#dec25 — Public Fediverse posts

Brutal cold envelops the building as my minions scrape through ice and filthy slush to find even the smallest shard of metallic glimmer. With extensive budget cuts demanded by my exorbitant bonus schedule—as is my right as CEO of this filtration service—there was no room to purchase adequate gear and equipment for these harsher weathers. However, I did take up crocheting recently so each of my “employees” received a nice soft hat.

Hopefully, that will be enough to tide them over until the inclement weather passes and we return to normal temps. Until then, they have these rare finds to keep them warm, and so do you! REJOICE!

Kenstrosity’s Knightly Nightmare

AngelMaker // This Used to Be Heaven [November 20th, 2025 – Self Released]

I’ve been a fan of AngelMaker’s since their 2015 debut Dissentient. The grossly underrated and underappreciated Vancouver septet are a highly specialized deathcore infantry, with their lineup expanding steadily over their career in concert with their ever-increasing songwriting sophistication. Unlike the brutish and belligerent debut and follow-up AngelMaker, 2022’s Sanctum and new outing This Used to Be Heaven indulge in rich layering, near-neoclassical melodies, and dramatic atmosphere to complement AngelMaker’s trademark sense of swaggering groove. With early entries “Rich in Anguish” and “Haunter” establishing the strength of both sides of their sound, it always surprises me how AngelMaker successfully twist and gnarl their sound into shapes—whether it be hardcore, blackened, or melodic—I wasn’t anticipating (“Silken Hands,” “Relinquished,” “Nothing Left”). A rock-solid back half launched by the epic “The Omen” two-part suite brings these deviations from the expected into unity with the deathcore foundation I know AngelMaker so well for (“Malevolence Reigns,” “Altare Mortis”), and in doing so secure their status as one of the most reliably creative deathcore acts in the scene. Nothing here is going to change the minds of the fiercer deathcore detractors, but if your heart is open even just a crack, there’s a good chance This Used to Be Heaven will force themselves into it, if not entirely rip the whole thing asunder. My advice is simply to let it.

This Used To Be Heaven by AngelMaker

ClarkKent’s Sonic Symphonics

Brainblast // Colossus Suprema [November 11th, 2025 – Vmbrella]

A debut album five years in the making from a band formed in 2015, Colossus Suprema is the brainchild of Bogotá, Colombia’s Edd Jiménez. Jiménez turned his passion for and training in classical composition towards his symphonic progressive act, Brainblast. With Bach as an inspiration, Brainblast’s brand of technical death metal has the grandeur of Fleshgod Apocalypse, the speed of Archspire, and the virtuosity of concert musicians. Jiménez’s classical training shows — the compositions have an orchestral feel, only played at insane energy levels. The speed, the depth, and the breadth of the instrumentation are sure to leave you breathless. Nicholas Le Fou Wells (First Fragment) lays down relentless kitwork with jaw-dropping velocity, while Eetu Hernesmaa provides technical fretwork that’ll similarly leave you awestruck. He delivers sublime riffs on “Relentless Rise” and a surprising melodic lead that steals the show on “Unchain Your Soul.” Perhaps most prominent is the virtuoso play of the bass from Rich Gray (Annihilator) and Dominic Forest Lapointe (First Fragment) that is omnipresent and funky on each and every song. To top it all off is the piano (perhaps from Jiménez), giving the music some gravitas with the technical, concert-style playing. This record is just plain bonkers and tons of fun. Given this is the debut from a young musician, the idea that Brainblast has room to grow is plenty exciting.

COLOSSUS SUPREMA by BRAINBLAST

Gods of Gaia // Escape the Wonderland [November 28th, 2025 – Self Released]

If you’ve been eagerly awaiting the next SepticFlesh release, Germany’s Gods of Gaia have got you covered. Founded in 2023 by Kevin Sierra Eifert, Gods of Gaia is made up of an anonymous collective from around the world, contributing to a dark, heavy, and aggressive form of symphonic metal. Their sophomore album, Escape the Wonderland, features a collection of death metal songs with plenty of orchestral arrangements that add a dramatic flair. Along with crushing riffs and thunderous blast beats, you’ll hear choral chants (“Escape the Wonderland,” “Burn for Me”), bits of piano (“What It Takes”), and plenty of cinematic symphonics. SepticFlesh is the obvious influence, but the grandiosity of Fleshgod Apocalypse flares up on cuts like the dramatic “Rise Up.” The front half is largely aggressive, with “What It Takes” taking the energy to thrash levels. The back half dials down the energy, even creeping to near doom on “Krieg in Mir,” but never pulls back on the heaviness. Cool as the symphonic elements are, the riffs, blast beats, and brutal vocal delivery are just as impressive. Make no mistake, this is melodic death metal above all else, with symphonic seasonings that elevate it a notch. Just the opposite of what the record title suggests, this is one wonderland you won’t want to escape.

Escape the Wonderland by Gods of Gaia

Grin Reaper’s Frozen Feast

Hounds of Bayanay // КЭМ [November 15, 2025 – Self Released]

Two-and-a-half years after dropping debut Legends of the North, Hounds of Bayanay returns with КЭМ to sate your eternal lust for folk metal.1 Blending heavy metal with folk instrumentation, specifically kyrympa2 and khomus,3 as well as throat singing, Hounds of Bayanay might sound like a Tengger Cavalry or The Hu knockoff, but you’ll do yourself a disservice by writing them off. Boldly enunciated, clarion cleans belt out in confident proclamations while grittier refrains and overtones resonate beneath, proffering assorted and engaging vocal stylings. Rather than dwelling overlong in strings and tribal chanting, the deft fusion of folk instruments with traditional metal defines Hounds’ sound and feels cohesively integrated on КЭМ, providing an intimate yet heavy backdrop to a hook-laden and alluringly replayable thirty-nine minutes. In addition to the eclectic folk influence, there’s a satisfying variety of songwriting from track to track, with “Ardaq,” “Cɯsqa:n,” and “Dɔʃɔrum” exemplifying the enticing synthesis of styles. More than anything else, Hounds of Bayanay embodies heart and fun, warming my chilly days with a well-executed platter of Eastern-influenced folk metal. Don’t skip this one, or the decision could hound you.

KEM by Hounds Of Bayanay

Blood Red Throne // Siltskin [December 05, 2025 – Soulseller Records]

I’m shoving up against the deadline to wedge this one in, but Blood Red Throne’s latest deserves a mention, and bulldozing is just the sort of thing you should do while listening to BRT’s brand of bludgeoning, pit-stomping romp. Back in December, the venerable Norwegian death metal act dropped twelfth album Siltskin, maintaining their prolific and consistent release schedule. In addition to their dependable output, BRT stays the course with pummeling, brutish pomp. In his coverage of Nonagon and Imperial Congregation, Doc Grier drums up comparisons to Old Man’s Child, Panzerchrist, and Hypocrisy, and while I’m not inclined to disagree on those points, I’ll add that Siltskin also harkens to Kill-era Cannibal Corpse in its slick coalition of mid-paced slammers, warp-speed blitzes, and fat ‘n’ frolicking bass. Add to that the sly, sticky melody from the likes of Sentenced’s North from Here (“Vestigial Remnants”), and you’ve got a recipe for a righteous forty-five-minute smash-a-thon. Blood Red Throne’s last few records have been among their best, which is an incredible feat for a band this far into their career. While Siltskin doesn’t surpass BRT’s high-water mark, it keeps up, and if you’re hungry for an aural beatdown, then Blood Red Throne would like to throw their crown into the ring for consideration.

Siltskin by Blood Red Throne

Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu // Immortality [December 17, 2025 – Bang the Head Records]

I am woefully late to the charms of Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu, a Japanese death metal outfit prominently featuring slap ‘n’ pop bass. Had it not been for our trusty Flippered Friend, I might have continued this grievous injustice of ignorance, but thankfully, this is not the timeline to which I’m doomed. Immortality is Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu’s seventh album, and those who enjoy the band’s previous work should remain satisfied. For new acolytes, Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu grasps the rabid intensity of Vader and Krisiun and imbues it with a funky edge. Meaty bass rumbles and sprightly slapped accents, provided by bassist/vocalist Haruhisa Takahata, merge with Kouki Akita’s kit obliteration to establish a thunderous, unrelenting rhythm section. Atop the lower end’s heft, Keiichi Enjouji shreds and squeals with thrashy vigor and a keen understanding of melody. First proper track “Anima Immortalis” even includes gang intonations that work so well, I wish they were more prevalent across the album. The sum total of Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu’s atmosphere is one of plucky exuberance that strikes with the force of a roundhouse kick to the dome. Had I discovered it sooner, Immortality would have qualified for a 2025 year-end honorable mention, as I haven’t been able to stop spinning it or the band’s prior releases.4 Though I’m still in the honeymoon phase, I expect this platter to live on in my listening, and recommend you not miss this GTK killer like I almost did.

Thus Spoke’s Random Revelations

The Algorithm // Recursive Infinity [November 21st, 2025 – Self Released]

I’ve been a fan of The Algorithm since the early days, back when their electronica-djent was almost twee in its experimental joy, spliced with light-hearted samples. Over the years, Rémi Gallego has tuned his flair for mesmeric, playful compositions to develop a richer, more streamlined sound. Recursive Infinity continues the recent upward trend Data Renaissance began. With riffs and rhythms the slickest since Brute Force, and melodies the brightest and most colourful since equally-prettily adorned Polymorphic Code, it’s a cyberpunk tour-de-force. The wildness is trained, chunky heaviness grounding magnetic melodies (“Race Condition,” “Mutex,” “By Design”), dense chugging transitioning seamlessly into techno (“Advanced Iteration Technique,” “Hollowing,” “Graceful Degradation), and adding bite to bubbly, candy-coloured soundscapes (“Rainbow Table,”). The skittering of breakbeats tempers synthwave (“Endless Iteration), and bright pulses wrap cascading electro-core (“Race Condition,” “Mutex”) and orchestral melodrama (“Recursive Infinity”). It’s often strongly reminiscent of some point in The Algorithm’s history, but everything is upgraded from charming to entrancing. This provides a new way to interpret Recursive Infinity: not just a reference to an endless loop in general, but to Boucle Infinie (Infinite Loop)—Remi’s other musical project—and by extension, The Algorithm themselves. Yet he is still experimenting, including vocoder vocals (“Endless Iteration,” “By Design”) for a surprisingly successful dark-Daft Punk vibe in slower, moodier moments. With nostalgic throwbacks transformed so beautifully, and the continued evolution, there’s simply no way I can ignore The Algorithm now. And neither should you.

