional punch. The most conventional source is the album’s soaring melodies, like those on “Shimmering.” But Enshine’s heart often hides in unlikely spots. “The Moment” hypnotizes the listener with a simple guitar riff, transmutes it into a tragic behemoth, and culminates in rhythmic repetition that evokes Cult of Luna. The key-driven “Distant Glow” remains the album’s most unlikely triumph. By rooting itself in one bittersweet melodic motif, “Distant Glow” evolves seamlessly from a chamomile-infused Infected Mushroom trance to punchy melodeath riffs. The result is a four-minute track that feels like a lifetime, in the best possible way. In contrast, parts of Elevation feel clinical. Songs like “The Purity of Emptiness” rely on interchangeable mid-paced riffs that fade from memory, and even stronger tracks fall into the same age-old trap (“Where the Sunrise Is Felt”). Enshine hasn’t lost their secret sauce, but they have diluted it.

But even more so than usual, I’m an unreliable narrator trapped in the tiniest of prisons. My twelve years with Enshine both paint and taint my perspective. So yes, “Reignite” is Enshine’s worst closer; but that’s because I remember the months I leaned on “Apex” and the friendship I strengthened with “Constellation.” And yes, Elevation sometimes gets lost in meandering riffs; but that sticks out because Origin is the pinnacle of concise melodeath-doom. Enshine’s former glory offers a convenient template for critiquing its follow-ups. In truth, Elevation is an enchanting release from a band that I’d feared would never return. Whether you’re an Enshine addict, a curious first-timer, or even a non-metalhead, Elevation demands and earns your attention.



Rating: 3.5/5.02

Back in 2004, an album called Fallout dropped from an unheralded little band called Slumber. It was a lush, gorgeous piece of melodic doom in the vein of early Katatonia, Rapture, and Insomnium, and there was something very special about the moods created within. It remains a beloved album of Yours Steely, and I often wonder why it isn’t better known. Slumber guitarist/songwriter Jari Lindholm would go on to start Enshine, and their Origin and Singulariuty albums took the Slumber aesthetic forward to new soundscapes. Singularity was my Album o’ the Year in 2015, and I still get dragged into its glorious depths at regular intervals. It’s been a long wait for a new Enshine opus as Jari puttered with his ExGenesis and self-titled projects, but word broke in December that a new Enshine was imminent. Elevation was dropped without much fanfare or advanced promo campaigns, so we had to get our greasy mitts on it the same way the filthy masses do. As with past Enshine efforts, Elevation finds Jari Lindholm teamed with Sébastien Pierre, and their classic sound is present, still sitting somewhere between melodoom and melancholic melodeath, and naturally, it’s beautifully rendered. But can it maintain the same high level as the earlier works?

Opener “Shimmering” suggests it can as you’re greeted by the expected cavalcade of opulent trilling leads with melancholic flourishes. Everything is highly polished and bright as the sun, with guitar and keyboards rising and swelling in melodic waves. The music reminds me of modern Insomnium and the mellower moments on Omnium Gatherum’s New World Shadows. Sébastien Pierre provides effective death metal roars that suit the music, and the pieces all fit together well. It’s not the best thing Enshine’s ever done, but it’s pretty damn good. It soon becomes apparent, however, that the opener is one of the most lively tracks on offer. “Heartbliss” has harsher vocals, but they’re wrapped up in a glossy pancake of airy, ethereal melodoom without much in the way of an actual “doom” component to ground things and provide real impact. Jari’s guitar work is ephemeral, stunning, and I could listen to it for days, but the song itself doesn’t stick in my memory. I enjoy it as it floats past, but cannot recall it thereafter. “Where the Sunrise is Felt” self-corrects, providing a beefier riffing foundation, and Sébastien sounds extra spicy here. You still get a deluge of ethereal noodling to float upon, but it’s balanced by some beef, and that makes a difference.

Just as things seem to be moving in the right direction, “Distant Glow” hits with 4 minutes of bright, sugar-coated synthwave devoid of vocals or the slightest edge. It’s moody but dull, and it derails the energy Elevation was beginning to establish. Around this point, it dawned on me that the album is something they could play at a new age spa without disrupting the tranquility or displacing anyone’s chakra. I suppose there’s a place for “spa-metal,” but not on my goddamn property. The remainder of Elevation is loaded with languid, lustrous melodoom with the emphasis on the melo part. I’m reminded of Omnium Gatherum and later era Anathema, and the ravishing sounds are omnipresent, but it’s often sleepy and overly restrained. Here and there, Sébastien or Jari lapses into a whispered delivery, and that choice sums up Elevation as well as anything: it’s dialed-back music designed to avoid any emotion beyond a sullen glaze-over. It’s gorgeous but without real peaks and valleys or much in the way of dramatic impact. Without memorable individual moments, it becomes too easy to lose focus while listening, and the music very quickly slips into the background. Not only does the material tend to sit in the back row of your attention, but the songs tend to bleed together into an ornate, noodly mush. Lovely but unmemorable.

I’m a huge fan of Jari Lindholm’s guitar work, and his brilliance is on display all over Elevation. He has a unique ability to craft such gorgeous and moody guitar lines and layer them in a way that generates a fog of emotion. While his talents are in force here, the end result is less immediate and dynamic than on past works. There’s no shortage of sumptuous leads and delicate solos, but the overall effect is too often lethargy rather than emotional pangs and pulses. A lot of Elevation simply washes over and past me without activating my memory circuits. Jari and Sébastien share vocals, and though Sébastien’s death roars are good, they don’t add as much pop to the material as they could. Sébastien also handles keyboards, and at times his playing becomes a touch cloying and even cheesy. Ultimately, I spend too much time waiting for Jari and/or Sébastien to go harder and provide more oomph to the proceedings, but they rarely do.

Elevation is a gorgeous listen, but there aren’t many songs that I recall once the album ends. It’s a worthwhile listen, and I doubt Enshine could make a bad album, but this really makes me want to spin Singularity or Origin instead. That’s a big bummer for me, and I hope your melo mileage varies. Now go find that Slumber album and learn!

Rating: 3.0/5.01
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: enshine.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/enshine.band
Releases Worldwide: January 3rd, 2026

Maddog

I can’t overstate Enshine’s impact on my music taste. As a teen, I enjoyed melodic death metal, but struggled with the genre’s doomier acts. One day, I stumbled upon Enshine’s 2013 debut Origin. Having never heard of Jari Lindholm’s landmark band Slumber, I came in with few expectations. Eschewing the nondescript riffs that I had come to expect from doom, Origin captivated me with its creative melodies, gigantic climaxes, and synth-laced atmosphere. Most importantly, it brought tears to my eyes. Singularity followed suit in 2015, dragging slightly but hitting hard nonetheless. While Lindholm has released other albums via Exgenesis and his solo work in the interim, Elevation breaks a decade-long silence for Enshine. While it can’t match my first wide-eyed listen through Origin, Elevation is a worthy companion to a sorrowful night.

Enshine has always made every instrument count. Rather than fading into the background, Giannis Koskinas’ (Ocean of Grief) bass steals the show with lively lead melodies (“The Moment”). Conversely, on tracks like “Where the Sunrise Is Felt,” the rhythm section supplies a simple but hefty backbone to steer the song along. Sébastien Pierre’s keyboard is as active as ever, providing both center-stage melodies and a canvas for the other instruments. It’s remarkable how well this works; indeed, the key-heavy instrumental “Distant Glow” is one of Elevation’s most haunting cuts. Pierre and Lindholm’s vocals are unremarkable but get the job done, and the vocal lines are perfectly timed to accentuate the album’s peaks. Of course, while each of these pieces is compelling, Elevation’s guitars are a masterclass. Serving up huge Insomnium riffs, tear-jerking melodies, and minimalist interludes, Lindholm’s guitar work is varied but consistently impressive. Rounded out by a rich tone, Elevation is a full-blown sonic tapestry.

Elevation by Enshine

Enshine’s best work excels in both its climaxes and the journeys between them. Enshine’s riffs are more enormous than ever, with “The Purity of Emptiness” showcasing some pounding specimens. The rhythm section accentuates this riffwork like a thundering heartbeat. Elevation’s melodic peaks are just as lofty, and an explosive guitar solo makes the opener “Shimmering” an early contender for song of the year. As always, Enshine knows when and how to dial it back. For instance, the opening melody of “Heartbliss” serves as a serene counterpoint to the song’s beefier moments, while the closer “Reignite” relieves tension through its sparse midsection. While Elevation often flits masterfully between these extremes, it sometimes fizzles out. The aforementioned “Heartbliss” and “Reignite,” the two longest tracks, both spend their last few minutes in forgettable melodic ramblings. More generally, the album’s back half often settles into a neutral middle ground that neither excites nor calms. Elevation sometimes loses its footing, but most of its runtime is a dexterous volley between aggression and tranquility.

Accordingly, Elevation packs a powerful but inconsistent emotional punch. The most conventional source is the album’s soaring melodies, like those on “Shimmering.” But Enshine’s heart often hides in unlikely spots. “The Moment” hypnotizes the listener with a simple guitar riff, transmutes it into a tragic behemoth, and culminates in rhythmic repetition that evokes Cult of Luna. The key-driven “Distant Glow” remains the album’s most unlikely triumph. By rooting itself in one bittersweet melodic motif, “Distant Glow” evolves seamlessly from a chamomile-infused Infected Mushroom trance to punchy melodeath riffs. The result is a four-minute track that feels like a lifetime, in the best possible way. In contrast, parts of Elevation feel clinical. Songs like “The Purity of Emptiness” rely on interchangeable mid-paced riffs that fade from memory, and even stronger tracks fall into the same age-old trap (“Where the Sunrise Is Felt”). Enshine hasn’t lost their secret sauce, but they have diluted it.

But even more so than usual, I’m an unreliable narrator trapped in the tiniest of prisons. My twelve years with Enshine both paint and taint my perspective. So yes, “Reignite” is Enshine’s worst closer; but that’s because I remember the months I leaned on “Apex” and the friendship I strengthened with “Constellation.” And yes, Elevation sometimes gets lost in meandering riffs; but that sticks out because Origin is the pinnacle of concise melodeath-doom. Enshine’s former glory offers a convenient template for critiquing its follow-ups. In truth, Elevation is an enchanting release from a band that I’d feared would never return. Whether you’re an Enshine addict, a curious first-timer, or even a non-metalhead, Elevation demands and earns your attention.



Rating: 3.5/5.02

@lucaskozak
Merci pour l'info : ça a l'air très prometteur ! Je vais l'essayer de ce pas 😀

La chanson de Cult of Luna :
🎧 https://dovetail.bandcamp.com/track/lord-of-the-riff

NB: Il reste 2 heures avant la fin des soldes Steam. Il y a aussi une démo.

#Gaming #Music #CultOfLuna #RPG #Steam #PCGaming

Skogskult – Skogskult Review

By Grin Reaper

Known for cultivating legendary acts such as Cult of Luna, Meshuggah, and Refused, Umeå, Sweden, sows fertile ground for seminal rock and metal bands.1 Formed in 2022, Skogskult joins their compatriots with a self-titled debut of grimy stoner doom in hand. From Swedish, Skogskult translates to ‘forest cult,’ and with roots firmly planted in scuzzy soil, this fey foursome drinks deeply from the wells of Acid King, Monolord, and Black Sabbath. Skogskult conjures six tracks that pull from Scandinavian mythology and the arcane to warn of dark days getting darker,2 setting a grim and eldritch tone from the outset. So come, friend, and take my hand. Let us walk into these woods together and uncover what mysteries lurk within.

Skogskult studied their forebears closely, as anyone who blindly tangles with Skogskult won’t need long to guess its genre. Many moments are saturated with indica atmospherics thick enough to induce contact highs. Hypnotic plods (“Lyktans Låga”), mid-paced gallops (“Pakten”), and the occasional stirring solo (“Snöblind”) furnish an assortment of backdrops and give individual songs enough character to prevent them from blurring together despite the pervasive gloomy fuzz. Cutting through said fuzz is vocalist Simon Rosengrim, who pierces the dense haze with tempestuous conviction, antithetical to the indolent trappings of stereotypical stoner doom. All told, Skogskult begets a familiar soundscape even casual fans of the genre will at once recognize, molding a unique personality alongside influences and reference points.

Skogskult’s merger of buzzing heft and raw emotion concocts powerful moments across their debut. Opening duo “Lyktans Låga” and “Turs” conform to genre conventions, grooving with ponderous mass as Samuel Nordström and Albin Kroon lumber along on guitar and bass. In fact, most of Skogskult is blanketed in wool, though “Sol” acts as a crucial change-of-pace, offering reverb-drenched strums and echoey vox that recall Sabbath’s “Planet Caravan.” Central tracks “Jag Ger Mig Av” and “Pakten” embolden Skogskult with lively frills, such as the stark baritone vocals midway through the former and the catchy-as-hell 90s post-grunge lilt of the latter. Pulling away from direct inspirations allows Skogskult to forge an identity all their own. In a genre where bands closely adhere to stoner doom’s core sound, it’s not a coincidence that Skogskult’s best moments occur when the album extends past them. In particular, Rosengrim’s performance electrifies when grit and pathos dial to eleven. His singing forgoes the comparatively mellow rhythms and measured deliveries associated with Sleep, Dopelord, and others, instead penetrating stoner doom’s miasma with immediate and undeniable passion. While this ingredient sets Skogskult apart from other outfits, it’s not quite enough to overcome Skogskult’s deficiencies.

Though many of Skogskult’s songwriting tendrils take root, some flounder for purchase. The juxtaposition of urgent vocals and hypnotizing grooves spellbind in a broad sense, but focusing just on the instrumentation reveals a lack of consistency over the entire album. Though flush with talent, Skogskult’s penchant for repeating riffs too often over six to seven minutes erodes some of its charm, which is further exacerbated over repeated listens. Bluesy solos and accelerated tempos afford welcome breaks, but more variety through the refrains would invigorate Skogskult’s musical backbone; without more riff diversity, shrinking song lengths could help remedy the repetition. Still, Skogskult boasts plenty of successes, as well. The production is a triumph, with each instrument (and vocals) afforded ample space in the mix. The only understated element is drummer Alexander Söderlund, who supports the band ably within a restrained pocket. Also, Skogskult deftly constructs tension throughout entire songs. Even if each track could lose thirty to sixty seconds, every payoff satisfies through unhurried climaxes and hints at a higher ceiling for the band’s songcraft.

Skogskult is a young band brimming with potential. They guide listeners through the murky fog of stoner doom that cloaks the forest they inhabit, shining a light on the path while allowing listeners to glimpse the dangers just off of it. Skogskult isn’t perfect, but Skogskult impresses with accessible retrofuzz, standout highlights, and a powerhouse vocalist. If they can refine the songwriting approach for their sophomore album while preserving what makes this one special, our next trip through the cult’s forest might just convert us.

Rating: Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Bonebag Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 5th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AcidKing #BlackSabbath #BonebagRecords #CultOfLuna #Dec25 #DoomMetal #Dopelord #Meshuggah #Monolord #Naglfar #NocturnalRites #Persuader #Refused #Review #Reviews #SelfTitled #Skogskult #Sleep #StonerDoom #StonerDoomMetal #StonerMetal #SwedishMetal

Skogskult – Skogskult Review

By Grin Reaper

Known for cultivating legendary acts such as Cult of Luna, Meshuggah, and Refused, Umeå, Sweden, sows fertile ground for seminal rock and metal bands.1 Formed in 2022, Skogskult joins their compatriots with a self-titled debut of grimy stoner doom in hand. From Swedish, Skogskult translates to ‘forest cult,’ and with roots firmly planted in scuzzy soil, this fey foursome drinks deeply from the wells of Acid King, Monolord, and Black Sabbath. Skogskult conjures six tracks that pull from Scandinavian mythology and the arcane to warn of dark days getting darker,2 setting a grim and eldritch tone from the outset. So come, friend, and take my hand. Let us walk into these woods together and uncover what mysteries lurk within.

Skogskult studied their forebears closely, as anyone who blindly tangles with Skogskult won’t need long to guess its genre. Many moments are saturated with indica atmospherics thick enough to induce contact highs. Hypnotic plods (“Lyktans Låga”), mid-paced gallops (“Pakten”), and the occasional stirring solo (“Snöblind”) furnish an assortment of backdrops and give individual songs enough character to prevent them from blurring together despite the pervasive gloomy fuzz. Cutting through said fuzz is vocalist Simon Rosengrim, who pierces the dense haze with tempestuous conviction, antithetical to the indolent trappings of stereotypical stoner doom. All told, Skogskult begets a familiar soundscape even casual fans of the genre will at once recognize, molding a unique personality alongside influences and reference points.

Skogskult’s merger of buzzing heft and raw emotion concocts powerful moments across their debut. Opening duo “Lyktans Låga” and “Turs” conform to genre conventions, grooving with ponderous mass as Samuel Nordström and Albin Kroon lumber along on guitar and bass. In fact, most of Skogskult is blanketed in wool, though “Sol” acts as a crucial change-of-pace, offering reverb-drenched strums and echoey vox that recall Sabbath’s “Planet Caravan.” Central tracks “Jag Ger Mig Av” and “Pakten” embolden Skogskult with lively frills, such as the stark baritone vocals midway through the former and the catchy-as-hell 90s post-grunge lilt of the latter. Pulling away from direct inspirations allows Skogskult to forge an identity all their own. In a genre where bands closely adhere to stoner doom’s core sound, it’s not a coincidence that Skogskult’s best moments occur when the album extends past them. In particular, Rosengrim’s performance electrifies when grit and pathos dial to eleven. His singing forgoes the comparatively mellow rhythms and measured deliveries associated with Sleep, Dopelord, and others, instead penetrating stoner doom’s miasma with immediate and undeniable passion. While this ingredient sets Skogskult apart from other outfits, it’s not quite enough to overcome Skogskult’s deficiencies.

Though many of Skogskult’s songwriting tendrils take root, some flounder for purchase. The juxtaposition of urgent vocals and hypnotizing grooves spellbind in a broad sense, but focusing just on the instrumentation reveals a lack of consistency over the entire album. Though flush with talent, Skogskult’s penchant for repeating riffs too often over six to seven minutes erodes some of its charm, which is further exacerbated over repeated listens. Bluesy solos and accelerated tempos afford welcome breaks, but more variety through the refrains would invigorate Skogskult’s musical backbone; without more riff diversity, shrinking song lengths could help remedy the repetition. Still, Skogskult boasts plenty of successes, as well. The production is a triumph, with each instrument (and vocals) afforded ample space in the mix. The only understated element is drummer Alexander Söderlund, who supports the band ably within a restrained pocket. Also, Skogskult deftly constructs tension throughout entire songs. Even if each track could lose thirty to sixty seconds, every payoff satisfies through unhurried climaxes and hints at a higher ceiling for the band’s songcraft.

Skogskult is a young band brimming with potential. They guide listeners through the murky fog of stoner doom that cloaks the forest they inhabit, shining a light on the path while allowing listeners to glimpse the dangers just off of it. Skogskult isn’t perfect, but Skogskult impresses with accessible retrofuzz, standout highlights, and a powerhouse vocalist. If they can refine the songwriting approach for their sophomore album while preserving what makes this one special, our next trip through the cult’s forest might just convert us.

Rating: Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Bonebag Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 5th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AcidKing #BlackSabbath #BonebagRecords #CultOfLuna #Dec25 #DoomMetal #Dopelord #Meshuggah #Monolord #Naglfar #NocturnalRites #Persuader #Refused #Review #Reviews #SelfTitled #Skogskult #Sleep #StonerDoom #StonerDoomMetal #StonerMetal #SwedishMetal

Skogskult – Skogskult Review

By Grin Reaper

Known for cultivating legendary acts such as Cult of Luna, Meshuggah, and Refused, Umeå, Sweden, sows fertile ground for seminal rock and metal bands.1 Formed in 2022, Skogskult joins their compatriots with a self-titled debut of grimy stoner doom in hand. From Swedish, Skogskult translates to ‘forest cult,’ and with roots firmly planted in scuzzy soil, this fey foursome drinks deeply from the wells of Acid King, Monolord, and Black Sabbath. Skogskult conjures six tracks that pull from Scandinavian mythology and the arcane to warn of dark days getting darker,2 setting a grim and eldritch tone from the outset. So come, friend, and take my hand. Let us walk into these woods together and uncover what mysteries lurk within.

Skogskult studied their forebears closely, as anyone who blindly tangles with Skogskult won’t need long to guess its genre. Many moments are saturated with indica atmospherics thick enough to induce contact highs. Hypnotic plods (“Lyktans Låga”), mid-paced gallops (“Pakten”), and the occasional stirring solo (“Snöblind”) furnish an assortment of backdrops and give individual songs enough character to prevent them from blurring together despite the pervasive gloomy fuzz. Cutting through said fuzz is vocalist Simon Rosengrim, who pierces the dense haze with tempestuous conviction, antithetical to the indolent trappings of stereotypical stoner doom. All told, Skogskult begets a familiar soundscape even casual fans of the genre will at once recognize, molding a unique personality alongside influences and reference points.

Skogskult’s merger of buzzing heft and raw emotion concocts powerful moments across their debut. Opening duo “Lyktans Låga” and “Turs” conform to genre conventions, grooving with ponderous mass as Samuel Nordström and Albin Kroon lumber along on guitar and bass. In fact, most of Skogskult is blanketed in wool, though “Sol” acts as a crucial change-of-pace, offering reverb-drenched strums and echoey vox that recall Sabbath’s “Planet Caravan.” Central tracks “Jag Ger Mig Av” and “Pakten” embolden Skogskult with lively frills, such as the stark baritone vocals midway through the former and the catchy-as-hell 90s post-grunge lilt of the latter. Pulling away from direct inspirations allows Skogskult to forge an identity all their own. In a genre where bands closely adhere to stoner doom’s core sound, it’s not a coincidence that Skogskult’s best moments occur when the album extends past them. In particular, Rosengrim’s performance electrifies when grit and pathos dial to eleven. His singing forgoes the comparatively mellow rhythms and measured deliveries associated with Sleep, Dopelord, and others, instead penetrating stoner doom’s miasma with immediate and undeniable passion. While this ingredient sets Skogskult apart from other outfits, it’s not quite enough to overcome Skogskult’s deficiencies.

Though many of Skogskult’s songwriting tendrils take root, some flounder for purchase. The juxtaposition of urgent vocals and hypnotizing grooves spellbind in a broad sense, but focusing just on the instrumentation reveals a lack of consistency over the entire album. Though flush with talent, Skogskult’s penchant for repeating riffs too often over six to seven minutes erodes some of its charm, which is further exacerbated over repeated listens. Bluesy solos and accelerated tempos afford welcome breaks, but more variety through the refrains would invigorate Skogskult’s musical backbone; without more riff diversity, shrinking song lengths could help remedy the repetition. Still, Skogskult boasts plenty of successes, as well. The production is a triumph, with each instrument (and vocals) afforded ample space in the mix. The only understated element is drummer Alexander Söderlund, who supports the band ably within a restrained pocket. Also, Skogskult deftly constructs tension throughout entire songs. Even if each track could lose thirty to sixty seconds, every payoff satisfies through unhurried climaxes and hints at a higher ceiling for the band’s songcraft.

Skogskult is a young band brimming with potential. They guide listeners through the murky fog of stoner doom that cloaks the forest they inhabit, shining a light on the path while allowing listeners to glimpse the dangers just off of it. Skogskult isn’t perfect, but Skogskult impresses with accessible retrofuzz, standout highlights, and a powerhouse vocalist. If they can refine the songwriting approach for their sophomore album while preserving what makes this one special, our next trip through the cult’s forest might just convert us.

Rating: Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Bonebag Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 5th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AcidKing #BlackSabbath #BonebagRecords #CultOfLuna #Dec25 #DoomMetal #Dopelord #Meshuggah #Monolord #Naglfar #NocturnalRites #Persuader #Refused #Review #Reviews #SelfTitled #Skogskult #Sleep #StonerDoom #StonerDoomMetal #StonerMetal #SwedishMetal

Skogskult – Skogskult Review

By Grin Reaper

Known for cultivating legendary acts such as Cult of Luna, Meshuggah, and Refused, Umeå, Sweden, sows fertile ground for seminal rock and metal bands.1 Formed in 2022, Skogskult joins their compatriots with a self-titled debut of grimy stoner doom in hand. From Swedish, Skogskult translates to ‘forest cult,’ and with roots firmly planted in scuzzy soil, this fey foursome drinks deeply from the wells of Acid King, Monolord, and Black Sabbath. Skogskult conjures six tracks that pull from Scandinavian mythology and the arcane to warn of dark days getting darker,2 setting a grim and eldritch tone from the outset. So come, friend, and take my hand. Let us walk into these woods together and uncover what mysteries lurk within.

Skogskult studied their forebears closely, as anyone who blindly tangles with Skogskult won’t need long to guess its genre. Many moments are saturated with indica atmospherics thick enough to induce contact highs. Hypnotic plods (“Lyktans Låga”), mid-paced gallops (“Pakten”), and the occasional stirring solo (“Snöblind”) furnish an assortment of backdrops and give individual songs enough character to prevent them from blurring together despite the pervasive gloomy fuzz. Cutting through said fuzz is vocalist Simon Rosengrim, who pierces the dense haze with tempestuous conviction, antithetical to the indolent trappings of stereotypical stoner doom. All told, Skogskult begets a familiar soundscape even casual fans of the genre will at once recognize, molding a unique personality alongside influences and reference points.

Skogskult’s merger of buzzing heft and raw emotion concocts powerful moments across their debut. Opening duo “Lyktans Låga” and “Turs” conform to genre conventions, grooving with ponderous mass as Samuel Nordström and Albin Kroon lumber along on guitar and bass. In fact, most of Skogskult is blanketed in wool, though “Sol” acts as a crucial change-of-pace, offering reverb-drenched strums and echoey vox that recall Sabbath’s “Planet Caravan.” Central tracks “Jag Ger Mig Av” and “Pakten” embolden Skogskult with lively frills, such as the stark baritone vocals midway through the former and the catchy-as-hell 90s post-grunge lilt of the latter. Pulling away from direct inspirations allows Skogskult to forge an identity all their own. In a genre where bands closely adhere to stoner doom’s core sound, it’s not a coincidence that Skogskult’s best moments occur when the album extends past them. In particular, Rosengrim’s performance electrifies when grit and pathos dial to eleven. His singing forgoes the comparatively mellow rhythms and measured deliveries associated with Sleep, Dopelord, and others, instead penetrating stoner doom’s miasma with immediate and undeniable passion. While this ingredient sets Skogskult apart from other outfits, it’s not quite enough to overcome Skogskult’s deficiencies.

Though many of Skogskult’s songwriting tendrils take root, some flounder for purchase. The juxtaposition of urgent vocals and hypnotizing grooves spellbind in a broad sense, but focusing just on the instrumentation reveals a lack of consistency over the entire album. Though flush with talent, Skogskult’s penchant for repeating riffs too often over six to seven minutes erodes some of its charm, which is further exacerbated over repeated listens. Bluesy solos and accelerated tempos afford welcome breaks, but more variety through the refrains would invigorate Skogskult’s musical backbone; without more riff diversity, shrinking song lengths could help remedy the repetition. Still, Skogskult boasts plenty of successes, as well. The production is a triumph, with each instrument (and vocals) afforded ample space in the mix. The only understated element is drummer Alexander Söderlund, who supports the band ably within a restrained pocket. Also, Skogskult deftly constructs tension throughout entire songs. Even if each track could lose thirty to sixty seconds, every payoff satisfies through unhurried climaxes and hints at a higher ceiling for the band’s songcraft.

Skogskult is a young band brimming with potential. They guide listeners through the murky fog of stoner doom that cloaks the forest they inhabit, shining a light on the path while allowing listeners to glimpse the dangers just off of it. Skogskult isn’t perfect, but Skogskult impresses with accessible retrofuzz, standout highlights, and a powerhouse vocalist. If they can refine the songwriting approach for their sophomore album while preserving what makes this one special, our next trip through the cult’s forest might just convert us.

Rating: Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Bonebag Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 5th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AcidKing #BlackSabbath #BonebagRecords #CultOfLuna #Dec25 #DoomMetal #Dopelord #Meshuggah #Monolord #Naglfar #NocturnalRites #Persuader #Refused #Review #Reviews #SelfTitled #Skogskult #Sleep #StonerDoom #StonerDoomMetal #StonerMetal #SwedishMetal

Skogskult – Skogskult Review

By Grin Reaper

Known for cultivating legendary acts such as Cult of Luna, Meshuggah, and Refused, Umeå, Sweden, sows fertile ground for seminal rock and metal bands.1 Formed in 2022, Skogskult joins their compatriots with a self-titled debut of grimy stoner doom in hand. From Swedish, Skogskult translates to ‘forest cult,’ and with roots firmly planted in scuzzy soil, this fey foursome drinks deeply from the wells of Acid King, Monolord, and Black Sabbath. Skogskult conjures six tracks that pull from Scandinavian mythology and the arcane to warn of dark days getting darker,2 setting a grim and eldritch tone from the outset. So come, friend, and take my hand. Let us walk into these woods together and uncover what mysteries lurk within.

Skogskult studied their forebears closely, as anyone who blindly tangles with Skogskult won’t need long to guess its genre. Many moments are saturated with indica atmospherics thick enough to induce contact highs. Hypnotic plods (“Lyktans Låga”), mid-paced gallops (“Pakten”), and the occasional stirring solo (“Snöblind”) furnish an assortment of backdrops and give individual songs enough character to prevent them from blurring together despite the pervasive gloomy fuzz. Cutting through said fuzz is vocalist Simon Rosengrim, who pierces the dense haze with tempestuous conviction, antithetical to the indolent trappings of stereotypical stoner doom. All told, Skogskult begets a familiar soundscape even casual fans of the genre will at once recognize, molding a unique personality alongside influences and reference points.

Skogskult’s merger of buzzing heft and raw emotion concocts powerful moments across their debut. Opening duo “Lyktans Låga” and “Turs” conform to genre conventions, grooving with ponderous mass as Samuel Nordström and Albin Kroon lumber along on guitar and bass. In fact, most of Skogskult is blanketed in wool, though “Sol” acts as a crucial change-of-pace, offering reverb-drenched strums and echoey vox that recall Sabbath’s “Planet Caravan.” Central tracks “Jag Ger Mig Av” and “Pakten” embolden Skogskult with lively frills, such as the stark baritone vocals midway through the former and the catchy-as-hell 90s post-grunge lilt of the latter. Pulling away from direct inspirations allows Skogskult to forge an identity all their own. In a genre where bands closely adhere to stoner doom’s core sound, it’s not a coincidence that Skogskult’s best moments occur when the album extends past them. In particular, Rosengrim’s performance electrifies when grit and pathos dial to eleven. His singing forgoes the comparatively mellow rhythms and measured deliveries associated with Sleep, Dopelord, and others, instead penetrating stoner doom’s miasma with immediate and undeniable passion. While this ingredient sets Skogskult apart from other outfits, it’s not quite enough to overcome Skogskult’s deficiencies.