Recursive Infinity by The Algorithm

Owlswald’s Holiday Scraps

Sun of the Suns // Entanglement [December 12th, 2025 – Scarlet Records]

Bands and labels take heed—We reserve December for two things: Listurnalia and celebrating another trip around the sun. It is not for releasing new music. Yet this blunder persists, ensuring we inevitably miss gems like Sun of the Suns’ sophomore effort, Entanglement.5 The record dropped just as the world was tuning out for the year, and it deserves much better. Building on the foundation of their 2021 debut, TIIT, the Italian trio has significantly beefed up their progressive death formula. Mixing tech-death articulation with deathcore brutality, Entanglement ensures fans of Fallujah will feel right at home with its effervescent clean melodies and crystalline textures. Francesca Paoli (Fleshgod Apocalypse) returns to provide another masterclass behind the kit with rapid-fire double-bass, blasts, and tom fills, while guitarists Marco Righetti and Ludovico Cioffi deliver cosmic shredding and radiant solos that are both technical and deliberate. While the early tracks lean into Fallujahian songcraft and Tesseract-style arpeggios, the album shines brightest late when the group largely sheds its stylistic orbit. “Please, Blackout My Eyes” pivots toward a majestic Aeternam vibe with ethereal tech-death incisiveness, while “One With the Sun” and “The Void Where Sound Ends Its Path” hit like a sledgehammer with Xenobiotic’s deathcore grooves. Though Luca Dave Scarlatti’s vocals lack differentiation, the sheer quality of the compositions carries the weight, proving Sun of the Suns are much more than mere clones.

Entanglement by Sun Of The Suns

Brutal cold envelops the building as my minions scrape through ice and filthy slush to find even the smallest shard of metallic glimmer. With extensive budget cuts demanded by my exorbitant bonus schedule—as is my right as CEO of this filtration service—there was no room to purchase adequate gear and equipment for these harsher weathers. However, I did take up crocheting recently so each of my “employees” received a nice soft hat.

Hopefully, that will be enough to tide them over until the inclement weather passes and we return to normal temps. Until then, they have these rare finds to keep them warm, and so do you! REJOICE!

Kenstrosity’s Knightly Nightmare

AngelMaker // This Used to Be Heaven [November 20th, 2025 – Self Released]

I’ve been a fan of AngelMaker’s since their 2015 debut Dissentient. The grossly underrated and underappreciated Vancouver septet are a highly specialized deathcore infantry, with their lineup expanding steadily over their career in concert with their ever-increasing songwriting sophistication. Unlike the brutish and belligerent debut and follow-up AngelMaker, 2022’s Sanctum and new outing This Used to Be Heaven indulge in rich layering, near-neoclassical melodies, and dramatic atmosphere to complement AngelMaker’s trademark sense of swaggering groove. With early entries “Rich in Anguish” and “Haunter” establishing the strength of both sides of their sound, it always surprises me how AngelMaker successfully twist and gnarl their sound into shapes—whether it be hardcore, blackened, or melodic—I wasn’t anticipating (“Silken Hands,” “Relinquished,” “Nothing Left”). A rock-solid back half launched by the epic “The Omen” two-part suite brings these deviations from the expected into unity with the deathcore foundation I know AngelMaker so well for (“Malevolence Reigns,” “Altare Mortis”), and in doing so secure their status as one of the most reliably creative deathcore acts in the scene. Nothing here is going to change the minds of the fiercer deathcore detractors, but if your heart is open even just a crack, there’s a good chance This Used to Be Heaven will force themselves into it, if not entirely rip the whole thing asunder. My advice is simply to let it.

This Used To Be Heaven by AngelMaker

ClarkKent’s Sonic Symphonics

Brainblast // Colossus Suprema [November 11th, 2025 – Vmbrella]

A debut album five years in the making from a band formed in 2015, Colossus Suprema is the brainchild of Bogotá, Colombia’s Edd Jiménez. Jiménez turned his passion for and training in classical composition towards his symphonic progressive act, Brainblast. With Bach as an inspiration, Brainblast’s brand of technical death metal has the grandeur of Fleshgod Apocalypse, the speed of Archspire, and the virtuosity of concert musicians. Jiménez’s classical training shows — the compositions have an orchestral feel, only played at insane energy levels. The speed, the depth, and the breadth of the instrumentation are sure to leave you breathless. Nicholas Le Fou Wells (First Fragment) lays down relentless kitwork with jaw-dropping velocity, while Eetu Hernesmaa provides technical fretwork that’ll similarly leave you awestruck. He delivers sublime riffs on “Relentless Rise” and a surprising melodic lead that steals the show on “Unchain Your Soul.” Perhaps most prominent is the virtuoso play of the bass from Rich Gray (Annihilator) and Dominic Forest Lapointe (First Fragment) that is omnipresent and funky on each and every song. To top it all off is the piano (perhaps from Jiménez), giving the music some gravitas with the technical, concert-style playing. This record is just plain bonkers and tons of fun. Given this is the debut from a young musician, the idea that Brainblast has room to grow is plenty exciting.

COLOSSUS SUPREMA by BRAINBLAST

Gods of Gaia // Escape the Wonderland [November 28th, 2025 – Self Released]

If you’ve been eagerly awaiting the next SepticFlesh release, Germany’s Gods of Gaia have got you covered. Founded in 2023 by Kevin Sierra Eifert, Gods of Gaia is made up of an anonymous collective from around the world, contributing to a dark, heavy, and aggressive form of symphonic metal. Their sophomore album, Escape the Wonderland, features a collection of death metal songs with plenty of orchestral arrangements that add a dramatic flair. Along with crushing riffs and thunderous blast beats, you’ll hear choral chants (“Escape the Wonderland,” “Burn for Me”), bits of piano (“What It Takes”), and plenty of cinematic symphonics. SepticFlesh is the obvious influence, but the grandiosity of Fleshgod Apocalypse flares up on cuts like the dramatic “Rise Up.” The front half is largely aggressive, with “What It Takes” taking the energy to thrash levels. The back half dials down the energy, even creeping to near doom on “Krieg in Mir,” but never pulls back on the heaviness. Cool as the symphonic elements are, the riffs, blast beats, and brutal vocal delivery are just as impressive. Make no mistake, this is melodic death metal above all else, with symphonic seasonings that elevate it a notch. Just the opposite of what the record title suggests, this is one wonderland you won’t want to escape.

Escape the Wonderland by Gods of Gaia

Grin Reaper’s Frozen Feast

Hounds of Bayanay // КЭМ [November 15, 2025 – Self Released]

Two-and-a-half years after dropping debut Legends of the North, Hounds of Bayanay returns with КЭМ to sate your eternal lust for folk metal.1 Blending heavy metal with folk instrumentation, specifically kyrympa2 and khomus,3 as well as throat singing, Hounds of Bayanay might sound like a Tengger Cavalry or The Hu knockoff, but you’ll do yourself a disservice by writing them off. Boldly enunciated, clarion cleans belt out in confident proclamations while grittier refrains and overtones resonate beneath, proffering assorted and engaging vocal stylings. Rather than dwelling overlong in strings and tribal chanting, the deft fusion of folk instruments with traditional metal defines Hounds’ sound and feels cohesively integrated on КЭМ, providing an intimate yet heavy backdrop to a hook-laden and alluringly replayable thirty-nine minutes. In addition to the eclectic folk influence, there’s a satisfying variety of songwriting from track to track, with “Ardaq,” “Cɯsqa:n,” and “Dɔʃɔrum” exemplifying the enticing synthesis of styles. More than anything else, Hounds of Bayanay embodies heart and fun, warming my chilly days with a well-executed platter of Eastern-influenced folk metal. Don’t skip this one, or the decision could hound you.

KEM by Hounds Of Bayanay

Blood Red Throne // Siltskin [December 05, 2025 – Soulseller Records]

I’m shoving up against the deadline to wedge this one in, but Blood Red Throne’s latest deserves a mention, and bulldozing is just the sort of thing you should do while listening to BRT’s brand of bludgeoning, pit-stomping romp. Back in December, the venerable Norwegian death metal act dropped twelfth album Siltskin, maintaining their prolific and consistent release schedule. In addition to their dependable output, BRT stays the course with pummeling, brutish pomp. In his coverage of Nonagon and Imperial Congregation, Doc Grier drums up comparisons to Old Man’s Child, Panzerchrist, and Hypocrisy, and while I’m not inclined to disagree on those points, I’ll add that Siltskin also harkens to Kill-era Cannibal Corpse in its slick coalition of mid-paced slammers, warp-speed blitzes, and fat ‘n’ frolicking bass. Add to that the sly, sticky melody from the likes of Sentenced’s North from Here (“Vestigial Remnants”), and you’ve got a recipe for a righteous forty-five-minute smash-a-thon. Blood Red Throne’s last few records have been among their best, which is an incredible feat for a band this far into their career. While Siltskin doesn’t surpass BRT’s high-water mark, it keeps up, and if you’re hungry for an aural beatdown, then Blood Red Throne would like to throw their crown into the ring for consideration.

Siltskin by Blood Red Throne

Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu // Immortality [December 17, 2025 – Bang the Head Records]

I am woefully late to the charms of Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu, a Japanese death metal outfit prominently featuring slap ‘n’ pop bass. Had it not been for our trusty Flippered Friend, I might have continued this grievous injustice of ignorance, but thankfully, this is not the timeline to which I’m doomed. Immortality is Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu’s seventh album, and those who enjoy the band’s previous work should remain satisfied. For new acolytes, Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu grasps the rabid intensity of Vader and Krisiun and imbues it with a funky edge. Meaty bass rumbles and sprightly slapped accents, provided by bassist/vocalist Haruhisa Takahata, merge with Kouki Akita’s kit obliteration to establish a thunderous, unrelenting rhythm section. Atop the lower end’s heft, Keiichi Enjouji shreds and squeals with thrashy vigor and a keen understanding of melody. First proper track “Anima Immortalis” even includes gang intonations that work so well, I wish they were more prevalent across the album. The sum total of Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu’s atmosphere is one of plucky exuberance that strikes with the force of a roundhouse kick to the dome. Had I discovered it sooner, Immortality would have qualified for a 2025 year-end honorable mention, as I haven’t been able to stop spinning it or the band’s prior releases.4 Though I’m still in the honeymoon phase, I expect this platter to live on in my listening, and recommend you not miss this GTK killer like I almost did.