Though many of Skogskult’s songwriting tendrils take root, some flounder for purchase. The juxtaposition of urgent vocals and hypnotizing grooves spellbind in a broad sense, but focusing just on the instrumentation reveals a lack of consistency over the entire album. Though flush with talent, Skogskult’s penchant for repeating riffs too often over six to seven minutes erodes some of its charm, which is further exacerbated over repeated listens. Bluesy solos and accelerated tempos afford welcome breaks, but more variety through the refrains would invigorate Skogskult’s musical backbone; without more riff diversity, shrinking song lengths could help remedy the repetition. Still, Skogskult boasts plenty of successes, as well. The production is a triumph, with each instrument (and vocals) afforded ample space in the mix. The only understated element is drummer Alexander Söderlund, who supports the band ably within a restrained pocket. Also, Skogskult deftly constructs tension throughout entire songs. Even if each track could lose thirty to sixty seconds, every payoff satisfies through unhurried climaxes and hints at a higher ceiling for the band’s songcraft.

Skogskult is a young band brimming with potential. They guide listeners through the murky fog of stoner doom that cloaks the forest they inhabit, shining a light on the path while allowing listeners to glimpse the dangers just off of it. Skogskult isn’t perfect, but Skogskult impresses with accessible retrofuzz, standout highlights, and a powerhouse vocalist. If they can refine the songwriting approach for their sophomore album while preserving what makes this one special, our next trip through the cult’s forest might just convert us.

Rating: Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Bonebag Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: December 5th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AcidKing #BlackSabbath #BonebagRecords #CultOfLuna #Dec25 #DoomMetal #Dopelord #Meshuggah #Monolord #Naglfar #NocturnalRites #Persuader #Refused #Review #Reviews #SelfTitled #Skogskult #Sleep #StonerDoom #StonerDoomMetal #StonerMetal #SwedishMetal

Insomniac – Om Moksha Ritam Review

The terms “psychedelic” and “post-metal” are usually enough for me to approach any new release with caution—not because…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2025 #3.5 #AmeircanMetal #Baroness #BluesFuneralRecording #BluesRock #CA #Canada #CultofLuna #DoomMetal #Elder #Entertainment #Insomniac #OmMokshaRitam #OranssiPazuzu #PostRock #Post-Metal #ProgressiveMetal #PsychedelicMetal #psychedelicrock #review #reviews #REZN #Sep25
https://www.newsbeep.com/ca/180953/

Insomniac – Om Moksha Ritam Review

By Samguineous Maximus

The terms “psychedelic” and “post-metal” are usually enough for me to approach any new release with caution—not because those genres lack excellent music, but because they’re so often associated with overlong, unfocused songs. For every Cult of Luna or Oranssi Pazuzu, there are fifty bands peddling overlong, riffless dirges that mistake “atmosphere” for actual songwriting. Atlanta supergroup Insomniac has arrived with their debut record Om Moksha Ritam, with the ominous self-designation of “post-doom.” The title, loosely translated from Sanskrit as “Liberation through merging with the Universal Rhythm,”1 foregrounds its ambitions as a concept album designed to “guide listeners through an aural and spiritual journey across multiple extreme environments.” Have Insomniac crafted a narrative listening experience that successfully conveys its metaphysical aspirations? Or is their debut the “post-doom” equivalent of a bad trip?

On Om Moksha Ritam, Insomniac manages to craft a sound that is immediately recognizable yet distinctly their own. They merge the progressive psychedelia of Elder with the layered, textural approach of REZN, all filtered through the Southern-gothic tinge of fellow Georgians Baroness. The result is a body of songs that draw equally from the contemplative exploration of ’70s prog, Americana-dipped blues rock, and the anthemic heft of post-metal’s sludgier, power-chord-driven moments. What makes this combination work is not just the intuitive chemistry of the instrumentalists, but the commanding presence of vocalist Van Bassman. Each track is surprisingly vocal-driven, and Bassman conjures a sound somewhere between a bluesier Dax Riggs and a John Baizley who’s actually capable of singing. His baritone sits front and center for much of Om Moksha Ritam, often accompanied by vocal layers and effects, creating a kaleidoscopic swirl that amplifies the ebb and flow of the music as it moves between peaks and valleys.

It helps that Om Moksha Ritam’s tracklist is dynamic and well-paced, with each of its 7 songs offering subtle differentiation on Insomniac’s core formula. Much of this can be attributed to the interplay between guitarists Alex Avedissian and Mike Morris,2 whose willingness to balance acoustic and effects-laden electric timbres gives the record a versatile and interesting palette. The guitars ferry the songs between quiet reflection and crushing grandeur. Whether it’s weaving intricate folky arpeggios together with tripped-out leads (“Desert”), harmonizing across doomy atmospheres (“Mountain”) or using post-rock tremolos to punctuate a well-earned climax (“Meditation), the guitar work on Om Moksha Ritam is consistently engaging and varied. Of course, this would be for naught without a strong rhythm section, but Insomniac has that as well. Drummer Amos Rifkin brings a loose, delicate touch to softer tracks like “Sea” and “Forest,” but escalates with thunderous weight when the music demands greater intensity. Meanwhile, bassist Juan Garcia provides a warm, full-bodied tone that both supports and embellishes the melodic core, keeping the songs anchored amid the dense layering of guitars and vocals, which is important on a track like the expansive and sprawling “Snow and Ice.”

Only a few minor inconsistencies keep Om Moksha Ritam from reaching the apex of Insomniac’s sound. The B-side leans away from emphatic “Hell yes” moments in favor of slower, navel-gazing jams. These tracks reward repeat listens but aren’t as immediately gripping. Closer “Awakening” falls just shy of the monumental highs of the opening salvo, with a climactic chorus that doesn’t land as powerfully as it could. For the most part, the record sounds fantastic and balances its many intricate layers, though there are moments (the refrains of “Mountain” and “Sea”) where Bassman’s voice overpowers the rest of the band in a psychedelic spiral. These issues don’t detract too heavily from the record’s overall impact, but they are worth noting.

Om Moksha Ritam takes you on a hallucinogenic trek across the desert, riffs shimmering like heat mirages, the atmosphere thick enough to choke a camel. Insomniac has delivered an album that takes listeners on a true musical journey, drenched in smoke-filled vibes, yet immediately rewarding. Their unique, psychedelic strain of “post-doom” metal blends familiar elements from beloved bands into something greater than the sum of its parts. If Insomniac invite me on another spiritual vision quest through the wastelands of sound, I’ll happily lace up my sandals, pack my water skin, and follow them straight into the void.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Blues Funeral Recording
Websites: insomniacvibes.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/insomniacatl
Releases Worldwide: September 1st, 2025

#2025 #35 #AmeircanMetal #Baroness #BluesFuneralRecording #BluesRock #CultOfLuna #DoomMetal #Elder #Insomniac #OmMokshaRitam #OranssiPazuzu #PostRock #PostMetal #ProgressiveMetal #PsychedelicMetal #PsychedelicRock #Review #Reviews #REZN #Sep25

Insomniac – Om Moksha Ritam Review

By Samguineous Maximus

The terms “psychedelic” and “post-metal” are usually enough for me to approach any new release with caution—not because those genres lack excellent music, but because they’re so often associated with overlong, unfocused songs. For every Cult of Luna or Oranssi Pazuzu, there are fifty bands peddling overlong, riffless dirges that mistake “atmosphere” for actual songwriting. Atlanta supergroup Insomniac has arrived with their debut record Om Moksha Ritam, with the ominous self-designation of “post-doom.” The title, loosely translated from Sanskrit as “Liberation through merging with the Universal Rhythm,”1 foregrounds its ambitions as a concept album designed to “guide listeners through an aural and spiritual journey across multiple extreme environments.” Have Insomniac crafted a narrative listening experience that successfully conveys its metaphysical aspirations? Or is their debut the “post-doom” equivalent of a bad trip?

On Om Moksha Ritam, Insomniac manages to craft a sound that is immediately recognizable yet distinctly their own. They merge the progressive psychedelia of Elder with the layered, textural approach of REZN, all filtered through the Southern-gothic tinge of fellow Georgians Baroness. The result is a body of songs that draw equally from the contemplative exploration of ’70s prog, Americana-dipped blues rock, and the anthemic heft of post-metal’s sludgier, power-chord-driven moments. What makes this combination work is not just the intuitive chemistry of the instrumentalists, but the commanding presence of vocalist Van Bassman. Each track is surprisingly vocal-driven, and Bassman conjures a sound somewhere between a bluesier Dax Riggs and a John Baizley who’s actually capable of singing. His baritone sits front and center for much of Om Moksha Ritam, often accompanied by vocal layers and effects, creating a kaleidoscopic swirl that amplifies the ebb and flow of the music as it moves between peaks and valleys.

It helps that Om Moksha Ritam’s tracklist is dynamic and well-paced, with each of its 7 songs offering subtle differentiation on Insomniac’s core formula. Much of this can be attributed to the interplay between guitarists Alex Avedissian and Mike Morris,2 whose willingness to balance acoustic and effects-laden electric timbres gives the record a versatile and interesting palette. The guitars ferry the songs between quiet reflection and crushing grandeur. Whether it’s weaving intricate folky arpeggios together with tripped-out leads (“Desert”), harmonizing across doomy atmospheres (“Mountain”) or using post-rock tremolos to punctuate a well-earned climax (“Meditation), the guitar work on Om Moksha Ritam is consistently engaging and varied. Of course, this would be for naught without a strong rhythm section, but Insomniac has that as well. Drummer Amos Rifkin brings a loose, delicate touch to softer tracks like “Sea” and “Forest,” but escalates with thunderous weight when the music demands greater intensity. Meanwhile, bassist Juan Garcia provides a warm, full-bodied tone that both supports and embellishes the melodic core, keeping the songs anchored amid the dense layering of guitars and vocals, which is important on a track like the expansive and sprawling “Snow and Ice.”

Only a few minor inconsistencies keep Om Moksha Ritam from reaching the apex of Insomniac’s sound. The B-side leans away from emphatic “Hell yes” moments in favor of slower, navel-gazing jams. These tracks reward repeat listens but aren’t as immediately gripping. Closer “Awakening” falls just shy of the monumental highs of the opening salvo, with a climactic chorus that doesn’t land as powerfully as it could. For the most part, the record sounds fantastic and balances its many intricate layers, though there are moments (the refrains of “Mountain” and “Sea”) where Bassman’s voice overpowers the rest of the band in a psychedelic spiral. These issues don’t detract too heavily from the record’s overall impact, but they are worth noting.

Om Moksha Ritam takes you on a hallucinogenic trek across the desert, riffs shimmering like heat mirages, the atmosphere thick enough to choke a camel. Insomniac has delivered an album that takes listeners on a true musical journey, drenched in smoke-filled vibes, yet immediately rewarding. Their unique, psychedelic strain of “post-doom” metal blends familiar elements from beloved bands into something greater than the sum of its parts. If Insomniac invite me on another spiritual vision quest through the wastelands of sound, I’ll happily lace up my sandals, pack my water skin, and follow them straight into the void.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Blues Funeral Recording
Websites: insomniacvibes.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/insomniacatl
Releases Worldwide: September 1st, 2025

#2025 #35 #AmeircanMetal #Baroness #BluesFuneralRecording #BluesRock #CultOfLuna #DoomMetal #Elder #Insomniac #OmMokshaRitam #OranssiPazuzu #PostRock #PostMetal #ProgressiveMetal #PsychedelicMetal #PsychedelicRock #Review #Reviews #REZN #Sep25

Insomniac – Om Moksha Ritam Review

By Samguineous Maximus

The terms “psychedelic” and “post-metal” are usually enough for me to approach any new release with caution—not because those genres lack excellent music, but because they’re so often associated with overlong, unfocused songs. For every Cult of Luna or Oranssi Pazuzu, there are fifty bands peddling overlong, riffless dirges that mistake “atmosphere” for actual songwriting. Atlanta supergroup Insomniac has arrived with their debut record Om Moksha Ritam, with the ominous self-designation of “post-doom.” The title, loosely translated from Sanskrit as “Liberation through merging with the Universal Rhythm,”1 foregrounds its ambitions as a concept album designed to “guide listeners through an aural and spiritual journey across multiple extreme environments.” Have Insomniac crafted a narrative listening experience that successfully conveys its metaphysical aspirations? Or is their debut the “post-doom” equivalent of a bad trip?

On Om Moksha Ritam, Insomniac manages to craft a sound that is immediately recognizable yet distinctly their own. They merge the progressive psychedelia of Elder with the layered, textural approach of REZN, all filtered through the Southern-gothic tinge of fellow Georgians Baroness. The result is a body of songs that draw equally from the contemplative exploration of ’70s prog, Americana-dipped blues rock, and the anthemic heft of post-metal’s sludgier, power-chord-driven moments. What makes this combination work is not just the intuitive chemistry of the instrumentalists, but the commanding presence of vocalist Van Bassman. Each track is surprisingly vocal-driven, and Bassman conjures a sound somewhere between a bluesier Dax Riggs and a John Baizley who’s actually capable of singing. His baritone sits front and center for much of Om Moksha Ritam, often accompanied by vocal layers and effects, creating a kaleidoscopic swirl that amplifies the ebb and flow of the music as it moves between peaks and valleys.

It helps that Om Moksha Ritam’s tracklist is dynamic and well-paced, with each of its 7 songs offering subtle differentiation on Insomniac’s core formula. Much of this can be attributed to the interplay between guitarists Alex Avedissian and Mike Morris,2 whose willingness to balance acoustic and effects-laden electric timbres gives the record a versatile and interesting palette. The guitars ferry the songs between quiet reflection and crushing grandeur. Whether it’s weaving intricate folky arpeggios together with tripped-out leads (“Desert”), harmonizing across doomy atmospheres (“Mountain”) or using post-rock tremolos to punctuate a well-earned climax (“Meditation), the guitar work on Om Moksha Ritam is consistently engaging and varied. Of course, this would be for naught without a strong rhythm section, but Insomniac has that as well. Drummer Amos Rifkin brings a loose, delicate touch to softer tracks like “Sea” and “Forest,” but escalates with thunderous weight when the music demands greater intensity. Meanwhile, bassist Juan Garcia provides a warm, full-bodied tone that both supports and embellishes the melodic core, keeping the songs anchored amid the dense layering of guitars and vocals, which is important on a track like the expansive and sprawling “Snow and Ice.”

Only a few minor inconsistencies keep Om Moksha Ritam from reaching the apex of Insomniac’s sound. The B-side leans away from emphatic “Hell yes” moments in favor of slower, navel-gazing jams. These tracks reward repeat listens but aren’t as immediately gripping. Closer “Awakening” falls just shy of the monumental highs of the opening salvo, with a climactic chorus that doesn’t land as powerfully as it could. For the most part, the record sounds fantastic and balances its many intricate layers, though there are moments (the refrains of “Mountain” and “Sea”) where Bassman’s voice overpowers the rest of the band in a psychedelic spiral. These issues don’t detract too heavily from the record’s overall impact, but they are worth noting.