Thus Spoke’s Random Revelations

The Algorithm // Recursive Infinity [November 21st, 2025 – Self Released]

I’ve been a fan of The Algorithm since the early days, back when their electronica-djent was almost twee in its experimental joy, spliced with light-hearted samples. Over the years, Rémi Gallego has tuned his flair for mesmeric, playful compositions to develop a richer, more streamlined sound. Recursive Infinity continues the recent upward trend Data Renaissance began. With riffs and rhythms the slickest since Brute Force, and melodies the brightest and most colourful since equally-prettily adorned Polymorphic Code, it’s a cyberpunk tour-de-force. The wildness is trained, chunky heaviness grounding magnetic melodies (“Race Condition,” “Mutex,” “By Design”), dense chugging transitioning seamlessly into techno (“Advanced Iteration Technique,” “Hollowing,” “Graceful Degradation), and adding bite to bubbly, candy-coloured soundscapes (“Rainbow Table,”). The skittering of breakbeats tempers synthwave (“Endless Iteration), and bright pulses wrap cascading electro-core (“Race Condition,” “Mutex”) and orchestral melodrama (“Recursive Infinity”). It’s often strongly reminiscent of some point in The Algorithm’s history, but everything is upgraded from charming to entrancing. This provides a new way to interpret Recursive Infinity: not just a reference to an endless loop in general, but to Boucle Infinie (Infinite Loop)—Remi’s other musical project—and by extension, The Algorithm themselves. Yet he is still experimenting, including vocoder vocals (“Endless Iteration,” “By Design”) for a surprisingly successful dark-Daft Punk vibe in slower, moodier moments. With nostalgic throwbacks transformed so beautifully, and the continued evolution, there’s simply no way I can ignore The Algorithm now. And neither should you.

Recursive Infinity by The Algorithm

Owlswald’s Holiday Scraps

Sun of the Suns // Entanglement [December 12th, 2025 – Scarlet Records]

Bands and labels take heed—We reserve December for two things: Listurnalia and celebrating another trip around the sun. It is not for releasing new music. Yet this blunder persists, ensuring we inevitably miss gems like Sun of the Suns’ sophomore effort, Entanglement.5 The record dropped just as the world was tuning out for the year, and it deserves much better. Building on the foundation of their 2021 debut, TIIT, the Italian trio has significantly beefed up their progressive death formula. Mixing tech-death articulation with deathcore brutality, Entanglement ensures fans of Fallujah will feel right at home with its effervescent clean melodies and crystalline textures. Francesca Paoli (Fleshgod Apocalypse) returns to provide another masterclass behind the kit with rapid-fire double-bass, blasts, and tom fills, while guitarists Marco Righetti and Ludovico Cioffi deliver cosmic shredding and radiant solos that are both technical and deliberate. While the early tracks lean into Fallujahian songcraft and Tesseract-style arpeggios, the album shines brightest late when the group largely sheds its stylistic orbit. “Please, Blackout My Eyes” pivots toward a majestic Aeternam vibe with ethereal tech-death incisiveness, while “One With the Sun” and “The Void Where Sound Ends Its Path” hit like a sledgehammer with Xenobiotic’s deathcore grooves. Though Luca Dave Scarlatti’s vocals lack differentiation, the sheer quality of the compositions carries the weight, proving Sun of the Suns are much more than mere clones.

Entanglement by Sun Of The Suns

Weft – The Splintered Oar Review

Black metal and the violin go together like peanut butter and jelly, which makes it particularly exciting when…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2025 #3.0 #AmericanMetal #americana #BindruneRecordings #BlackMetal #Dec25 #Dzö-nga #Entertainment #FolkMetal #Panopticon #ProgressiveBlackMetal #ProgressiveMetal #review #reviews #Saor #TheSplinteredOar #Weft #Windfaerer
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/429351/

Weft – The Splintered Oar Review

Black metal and the violin go together like peanut butter and jelly, which makes it particularly exciting when…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2025 #3.0 #AmericanMetal #americana #BindruneRecordings #BlackMetal #Dec25 #Dzö-nga #Entertainment #FolkMetal #Panopticon #ProgressiveBlackMetal #ProgressiveMetal #review #reviews #Saor #TheSplinteredOar #Weft #Windfaerer
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/429351/

Black metal and the violin go together like peanut butter and jelly, which makes it particularly exciting when an artist who is accomplished in both steps forward. Weft is the solo endeavor of Charlie Anderson, the live violinist for Panopticon. His debut album, The Splintered Oar, is one of two releases by Bindrune Recordings on the weekend before the beginning of Listurnalia 2025.1 Nevertheless, this is a record that should not go unnoticed during the time of year when many of us have adopted either a backward- or forward-looking mindset.

Weft integrates the violin in a variety of clever ways that will sound comfortably familiar to fans of folk/black metal. The obvious comparison is Panopticon, particularly in the sublime acoustic guitar and violin pairing of the intro track “Leaves.” It also dances with the electric guitar in a wild, rugged manner like unto Windfaerer and Saor (“The Hull”). At the same time, Weft doesn’t allow the violin to become too overwhelming or dominant. Rather than solely relying on the customary trem-picking, the fierce guitar riffs and chord progressions of The Splintered Oar often prefer to wander into progressive death metal territory. Another surprising musical influence is Americana, featured briefly in “The Hull” and prominently in “Dream of Oaks.”

The Splintered Oar by Weft

Once things get going, the bulk of The Splintered Oar is quite exhilarating. “False Kingdoms,” the first full song, opens with a great buildup, facilitated by Austin Lunn’s purposeful tom rhythms. After this point, the intensity ebbs and flows, but rarely lets up completely. The demonic violin lines and frenzied shrieks in “Red Dawn” cut through the listener’s defenses like wind chill. Anderson’s deep growls are usually effective as well, though they sometimes lack force and come across as more of a croak. Andrea Morgan’s guest vocals in “The Hull” help compensate for this, joining with the soothing strings in a manner reminiscent of Dzö-nga, which is a very good thing.

What holds The Splintered Oar back the most is a shaky beginning and ending. “Leaves” would have been a much more effective intro if it hadn’t repeated itself and dragged out its runtime to 5 minutes. On the other hand, 12-minute closer “Dream of Oaks” struggles to remain coherent. The entire first half is dreamy Americana, which later morphs into sleek Opethian prog and then death/doom before finally resuming Weft’s signature violin-driven black metal. These individual components are enjoyable enough on their own, but they become confusing when considered together. “Dream of Oaks” might have been an epic conclusion if it had the same degree of cohesion between The Splintered Oar’s disparate musical influences that the preceding tracks display.

Weft is a rare example of what is possible when a violinist creates black metal. Charlie Anderson’s compositional versatility is immediately obvious. While it doesn’t quite stick the landing—or the launch—The Splintered Oar’s midsection is very promising and even goosebump-inducing at times. If the less conventional musical genres can be consistently integrated in a potential sophomore record, Weft will be a force of nature to behold.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Bindrune Recordings
Websites: weftmusic.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/weft_music
Releases Worldwide: December 19th, 2025

Black metal and the violin go together like peanut butter and jelly, which makes it particularly exciting when an artist who is accomplished in both steps forward. Weft is the solo endeavor of Charlie Anderson, the live violinist for Panopticon. His debut album, The Splintered Oar, is one of two releases by Bindrune Recordings on the weekend before the beginning of Listurnalia 2025.1 Nevertheless, this is a record that should not go unnoticed during the time of year when many of us have adopted either a backward- or forward-looking mindset.

Weft integrates the violin in a variety of clever ways that will sound comfortably familiar to fans of folk/black metal. The obvious comparison is Panopticon, particularly in the sublime acoustic guitar and violin pairing of the intro track “Leaves.” It also dances with the electric guitar in a wild, rugged manner like unto Windfaerer and Saor (“The Hull”). At the same time, Weft doesn’t allow the violin to become too overwhelming or dominant. Rather than solely relying on the customary trem-picking, the fierce guitar riffs and chord progressions of The Splintered Oar often prefer to wander into progressive death metal territory. Another surprising musical influence is Americana, featured briefly in “The Hull” and prominently in “Dream of Oaks.”

The Splintered Oar by Weft

Once things get going, the bulk of The Splintered Oar is quite exhilarating. “False Kingdoms,” the first full song, opens with a great buildup, facilitated by Austin Lunn’s purposeful tom rhythms. After this point, the intensity ebbs and flows, but rarely lets up completely. The demonic violin lines and frenzied shrieks in “Red Dawn” cut through the listener’s defenses like wind chill. Anderson’s deep growls are usually effective as well, though they sometimes lack force and come across as more of a croak. Andrea Morgan’s guest vocals in “The Hull” help compensate for this, joining with the soothing strings in a manner reminiscent of Dzö-nga, which is a very good thing.

What holds The Splintered Oar back the most is a shaky beginning and ending. “Leaves” would have been a much more effective intro if it hadn’t repeated itself and dragged out its runtime to 5 minutes. On the other hand, 12-minute closer “Dream of Oaks” struggles to remain coherent. The entire first half is dreamy Americana, which later morphs into sleek Opethian prog and then death/doom before finally resuming Weft’s signature violin-driven black metal. These individual components are enjoyable enough on their own, but they become confusing when considered together. “Dream of Oaks” might have been an epic conclusion if it had the same degree of cohesion between The Splintered Oar’s disparate musical influences that the preceding tracks display.

Weft is a rare example of what is possible when a violinist creates black metal. Charlie Anderson’s compositional versatility is immediately obvious. While it doesn’t quite stick the landing—or the launch—The Splintered Oar’s midsection is very promising and even goosebump-inducing at times. If the less conventional musical genres can be consistently integrated in a potential sophomore record, Weft will be a force of nature to behold.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Bindrune Recordings
Websites: weftmusic.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/weft_music
Releases Worldwide: December 19th, 2025

Black metal and the violin go together like peanut butter and jelly, which makes it particularly exciting when an artist who is accomplished in both steps forward. Weft is the solo endeavor of Charlie Anderson, the live violinist for Panopticon. His debut album, The Splintered Oar, is one of two releases by Bindrune Recordings on the weekend before the beginning of Listurnalia 2025.1 Nevertheless, this is a record that should not go unnoticed during the time of year when many of us have adopted either a backward- or forward-looking mindset.

Weft integrates the violin in a variety of clever ways that will sound comfortably familiar to fans of folk/black metal. The obvious comparison is Panopticon, particularly in the sublime acoustic guitar and violin pairing of the intro track “Leaves.” It also dances with the electric guitar in a wild, rugged manner like unto Windfaerer and Saor (“The Hull”). At the same time, Weft doesn’t allow the violin to become too overwhelming or dominant. Rather than solely relying on the customary trem-picking, the fierce guitar riffs and chord progressions of The Splintered Oar often prefer to wander into progressive death metal territory. Another surprising musical influence is Americana, featured briefly in “The Hull” and prominently in “Dream of Oaks.”

The Splintered Oar by Weft

Once things get going, the bulk of The Splintered Oar is quite exhilarating. “False Kingdoms,” the first full song, opens with a great buildup, facilitated by Austin Lunn’s purposeful tom rhythms. After this point, the intensity ebbs and flows, but rarely lets up completely. The demonic violin lines and frenzied shrieks in “Red Dawn” cut through the listener’s defenses like wind chill. Anderson’s deep growls are usually effective as well, though they sometimes lack force and come across as more of a croak. Andrea Morgan’s guest vocals in “The Hull” help compensate for this, joining with the soothing strings in a manner reminiscent of Dzö-nga, which is a very good thing.