Om Moksha Ritam takes you on a hallucinogenic trek across the desert, riffs shimmering like heat mirages, the atmosphere thick enough to choke a camel. Insomniac has delivered an album that takes listeners on a true musical journey, drenched in smoke-filled vibes, yet immediately rewarding. Their unique, psychedelic strain of “post-doom” metal blends familiar elements from beloved bands into something greater than the sum of its parts. If Insomniac invite me on another spiritual vision quest through the wastelands of sound, I’ll happily lace up my sandals, pack my water skin, and follow them straight into the void.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Blues Funeral Recording
Websites: insomniacvibes.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/insomniacatl
Releases Worldwide: September 1st, 2025

#2025 #35 #AmeircanMetal #Baroness #BluesFuneralRecording #BluesRock #CultOfLuna #DoomMetal #Elder #Insomniac #OmMokshaRitam #OranssiPazuzu #PostRock #PostMetal #ProgressiveMetal #PsychedelicMetal #PsychedelicRock #Review #Reviews #REZN #Sep25

Insomniac – Om Moksha Ritam Review

By Samguineous Maximus

The terms “psychedelic” and “post-metal” are usually enough for me to approach any new release with caution—not because those genres lack excellent music, but because they’re so often associated with overlong, unfocused songs. For every Cult of Luna or Oranssi Pazuzu, there are fifty bands peddling overlong, riffless dirges that mistake “atmosphere” for actual songwriting. Atlanta supergroup Insomniac has arrived with their debut record Om Moksha Ritam, with the ominous self-designation of “post-doom.” The title, loosely translated from Sanskrit as “Liberation through merging with the Universal Rhythm,”1 foregrounds its ambitions as a concept album designed to “guide listeners through an aural and spiritual journey across multiple extreme environments.” Have Insomniac crafted a narrative listening experience that successfully conveys its metaphysical aspirations? Or is their debut the “post-doom” equivalent of a bad trip?

On Om Moksha Ritam, Insomniac manages to craft a sound that is immediately recognizable yet distinctly their own. They merge the progressive psychedelia of Elder with the layered, textural approach of REZN, all filtered through the Southern-gothic tinge of fellow Georgians Baroness. The result is a body of songs that draw equally from the contemplative exploration of ’70s prog, Americana-dipped blues rock, and the anthemic heft of post-metal’s sludgier, power-chord-driven moments. What makes this combination work is not just the intuitive chemistry of the instrumentalists, but the commanding presence of vocalist Van Bassman. Each track is surprisingly vocal-driven, and Bassman conjures a sound somewhere between a bluesier Dax Riggs and a John Baizley who’s actually capable of singing. His baritone sits front and center for much of Om Moksha Ritam, often accompanied by vocal layers and effects, creating a kaleidoscopic swirl that amplifies the ebb and flow of the music as it moves between peaks and valleys.

It helps that Om Moksha Ritam’s tracklist is dynamic and well-paced, with each of its 7 songs offering subtle differentiation on Insomniac’s core formula. Much of this can be attributed to the interplay between guitarists Alex Avedissian and Mike Morris,2 whose willingness to balance acoustic and effects-laden electric timbres gives the record a versatile and interesting palette. The guitars ferry the songs between quiet reflection and crushing grandeur. Whether it’s weaving intricate folky arpeggios together with tripped-out leads (“Desert”), harmonizing across doomy atmospheres (“Mountain”) or using post-rock tremolos to punctuate a well-earned climax (“Meditation), the guitar work on Om Moksha Ritam is consistently engaging and varied. Of course, this would be for naught without a strong rhythm section, but Insomniac has that as well. Drummer Amos Rifkin brings a loose, delicate touch to softer tracks like “Sea” and “Forest,” but escalates with thunderous weight when the music demands greater intensity. Meanwhile, bassist Juan Garcia provides a warm, full-bodied tone that both supports and embellishes the melodic core, keeping the songs anchored amid the dense layering of guitars and vocals, which is important on a track like the expansive and sprawling “Snow and Ice.”

Only a few minor inconsistencies keep Om Moksha Ritam from reaching the apex of Insomniac’s sound. The B-side leans away from emphatic “Hell yes” moments in favor of slower, navel-gazing jams. These tracks reward repeat listens but aren’t as immediately gripping. Closer “Awakening” falls just shy of the monumental highs of the opening salvo, with a climactic chorus that doesn’t land as powerfully as it could. For the most part, the record sounds fantastic and balances its many intricate layers, though there are moments (the refrains of “Mountain” and “Sea”) where Bassman’s voice overpowers the rest of the band in a psychedelic spiral. These issues don’t detract too heavily from the record’s overall impact, but they are worth noting.

Om Moksha Ritam takes you on a hallucinogenic trek across the desert, riffs shimmering like heat mirages, the atmosphere thick enough to choke a camel. Insomniac has delivered an album that takes listeners on a true musical journey, drenched in smoke-filled vibes, yet immediately rewarding. Their unique, psychedelic strain of “post-doom” metal blends familiar elements from beloved bands into something greater than the sum of its parts. If Insomniac invite me on another spiritual vision quest through the wastelands of sound, I’ll happily lace up my sandals, pack my water skin, and follow them straight into the void.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Blues Funeral Recording
Websites: insomniacvibes.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/insomniacatl
Releases Worldwide: September 1st, 2025

#2025 #35 #AmeircanMetal #Baroness #BluesFuneralRecording #BluesRock #CultOfLuna #DoomMetal #Elder #Insomniac #OmMokshaRitam #OranssiPazuzu #PostRock #PostMetal #ProgressiveMetal #PsychedelicMetal #PsychedelicRock #Review #Reviews #REZN #Sep25

Insomniac – Om Moksha Ritam Review

By Samguineous Maximus

The terms “psychedelic” and “post-metal” are usually enough for me to approach any new release with caution—not because those genres lack excellent music, but because they’re so often associated with overlong, unfocused songs. For every Cult of Luna or Oranssi Pazuzu, there are fifty bands peddling overlong, riffless dirges that mistake “atmosphere” for actual songwriting. Atlanta supergroup Insomniac has arrived with their debut record Om Moksha Ritam, with the ominous self-designation of “post-doom.” The title, loosely translated from Sanskrit as “Liberation through merging with the Universal Rhythm,”1 foregrounds its ambitions as a concept album designed to “guide listeners through an aural and spiritual journey across multiple extreme environments.” Have Insomniac crafted a narrative listening experience that successfully conveys its metaphysical aspirations? Or is their debut the “post-doom” equivalent of a bad trip?

On Om Moksha Ritam, Insomniac manages to craft a sound that is immediately recognizable yet distinctly their own. They merge the progressive psychedelia of Elder with the layered, textural approach of REZN, all filtered through the Southern-gothic tinge of fellow Georgians Baroness. The result is a body of songs that draw equally from the contemplative exploration of ’70s prog, Americana-dipped blues rock, and the anthemic heft of post-metal’s sludgier, power-chord-driven moments. What makes this combination work is not just the intuitive chemistry of the instrumentalists, but the commanding presence of vocalist Van Bassman. Each track is surprisingly vocal-driven, and Bassman conjures a sound somewhere between a bluesier Dax Riggs and a John Baizley who’s actually capable of singing. His baritone sits front and center for much of Om Moksha Ritam, often accompanied by vocal layers and effects, creating a kaleidoscopic swirl that amplifies the ebb and flow of the music as it moves between peaks and valleys.

It helps that Om Moksha Ritam’s tracklist is dynamic and well-paced, with each of its 7 songs offering subtle differentiation on Insomniac’s core formula. Much of this can be attributed to the interplay between guitarists Alex Avedissian and Mike Morris,2 whose willingness to balance acoustic and effects-laden electric timbres gives the record a versatile and interesting palette. The guitars ferry the songs between quiet reflection and crushing grandeur. Whether it’s weaving intricate folky arpeggios together with tripped-out leads (“Desert”), harmonizing across doomy atmospheres (“Mountain”) or using post-rock tremolos to punctuate a well-earned climax (“Meditation), the guitar work on Om Moksha Ritam is consistently engaging and varied. Of course, this would be for naught without a strong rhythm section, but Insomniac has that as well. Drummer Amos Rifkin brings a loose, delicate touch to softer tracks like “Sea” and “Forest,” but escalates with thunderous weight when the music demands greater intensity. Meanwhile, bassist Juan Garcia provides a warm, full-bodied tone that both supports and embellishes the melodic core, keeping the songs anchored amid the dense layering of guitars and vocals, which is important on a track like the expansive and sprawling “Snow and Ice.”

Only a few minor inconsistencies keep Om Moksha Ritam from reaching the apex of Insomniac’s sound. The B-side leans away from emphatic “Hell yes” moments in favor of slower, navel-gazing jams. These tracks reward repeat listens but aren’t as immediately gripping. Closer “Awakening” falls just shy of the monumental highs of the opening salvo, with a climactic chorus that doesn’t land as powerfully as it could. For the most part, the record sounds fantastic and balances its many intricate layers, though there are moments (the refrains of “Mountain” and “Sea”) where Bassman’s voice overpowers the rest of the band in a psychedelic spiral. These issues don’t detract too heavily from the record’s overall impact, but they are worth noting.

Om Moksha Ritam takes you on a hallucinogenic trek across the desert, riffs shimmering like heat mirages, the atmosphere thick enough to choke a camel. Insomniac has delivered an album that takes listeners on a true musical journey, drenched in smoke-filled vibes, yet immediately rewarding. Their unique, psychedelic strain of “post-doom” metal blends familiar elements from beloved bands into something greater than the sum of its parts. If Insomniac invite me on another spiritual vision quest through the wastelands of sound, I’ll happily lace up my sandals, pack my water skin, and follow them straight into the void.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Blues Funeral Recording
Websites: insomniacvibes.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/insomniacatl
Releases Worldwide: September 1st, 2025

#2025 #35 #AmeircanMetal #Baroness #BluesFuneralRecording #BluesRock #CultOfLuna #DoomMetal #Elder #Insomniac #OmMokshaRitam #OranssiPazuzu #PostRock #PostMetal #ProgressiveMetal #PsychedelicMetal #PsychedelicRock #Review #Reviews #REZN #Sep25

20 Minuten zu #Amenra #Spermbirds und #CultofLuna #Hardcore #Metal #Trampolinhüpfen ist ganz schön anstrengend und überaus schön! Auch ohne die wilde #Music. Highly recommended. #Trampolin

Bit odd with all the clean vocals:

#CultOfLuna: Beyond III, IV, V

https://album.link/b/1464671136

#PostMetal

FFO #Isis #Laden #Seek

#TheSundayStarter

Spare thirtysomething minutes from your life to listen to this. Close the door, don a pair of headphones and immerse yourself in emotions.

For #MittwochMetalMix:

#Dimscûa: Dust Eater

https://album.link/i/1817099750

#PostMetal

FFO #Codespeaker #CultOfLuna #HundredYearOldMan

https://www.europesays.com/uk/248245/ The Bleak Picture – Shades of Life Review #2.5 #2025 #ArduaMusic #Autumnfall #CultOfLuna #DeathDoom #DeathMetal #DeathDoomMetal #DoomDeath #DoomDeathMetal #DoomMetal #Enshine #Entertainment #FinnishMetal #Gothic #GothicDoom #GothicMetal #GothicRock #Insomnium #Jun25 #Melodeath #MelodeathMetal #MelodicDeathDoom #MelodicDeathMetal #music #ParadiseLost #rapture #Review #Reviews #ShadesOfLife #SwallowTheSun #TheBleakPicture #UK #UnitedKingdom

The Bleak Picture – Shades of Life Review

By Maddog

It’s been a draining year. Lacking the mental energy for new music, I’ve subsisted on a diet of ISIS and Fvneral Fvkk. Clouded by the doomy stylings of the latter, I decided to make my return to reviewing with dismal death-doom. Despite releasing their debut just last year, Finland’s The Bleak Picture is a project of members of Autumnfall. That said, these two bands sound worlds apart, as their names betray. Abandoning the blackened scenery of Autumnfall, The Bleak Picture paints a bleak picture with melodic death-doom that reeks of Finland. Channeling the icons of sadboi history, Shades of Life is a flawed but worthwhile slab of morose doom.

You won’t find much innovation here, but The Bleak Picture has learned from the best. Blending harsh vocals and spoken word, doomy plains and deathy mountain ranges, Shades of Life consists of familiar elements. The opener “Plagued by Sorrow” offers the listener zero seconds of respite before launching into a persistent doom riff. Melodic guitar leads steer the album along, stitching the doomy cuts together in a manner that recalls Enshine (“Without the I”). Rather than slowing to a standstill, The Bleak Picture uses Insomnium riffs to push the album along without diluting its sorrow. The guitars (handled by Jussi Hänninen, along with the other instruments) are the core of Shades of Life, but Tero Ruohonen’s vocals broaden its horizons. While he largely dwells in standard harsh territory, Ruohonen’s cleans tinge the album with gothic influences, like the distorted spoken word of “Absolution.” Indeed, sections like the straightforward rock of “Without the I” recall Paradise Lost. However, lest this lengthy description fool you, Shades of Life is largely standard fare.

It feels criminal to listen to Shades of Life on a 90-degree summer day. The Bleak Picture conveys emotion through the sheer enormity of their riffs, burying the listener like an avalanche (“Absolution”). Elsewhere, Shades of Life deftly intersperses these assaults with tranquility, like the transition from an explosive chorus to minimalist bass-led instrumentals on “Plagued by Sorrow.” These strengths reach their apex on the 11-minute spectacle “Silent Exit.” Evoking Swallow the Sun’s Plague of Butterflies, the track progresses through a nightmarish acoustic melody, forceful doom riffs, and girthy bass lines. Cult of Luna-style drumming leads the song into a climactic ending that raises the bar even further. Across these highlights, The Bleak Picture’s sophomore release boasts a mature approach to songwriting.

Shades of Life still struggles to transcend its melodic death-doom formula. The album’s biggest weakness is its monotony. In their quest for chunky riffs, The Bleak Picture tends to overuse ideas, emulating an uninspired version of Rapture (“Code of Ethics”). Even the album’s best pieces sometimes fizzle out, like the abrupt ending of the otherwise-powerful “Absolution.” Similarly, while the penultimate track “Silent Exit” showcases the best of Shades of Life, the closer “City of Ghosts” settles into a low-energy doom routine that never picks up steam. Despite its apparent variety of influences, The Bleak Picture’s by-the-book approach to death-doom doesn’t always keep my interest.

An album like Shades of Life is difficult to dissect; its success hinges on the heart, not the brain. The Bleak Picture is on the right path, and tracks like “Silent Exit” hit hard with their bulky riffwork and creative variety. But as a whole, Shades of Life isn’t the gut punch I’d hoped for. It doesn’t match the raw power of Paradise Lost, the otherworldly sadness of Enshine, or the narrative prowess of Insomnium. Still, I have no regrets. There are strong whiffs of talent here, and with its mature and tempered approach to songwriting, Shades of Life is an easy, rewarding listen. It’s worth a shot for anyone who prefers moping over sunlight.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Ardua Music
Websites: thebleakpicture.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/thebleakpicture
Releases Worldwide: June 27th, 2025

#25 #2025 #ArduaMusic #Autumnfall #CultOfLuna #DeathDoom #DeathMetal #DeathDoomMetal #DoomDeath #DoomDeathMetal #DoomMetal #Enshine #FinnishMetal #Gothic #GothicDoom #GothicMetal #GothicRock #Insomnium #Jun25 #Melodeath #MelodeathMetal #MelodicDeathDoom #MelodicDeathMetal #ParadiseLost #Rapture #Review #Reviews #ShadesOfLife #SwallowTheSun #TheBleakPicture

The Bleak Picture – Shades of Life Review

By Maddog

It’s been a draining year. Lacking the mental energy for new music, I’ve subsisted on a diet of ISIS and Fvneral Fvkk. Clouded by the doomy stylings of the latter, I decided to make my return to reviewing with dismal death-doom. Despite releasing their debut just last year, Finland’s The Bleak Picture is a project of members of Autumnfall. That said, these two bands sound worlds apart, as their names betray. Abandoning the blackened scenery of Autumnfall, The Bleak Picture paints a bleak picture with melodic death-doom that reeks of Finland. Channeling the icons of sadboi history, Shades of Life is a flawed but worthwhile slab of morose doom.

You won’t find much innovation here, but The Bleak Picture has learned from the best. Blending harsh vocals and spoken word, doomy plains and deathy mountain ranges, Shades of Life consists of familiar elements. The opener “Plagued by Sorrow” offers the listener zero seconds of respite before launching into a persistent doom riff. Melodic guitar leads steer the album along, stitching the doomy cuts together in a manner that recalls Enshine (“Without the I”). Rather than slowing to a standstill, The Bleak Picture uses Insomnium riffs to push the album along without diluting its sorrow. The guitars (handled by Jussi Hänninen, along with the other instruments) are the core of Shades of Life, but Tero Ruohonen’s vocals broaden its horizons. While he largely dwells in standard harsh territory, Ruohonen’s cleans tinge the album with gothic influences, like the distorted spoken word of “Absolution.” Indeed, sections like the straightforward rock of “Without the I” recall Paradise Lost. However, lest this lengthy description fool you, Shades of Life is largely standard fare.

It feels criminal to listen to Shades of Life on a 90-degree summer day. The Bleak Picture conveys emotion through the sheer enormity of their riffs, burying the listener like an avalanche (“Absolution”). Elsewhere, Shades of Life deftly intersperses these assaults with tranquility, like the transition from an explosive chorus to minimalist bass-led instrumentals on “Plagued by Sorrow.” These strengths reach their apex on the 11-minute spectacle “Silent Exit.” Evoking Swallow the Sun’s Plague of Butterflies, the track progresses through a nightmarish acoustic melody, forceful doom riffs, and girthy bass lines. Cult of Luna-style drumming leads the song into a climactic ending that raises the bar even further. Across these highlights, The Bleak Picture’s sophomore release boasts a mature approach to songwriting.

Shades of Life still struggles to transcend its melodic death-doom formula. The album’s biggest weakness is its monotony. In their quest for chunky riffs, The Bleak Picture tends to overuse ideas, emulating an uninspired version of Rapture (“Code of Ethics”). Even the album’s best pieces sometimes fizzle out, like the abrupt ending of the otherwise-powerful “Absolution.” Similarly, while the penultimate track “Silent Exit” showcases the best of Shades of Life, the closer “City of Ghosts” settles into a low-energy doom routine that never picks up steam. Despite its apparent variety of influences, The Bleak Picture’s by-the-book approach to death-doom doesn’t always keep my interest.

An album like Shades of Life is difficult to dissect; its success hinges on the heart, not the brain. The Bleak Picture is on the right path, and tracks like “Silent Exit” hit hard with their bulky riffwork and creative variety. But as a whole, Shades of Life isn’t the gut punch I’d hoped for. It doesn’t match the raw power of Paradise Lost, the otherworldly sadness of Enshine, or the narrative prowess of Insomnium. Still, I have no regrets. There are strong whiffs of talent here, and with its mature and tempered approach to songwriting, Shades of Life is an easy, rewarding listen. It’s worth a shot for anyone who prefers moping over sunlight.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Ardua Music
Websites: thebleakpicture.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/thebleakpicture
Releases Worldwide: June 27th, 2025

#25 #2025 #ArduaMusic #Autumnfall #CultOfLuna #DeathDoom #DeathMetal #DeathDoomMetal #DoomDeath #DoomDeathMetal #DoomMetal #Enshine #FinnishMetal #Gothic #GothicDoom #GothicMetal #GothicRock #Insomnium #Jun25 #Melodeath #MelodeathMetal #MelodicDeathDoom #MelodicDeathMetal #ParadiseLost #Rapture #Review #Reviews #ShadesOfLife #SwallowTheSun #TheBleakPicture

The Bleak Picture – Shades of Life Review

By Maddog

It’s been a draining year. Lacking the mental energy for new music, I’ve subsisted on a diet of ISIS and Fvneral Fvkk. Clouded by the doomy stylings of the latter, I decided to make my return to reviewing with dismal death-doom. Despite releasing their debut just last year, Finland’s The Bleak Picture is a project of members of Autumnfall. That said, these two bands sound worlds apart, as their names betray. Abandoning the blackened scenery of Autumnfall, The Bleak Picture paints a bleak picture with melodic death-doom that reeks of Finland. Channeling the icons of sadboi history, Shades of Life is a flawed but worthwhile slab of morose doom.

You won’t find much innovation here, but The Bleak Picture has learned from the best. Blending harsh vocals and spoken word, doomy plains and deathy mountain ranges, Shades of Life consists of familiar elements. The opener “Plagued by Sorrow” offers the listener zero seconds of respite before launching into a persistent doom riff. Melodic guitar leads steer the album along, stitching the doomy cuts together in a manner that recalls Enshine (“Without the I”). Rather than slowing to a standstill, The Bleak Picture uses Insomnium riffs to push the album along without diluting its sorrow. The guitars (handled by Jussi Hänninen, along with the other instruments) are the core of Shades of Life, but Tero Ruohonen’s vocals broaden its horizons. While he largely dwells in standard harsh territory, Ruohonen’s cleans tinge the album with gothic influences, like the distorted spoken word of “Absolution.” Indeed, sections like the straightforward rock of “Without the I” recall Paradise Lost. However, lest this lengthy description fool you, Shades of Life is largely standard fare.

It feels criminal to listen to Shades of Life on a 90-degree summer day. The Bleak Picture conveys emotion through the sheer enormity of their riffs, burying the listener like an avalanche (“Absolution”). Elsewhere, Shades of Life deftly intersperses these assaults with tranquility, like the transition from an explosive chorus to minimalist bass-led instrumentals on “Plagued by Sorrow.” These strengths reach their apex on the 11-minute spectacle “Silent Exit.” Evoking Swallow the Sun’s Plague of Butterflies, the track progresses through a nightmarish acoustic melody, forceful doom riffs, and girthy bass lines. Cult of Luna-style drumming leads the song into a climactic ending that raises the bar even further. Across these highlights, The Bleak Picture’s sophomore release boasts a mature approach to songwriting.

Shades of Life still struggles to transcend its melodic death-doom formula. The album’s biggest weakness is its monotony. In their quest for chunky riffs, The Bleak Picture tends to overuse ideas, emulating an uninspired version of Rapture (“Code of Ethics”). Even the album’s best pieces sometimes fizzle out, like the abrupt ending of the otherwise-powerful “Absolution.” Similarly, while the penultimate track “Silent Exit” showcases the best of Shades of Life, the closer “City of Ghosts” settles into a low-energy doom routine that never picks up steam. Despite its apparent variety of influences, The Bleak Picture’s by-the-book approach to death-doom doesn’t always keep my interest.

An album like Shades of Life is difficult to dissect; its success hinges on the heart, not the brain. The Bleak Picture is on the right path, and tracks like “Silent Exit” hit hard with their bulky riffwork and creative variety. But as a whole, Shades of Life isn’t the gut punch I’d hoped for. It doesn’t match the raw power of Paradise Lost, the otherworldly sadness of Enshine, or the narrative prowess of Insomnium. Still, I have no regrets. There are strong whiffs of talent here, and with its mature and tempered approach to songwriting, Shades of Life is an easy, rewarding listen. It’s worth a shot for anyone who prefers moping over sunlight.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Ardua Music
Websites: thebleakpicture.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/thebleakpicture
Releases Worldwide: June 27th, 2025

#25 #2025 #ArduaMusic #Autumnfall #CultOfLuna #DeathDoom #DeathMetal #DeathDoomMetal #DoomDeath #DoomDeathMetal #DoomMetal #Enshine #FinnishMetal #Gothic #GothicDoom #GothicMetal #GothicRock #Insomnium #Jun25 #Melodeath #MelodeathMetal #MelodicDeathDoom #MelodicDeathMetal #ParadiseLost #Rapture #Review #Reviews #ShadesOfLife #SwallowTheSun #TheBleakPicture

The Bleak Picture – Shades of Life Review

By Maddog

It’s been a draining year. Lacking the mental energy for new music, I’ve subsisted on a diet of ISIS and Fvneral Fvkk. Clouded by the doomy stylings of the latter, I decided to make my return to reviewing with dismal death-doom. Despite releasing their debut just last year, Finland’s The Bleak Picture is a project of members of Autumnfall. That said, these two bands sound worlds apart, as their names betray. Abandoning the blackened scenery of Autumnfall, The Bleak Picture paints a bleak picture with melodic death-doom that reeks of Finland. Channeling the icons of sadboi history, Shades of Life is a flawed but worthwhile slab of morose doom.

You won’t find much innovation here, but The Bleak Picture has learned from the best. Blending harsh vocals and spoken word, doomy plains and deathy mountain ranges, Shades of Life consists of familiar elements. The opener “Plagued by Sorrow” offers the listener zero seconds of respite before launching into a persistent doom riff. Melodic guitar leads steer the album along, stitching the doomy cuts together in a manner that recalls Enshine (“Without the I”). Rather than slowing to a standstill, The Bleak Picture uses Insomnium riffs to push the album along without diluting its sorrow. The guitars (handled by Jussi Hänninen, along with the other instruments) are the core of Shades of Life, but Tero Ruohonen’s vocals broaden its horizons. While he largely dwells in standard harsh territory, Ruohonen’s cleans tinge the album with gothic influences, like the distorted spoken word of “Absolution.” Indeed, sections like the straightforward rock of “Without the I” recall Paradise Lost. However, lest this lengthy description fool you, Shades of Life is largely standard fare.

It feels criminal to listen to Shades of Life on a 90-degree summer day. The Bleak Picture conveys emotion through the sheer enormity of their riffs, burying the listener like an avalanche (“Absolution”). Elsewhere, Shades of Life deftly intersperses these assaults with tranquility, like the transition from an explosive chorus to minimalist bass-led instrumentals on “Plagued by Sorrow.” These strengths reach their apex on the 11-minute spectacle “Silent Exit.” Evoking Swallow the Sun’s Plague of Butterflies, the track progresses through a nightmarish acoustic melody, forceful doom riffs, and girthy bass lines. Cult of Luna-style drumming leads the song into a climactic ending that raises the bar even further. Across these highlights, The Bleak Picture’s sophomore release boasts a mature approach to songwriting.

Shades of Life still struggles to transcend its melodic death-doom formula. The album’s biggest weakness is its monotony. In their quest for chunky riffs, The Bleak Picture tends to overuse ideas, emulating an uninspired version of Rapture (“Code of Ethics”). Even the album’s best pieces sometimes fizzle out, like the abrupt ending of the otherwise-powerful “Absolution.” Similarly, while the penultimate track “Silent Exit” showcases the best of Shades of Life, the closer “City of Ghosts” settles into a low-energy doom routine that never picks up steam. Despite its apparent variety of influences, The Bleak Picture’s by-the-book approach to death-doom doesn’t always keep my interest.

An album like Shades of Life is difficult to dissect; its success hinges on the heart, not the brain. The Bleak Picture is on the right path, and tracks like “Silent Exit” hit hard with their bulky riffwork and creative variety. But as a whole, Shades of Life isn’t the gut punch I’d hoped for. It doesn’t match the raw power of Paradise Lost, the otherworldly sadness of Enshine, or the narrative prowess of Insomnium. Still, I have no regrets. There are strong whiffs of talent here, and with its mature and tempered approach to songwriting, Shades of Life is an easy, rewarding listen. It’s worth a shot for anyone who prefers moping over sunlight.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Ardua Music
Websites: thebleakpicture.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/thebleakpicture
Releases Worldwide: June 27th, 2025

#25 #2025 #ArduaMusic #Autumnfall #CultOfLuna #DeathDoom #DeathMetal #DeathDoomMetal #DoomDeath #DoomDeathMetal #DoomMetal #Enshine #FinnishMetal #Gothic #GothicDoom #GothicMetal #GothicRock #Insomnium #Jun25 #Melodeath #MelodeathMetal #MelodicDeathDoom #MelodicDeathMetal #ParadiseLost #Rapture #Review #Reviews #ShadesOfLife #SwallowTheSun #TheBleakPicture

The Bleak Picture – Shades of Life Review

By Maddog

It’s been a draining year. Lacking the mental energy for new music, I’ve subsisted on a diet of ISIS and Fvneral Fvkk. Clouded by the doomy stylings of the latter, I decided to make my return to reviewing with dismal death-doom. Despite releasing their debut just last year, Finland’s The Bleak Picture is a project of members of Autumnfall. That said, these two bands sound worlds apart, as their names betray. Abandoning the blackened scenery of Autumnfall, The Bleak Picture paints a bleak picture with melodic death-doom that reeks of Finland. Channeling the icons of sadboi history, Shades of Life is a flawed but worthwhile slab of morose doom.

You won’t find much innovation here, but The Bleak Picture has learned from the best. Blending harsh vocals and spoken word, doomy plains and deathy mountain ranges, Shades of Life consists of familiar elements. The opener “Plagued by Sorrow” offers the listener zero seconds of respite before launching into a persistent doom riff. Melodic guitar leads steer the album along, stitching the doomy cuts together in a manner that recalls Enshine (“Without the I”). Rather than slowing to a standstill, The Bleak Picture uses Insomnium riffs to push the album along without diluting its sorrow. The guitars (handled by Jussi Hänninen, along with the other instruments) are the core of Shades of Life, but Tero Ruohonen’s vocals broaden its horizons. While he largely dwells in standard harsh territory, Ruohonen’s cleans tinge the album with gothic influences, like the distorted spoken word of “Absolution.” Indeed, sections like the straightforward rock of “Without the I” recall Paradise Lost. However, lest this lengthy description fool you, Shades of Life is largely standard fare.

It feels criminal to listen to Shades of Life on a 90-degree summer day. The Bleak Picture conveys emotion through the sheer enormity of their riffs, burying the listener like an avalanche (“Absolution”). Elsewhere, Shades of Life deftly intersperses these assaults with tranquility, like the transition from an explosive chorus to minimalist bass-led instrumentals on “Plagued by Sorrow.” These strengths reach their apex on the 11-minute spectacle “Silent Exit.” Evoking Swallow the Sun’s Plague of Butterflies, the track progresses through a nightmarish acoustic melody, forceful doom riffs, and girthy bass lines. Cult of Luna-style drumming leads the song into a climactic ending that raises the bar even further. Across these highlights, The Bleak Picture’s sophomore release boasts a mature approach to songwriting.

Shades of Life still struggles to transcend its melodic death-doom formula. The album’s biggest weakness is its monotony. In their quest for chunky riffs, The Bleak Picture tends to overuse ideas, emulating an uninspired version of Rapture (“Code of Ethics”). Even the album’s best pieces sometimes fizzle out, like the abrupt ending of the otherwise-powerful “Absolution.” Similarly, while the penultimate track “Silent Exit” showcases the best of Shades of Life, the closer “City of Ghosts” settles into a low-energy doom routine that never picks up steam. Despite its apparent variety of influences, The Bleak Picture’s by-the-book approach to death-doom doesn’t always keep my interest.