What holds The Splintered Oar back the most is a shaky beginning and ending. “Leaves” would have been a much more effective intro if it hadn’t repeated itself and dragged out its runtime to 5 minutes. On the other hand, 12-minute closer “Dream of Oaks” struggles to remain coherent. The entire first half is dreamy Americana, which later morphs into sleek Opethian prog and then death/doom before finally resuming Weft’s signature violin-driven black metal. These individual components are enjoyable enough on their own, but they become confusing when considered together. “Dream of Oaks” might have been an epic conclusion if it had the same degree of cohesion between The Splintered Oar’s disparate musical influences that the preceding tracks display.

Weft is a rare example of what is possible when a violinist creates black metal. Charlie Anderson’s compositional versatility is immediately obvious. While it doesn’t quite stick the landing—or the launch—The Splintered Oar’s midsection is very promising and even goosebump-inducing at times. If the less conventional musical genres can be consistently integrated in a potential sophomore record, Weft will be a force of nature to behold.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Bindrune Recordings
Websites: weftmusic.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/weft_music
Releases Worldwide: December 19th, 2025

Black metal and the violin go together like peanut butter and jelly, which makes it particularly exciting when an artist who is accomplished in both steps forward. Weft is the solo endeavor of Charlie Anderson, the live violinist for Panopticon. His debut album, The Splintered Oar, is one of two releases by Bindrune Recordings on the weekend before the beginning of Listurnalia 2025.1 Nevertheless, this is a record that should not go unnoticed during the time of year when many of us have adopted either a backward- or forward-looking mindset.

Weft integrates the violin in a variety of clever ways that will sound comfortably familiar to fans of folk/black metal. The obvious comparison is Panopticon, particularly in the sublime acoustic guitar and violin pairing of the intro track “Leaves.” It also dances with the electric guitar in a wild, rugged manner like unto Windfaerer and Saor (“The Hull”). At the same time, Weft doesn’t allow the violin to become too overwhelming or dominant. Rather than solely relying on the customary trem-picking, the fierce guitar riffs and chord progressions of The Splintered Oar often prefer to wander into progressive death metal territory. Another surprising musical influence is Americana, featured briefly in “The Hull” and prominently in “Dream of Oaks.”

The Splintered Oar by Weft

Once things get going, the bulk of The Splintered Oar is quite exhilarating. “False Kingdoms,” the first full song, opens with a great buildup, facilitated by Austin Lunn’s purposeful tom rhythms. After this point, the intensity ebbs and flows, but rarely lets up completely. The demonic violin lines and frenzied shrieks in “Red Dawn” cut through the listener’s defenses like wind chill. Anderson’s deep growls are usually effective as well, though they sometimes lack force and come across as more of a croak. Andrea Morgan’s guest vocals in “The Hull” help compensate for this, joining with the soothing strings in a manner reminiscent of Dzö-nga, which is a very good thing.

What holds The Splintered Oar back the most is a shaky beginning and ending. “Leaves” would have been a much more effective intro if it hadn’t repeated itself and dragged out its runtime to 5 minutes. On the other hand, 12-minute closer “Dream of Oaks” struggles to remain coherent. The entire first half is dreamy Americana, which later morphs into sleek Opethian prog and then death/doom before finally resuming Weft’s signature violin-driven black metal. These individual components are enjoyable enough on their own, but they become confusing when considered together. “Dream of Oaks” might have been an epic conclusion if it had the same degree of cohesion between The Splintered Oar’s disparate musical influences that the preceding tracks display.

Weft is a rare example of what is possible when a violinist creates black metal. Charlie Anderson’s compositional versatility is immediately obvious. While it doesn’t quite stick the landing—or the launch—The Splintered Oar’s midsection is very promising and even goosebump-inducing at times. If the less conventional musical genres can be consistently integrated in a potential sophomore record, Weft will be a force of nature to behold.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Bindrune Recordings
Websites: weftmusic.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/weft_music
Releases Worldwide: December 19th, 2025

Black metal and the violin go together like peanut butter and jelly, which makes it particularly exciting when an artist who is accomplished in both steps forward. Weft is the solo endeavor of Charlie Anderson, the live violinist for Panopticon. His debut album, The Splintered Oar, is one of two releases by Bindrune Recordings on the weekend before the beginning of Listurnalia 2025.1 Nevertheless, this is a record that should not go unnoticed during the time of year when many of us have adopted either a backward- or forward-looking mindset.

Weft integrates the violin in a variety of clever ways that will sound comfortably familiar to fans of folk/black metal. The obvious comparison is Panopticon, particularly in the sublime acoustic guitar and violin pairing of the intro track “Leaves.” It also dances with the electric guitar in a wild, rugged manner like unto Windfaerer and Saor (“The Hull”). At the same time, Weft doesn’t allow the violin to become too overwhelming or dominant. Rather than solely relying on the customary trem-picking, the fierce guitar riffs and chord progressions of The Splintered Oar often prefer to wander into progressive death metal territory. Another surprising musical influence is Americana, featured briefly in “The Hull” and prominently in “Dream of Oaks.”

The Splintered Oar by Weft

Once things get going, the bulk of The Splintered Oar is quite exhilarating. “False Kingdoms,” the first full song, opens with a great buildup, facilitated by Austin Lunn’s purposeful tom rhythms. After this point, the intensity ebbs and flows, but rarely lets up completely. The demonic violin lines and frenzied shrieks in “Red Dawn” cut through the listener’s defenses like wind chill. Anderson’s deep growls are usually effective as well, though they sometimes lack force and come across as more of a croak. Andrea Morgan’s guest vocals in “The Hull” help compensate for this, joining with the soothing strings in a manner reminiscent of Dzö-nga, which is a very good thing.

What holds The Splintered Oar back the most is a shaky beginning and ending. “Leaves” would have been a much more effective intro if it hadn’t repeated itself and dragged out its runtime to 5 minutes. On the other hand, 12-minute closer “Dream of Oaks” struggles to remain coherent. The entire first half is dreamy Americana, which later morphs into sleek Opethian prog and then death/doom before finally resuming Weft’s signature violin-driven black metal. These individual components are enjoyable enough on their own, but they become confusing when considered together. “Dream of Oaks” might have been an epic conclusion if it had the same degree of cohesion between The Splintered Oar’s disparate musical influences that the preceding tracks display.

Weft is a rare example of what is possible when a violinist creates black metal. Charlie Anderson’s compositional versatility is immediately obvious. While it doesn’t quite stick the landing—or the launch—The Splintered Oar’s midsection is very promising and even goosebump-inducing at times. If the less conventional musical genres can be consistently integrated in a potential sophomore record, Weft will be a force of nature to behold.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Bindrune Recordings
Websites: weftmusic.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/weft_music
Releases Worldwide: December 19th, 2025

As a non-musician, writing music and playing an instrument is always impressive to me, but I am in awe of the successful solo artist. The knowledge and skill required must be staggering. St. Unholyness, hailing from Pfarrkirchen, Germany, is essentially one such project. Aside from conscripting Mac Carrigan to play bass, debut Through High Holy Haze is the singular vision of guitarist/vocalist Christina Earlymorn.1 Does Earlymorn come through with some truly holy loud, or is Through High Holy Haze all stems and seeds?

As far back as 2008, Earlymorn has been playing in various black metal projects, mostly solo, but Through High Holy Haze is a much wider-ranging affair. St. Unholyness does incorporate blackened components in its sound, like the riffing and blast beats in “Hate Response” or the full-fledged black metal passages of the title track and “Alchemist Blues,” but Through High Holy Haze is a stoner record at its core. Injecting a novel grittiness via HM-2 buzzsaw, Earlymorn creates a dirty but pliable foundation to decorate with a myriad of other styles. “Black Tooth Brothers (Abbott Brothers Tribute)” incorporates some groove sensibility, much like a stoned-out Cowboys from Hell, while the macho, brotherhood-centered antics of Manowar or Freedom Call find a place on “Loud and Proud.” “Hate Response” might be the most varied track on the album, oscillating between heavy metal, death metal, and black metal. Through High Holy Haze has a lot going on, and although not all of it fits together well, it speaks to the ambition and raw vision Earlymorn has for St. Unholyness.

Blacktooth Brothers (Abbott Brothers Tribute) by St. Unholyness

Unfortunately, raw drive and interesting ideas don’t make a good record. While Earlymorn is obviously a proficient guitarist—I was particularly impressed by the bluesy hooks and licks on “Through High Holy Haze” as well as the swedeath-influenced riffage on “Hate Response”—but she’s not as talented vocally. Her cleans are stiff and monotone, and her blackened rasps sound weak and half-hearted. From the promo material, I understand the lyrics are deeply personal to Earlymorn, but to do them justice, they needed to be passed off to someone with more range and experience. The same can be said of the programmed drums. A live musician could have breathed life and emotion into an element that, as is, feels like little more than a beefed-up metronome. There are very interesting ideas on Through High Holy Haze, like the way St. Unholyness mixes black metal and stoner metal together or uses a swedeath tone to play stony, bluesy riffs, but they needed more input than Earlymorn’s alone to come to life truly.

A lack of refinement isn’t the only problem plaguing Through High Holy Haze. Artifacts and clipping are pervasive throughout the album, and the mix often fumbles potential high points. “Dampflok des Todes” and “Alchemist Blues” both feature vocals that seem pitched to soar, but in such a flat mix, come across unremarkable at best, weak and poorly written at worst. Carrigan’s bass sounds excellent when it gets some time in the spotlight (“Black Tooth Brothers,” “St. Unholyness”), but otherwise it’s all but buried. The songwriting on Through High Holy Haze is challenging, as well. Mismatches between intros and the meat of songs are frequent, as are mismatches between leads/solos and rhythm sections, creating a dischordant listening experience (“Dampflok des Todes,” “Black Tooth Brothers,” “Alchemist Blues,” “Hate Response”). Bloat is also an issue. “Black Tooth Brothers” and “Alchemist Blues” both feature aimless interludes, and “St. Unholyness” employs a great deal of repetition to fill its six minutes and change.

St. Unholyness’ debut is, start to finish, the product of a single mind. As a result, Through High Holy Haze feels more like a rough draft than a final, polished product. An unfocused approach, poor mixing, and jarring, disjointed songwriting conspire together to utterly hamstring some decent potential. There are compelling ideas here, of that I am sure, but without the support of other skilled artists to workshop, refine, temper, and realize them, ideas are all they’ll ever be.

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: ~190kbps VBR mp3
Label: Self-released
Websites: Official | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: December 25th, 2025

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

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

Ver Sacrum by DAWN OF A DARK AGE

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

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

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

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

Being a non-native Bostonian in Beantown allows me to exercise a dispassionate objectivity towards the city’s musical culture. I vicariously experience the pride of housing The Pixies but don’t feel the shame of inhabiting Aerosmith Land.1 And yet, I’m always curious about local artists who can obliterate this objectivity, making me feel proud of Boston. Bygone, a heavy metal/hard rock sextet, may be able to liberate my revolutionary heart from its Tory shackles. Despite being Boston-based, Bygone have just dropped their debut album on Svart Records, an independent label based in Finland. Svart’s solid track record, coupled with that pulpy sci-fi cover, gives me more than a feeling that Bygone will deliver.