An album like Shades of Life is difficult to dissect; its success hinges on the heart, not the brain. The Bleak Picture is on the right path, and tracks like “Silent Exit” hit hard with their bulky riffwork and creative variety. But as a whole, Shades of Life isn’t the gut punch I’d hoped for. It doesn’t match the raw power of Paradise Lost, the otherworldly sadness of Enshine, or the narrative prowess of Insomnium. Still, I have no regrets. There are strong whiffs of talent here, and with its mature and tempered approach to songwriting, Shades of Life is an easy, rewarding listen. It’s worth a shot for anyone who prefers moping over sunlight.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Ardua Music
Websites: thebleakpicture.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/thebleakpicture
Releases Worldwide: June 27th, 2025

#25 #2025 #ArduaMusic #Autumnfall #CultOfLuna #DeathDoom #DeathMetal #DeathDoomMetal #DoomDeath #DoomDeathMetal #DoomMetal #Enshine #FinnishMetal #Gothic #GothicDoom #GothicMetal #GothicRock #Insomnium #Jun25 #Melodeath #MelodeathMetal #MelodicDeathDoom #MelodicDeathMetal #ParadiseLost #Rapture #Review #Reviews #ShadesOfLife #SwallowTheSun #TheBleakPicture

Acidsloth – Acidsloth Review

By Thus Spoke

Can you guess what genre Acidsloth plays? Yes, that’s right, it’s thrash! Ok, no, obviously not, it’s stoner doom—what else with a name that’s a portmanteau of a drug and a notoriously slow-moving animal? Kicking1 around since 2021, Kraków’s Acidsloth already have two LPs to their name, but it’s their third that they bestow the honor of being self-titled. The reason is that this time, they’re a “full band” (to use their own terminology), totaling eight(!) musicians, five of whom perform vocals. In this sense, Acidsloth is kind of their debut. With a charmingly against-type depiction of their token animal, and the promise of “Eyehategod-level aggression mixed with Conan’s heaviness and Electric Wizard’s psychedelic weight,” Acidsloth are out to show they mean business.

Acidsloth’s more-is-more approach to vocalists sees them hand the mic to a new player on (almost) every track.2 This is a cool and unique way to inject a bit of flavor into what is an infamously monotonous subgenre, as we swap between the shriekier (Julia Markiewicz, Radosław Bury), hoarser (Jan Gajewski, Mateusz Zborowski) and the growlier (Patryk Kozera) interpretations of the sludge scream. Beyond this, their compositions follow a common trajectory, often beginning with atmospheric, slightly ominous plucking and spending most of their time brooding in distorted sludgy chugs to a sedated beat. It’s certainly solid (in literal density as well as aesthetic quality), and sometimes it’s even slick thanks to some beautifully-timed transitions and an elusive solo. But as a whole, it fails to have the weight it needs to support its posture.

The thing about having different vocalists on different songs is that it’s quite important to be able to hear them well enough to appreciate their individual skills. Unfortunately, Acidsloth’s vocal track is so low in the mix compared to the instrumentation that the shouts and screams are often lost in the fuzz and bang of guitar and bass drum (particularly on “Float” and “Sin”). Given this, you’d hope the riffs would make up for it, but here too, Acidsloth fumble the ball. Outside of two pretty sweet solos (“Hole,” “Puke”) the guitars only hint at interesting melodies with some hanging plucks (“Hole,” “Free,” “Puke,” “Satan”), and interspersed passages of up-or-down-tempo strumming (“Float,” “Satan”). There are little moments of brilliance where it seems Acidsloth finally finish coming up and deliver—brutal, sledgehammer sludge screams (“Float,” “Free”); that solo (“Hole”); groovily-tapping post metal tension (“Free,” “Satan”); moody liquid plucks (“Sin”). But it’s at these times when Acidsloth’s odd compositional habits truly hamstring what strength they gained. Frequently, songs switch gears midway, and then again, and yet manage to reprise the least-interesting elements of monotony; the cool parts not given time to command the space they deserve (“Hole,” “Free,” “Sin,” “Puke”). The worst case is “Free,” which could have Amenra-esque levels of bite and solemnity, if the mid-tier galloping sludge didn’t smother the harrowing howls, and the anticipatory build that interrupts it set the tone instead.

Doom of any kind, and sludge for that matter, is at heart designed to be uncomplicated, but its presence—whether through emotional depth or sheer magnitude—is what makes it powerful. Alternatively, maybe it can just make you feel good with some psychedelically lush soundscapes. Acidsloth has no presence beyond its literal noisiness, and there’s but a glimmer of color in the melodies. The near-inaudibility of the vocalists is made worse by the frequent use of reverb, and what is either multi-tracking or group shouts (their muddiness makes it hard to tell). The music isn’t “boring,” as such, it’s just draining to listen to, as all the best riffs, screams, and good use of rhythm and atmosphere are quite quickly ironed over with a return to the plod and a sheen of humming feedback. One thus ends up walking away with the unfair impression that there’s simply nothing going on in the entire record. Even in active listens, I struggled to cling to the positive vibes.

As a stoner doom album, maybe Acidsloth is standard fare, but I would like to think not. As a sludge album, it fares better, thanks to an emphasis on chunky—albeit mostly dull—riffing and the fact that at least some of the vocalists seem to have promise. Acidsloth are finding their feet as an ensemble, and if they can pool their assets, I think they could make something pretty juicy. Hopefully, they make the move faster than the animal they’re named for.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Willowtip
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 20th, 2025

#20 #2025 #Acidsloth #Amenra #Conan #CultOfLuna #DoomMetal #ElectricWizard #Eyehategod #Jun25 #PolishMetal #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #SelfReleases #Sludge #StonerDoom

Acidsloth – Acidsloth Review

By Thus Spoke

Can you guess what genre Acidsloth plays? Yes, that’s right, it’s thrash! Ok, no, obviously not, it’s stoner doom—what else with a name that’s a portmanteau of a drug and a notoriously slow-moving animal? Kicking1 around since 2021, Kraków’s Acidsloth already have two LPs to their name, but it’s their third that they bestow the honor of being self-titled. The reason is that this time, they’re a “full band” (to use their own terminology), totaling eight(!) musicians, five of whom perform vocals. In this sense, Acidsloth is kind of their debut. With a charmingly against-type depiction of their token animal, and the promise of “Eyehategod-level aggression mixed with Conan’s heaviness and Electric Wizard’s psychedelic weight,” Acidsloth are out to show they mean business.

Acidsloth’s more-is-more approach to vocalists sees them hand the mic to a new player on (almost) every track.2 This is a cool and unique way to inject a bit of flavor into what is an infamously monotonous subgenre, as we swap between the shriekier (Julia Markiewicz, Radosław Bury), hoarser (Jan Gajewski, Mateusz Zborowski) and the growlier (Patryk Kozera) interpretations of the sludge scream. Beyond this, their compositions follow a common trajectory, often beginning with atmospheric, slightly ominous plucking and spending most of their time brooding in distorted sludgy chugs to a sedated beat. It’s certainly solid (in literal density as well as aesthetic quality), and sometimes it’s even slick thanks to some beautifully-timed transitions and an elusive solo. But as a whole, it fails to have the weight it needs to support its posture.

The thing about having different vocalists on different songs is that it’s quite important to be able to hear them well enough to appreciate their individual skills. Unfortunately, Acidsloth’s vocal track is so low in the mix compared to the instrumentation that the shouts and screams are often lost in the fuzz and bang of guitar and bass drum (particularly on “Float” and “Sin”). Given this, you’d hope the riffs would make up for it, but here too, Acidsloth fumble the ball. Outside of two pretty sweet solos (“Hole,” “Puke”) the guitars only hint at interesting melodies with some hanging plucks (“Hole,” “Free,” “Puke,” “Satan”), and interspersed passages of up-or-down-tempo strumming (“Float,” “Satan”). There are little moments of brilliance where it seems Acidsloth finally finish coming up and deliver—brutal, sledgehammer sludge screams (“Float,” “Free”); that solo (“Hole”); groovily-tapping post metal tension (“Free,” “Satan”); moody liquid plucks (“Sin”). But it’s at these times when Acidsloth’s odd compositional habits truly hamstring what strength they gained. Frequently, songs switch gears midway, and then again, and yet manage to reprise the least-interesting elements of monotony; the cool parts not given time to command the space they deserve (“Hole,” “Free,” “Sin,” “Puke”). The worst case is “Free,” which could have Amenra-esque levels of bite and solemnity, if the mid-tier galloping sludge didn’t smother the harrowing howls, and the anticipatory build that interrupts it set the tone instead.

Doom of any kind, and sludge for that matter, is at heart designed to be uncomplicated, but its presence—whether through emotional depth or sheer magnitude—is what makes it powerful. Alternatively, maybe it can just make you feel good with some psychedelically lush soundscapes. Acidsloth has no presence beyond its literal noisiness, and there’s but a glimmer of color in the melodies. The near-inaudibility of the vocalists is made worse by the frequent use of reverb, and what is either multi-tracking or group shouts (their muddiness makes it hard to tell). The music isn’t “boring,” as such, it’s just draining to listen to, as all the best riffs, screams, and good use of rhythm and atmosphere are quite quickly ironed over with a return to the plod and a sheen of humming feedback. One thus ends up walking away with the unfair impression that there’s simply nothing going on in the entire record. Even in active listens, I struggled to cling to the positive vibes.

As a stoner doom album, maybe Acidsloth is standard fare, but I would like to think not. As a sludge album, it fares better, thanks to an emphasis on chunky—albeit mostly dull—riffing and the fact that at least some of the vocalists seem to have promise. Acidsloth are finding their feet as an ensemble, and if they can pool their assets, I think they could make something pretty juicy. Hopefully, they make the move faster than the animal they’re named for.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Willowtip
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 20th, 2025

#20 #2025 #Acidsloth #Amenra #Conan #CultOfLuna #DoomMetal #ElectricWizard #Eyehategod #Jun25 #PolishMetal #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #SelfReleases #Sludge #StonerDoom

Acidsloth – Acidsloth Review

By Thus Spoke

Can you guess what genre Acidsloth plays? Yes, that’s right, it’s thrash! Ok, no, obviously not, it’s stoner doom—what else with a name that’s a portmanteau of a drug and a notoriously slow-moving animal? Kicking1 around since 2021, Kraków’s Acidsloth already have two LPs to their name, but it’s their third that they bestow the honor of being self-titled. The reason is that this time, they’re a “full band” (to use their own terminology), totaling eight(!) musicians, five of whom perform vocals. In this sense, Acidsloth is kind of their debut. With a charmingly against-type depiction of their token animal, and the promise of “Eyehategod-level aggression mixed with Conan’s heaviness and Electric Wizard’s psychedelic weight,” Acidsloth are out to show they mean business.

Acidsloth’s more-is-more approach to vocalists sees them hand the mic to a new player on (almost) every track.2 This is a cool and unique way to inject a bit of flavor into what is an infamously monotonous subgenre, as we swap between the shriekier (Julia Markiewicz, Radosław Bury), hoarser (Jan Gajewski, Mateusz Zborowski) and the growlier (Patryk Kozera) interpretations of the sludge scream. Beyond this, their compositions follow a common trajectory, often beginning with atmospheric, slightly ominous plucking and spending most of their time brooding in distorted sludgy chugs to a sedated beat. It’s certainly solid (in literal density as well as aesthetic quality), and sometimes it’s even slick thanks to some beautifully-timed transitions and an elusive solo. But as a whole, it fails to have the weight it needs to support its posture.

The thing about having different vocalists on different songs is that it’s quite important to be able to hear them well enough to appreciate their individual skills. Unfortunately, Acidsloth’s vocal track is so low in the mix compared to the instrumentation that the shouts and screams are often lost in the fuzz and bang of guitar and bass drum (particularly on “Float” and “Sin”). Given this, you’d hope the riffs would make up for it, but here too, Acidsloth fumble the ball. Outside of two pretty sweet solos (“Hole,” “Puke”) the guitars only hint at interesting melodies with some hanging plucks (“Hole,” “Free,” “Puke,” “Satan”), and interspersed passages of up-or-down-tempo strumming (“Float,” “Satan”). There are little moments of brilliance where it seems Acidsloth finally finish coming up and deliver—brutal, sledgehammer sludge screams (“Float,” “Free”); that solo (“Hole”); groovily-tapping post metal tension (“Free,” “Satan”); moody liquid plucks (“Sin”). But it’s at these times when Acidsloth’s odd compositional habits truly hamstring what strength they gained. Frequently, songs switch gears midway, and then again, and yet manage to reprise the least-interesting elements of monotony; the cool parts not given time to command the space they deserve (“Hole,” “Free,” “Sin,” “Puke”). The worst case is “Free,” which could have Amenra-esque levels of bite and solemnity, if the mid-tier galloping sludge didn’t smother the harrowing howls, and the anticipatory build that interrupts it set the tone instead.

Doom of any kind, and sludge for that matter, is at heart designed to be uncomplicated, but its presence—whether through emotional depth or sheer magnitude—is what makes it powerful. Alternatively, maybe it can just make you feel good with some psychedelically lush soundscapes. Acidsloth has no presence beyond its literal noisiness, and there’s but a glimmer of color in the melodies. The near-inaudibility of the vocalists is made worse by the frequent use of reverb, and what is either multi-tracking or group shouts (their muddiness makes it hard to tell). The music isn’t “boring,” as such, it’s just draining to listen to, as all the best riffs, screams, and good use of rhythm and atmosphere are quite quickly ironed over with a return to the plod and a sheen of humming feedback. One thus ends up walking away with the unfair impression that there’s simply nothing going on in the entire record. Even in active listens, I struggled to cling to the positive vibes.

As a stoner doom album, maybe Acidsloth is standard fare, but I would like to think not. As a sludge album, it fares better, thanks to an emphasis on chunky—albeit mostly dull—riffing and the fact that at least some of the vocalists seem to have promise. Acidsloth are finding their feet as an ensemble, and if they can pool their assets, I think they could make something pretty juicy. Hopefully, they make the move faster than the animal they’re named for.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Willowtip
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 20th, 2025

#20 #2025 #Acidsloth #Amenra #Conan #CultOfLuna #DoomMetal #ElectricWizard #Eyehategod #Jun25 #PolishMetal #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #SelfReleases #Sludge #StonerDoom

Acidsloth – Acidsloth Review

By Thus Spoke

Can you guess what genre Acidsloth plays? Yes, that’s right, it’s thrash! Ok, no, obviously not, it’s stoner doom—what else with a name that’s a portmanteau of a drug and a notoriously slow-moving animal? Kicking1 around since 2021, Kraków’s Acidsloth already have two LPs to their name, but it’s their third that they bestow the honor of being self-titled. The reason is that this time, they’re a “full band” (to use their own terminology), totaling eight(!) musicians, five of whom perform vocals. In this sense, Acidsloth is kind of their debut. With a charmingly against-type depiction of their token animal, and the promise of “Eyehategod-level aggression mixed with Conan’s heaviness and Electric Wizard’s psychedelic weight,” Acidsloth are out to show they mean business.