As per their name, Bygone is not really interested in revolution. These Bostonians serve a heavier-than-usual hard rock that had its heyday in the 1970s. But as the band itself so enticingly puts it, Bygone ’feels not so much of the historical past as it does the never-quite-was.’2 To this end, guitarists Noah Stormbringer and Chris Corry lay down driving riffs that feel like a chuggier Deep Purple (“Lightspeed Nights,” “City Living”). The powerful mid-range of vocalist James Kirn fronts a Uriah Heep with more heft than David Byron or John Lawton (“Shadow Rising,” “Take Me Home”). All the while, bassist Cecelia Hale and drummer Connor Donegan hover like a steadier UFO (“Fire in You Fire in Me”). With production wetter than the Charles River, Bygone sounds like the 70s proto-metal record that never was, but now is.

Bygone by Bygone

Bygone packs a tasty psychedelic flavor, largely stemming from its synths. Keyboardist Renato is a key fixture of Bygone, sonically fulfilling the spacey atmosphere suggested by the album cover. His tones span the cosmos, sounding like the stars, the interstellar spaceships traveling to them, and everything in between. “Lightspeed Nights” perfectly exemplifies Renato’s dual role in Bygone. Sometimes, he provides atmospheric background for the sparkling guitars; other times, he’s front and center, swirling like Saturnian rings around the band. But Bygone’s highlights, far and away, come from Renato’s interplays with guitarists Stormbringer and Corry. The bridge of “Shadow Rising,” for example, amplifies its time signature change with some nifty call-and-response triplets. Similarly, but more expansively, “Take Me Home” builds a progressive guitar/keyboard conversation into its DNA. On account of its psychedelic synths, Bygone becomes an album that pairs well with some Green Monster.

Bygone doesn’t go by without flaws. As mentioned, Kirn is a powerful vocalist, harboring a flexible mid-range that can satisfyingly hit higher notes. His verses and choruses, however, often need stronger hooks to differentiate themselves from the infectious guitar and keyboard melodies (“Lightspeed Nights”). Bygone also has some pacing issues. Despite being a fairly consistent 43 minutes, it lacks show-stopping highs (though “Take Me Home” comes close). Some midpoint lag (“Into the Gleam,” “The Last Horses of Avalon”) makes the album feel longer than it is. “City Living,” however, picks things back up before the closer. “Fire in You Fire in Me” stands as the most unique track on Bygone, with gentler, warmer tones recalling Procol Harum. Bygone would do well to make way for more variety of this kind.

Bygone is a good (though not wicked good) debut from a promising band. These Bostonians demonstrate keen awareness of what makes modern retro rock/metal work. Tone is tantamount but not totalizing; you need riffs, and Bygone holds plenty. Fans of the band’s 70s influences and other such contemporaries dealing in musical antiques will love the galactically vintage tones on display here. With a bit more songwriting variety and vocal hooks, Bygone should make Boston (and its iconoclastic transplants) more than proud.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 2025

Being a non-native Bostonian in Beantown allows me to exercise a dispassionate objectivity towards the city’s musical culture. I vicariously experience the pride of housing The Pixies but don’t feel the shame of inhabiting Aerosmith Land.1 And yet, I’m always curious about local artists who can obliterate this objectivity, making me feel proud of Boston. Bygone, a heavy metal/hard rock sextet, may be able to liberate my revolutionary heart from its Tory shackles. Despite being Boston-based, Bygone have just dropped their debut album on Svart Records, an independent label based in Finland. Svart’s solid track record, coupled with that pulpy sci-fi cover, gives me more than a feeling that Bygone will deliver.

As per their name, Bygone is not really interested in revolution. These Bostonians serve a heavier-than-usual hard rock that had its heyday in the 1970s. But as the band itself so enticingly puts it, Bygone ’feels not so much of the historical past as it does the never-quite-was.’2 To this end, guitarists Noah Stormbringer and Chris Corry lay down driving riffs that feel like a chuggier Deep Purple (“Lightspeed Nights,” “City Living”). The powerful mid-range of vocalist James Kirn fronts a Uriah Heep with more heft than David Byron or John Lawton (“Shadow Rising,” “Take Me Home”). All the while, bassist Cecelia Hale and drummer Connor Donegan hover like a steadier UFO (“Fire in You Fire in Me”). With production wetter than the Charles River, Bygone sounds like the 70s proto-metal record that never was, but now is.

Bygone by Bygone

Bygone packs a tasty psychedelic flavor, largely stemming from its synths. Keyboardist Renato is a key fixture of Bygone, sonically fulfilling the spacey atmosphere suggested by the album cover. His tones span the cosmos, sounding like the stars, the interstellar spaceships traveling to them, and everything in between. “Lightspeed Nights” perfectly exemplifies Renato’s dual role in Bygone. Sometimes, he provides atmospheric background for the sparkling guitars; other times, he’s front and center, swirling like Saturnian rings around the band. But Bygone’s highlights, far and away, come from Renato’s interplays with guitarists Stormbringer and Corry. The bridge of “Shadow Rising,” for example, amplifies its time signature change with some nifty call-and-response triplets. Similarly, but more expansively, “Take Me Home” builds a progressive guitar/keyboard conversation into its DNA. On account of its psychedelic synths, Bygone becomes an album that pairs well with some Green Monster.

Bygone doesn’t go by without flaws. As mentioned, Kirn is a powerful vocalist, harboring a flexible mid-range that can satisfyingly hit higher notes. His verses and choruses, however, often need stronger hooks to differentiate themselves from the infectious guitar and keyboard melodies (“Lightspeed Nights”). Bygone also has some pacing issues. Despite being a fairly consistent 43 minutes, it lacks show-stopping highs (though “Take Me Home” comes close). Some midpoint lag (“Into the Gleam,” “The Last Horses of Avalon”) makes the album feel longer than it is. “City Living,” however, picks things back up before the closer. “Fire in You Fire in Me” stands as the most unique track on Bygone, with gentler, warmer tones recalling Procol Harum. Bygone would do well to make way for more variety of this kind.

Bygone is a good (though not wicked good) debut from a promising band. These Bostonians demonstrate keen awareness of what makes modern retro rock/metal work. Tone is tantamount but not totalizing; you need riffs, and Bygone holds plenty. Fans of the band’s 70s influences and other such contemporaries dealing in musical antiques will love the galactically vintage tones on display here. With a bit more songwriting variety and vocal hooks, Bygone should make Boston (and its iconoclastic transplants) more than proud.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 2025

Being a non-native Bostonian in Beantown allows me to exercise a dispassionate objectivity towards the city’s musical culture. I vicariously experience the pride of housing The Pixies but don’t feel the shame of inhabiting Aerosmith Land.1 And yet, I’m always curious about local artists who can obliterate this objectivity, making me feel proud of Boston. Bygone, a heavy metal/hard rock sextet, may be able to liberate my revolutionary heart from its Tory shackles. Despite being Boston-based, Bygone have just dropped their debut album on Svart Records, an independent label based in Finland. Svart’s solid track record, coupled with that pulpy sci-fi cover, gives me more than a feeling that Bygone will deliver.

As per their name, Bygone is not really interested in revolution. These Bostonians serve a heavier-than-usual hard rock that had its heyday in the 1970s. But as the band itself so enticingly puts it, Bygone ’feels not so much of the historical past as it does the never-quite-was.’2 To this end, guitarists Noah Stormbringer and Chris Corry lay down driving riffs that feel like a chuggier Deep Purple (“Lightspeed Nights,” “City Living”). The powerful mid-range of vocalist James Kirn fronts a Uriah Heep with more heft than David Byron or John Lawton (“Shadow Rising,” “Take Me Home”). All the while, bassist Cecelia Hale and drummer Connor Donegan hover like a steadier UFO (“Fire in You Fire in Me”). With production wetter than the Charles River, Bygone sounds like the 70s proto-metal record that never was, but now is.

Bygone by Bygone

Bygone packs a tasty psychedelic flavor, largely stemming from its synths. Keyboardist Renato is a key fixture of Bygone, sonically fulfilling the spacey atmosphere suggested by the album cover. His tones span the cosmos, sounding like the stars, the interstellar spaceships traveling to them, and everything in between. “Lightspeed Nights” perfectly exemplifies Renato’s dual role in Bygone. Sometimes, he provides atmospheric background for the sparkling guitars; other times, he’s front and center, swirling like Saturnian rings around the band. But Bygone’s highlights, far and away, come from Renato’s interplays with guitarists Stormbringer and Corry. The bridge of “Shadow Rising,” for example, amplifies its time signature change with some nifty call-and-response triplets. Similarly, but more expansively, “Take Me Home” builds a progressive guitar/keyboard conversation into its DNA. On account of its psychedelic synths, Bygone becomes an album that pairs well with some Green Monster.

Bygone doesn’t go by without flaws. As mentioned, Kirn is a powerful vocalist, harboring a flexible mid-range that can satisfyingly hit higher notes. His verses and choruses, however, often need stronger hooks to differentiate themselves from the infectious guitar and keyboard melodies (“Lightspeed Nights”). Bygone also has some pacing issues. Despite being a fairly consistent 43 minutes, it lacks show-stopping highs (though “Take Me Home” comes close). Some midpoint lag (“Into the Gleam,” “The Last Horses of Avalon”) makes the album feel longer than it is. “City Living,” however, picks things back up before the closer. “Fire in You Fire in Me” stands as the most unique track on Bygone, with gentler, warmer tones recalling Procol Harum. Bygone would do well to make way for more variety of this kind.

Bygone is a good (though not wicked good) debut from a promising band. These Bostonians demonstrate keen awareness of what makes modern retro rock/metal work. Tone is tantamount but not totalizing; you need riffs, and Bygone holds plenty. Fans of the band’s 70s influences and other such contemporaries dealing in musical antiques will love the galactically vintage tones on display here. With a bit more songwriting variety and vocal hooks, Bygone should make Boston (and its iconoclastic transplants) more than proud.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 2025

Being a non-native Bostonian in Beantown allows me to exercise a dispassionate objectivity towards the city’s musical culture. I vicariously experience the pride of housing The Pixies but don’t feel the shame of inhabiting Aerosmith Land.1 And yet, I’m always curious about local artists who can obliterate this objectivity, making me feel proud of Boston. Bygone, a heavy metal/hard rock sextet, may be able to liberate my revolutionary heart from its Tory shackles. Despite being Boston-based, Bygone have just dropped their debut album on Svart Records, an independent label based in Finland. Svart’s solid track record, coupled with that pulpy sci-fi cover, gives me more than a feeling that Bygone will deliver.

As per their name, Bygone is not really interested in revolution. These Bostonians serve a heavier-than-usual hard rock that had its heyday in the 1970s. But as the band itself so enticingly puts it, Bygone ’feels not so much of the historical past as it does the never-quite-was.’2 To this end, guitarists Noah Stormbringer and Chris Corry lay down driving riffs that feel like a chuggier Deep Purple (“Lightspeed Nights,” “City Living”). The powerful mid-range of vocalist James Kirn fronts a Uriah Heep with more heft than David Byron or John Lawton (“Shadow Rising,” “Take Me Home”). All the while, bassist Cecelia Hale and drummer Connor Donegan hover like a steadier UFO (“Fire in You Fire in Me”). With production wetter than the Charles River, Bygone sounds like the 70s proto-metal record that never was, but now is.

Bygone by Bygone

Bygone packs a tasty psychedelic flavor, largely stemming from its synths. Keyboardist Renato is a key fixture of Bygone, sonically fulfilling the spacey atmosphere suggested by the album cover. His tones span the cosmos, sounding like the stars, the interstellar spaceships traveling to them, and everything in between. “Lightspeed Nights” perfectly exemplifies Renato’s dual role in Bygone. Sometimes, he provides atmospheric background for the sparkling guitars; other times, he’s front and center, swirling like Saturnian rings around the band. But Bygone’s highlights, far and away, come from Renato’s interplays with guitarists Stormbringer and Corry. The bridge of “Shadow Rising,” for example, amplifies its time signature change with some nifty call-and-response triplets. Similarly, but more expansively, “Take Me Home” builds a progressive guitar/keyboard conversation into its DNA. On account of its psychedelic synths, Bygone becomes an album that pairs well with some Green Monster.

Bygone doesn’t go by without flaws. As mentioned, Kirn is a powerful vocalist, harboring a flexible mid-range that can satisfyingly hit higher notes. His verses and choruses, however, often need stronger hooks to differentiate themselves from the infectious guitar and keyboard melodies (“Lightspeed Nights”). Bygone also has some pacing issues. Despite being a fairly consistent 43 minutes, it lacks show-stopping highs (though “Take Me Home” comes close). Some midpoint lag (“Into the Gleam,” “The Last Horses of Avalon”) makes the album feel longer than it is. “City Living,” however, picks things back up before the closer. “Fire in You Fire in Me” stands as the most unique track on Bygone, with gentler, warmer tones recalling Procol Harum. Bygone would do well to make way for more variety of this kind.

Bygone is a good (though not wicked good) debut from a promising band. These Bostonians demonstrate keen awareness of what makes modern retro rock/metal work. Tone is tantamount but not totalizing; you need riffs, and Bygone holds plenty. Fans of the band’s 70s influences and other such contemporaries dealing in musical antiques will love the galactically vintage tones on display here. With a bit more songwriting variety and vocal hooks, Bygone should make Boston (and its iconoclastic transplants) more than proud.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 2025

Being a non-native Bostonian in Beantown allows me to exercise a dispassionate objectivity towards the city’s musical culture. I vicariously experience the pride of housing The Pixies but don’t feel the shame of inhabiting Aerosmith Land.1 And yet, I’m always curious about local artists who can obliterate this objectivity, making me feel proud of Boston. Bygone, a heavy metal/hard rock sextet, may be able to liberate my revolutionary heart from its Tory shackles. Despite being Boston-based, Bygone have just dropped their debut album on Svart Records, an independent label based in Finland. Svart’s solid track record, coupled with that pulpy sci-fi cover, gives me more than a feeling that Bygone will deliver.

As per their name, Bygone is not really interested in revolution. These Bostonians serve a heavier-than-usual hard rock that had its heyday in the 1970s. But as the band itself so enticingly puts it, Bygone ’feels not so much of the historical past as it does the never-quite-was.’2 To this end, guitarists Noah Stormbringer and Chris Corry lay down driving riffs that feel like a chuggier Deep Purple (“Lightspeed Nights,” “City Living”). The powerful mid-range of vocalist James Kirn fronts a Uriah Heep with more heft than David Byron or John Lawton (“Shadow Rising,” “Take Me Home”). All the while, bassist Cecelia Hale and drummer Connor Donegan hover like a steadier UFO (“Fire in You Fire in Me”). With production wetter than the Charles River, Bygone sounds like the 70s proto-metal record that never was, but now is.

Bygone by Bygone

Bygone packs a tasty psychedelic flavor, largely stemming from its synths. Keyboardist Renato is a key fixture of Bygone, sonically fulfilling the spacey atmosphere suggested by the album cover. His tones span the cosmos, sounding like the stars, the interstellar spaceships traveling to them, and everything in between. “Lightspeed Nights” perfectly exemplifies Renato’s dual role in Bygone. Sometimes, he provides atmospheric background for the sparkling guitars; other times, he’s front and center, swirling like Saturnian rings around the band. But Bygone’s highlights, far and away, come from Renato’s interplays with guitarists Stormbringer and Corry. The bridge of “Shadow Rising,” for example, amplifies its time signature change with some nifty call-and-response triplets. Similarly, but more expansively, “Take Me Home” builds a progressive guitar/keyboard conversation into its DNA. On account of its psychedelic synths, Bygone becomes an album that pairs well with some Green Monster.

Bygone doesn’t go by without flaws. As mentioned, Kirn is a powerful vocalist, harboring a flexible mid-range that can satisfyingly hit higher notes. His verses and choruses, however, often need stronger hooks to differentiate themselves from the infectious guitar and keyboard melodies (“Lightspeed Nights”). Bygone also has some pacing issues. Despite being a fairly consistent 43 minutes, it lacks show-stopping highs (though “Take Me Home” comes close). Some midpoint lag (“Into the Gleam,” “The Last Horses of Avalon”) makes the album feel longer than it is. “City Living,” however, picks things back up before the closer. “Fire in You Fire in Me” stands as the most unique track on Bygone, with gentler, warmer tones recalling Procol Harum. Bygone would do well to make way for more variety of this kind.

Bygone is a good (though not wicked good) debut from a promising band. These Bostonians demonstrate keen awareness of what makes modern retro rock/metal work. Tone is tantamount but not totalizing; you need riffs, and Bygone holds plenty. Fans of the band’s 70s influences and other such contemporaries dealing in musical antiques will love the galactically vintage tones on display here. With a bit more songwriting variety and vocal hooks, Bygone should make Boston (and its iconoclastic transplants) more than proud.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Svart Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 2025

Happy New Year, ya filthy animals! How about we usher in this stupid year with something that came out on literally the last day of 2025. That’s right, a nice, breezy slice of industrial synthwave and ambient melancholy that sounds like something you’d hear from the radio on a cruisin’ Miami drive, but on like a miserably gloomy day. Which, if you’re familiar with Ulver, the purveyor of today’s jams, is equal parts straight outta left field and yet also predictable. Ulver, the group that authored a smattering of quintessential 90’s Norwegian black metal albums, has since nestled snugly into a restless kaleidoscope of melancholic, avant-garde music that ranges from synthpop, industrial, ambient, acoustic folk, and so on. The Ulver brand is built on consistent unpredictability, each new album a bold new frontier, and Ulver’s newest album, Neverland, continues this tradition.

Neverland shifts across a diverse range of moods through its runtime, never quite landing on a single tonal descriptor I might comfortably use to pigeonhole Neverland, which was surely the intention. It’s at times mysterious, brooding, and melancholic, and defiantly optimistic, musically manifesting in a variety of ways. There’s a strong emphasis on richly textured ambiance (“Weeping Stone,” “Horses of the Plough”), there’s a lot of glitchy industrial beats (“They’re Coming The Birds,” “Hark Hark The Dogs Bark”), and the highlight comes in funky, percussive synthwave (“People of the Hills,” “Fire in the End”). It’s worth noting that apart from some spoken poetry in the opener, Neverland is, in practice, a fully instrumental affair. It’s easy to miss Kristoffer Rygg’s vocals, which were always a highlight of any Ulver record, but Neverland is specifically written in a way that wouldn’t work with vocals. Neverland effectively utilizes free-form compositions, eschewing a structure that would benefit from vocals and focusing on the strength and depth of the musicality.

Neverland by Ulver

To that end, Neverland is largely carried by its sound design and tight, snappy electronics. Umpteen albums in and Ulver have fine-tuned their electronic craftsmanship down to a science, keeping Neverland’s percussion straightforward and simple while swathing them in effects and ambiance. Neverland’s songs are generally catchy: the Moonlight Sonata-esque piano sequence that leads into the dramatic, glitchy crescendo of “Elephant Trunk” has stuck with me since my first listen, and “Hark! Hark! The Dogs Do Bark!”‘s bass-heavy beat never disappoints. “People of the Hills” is, for my money Neverland’s strongest song, and one of my new favorite Ulver songs. Staccato synths prelude a disco funk bass-line and grease-slick drums before some guitars drop a ludicrously tasty synthwave chord. It’s a goddamn banger, and like all of Neverland, sounds great, but the sound design is allowed to shine brightest in an ambient track like “Weeping Stone.” It starts with a comfortable rumble of brown noise before the keyboards arrive with grand washes of color and a moonlit melody.

Still, while the ambient tracks sound great, they begin to present an issue in Neverland’s latter half. The momentum constructed in Neverland’s first half falters at the ambient “Horses of the Plough” and “Quivers in the Marrow,” which are placed too closely together, with “Pandora’s Box” in between them. While I like the dreamy feel and slick bass line of “Pandora’s Box,” it begins to drag on repeat listens since the greater part of the song is a lot of build-up. Sometimes I feel that there’s an imbalance between Neverland’s ambiance and beat-driven side. Some of the more immediate tracks, including ones I like such as “They’re Coming! The Birds!” and “People of the Hills,” can feel shorter when I wish they were longer, being slightly padded on either end with ambiance or build-up, which in turn makes the standalone ambient tracks feel longer, inviting impatience for the next, more engaging track. The faltering momentum does frustrate, but I struggle to maintain much annoyance on account of the closer, “Fire in the End.” Tonally similar to “People of the Hills” but injecting a healthy dose of drama into the funk, it closes Neverland on a high note that always leaves me feeling satisfied.

Anyway, pacing quibbles aside, Neverland is all in all a success. It’s an easy album to throw on and just sink into thanks to stellar sound design, with tons of highlight beats that will stick with you. While it’s not a career-defining achievement for Ulver, it is another worthy shade to add to Ulver’s ever-growing sonic kaleidoscope, one I would recommend to any who’s ever enjoyed that distinct, melancholic Ulver flavor in the past.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps
Label: House of Mythology
Websites: facebook | bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: December 31st, 2025

ADVENT24/25_DEC24

Mistigram: The damn beautiful fool of an elf did it, he went too far this time, pulling off one final Christmas… but at what cost? This depiction of Santa’s gift-wrapped funeral was drawn by @littlebitspace and LDA for this date in last year’s ADVENT24 #ANSIart #AdventCalendar.