Acidsloth’s more-is-more approach to vocalists sees them hand the mic to a new player on (almost) every track.2 This is a cool and unique way to inject a bit of flavor into what is an infamously monotonous subgenre, as we swap between the shriekier (Julia Markiewicz, Radosław Bury), hoarser (Jan Gajewski, Mateusz Zborowski) and the growlier (Patryk Kozera) interpretations of the sludge scream. Beyond this, their compositions follow a common trajectory, often beginning with atmospheric, slightly ominous plucking and spending most of their time brooding in distorted sludgy chugs to a sedated beat. It’s certainly solid (in literal density as well as aesthetic quality), and sometimes it’s even slick thanks to some beautifully-timed transitions and an elusive solo. But as a whole, it fails to have the weight it needs to support its posture.

The thing about having different vocalists on different songs is that it’s quite important to be able to hear them well enough to appreciate their individual skills. Unfortunately, Acidsloth’s vocal track is so low in the mix compared to the instrumentation that the shouts and screams are often lost in the fuzz and bang of guitar and bass drum (particularly on “Float” and “Sin”). Given this, you’d hope the riffs would make up for it, but here too, Acidsloth fumble the ball. Outside of two pretty sweet solos (“Hole,” “Puke”) the guitars only hint at interesting melodies with some hanging plucks (“Hole,” “Free,” “Puke,” “Satan”), and interspersed passages of up-or-down-tempo strumming (“Float,” “Satan”). There are little moments of brilliance where it seems Acidsloth finally finish coming up and deliver—brutal, sledgehammer sludge screams (“Float,” “Free”); that solo (“Hole”); groovily-tapping post metal tension (“Free,” “Satan”); moody liquid plucks (“Sin”). But it’s at these times when Acidsloth’s odd compositional habits truly hamstring what strength they gained. Frequently, songs switch gears midway, and then again, and yet manage to reprise the least-interesting elements of monotony; the cool parts not given time to command the space they deserve (“Hole,” “Free,” “Sin,” “Puke”). The worst case is “Free,” which could have Amenra-esque levels of bite and solemnity, if the mid-tier galloping sludge didn’t smother the harrowing howls, and the anticipatory build that interrupts it set the tone instead.

Doom of any kind, and sludge for that matter, is at heart designed to be uncomplicated, but its presence—whether through emotional depth or sheer magnitude—is what makes it powerful. Alternatively, maybe it can just make you feel good with some psychedelically lush soundscapes. Acidsloth has no presence beyond its literal noisiness, and there’s but a glimmer of color in the melodies. The near-inaudibility of the vocalists is made worse by the frequent use of reverb, and what is either multi-tracking or group shouts (their muddiness makes it hard to tell). The music isn’t “boring,” as such, it’s just draining to listen to, as all the best riffs, screams, and good use of rhythm and atmosphere are quite quickly ironed over with a return to the plod and a sheen of humming feedback. One thus ends up walking away with the unfair impression that there’s simply nothing going on in the entire record. Even in active listens, I struggled to cling to the positive vibes.

As a stoner doom album, maybe Acidsloth is standard fare, but I would like to think not. As a sludge album, it fares better, thanks to an emphasis on chunky—albeit mostly dull—riffing and the fact that at least some of the vocalists seem to have promise. Acidsloth are finding their feet as an ensemble, and if they can pool their assets, I think they could make something pretty juicy. Hopefully, they make the move faster than the animal they’re named for.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Willowtip
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 20th, 2025

#20 #2025 #Acidsloth #Amenra #Conan #CultOfLuna #DoomMetal #ElectricWizard #Eyehategod #Jun25 #PolishMetal #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #SelfReleases #Sludge #StonerDoom

Feversea – Man Under Erasure Review

By Thus Spoke

Feversea is a perfect name for a post-metal band. It manages to evoke the genre’s typical moodiness and atmosphere, which, like the sea, can range from tranquil mystique to rage and channeled either through fretful drama or a kind of layered intensity that could faithfully be said to resemble a fever dream. But there’s more to Oslo’s Feversea than their name having a pleasing ring. Their debut Man Under Erasure carries the burden of making an impact in the veritable ocean of groups taking their cue from stalwarts like Cult of Luna and Russian Circles.1 Their claims of multi-genre influence, and black metal in particular, along with their Norwegian origin, immediately brought to mind experimental metal legends Dødheimsgard, although that’s arguably an unfair comparison. Having a voice in the scene can be a challenge, but I’m pleased to report that it’s one Feversea meet gallantly.

While containing nothing so unexpected as to approach avant-garde, Man Under Erasure is full of little surprises—good ones at that. Of all the ways I expected the album to begin, the titular opening—with its relatively upbeat electronic melody and soft, spoken-sung vocals—did not appear. From there, Feversea shift between poignancy and pugnacity, and punctuate their sombre pessimism with mellow optimism. Reverberant leads and unshowy, haunting cleans are more often than not turned eerie by their accompanying sludgy riffs and aggressive percussion, making those truly stripped-back portions feel even more still. Gloomy moods are enhanced or traded for fury with blurred, even dissonant tremolo, d-beating or blastbeating pace, and throaty screams. The tone is consistently somewhat brooding, but Feversea avoid treading into an introspective dreaminess with this turbulence between post-metal ethereality and hardcore and blackened fury, their atmosphere maintaining a bite with sinister melodic turns and vocal switches to vicious roars.

Across Man Under Erasure, Feversea showcase an impressive talent for creative songwriting. The particular fusion of sludge, hardcore, black metal, and electronica that they employ makes for dynamic and engaging pieces. When atmospheric, their presence is tangible (“New Creatures Replace Our Names,” “Invocation,” “Until it Goes Away”), and when more energetic, they possess a refreshingly unconventional spirit (“Decider,” “Kindred Spirit”). The faint shadows of the aforementioned Dødheimsgard are actually audible in spinning synth lines and playfully lurching blackened guitar scattered in fleeting moments across the album (“Murmur Within the Skull of God,” “Sunkindling,” “Kindred Spirit”). While it’s all good, there are passages in particular that hit upon some glorious interplay of styles; sometimes a powerfully stirring surge of emotion wrapped in layers of tremolo and electronica (“Invocation,” “Kindred Spirit”), sometimes a deceptively simple and undeniably catchy sludge-post, sludge-black, or electronica-post refrain (“New Creatures…,” “Decider,” title track). Feversea do both calm and lively with like ease and make the transitions between them sound easy.

The multifaceted nature of their sound avoids feeling fickle—for the most part—and instead sounds quite smooth. This is in large part thanks to the stellar work of the individual musicians who comprise Feversea—for most of whom this is their first and only band. Though everyone deserves credit, I have to give extra kudos to vocalist Ada Lønne Emberland, who performs both harsh and clean leads and is absolutely killing it with subtly emotive singing and razor-sharp screams. Melodies retain memorability and songs a satisfying crunch and flavour through punchy, audible riffs and a refreshingly crisp production that allows one to hear the space created between the chugs, soft “ahh-ahh-ahh”s, shaking percussion, and warm synth. If I had to nitpick, I would suggest cutting down some of the longer tracks, to improve their impact that is weakened by repetition, or the inclusion of just one too many ideas (“Decider,” “Until it Goes Away,” “Kindred Spirit”2).

Feversea nonetheless come out on top with a unique and engaging record that pays only the small price of feeling a touch unfocused. Man Under Erasure isn’t just impressive for a debut, it’s impressive in its own right with its smart blend of styles and fluent execution. A pleasure to listen to. Post-metal fans ought to keep their eye on Feversea, for the inevitable masterwork to come.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Essence Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 23rd, 2025

#2025 #35 #CultOfLuna #DarkEssenceRecords #Dödheimsgard #ElectronicMetal #Feversea #ManUnderErasure #May25 #NorwegianMetal #PostBlackMetal #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #SludgeMetal

Feversea – Man Under Erasure Review

By Thus Spoke

Feversea is a perfect name for a post-metal band. It manages to evoke the genre’s typical moodiness and atmosphere, which, like the sea, can range from tranquil mystique to rage and channeled either through fretful drama or a kind of layered intensity that could faithfully be said to resemble a fever dream. But there’s more to Oslo’s Feversea than their name having a pleasing ring. Their debut Man Under Erasure carries the burden of making an impact in the veritable ocean of groups taking their cue from stalwarts like Cult of Luna and Russian Circles.1 Their claims of multi-genre influence, and black metal in particular, along with their Norwegian origin, immediately brought to mind experimental metal legends Dødheimsgard, although that’s arguably an unfair comparison. Having a voice in the scene can be a challenge, but I’m pleased to report that it’s one Feversea meet gallantly.

While containing nothing so unexpected as to approach avant-garde, Man Under Erasure is full of little surprises—good ones at that. Of all the ways I expected the album to begin, the titular opening—with its relatively upbeat electronic melody and soft, spoken-sung vocals—did not appear. From there, Feversea shift between poignancy and pugnacity, and punctuate their sombre pessimism with mellow optimism. Reverberant leads and unshowy, haunting cleans are more often than not turned eerie by their accompanying sludgy riffs and aggressive percussion, making those truly stripped-back portions feel even more still. Gloomy moods are enhanced or traded for fury with blurred, even dissonant tremolo, d-beating or blastbeating pace, and throaty screams. The tone is consistently somewhat brooding, but Feversea avoid treading into an introspective dreaminess with this turbulence between post-metal ethereality and hardcore and blackened fury, their atmosphere maintaining a bite with sinister melodic turns and vocal switches to vicious roars.

Across Man Under Erasure, Feversea showcase an impressive talent for creative songwriting. The particular fusion of sludge, hardcore, black metal, and electronica that they employ makes for dynamic and engaging pieces. When atmospheric, their presence is tangible (“New Creatures Replace Our Names,” “Invocation,” “Until it Goes Away”), and when more energetic, they possess a refreshingly unconventional spirit (“Decider,” “Kindred Spirit”). The faint shadows of the aforementioned Dødheimsgard are actually audible in spinning synth lines and playfully lurching blackened guitar scattered in fleeting moments across the album (“Murmur Within the Skull of God,” “Sunkindling,” “Kindred Spirit”). While it’s all good, there are passages in particular that hit upon some glorious interplay of styles; sometimes a powerfully stirring surge of emotion wrapped in layers of tremolo and electronica (“Invocation,” “Kindred Spirit”), sometimes a deceptively simple and undeniably catchy sludge-post, sludge-black, or electronica-post refrain (“New Creatures…,” “Decider,” title track). Feversea do both calm and lively with like ease and make the transitions between them sound easy.

The multifaceted nature of their sound avoids feeling fickle—for the most part—and instead sounds quite smooth. This is in large part thanks to the stellar work of the individual musicians who comprise Feversea—for most of whom this is their first and only band. Though everyone deserves credit, I have to give extra kudos to vocalist Ada Lønne Emberland, who performs both harsh and clean leads and is absolutely killing it with subtly emotive singing and razor-sharp screams. Melodies retain memorability and songs a satisfying crunch and flavour through punchy, audible riffs and a refreshingly crisp production that allows one to hear the space created between the chugs, soft “ahh-ahh-ahh”s, shaking percussion, and warm synth. If I had to nitpick, I would suggest cutting down some of the longer tracks, to improve their impact that is weakened by repetition, or the inclusion of just one too many ideas (“Decider,” “Until it Goes Away,” “Kindred Spirit”2).

Feversea nonetheless come out on top with a unique and engaging record that pays only the small price of feeling a touch unfocused. Man Under Erasure isn’t just impressive for a debut, it’s impressive in its own right with its smart blend of styles and fluent execution. A pleasure to listen to. Post-metal fans ought to keep their eye on Feversea, for the inevitable masterwork to come.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Essence Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 23rd, 2025

#2025 #35 #CultOfLuna #DarkEssenceRecords #Dödheimsgard #ElectronicMetal #Feversea #ManUnderErasure #May25 #NorwegianMetal #PostBlackMetal #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #SludgeMetal

Feversea – Man Under Erasure Review

By Thus Spoke

Feversea is a perfect name for a post-metal band. It manages to evoke the genre’s typical moodiness and atmosphere, which, like the sea, can range from tranquil mystique to rage and channeled either through fretful drama or a kind of layered intensity that could faithfully be said to resemble a fever dream. But there’s more to Oslo’s Feversea than their name having a pleasing ring. Their debut Man Under Erasure carries the burden of making an impact in the veritable ocean of groups taking their cue from stalwarts like Cult of Luna and Russian Circles.1 Their claims of multi-genre influence, and black metal in particular, along with their Norwegian origin, immediately brought to mind experimental metal legends Dødheimsgard, although that’s arguably an unfair comparison. Having a voice in the scene can be a challenge, but I’m pleased to report that it’s one Feversea meet gallantly.

While containing nothing so unexpected as to approach avant-garde, Man Under Erasure is full of little surprises—good ones at that. Of all the ways I expected the album to begin, the titular opening—with its relatively upbeat electronic melody and soft, spoken-sung vocals—did not appear. From there, Feversea shift between poignancy and pugnacity, and punctuate their sombre pessimism with mellow optimism. Reverberant leads and unshowy, haunting cleans are more often than not turned eerie by their accompanying sludgy riffs and aggressive percussion, making those truly stripped-back portions feel even more still. Gloomy moods are enhanced or traded for fury with blurred, even dissonant tremolo, d-beating or blastbeating pace, and throaty screams. The tone is consistently somewhat brooding, but Feversea avoid treading into an introspective dreaminess with this turbulence between post-metal ethereality and hardcore and blackened fury, their atmosphere maintaining a bite with sinister melodic turns and vocal switches to vicious roars.

Across Man Under Erasure, Feversea showcase an impressive talent for creative songwriting. The particular fusion of sludge, hardcore, black metal, and electronica that they employ makes for dynamic and engaging pieces. When atmospheric, their presence is tangible (“New Creatures Replace Our Names,” “Invocation,” “Until it Goes Away”), and when more energetic, they possess a refreshingly unconventional spirit (“Decider,” “Kindred Spirit”). The faint shadows of the aforementioned Dødheimsgard are actually audible in spinning synth lines and playfully lurching blackened guitar scattered in fleeting moments across the album (“Murmur Within the Skull of God,” “Sunkindling,” “Kindred Spirit”). While it’s all good, there are passages in particular that hit upon some glorious interplay of styles; sometimes a powerfully stirring surge of emotion wrapped in layers of tremolo and electronica (“Invocation,” “Kindred Spirit”), sometimes a deceptively simple and undeniably catchy sludge-post, sludge-black, or electronica-post refrain (“New Creatures…,” “Decider,” title track). Feversea do both calm and lively with like ease and make the transitions between them sound easy.

The multifaceted nature of their sound avoids feeling fickle—for the most part—and instead sounds quite smooth. This is in large part thanks to the stellar work of the individual musicians who comprise Feversea—for most of whom this is their first and only band. Though everyone deserves credit, I have to give extra kudos to vocalist Ada Lønne Emberland, who performs both harsh and clean leads and is absolutely killing it with subtly emotive singing and razor-sharp screams. Melodies retain memorability and songs a satisfying crunch and flavour through punchy, audible riffs and a refreshingly crisp production that allows one to hear the space created between the chugs, soft “ahh-ahh-ahh”s, shaking percussion, and warm synth. If I had to nitpick, I would suggest cutting down some of the longer tracks, to improve their impact that is weakened by repetition, or the inclusion of just one too many ideas (“Decider,” “Until it Goes Away,” “Kindred Spirit”2).