#adventCalendar #ADVENT24 #ANSIArt #ChristmasDay #Dec25 #funeral #LDA #littlebitspace

Fromsoftware’s behemoth action-RPG Elden Ring is an enigma. How a game so obtuse, difficult, and uniquely itself in its visuals and storytelling became the blockbuster that it is baffles me, and it’s one of those precious pieces of art that simply makes me happy to live in the same world as it. It’s also metal as anything can be. Bands like Fell Omen have tapped into the game’s mythology for inspiration before and, now, the international blackened death duo Starscourge enter the fray with their debut Conqueror of the Stars – Betwixt Sundered Seraphim, the Lands Between Bleed. Promising serious riffage and an emphasis on storytelling, instrumentalist Zul Bharoocha (Sweden) and vocalist Mithun MK (Singapore) have already overcome one great obstacle by getting this thing made at all. But what did Starscourge achieve with Conqueror of the Stars…? I doubt you could even imagine it…

Conqueror of the Stars…’s full title is comically verbose, but it foreshadows the sheer opulent regality exuded by Starscourge. The band masterfully captures Elden Ring’s demi-deific power struggle through massive riff-craft supported by extravagant (synth) orchestration and choir. “Ranni’s Requiem – A Night of Black Knives” imposes regal grandiosity through overwhelming choirs and guitar leads, while the weight with which “The Battle of Aeonia” heaves itself feels genuinely symphonic. “Athwart Hereditary Taint, Thence Doth the Valkyrie Ride” wields a wonderful balance of airy dueling guitars and piano and blistering, throat-shredding black metal, standing in contrast to the maniacal, overtly evil decadence of “Together, My Serpentine Valentine” immediately following. Even the Slayer cover “Spirit in Black” sounds opulent, imbuing MK’s Araya impersonation with the arrogant pomp suited to a Golden Order lord of Elden Ring. If you like your metal as haughty as it is heavy, Starscourge is your band and Conqueror of the Stars… is your album.

Athwart Hereditary Taint, Thence Doth The Valkyrie Ride by Starscourge

Conqueror of the Stars… may reek of vainglory and overwriting, but don’t be fooled: Starscourge are exhilarating. Bharoocha’s riffs tap into the fullest majesty of black metal (“The Shattering”) and melodeath’s sharpest hooks (“I Am the Starscourge”), even indulging in NWOBHM-isms on “The Battle of Aeonia.” MK’s growls resemble a mix of Aeternam’s Achraf Loudiy and Lamb of God’s Randy Blythe, while his cleans recall both Borknagar’s ICS Vortex and, when he breaks out the falsettos, King Diamond. Conqueror of the Stars… rages from start to finish,1 whether by propulsive chops on “Whereunto Frenzy Beckoneth” or furious tremolos on “Destiny’s Dastardly Dynasty,” and Bharoocha’s leads and solos approach Moonlight Sorcery levels of show-off-ness in their technicality (“Blessings Upon the Golden Throne”). Starscourge also prove expert editors, as everything but “The Battle of Aeonia” sits tight at three to four minutes of no fat, all muscle goodness.2 Starscourge could’ve afforded to put on some weight, as both “Blessings Upon the Golden Order” and “I Am the Starscourge” end somewhat anticlimactically. Like Elden Ring, Conqueror of the Stars… brings the goods in great quantity without resorting to padding.

But there’s no avoiding Starscourge’s Achilles heel: insistence upon voice acting. Opener “Betwixt Sundered Seraphim…” sees Starscourge read off one of Elden Ring’s trailer scripts in an unconvincing Shakespearean inflection over boring synths, failing to either achieve the dramatic pulse of the original read or excite the listener. This is the least offensive spoken word moment on the album, however, because it at least doesn’t distract from a good instrumental. Too often, a bruising riff (“Destiny’s Dastardly Dynasty”), half a solo (“The Shattering”), or a slow build-up (“The Battle of Aeonia”) is buried under cringey monologue that doesn’t immerse the listener into the story any better than a compelling instrumental could’ve. Given voice acting’s prominent role in Conqueror of the Stars…, it’s clear that Starscourge think of it as an integral factor of their style. I don’t. It’s boring, a bit silly, and stands in conflict with the rest of the music. Conqueror of the Stars… is already an engrossing, deeply dramatic record without it, so why insist upon it?3

But even with Starscourge’s voice acting woes, not to mention less-than-thrilling mixing and mastering,4 Conqueror of the Stars – Betwixt Sundered Seraphim, the Lands Between Bleed is a monumentally entertaining record. Both grandiose and lean, the few but notable hiccups this album has just barely held my hand from shattering the Score Safety Box one last time this year. Whether you abide by the frenzy of black metal or live in death, or just really like Elden Ring, Conqueror of the Stars… is an easy recommendation. Bear witness!

Rating: Very Good…
DR: 6… | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3…
Label: Self-Release…
Websites: facebook.com/official.starscourge | starscourgeofficial.bandcamp.com …
Releases Worldwide: December 19th, 2025…

You’ve heard me rant about the horrors that lurk in the promo sump come December, and how it’s mostly sub-basement black metal made by those who live on gas station pizza rolls. That kind of low-target high-risk environment is why I noticed the offering from German trve metal act Olymp and took action upon it rashly. Before we go any further, I need to point out that Olymp (I assume short of Olympus) is a truly godawful name. It also sounds like an erectile dysfunction medication. The fact that their sophomore album is titled Rising makes the comparison all the more… turgid, while also suggesting an entire marketing campaign for gas station dick pills. Also, that album art is next-level BAD. On the plus side, it’s probably not AI-generated. Poor moniker and dubious art choices aside, Olymp play a burly, beefy, 80s-centric variant of trve heavy metal with elements of Cirith Ungol and Manilla Road in the DNA. They also hit the same ground as their fellow countrymen, the long-running cheeseball power warriors, Wizard. That means Olymp teeter on that razor edge between serious and trve and over-the-top, cheddar-infected cornballery, which is a tough place to make a glorious last stand. But all hope is not lost, Olympi-Won!

After a table-setting instrumental, the Olymp ethos is unveiled on “Olive Wreath.” It involves hammering you relentlessly with beefy riffage as Sebastian Tölle delivers a rough, raw bellow that’s more shout than sing. He sits somewhere between the legendary Tim Baker of Cirith Ungol and Matias Nastolin of Desolate Realm, and his gruff style generally fits the sound and adds an extra layer of toughness. At times, “Olive Wreath” reminds me of long-forgotten German speed metal fiends Iron Angel and Deathrow, and the guitar phrasing often veers heavily into Cirith Ungol territory. These are all big pluses in my book, and if they gave me a whole album of this meaty broth, I’d happily overlook the issues discussed in the intro. “Thread of Life” is another iron fist to the cranium with burly, simplistic riffs pounding your brain nonstop, and it’s not far removed from what classic Gravedigger did/still do.

Olymp’s style is exceptionally simple, direct, and old school, and when it works, you get cuts like the slam-banging “Orpheus,” which riffs hard enough to shake teeth loose and addle your brain gelatin. The same goes for album closer “White Rose” which is laden with harmonies and flourishes that strongly recall Cirith Ungol. It’s an effective metal chestnut with a nice touch of melancholy. Not every cut pulls off the ancient alchemy, though. “Fire and Brimstone” comes off as really old Saxon and off-brand Manowar sutured together badly, and it’s dumb as hell. “Titan War” is aggressive and punchy, with Tölle sounding more like Tim Baker than usual, but things run too long, and the last few minutes feel tedious. “Olymp” also suffers from a late-song lag. While several songs extend too far considering the number of ideas presented, most tracks manage to avoid the bloat contagion. At 40 minutes, Rising feels like a quick enough spin, and the aggression levels keep it humming.

The biggest snag for Olymp is Sebastian Tölle’s vocals, which are too limited and one-note. As a poor man’s Tim Baker, his raw, ragged shouting works best on the most aggressive numbers, but as the album drags on, his delivery becomes more and more irritating. He isn’t able to elevate the material consistently, and you find yourself wishing he had another gear. The guitar work by Tölle and Armin Amboss reeks of the 80s trve metal era, and they do borrow a lot from Cirith Ungol and Manilla Road while beefing up the tones for maximum impact. Their playing is a highlight and routinely drops nostalgia glitter on those who grew up in the 80s.

Olymp play a style I’m predisposed to enjoy, and I do appreciate most of what they offer on Rising. If they could smooth out some of the rough spots in their songsmithing and improve the vocals, Olymp could become a worthy opponent for the likes of Eternal Champion and Dragon Skull. As things stand, they’re more a rowdy street thug than a noble barbarian. Here’s to rising on command!



Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Metalizer
Websites: olymp-band.com | olympmetal.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/olympmetal
Releases Worldwide: December 19th, 2025

Lychgate – Precipice Review

By Grin Reaper

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Upon a Burning Body – Blood of the Bull Review

By Dear Hollow

Upon a Burning Body is back, baby. Your favorite groovy Texans are ready to lay on the hurt with as many riffs as your ears can muster. Predecessor 2022’s Fury offered a no-frills attack that more substantially simplified the attack, recalling more the groove-oriented likes of Pantera or Lamb of God, as opposed to the longstanding comparisons to deathcore’s partyharders Attila and “fight everyone” breakdowners Emmure to whom they’ve been compared in the past. It seemed like a new direction for the San Antonio quartet, even if hindered by some grunge-inspired cleans and sporadic and uneven homages to their deathcore roots. Blood of the Bull tries to reconcile a new direction and a past that still haunts them.

Blood of the Bull is indeed Upon a Burning Body firing on all cylinders – although its direction remains questionable. Ruben Alvarez’s guitar work is immediately recognizable, a bluesy edge and layered rhythms with manic solos to boot, Tito Felix’s drumming is as unhinged as you’d expect,1 while Danny Leal’s vocals have returned to peak form, honed mids to complement his vicious lows – even bassist/vocalist Thomas Alvarez’s cleans are better than last go. In Blood of the Bull, poppier choruses contrast heavier to its breakneck riffs and metalcore leanings, leaving it slightly below Fury in its effectiveness but remaining a solid installment in Upon a Burning Body’s rodeo of a discography.

In many ways, Blood of the Bull exists as the band’s most experimental outing. While it channels Fury’s propensity for groove, Thomas Alvarez forgoes on the grungy tone almost entirely for the most soulful choruses the band has ever offered, tracks which often feature newfound synth in creeping intros or interludes (“Daywalker,” “Another Ghost,” “Living in a Matrix”). While the presence of these assets could potentially dull the teeth that Upon a Burning Body’s sound naturally possesses, they refuse to let that stop them. Their cleaner tracks feel bigger and more significant than ever before, albeit imperfect: the soaring melodies can feel shoehorned alongside groove or deathcore beatdowns, although the lyricism (for once) sometimes improves this issue (“Another Ghost”) and ruins it for others (“Reckless Love”). The mariachi returns full-force, a welcome homage to the group’s roots (“Sangre del Toro,” “An Insatiable Hunger”).

If the tracks with clean singing are risks with mixed payoff, then, when Upon a Burning Body conjures syncopated grooves and commanding vocals with memorable one-liners offer the best listening on Blood of the Bull. Furious shredding, wild solos, and Leal’s signature vocal attack offer a trifecta of headbanging goodness. No one growls profanity the way Leal does, and while it was noticeably absent in Fury, the “fucking” one-liners pump adrenaline (“Killshot,” “Curse Breaker”) while other tracks manage to feel kickass and brooding simultaneously (“Hand of God”), highlighting Upon a Burning Body’s vocal return to deathcore’s intensity. It can be odd and off-putting when songs that feature the most intense groove riffs can also feature those soulful choruses (“Daywalker,” “Living in a Matrix”), but aside from the aforementioned, these don’t feel as awkward as I expected.

Upon a Burning Body amps almost everything in its attempt to reconcile the old with the new, and if nothing else, the effort is noted. There is more than enough corny lyrics, ham- beef-fisted anthems, and soaring clean choruses aboard Blood of the Bull, but in this way, it feels more like Upon a Burning Body than they’ve been in a hot minute. Thankfully, if you can look past the flaws, the band’s seventh full-length is at its worst full of crunchy grooves, mind-numbing breakdowns, and jarring tonal shifts, but if that’s its worst – with Danny Leal and Ruben Alvarez leading the attack – that’s a worst I can get behind. Also, highlights like “Another Ghost” or “Daywalker” feel like flashes of potential not yet seen in lyrics or songwriting. For now, it’s Upon a Burning Body, love ’em or hate ’em: a whole lotta bull.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Self-Released
Websites: uponaburningbody.bandcamp.com | uabbtx.com | facebook.com/uponaburningbody
Releases Worldwide: December 5th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AmericanMetal #Attila #BloodOfTheBull #Deathcore #Dec25 #Emmure #GrooveMetal #LambOfGod #Metalcore #Pantera #Review #Reviews #SelfReleased #UponABurningBody

Sacred Leather – Keep the Fire Burning Review

By Steel Druhm

I’ve never been to Indiana, so I’m not acquainted with how they do things. After listening to Sacred Leather’s sophomore outing, Keep the Fire Burning, I’m definitely left wondering if time moves differently there, though. That’s because this is one of the most retro, throwback-y pure metal things I’ve heard in some time, with a sound so hopelessly locked between 1983-1986, that I feel my back hair receding as my olde denim jacket grows new Venom and Motörhead patches. When I call this style “dated,” what I really mean is carbon-dated.1 Now, don’t take this as a criticism, as those years were some of the very best for classic heavy metal, and Sacred Leather do their damnedest to harvest the finest elements from a time when things were simple, pure, and still very based in hard-rock. As this album unspools, you’ll be whisked away to an age when Jag Panzer, Savage Grace, and Warlord ruled with a collective iron fist, and being labeled a poser was akin to a death sentence. Could you withstand the cred rigors of such a draconian time? Steel Druhm did once and would gladly do so again!

After a tasteful instrumental intro, Sacred Leather tan your worthless hide from point Ape to point ChimpanZee on “Spitfire at Night,” powered by the uber-period guitar work of J.J. Highway and Cvon Owens. It’s vintage metal with a speed injection, and it reminds me of long-forgotten German quasi-thrashers Vendetta mixed with Agent Steel. That’s 100% undiluted Steel bait, and the chum is thick and saucy here. Riffs churn and race, over-the-top solos stamp fat exclamation points, and frontman Dee Wrathchild screams and wails like a banshee on banshee meths. It’s a recipe for rowdy, high-energy shenanigans, and in the steady hands of Sacred Leather, this volatile brew sizzles and pops. “Phantom Highway (Hell is Comin’ Down)” delivers more lusty worship of excess. It’s a slick blend of NWoBHM and the most sturdy of mid-80s US metal, and it reminds me of Sumerlands. “Fallen Angel” channels the early days of Jag Panzer with big arena-ready guitars dueling with wanton vocals locked in overdrive as every ounce of meatheaded drama is wrung from the music. Sure, Mr. Wrathchild lets his voice get away from him at times, but that’s freaking metal, folks.

Song after song hits like a runaway freight train from 1985, and at no point will you want to step off the tracks. “Tear Out My Heart” feels like the bastard love child of Warlord and Savage Grace, with stunning guitars framing the kind of massive vocal drama that only 80s metal can provide. If you were looking for a burly, hard-as-nails breakup song for written for men who don’t cry, this is it. The title track channels the badass anthemic might of the criminally underappreciated Cities, and the band proudly honor their oath to keep the flame of the 80s burning bright. Just as you regain your senses, the big epic closer “Mistress of the Sun” arrives to make you love it or feel the wrath of Wrathchild. This is the same kind of larger-than-life metal tune as Krokus’ immortal “Screaming in the Night,” walking the line between anthem and power ballad and damn if it doesn’t tickle all the same nerve endings. There are no bad tracks, with each activating a major nostalgia bomb. So, what, if any, drawbacks will you encounter amid this most retro metal marination session? There are bits of bloat here and there, like on “Tear Out My Heart,” but not to the point where the songs are seriously undermined. In fact, at a tight 40 minutes, this thing feels like a fast-moving mission statement on how to properly worship the 80s, with a production about as trve to the time as one could hope for.

This is the kind of metal album that exudes guitar magic, and Highway and Owens spare no expense in decorating each song with the trappings of yesteryear. I hear many classic 80s albums referenced in their playing, and they really know the era they pay homage to. The riffs are energetic, beefy, and vibrant, and the harmonies and solos rock hard. Over the top of this solid foundation, Dee Wrathchild channels his inner metal god. Blessed with a broad range, he lets it all hang out, exploring his upper register freely and sometimes in ill-advised ways. He does seem to slip out of tune here and there when going all in, but I don’t especially care. Most of what he delivers is solid and commanding, checking all the boxes of 80s overkill and melodrama.

I love it when I blunder into some December release expecting little but getting my ass handed to me on a gleaming chrome platter. Sacred Leather bring the classic metal thunder, and if you love the sounds of the 80s, you should await the lightning strike. As winter moves ever closer, you too should Keep the Fire Burning. Any other choice would smack of flagrant poserism, and that would mean a visit from the Metal Inquisition. Be true to your olde school.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: King Volume Records / Wise Blood Records
Websites: facebook.com/leathersacredleather | instagram.com/sacred_leather
Releases Worldwide: December 12th, 2015

#2025 #35 #AgentSteel #AmericanMetal #Cities #Dec25 #HeavyMetal #JagPanzer #KeepTheFireBurning #Review #Reviews #SacredLeather #SavageGrace #SpeedMetal #Sumerlands #Vendetta #Warlord

Burning Death – Burning Death Review

By Spicie Forrest

In the prehistoric era known in academic circles as “the 80s,” metal had not yet splintered into the myriad microgenres we know today. Even our ten-ish main subgenres, while beginning to differentiate themselves, were still fairly grey. Within this primordial soup floated the building blocks that would one day give rise to modern black metal, including, among others, the early works of Slayer, Kreator, and Vulcano. This evil-sounding, satanic/anti-Christian thrash metal is also the inspiration for Nashville newcomers, Burning Death. Ethan Rock and Jerry Garner of Act of Impalement, along with a drummer known only as Gore, seek to recreate that raw, calamitous energy on their self-titled debut. Can these retro thrashers induce another Satanic Panic, or are they just playing at hating God?

Once upon a time, the Son of the Morning and His faithful were banished from Heaven and cast into Pandaemonium below. I suspect Burning Death may have been part of the soundtrack. Rock and Garner launch riff after cataclysmic riff, each seared in the Lake of Everlasting Fire. Whether streaking through the Firmament (“Vengeance of the Inferno,” “Severed”), landing in the underworld and surveying the surrounding horrors (“Death is Salvation”), or convening the first Infernal Council (“Revel in Violence”), Burning Death encapsulates the fervor of these most crucial moments in Christian lore.1 Infernal skank and blast beats give Gore the means to conduct this tour of the hellish landscape. By lagging or anticipating riff changes, Gore—in concert with vocalist Rock—guides listeners through both Satan’s abyssal Cathedral (“Cold Bite of Steel”) and blasted, Vulcanic wastes (“Lusting for Death”) with a sure and smooth confidence. From the Deathly opening riff of “Genocidal Litany” onward, Burning Death absolutely nails Christ to the cross their intended sound.

At its core, Burning Death’s debut is an act of homage paid. Much like Slayer’s Tom Araya, Rock both channels the wails of the damned and the gruff shouts of their demonic torturers. The controlled recklessness of his style matches his bandmates well, often elevating their performances by underscoring the stygian atmosphere of Burning Death. “Revel in Violence” emerges from Sodom’s shadow, possessing a militaristic and almost classical feel, while the opening riff of “Vengeance of the Inferno” could pass for something on Kill ‘Em All. Insofar as Burning Death’s particular flavor of thrash isn’t something I often hear modernized, this is refreshing. In terms of innovation or originality, however, Burning Death falls short. Burning Death is undoubtedly competent, but there’s precious little here that builds on what’s already established. This isn’t a criticism per se, but it does preclude Burning Death from reaching greater heights.

An album is more than just the band’s ability to write and play music, and it’s in these peripheral aspects that much of my criticism lies. While “Final Sacrament” is a good track in itself, it fails as a closer—title notwithstanding. As Burning Death ends, there’s no sense of closure, and I often accidentally circle back to “Genocidal Litany” before realizing what’s happened. Either “Cold Bite of Steel” or “Revel in Violence” would have been more satisfying conclusions. My second, broader criticism is of the mix. Buried bass aside, instruments and vocals seem to stand side by side throughout the whole album. Unchanging and two-dimensional, the mix reduces Burning Death to its composite elements. A soundstage with more depth would have allowed musicians to pass the spotlight more effectively, creating a more dynamic and compelling experience.

On their self-titled debut, Burning Death has crafted a commendable tribute to early thrash and its more violent, evil iterations. Scorched, descending riffs and tortured howls are stitched together with urgent, almost panicked percussive thread. The risk of following one’s idols so closely is failing to develop your own unique sound, and into this pit Burning Death falls. Combined with a suboptimal song order and a flat, static mix, there’s ample room for Burning Death to improve on future releases. Of course, if you’re in the mood for some new Kreator– or Sarcófago-core, none of this should stop you from picking up Burning Death.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Caligari Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: December 5th, 2025

#2025 #30 #ActOfImpalement #AmericanMetal #BurningDeath #CaligariRecords #Cathedral #Death #Dec25 #Kreator #Metallica #Review #Reviews #Sarcófago #Slayer #Sodom #ThrashMetal #Vulcano

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

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Sepulchral – Beneath the Shroud Review

By Steel Druhm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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