Feversea nonetheless come out on top with a unique and engaging record that pays only the small price of feeling a touch unfocused. Man Under Erasure isn’t just impressive for a debut, it’s impressive in its own right with its smart blend of styles and fluent execution. A pleasure to listen to. Post-metal fans ought to keep their eye on Feversea, for the inevitable masterwork to come.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Essence Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 23rd, 2025

#2025 #35 #CultOfLuna #DarkEssenceRecords #Dödheimsgard #ElectronicMetal #Feversea #ManUnderErasure #May25 #NorwegianMetal #PostBlackMetal #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #SludgeMetal

Feversea – Man Under Erasure Review

By Thus Spoke

Feversea is a perfect name for a post-metal band. It manages to evoke the genre’s typical moodiness and atmosphere, which, like the sea, can range from tranquil mystique to rage and channeled either through fretful drama or a kind of layered intensity that could faithfully be said to resemble a fever dream. But there’s more to Oslo’s Feversea than their name having a pleasing ring. Their debut Man Under Erasure carries the burden of making an impact in the veritable ocean of groups taking their cue from stalwarts like Cult of Luna and Russian Circles.1 Their claims of multi-genre influence, and black metal in particular, along with their Norwegian origin, immediately brought to mind experimental metal legends Dødheimsgard, although that’s arguably an unfair comparison. Having a voice in the scene can be a challenge, but I’m pleased to report that it’s one Feversea meet gallantly.

While containing nothing so unexpected as to approach avant-garde, Man Under Erasure is full of little surprises—good ones at that. Of all the ways I expected the album to begin, the titular opening—with its relatively upbeat electronic melody and soft, spoken-sung vocals—did not appear. From there, Feversea shift between poignancy and pugnacity, and punctuate their sombre pessimism with mellow optimism. Reverberant leads and unshowy, haunting cleans are more often than not turned eerie by their accompanying sludgy riffs and aggressive percussion, making those truly stripped-back portions feel even more still. Gloomy moods are enhanced or traded for fury with blurred, even dissonant tremolo, d-beating or blastbeating pace, and throaty screams. The tone is consistently somewhat brooding, but Feversea avoid treading into an introspective dreaminess with this turbulence between post-metal ethereality and hardcore and blackened fury, their atmosphere maintaining a bite with sinister melodic turns and vocal switches to vicious roars.

Across Man Under Erasure, Feversea showcase an impressive talent for creative songwriting. The particular fusion of sludge, hardcore, black metal, and electronica that they employ makes for dynamic and engaging pieces. When atmospheric, their presence is tangible (“New Creatures Replace Our Names,” “Invocation,” “Until it Goes Away”), and when more energetic, they possess a refreshingly unconventional spirit (“Decider,” “Kindred Spirit”). The faint shadows of the aforementioned Dødheimsgard are actually audible in spinning synth lines and playfully lurching blackened guitar scattered in fleeting moments across the album (“Murmur Within the Skull of God,” “Sunkindling,” “Kindred Spirit”). While it’s all good, there are passages in particular that hit upon some glorious interplay of styles; sometimes a powerfully stirring surge of emotion wrapped in layers of tremolo and electronica (“Invocation,” “Kindred Spirit”), sometimes a deceptively simple and undeniably catchy sludge-post, sludge-black, or electronica-post refrain (“New Creatures…,” “Decider,” title track). Feversea do both calm and lively with like ease and make the transitions between them sound easy.

The multifaceted nature of their sound avoids feeling fickle—for the most part—and instead sounds quite smooth. This is in large part thanks to the stellar work of the individual musicians who comprise Feversea—for most of whom this is their first and only band. Though everyone deserves credit, I have to give extra kudos to vocalist Ada Lønne Emberland, who performs both harsh and clean leads and is absolutely killing it with subtly emotive singing and razor-sharp screams. Melodies retain memorability and songs a satisfying crunch and flavour through punchy, audible riffs and a refreshingly crisp production that allows one to hear the space created between the chugs, soft “ahh-ahh-ahh”s, shaking percussion, and warm synth. If I had to nitpick, I would suggest cutting down some of the longer tracks, to improve their impact that is weakened by repetition, or the inclusion of just one too many ideas (“Decider,” “Until it Goes Away,” “Kindred Spirit”2).

Feversea nonetheless come out on top with a unique and engaging record that pays only the small price of feeling a touch unfocused. Man Under Erasure isn’t just impressive for a debut, it’s impressive in its own right with its smart blend of styles and fluent execution. A pleasure to listen to. Post-metal fans ought to keep their eye on Feversea, for the inevitable masterwork to come.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Essence Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 23rd, 2025

#2025 #35 #CultOfLuna #DarkEssenceRecords #Dödheimsgard #ElectronicMetal #Feversea #ManUnderErasure #May25 #NorwegianMetal #PostBlackMetal #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #SludgeMetal

Mit fettem Sound ins Wochenende

#Musik #Music #CultOfLuna

https://youtu.be/0alDMvVk4jY

2. #CultOfLuna: Long Road North

https://song.link/t/202095266

Cult Of Luna, The Great Old Ones und Caronte
28.03.2025 Berlin / ORWOHaus

#Berlin #CultOfLuna #ORWOHaus #SteelFeed

Cult Of Luna, The Great Old Ones und Caronte
09.04.2025 München / Backstage

#Backstage #CultOfLuna #Munchen #SteelFeed

Beneath a Steel Sky – Cleave Review

By sentynel

Including “for fans of” is pretty common when marketing a band. But is it actually a good idea? Promo text that reads “for fans of [the biggest bands in this genre]” is the worst offender—why wouldn’t I just listen to those bands? I’d rather hear what makes this band stand out. But listing more interesting little-known bands only helps if the audience have heard of them. Anyway, this is post-metal band Beneath a Steel Sky, and they’re for fans of Isis, Cult of Luna, Cave In, Russian Circles, Mogwai… and the rather more obscure Aereogramme.

Beneath a Steel Sky play a less genre-faithful take on post-metal than I had therefore been given to expect. Cleave is spacier and dreamier than the comparisons to Isis and Cult of Luna might suggest, to the extent that in places it reminds me of stoner/psychedelic bands like Dead Meadow (“Vanguard”). There’s lots of reverb-soaked clean vocals, synth washes and floaty guitars (“The Sky Above the Port Was the Colour of Television, Tuned to a Dead Channel,” “Quetzalcoatlus,” …). The Mogwai comparison hints at this, but unlike Mogwai, they are not boring. Like Aereogramme and Mogwai, they are Scottish, and there’s a definite spacey/stonery Scottish post-* scene they fit into. Likewise, in places, in song construction and style, they also remind me of fellow Scots Dvne—for example, the mixed down clean vocals in “The Sky…”, or the clean/harsh vocal duets in a few places (e.g. “Vanguard”). This twist on the post-metal formula works well for them.

There’s some great songwriting on Cleave. There are some really pretty melodies woven into the dreamy atmospheric sections (“Vanguard,” “Quetzalcoatlus”). They make good use of their six (!) musicians with some complex multi-part sections (“Cyclical Dunt”). “The Infinite Silence That Follows the Absolute Truth” does a very Mike Oldfield-like job of layering onto a simple repeated motif for most of the song’s build. Of course, this is post-metal, so the big metal crescendo after all the build-up is a staple. While they never really stray from the genre template, they do it well. The big riff and soaring melody line on “Quetzalcoatlus” is a highlight, and closing track “The Becoming” is absolutely gorgeous.

One quirk of the production is that whoever did the mixing is a really big fan of the pan slider. Nearly every song has sections with instruments panned nearly all the way to one side or the other. I don’t hate the effect in general, but it’s a bit overused, and the couple of songs that start with fully panned guitars (“Everyone You’ve Ever Known,” “The Infinite Silence…,” “The Becoming”) keep making me think my headphones have broken. There’s also a fade-out ending on “Vanguard” which comes across as a bit of a cop-out. Gimmicks aside, the production does a good job of balancing a lot of parts and maintaining the dreamy feel, although as usual, it didn’t need to be a DR6.

There’s not a huge amount of new ground being broken Beneath [this] Steel Sky, but they successfully bring their own identity to a crowded genre nonetheless. The spacy, somewhat psychedelic take on post-metal both differentiates them and makes Cleave a surprisingly warm listen despite the usual bleakness of post-metal. The songwriting is consistently strong, and with a tidy 40-minute runtime and a great ending, it’s a very satisfying listen.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Ripcord Records
Websites: beneathasteelsky1.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/beneathasteelskyband
Releases Worldwide: January 24th, 2025

#2025 #35 #Aereogramme #BeneathASteelSky #BritishMetal #CaveIn #Cleave #CultOfLuna #DeadMeadow #Dvne #Isis #Jan25 #MikeOldfield #Mogwai #PostRock #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #RipcordRecords #RussianCircles

Beneath a Steel Sky – Cleave Review

By sentynel

Including “for fans of” is pretty common when marketing a band. But is it actually a good idea? Promo text that reads “for fans of [the biggest bands in this genre]” is the worst offender—why wouldn’t I just listen to those bands? I’d rather hear what makes this band stand out. But listing more interesting little-known bands only helps if the audience have heard of them. Anyway, this is post-metal band Beneath a Steel Sky, and they’re for fans of Isis, Cult of Luna, Cave In, Russian Circles, Mogwai… and the rather more obscure Aereogramme.

Beneath a Steel Sky play a less genre-faithful take on post-metal than I had therefore been given to expect. Cleave is spacier and dreamier than the comparisons to Isis and Cult of Luna might suggest, to the extent that in places it reminds me of stoner/psychedelic bands like Dead Meadow (“Vanguard”). There’s lots of reverb-soaked clean vocals, synth washes and floaty guitars (“The Sky Above the Port Was the Colour of Television, Tuned to a Dead Channel,” “Quetzalcoatlus,” …). The Mogwai comparison hints at this, but unlike Mogwai, they are not boring. Like Aereogramme and Mogwai, they are Scottish, and there’s a definite spacey/stonery Scottish post-* scene they fit into. Likewise, in places, in song construction and style, they also remind me of fellow Scots Dvne—for example, the mixed down clean vocals in “The Sky…”, or the clean/harsh vocal duets in a few places (e.g. “Vanguard”). This twist on the post-metal formula works well for them.

There’s some great songwriting on Cleave. There are some really pretty melodies woven into the dreamy atmospheric sections (“Vanguard,” “Quetzalcoatlus”). They make good use of their six (!) musicians with some complex multi-part sections (“Cyclical Dunt”). “The Infinite Silence That Follows the Absolute Truth” does a very Mike Oldfield-like job of layering onto a simple repeated motif for most of the song’s build. Of course, this is post-metal, so the big metal crescendo after all the build-up is a staple. While they never really stray from the genre template, they do it well. The big riff and soaring melody line on “Quetzalcoatlus” is a highlight, and closing track “The Becoming” is absolutely gorgeous.

One quirk of the production is that whoever did the mixing is a really big fan of the pan slider. Nearly every song has sections with instruments panned nearly all the way to one side or the other. I don’t hate the effect in general, but it’s a bit overused, and the couple of songs that start with fully panned guitars (“Everyone You’ve Ever Known,” “The Infinite Silence…,” “The Becoming”) keep making me think my headphones have broken. There’s also a fade-out ending on “Vanguard” which comes across as a bit of a cop-out. Gimmicks aside, the production does a good job of balancing a lot of parts and maintaining the dreamy feel, although as usual, it didn’t need to be a DR6.

There’s not a huge amount of new ground being broken Beneath [this] Steel Sky, but they successfully bring their own identity to a crowded genre nonetheless. The spacy, somewhat psychedelic take on post-metal both differentiates them and makes Cleave a surprisingly warm listen despite the usual bleakness of post-metal. The songwriting is consistently strong, and with a tidy 40-minute runtime and a great ending, it’s a very satisfying listen.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Ripcord Records
Websites: beneathasteelsky1.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/beneathasteelskyband
Releases Worldwide: January 24th, 2025

#2025 #35 #Aereogramme #BeneathASteelSky #BritishMetal #CaveIn #Cleave #CultOfLuna #DeadMeadow #Dvne #Isis #Jan25 #MikeOldfield #Mogwai #PostRock #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #RipcordRecords #RussianCircles

Beneath a Steel Sky – Cleave Review

By sentynel

Including “for fans of” is pretty common when marketing a band. But is it actually a good idea? Promo text that reads “for fans of [the biggest bands in this genre]” is the worst offender—why wouldn’t I just listen to those bands? I’d rather hear what makes this band stand out. But listing more interesting little-known bands only helps if the audience have heard of them. Anyway, this is post-metal band Beneath a Steel Sky, and they’re for fans of Isis, Cult of Luna, Cave In, Russian Circles, Mogwai… and the rather more obscure Aereogramme.

Beneath a Steel Sky play a less genre-faithful take on post-metal than I had therefore been given to expect. Cleave is spacier and dreamier than the comparisons to Isis and Cult of Luna might suggest, to the extent that in places it reminds me of stoner/psychedelic bands like Dead Meadow (“Vanguard”). There’s lots of reverb-soaked clean vocals, synth washes and floaty guitars (“The Sky Above the Port Was the Colour of Television, Tuned to a Dead Channel,” “Quetzalcoatlus,” …). The Mogwai comparison hints at this, but unlike Mogwai, they are not boring. Like Aereogramme and Mogwai, they are Scottish, and there’s a definite spacey/stonery Scottish post-* scene they fit into. Likewise, in places, in song construction and style, they also remind me of fellow Scots Dvne—for example, the mixed down clean vocals in “The Sky…”, or the clean/harsh vocal duets in a few places (e.g. “Vanguard”). This twist on the post-metal formula works well for them.

There’s some great songwriting on Cleave. There are some really pretty melodies woven into the dreamy atmospheric sections (“Vanguard,” “Quetzalcoatlus”). They make good use of their six (!) musicians with some complex multi-part sections (“Cyclical Dunt”). “The Infinite Silence That Follows the Absolute Truth” does a very Mike Oldfield-like job of layering onto a simple repeated motif for most of the song’s build. Of course, this is post-metal, so the big metal crescendo after all the build-up is a staple. While they never really stray from the genre template, they do it well. The big riff and soaring melody line on “Quetzalcoatlus” is a highlight, and closing track “The Becoming” is absolutely gorgeous.

One quirk of the production is that whoever did the mixing is a really big fan of the pan slider. Nearly every song has sections with instruments panned nearly all the way to one side or the other. I don’t hate the effect in general, but it’s a bit overused, and the couple of songs that start with fully panned guitars (“Everyone You’ve Ever Known,” “The Infinite Silence…,” “The Becoming”) keep making me think my headphones have broken. There’s also a fade-out ending on “Vanguard” which comes across as a bit of a cop-out. Gimmicks aside, the production does a good job of balancing a lot of parts and maintaining the dreamy feel, although as usual, it didn’t need to be a DR6.

There’s not a huge amount of new ground being broken Beneath [this] Steel Sky, but they successfully bring their own identity to a crowded genre nonetheless. The spacy, somewhat psychedelic take on post-metal both differentiates them and makes Cleave a surprisingly warm listen despite the usual bleakness of post-metal. The songwriting is consistently strong, and with a tidy 40-minute runtime and a great ending, it’s a very satisfying listen.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Ripcord Records
Websites: beneathasteelsky1.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/beneathasteelskyband
Releases Worldwide: January 24th, 2025

#2025 #35 #Aereogramme #BeneathASteelSky #BritishMetal #CaveIn #Cleave #CultOfLuna #DeadMeadow #Dvne #Isis #Jan25 #MikeOldfield #Mogwai #PostRock #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #RipcordRecords #RussianCircles