#dimmuborgir — Public Fediverse posts

Hypocrisy have been forced to cancel their upcoming North American tour.

Details: https://metalinsider.net/touring/hypocrisy-cancel-north-american-tour-visa-issues

#Hypocrisy #DimmuBorgir #TourUpdate

Walg appeared out of nowhere in 2021 with a debut filled with tenacious riffs, creative melodies, and impassioned performances. They have attained a sort of cult status in the years since—not quite widely known, but fiercely beloved by their fans. Their energetic fervor has swept up a few writers here at AMG, including Gardenstale, Grin Reaper, and me.1 Walg have been prolific since their debut, releasing one album per year—sometimes there’s just no stopping the creative juices from flowing. On the flip side, such a prolific release schedule risks snuffing out the candle of passion by falling into the trap of formulaic songwriting. Walg continue to conjure that amazing, infectious energy, but once you’ve heard it 3 or 4 or 5 times, it’s difficult to create that original magic. So what will it be for this sixth go-around? Will the bellows continue to feed the flames of passion, or have the flames dwindled to mere embers?

On VI, Walg still tenaciously cling to the passion that drove them on their debut. “Nevel” starts things off with your typical Walg guitar lead—energetic and catchy as hell. Subtle symphonics enhance the music and bring their style of meloblack closer to the likes of Dimmu Borgir, Old Man’s Child, and …And Oceans. Yet Walg also sound fiercely like their own beast. VI does have a slightly different vibe compared to the earlier records; it’s missing those spontaneous moments of sudden passionate melodicism that surprised and delighted on prior records. The tunes here feel more deliberately crafted and controlled. A tenacity on past works has given way to a little more restraint. Of course, they still play with hunger and deliver many exceptional melodies. They also pause more frequently for moments of quieter beauty, as on “1597” when Robert Koning sings his plaintive cleans amidst some gentle tremolos.

That Walg wildness still remains, though, and it largely comes out in the vocal performance of Yorick Keijzer. He snarls and rasps like a wounded animal. While his deranged delivery gives the impression of a record careening out of control, there’s a method to his madness. His cadence sometimes brings to mind that of Maurice Wilson (Antrisch), and it adds a distinctive character to the heart and soul of the music. While the songs themselves have more constrained structures to offset Yorick’s wildness, there is one exception. The six-minute “De Eenlonkster” is an uncaged beast that is among Walg’s most creative. From arpeggios and riffs with a country twang, to a gently sung portion accompanied by the sound of lapping waves, to a brief moment when it nearly dives into death-doom territory, “De Eenlonkster” kicks and bucks, leaving you with whiplash and a purple bruise around your eye, but you’ll be grinning, missing teeth and all, when the tune rolls to its end.

Having written dozens of songs in the six years of their existence, it’s safe to wonder if Walg are running out of ideas, especially when they deliver, at 34 minutes and 8 songs, their shortest album to date. And yet they have meticulously crafted something fabulous, still full of the Walg zeal and spark. It’s true, though, as Gardenstale pointed out in his review of V, that the veneer of their formula is starting to wear thin. There’s a sense of déjà vu when a band releases material so frequently and consistently. On VI’s weaker tracks on the back half of the record, “Stil Geboren” and “De Nacht Behoort On Allen Toes” (which are still plenty fun), the repetition is more obvious than on other tracks. The back half does have a couple of winners, however. “Het Klooster Van Ter Apel” has some creative percussion work along with a sweet riff line, while “Erfvloek” takes a more subdued route with a beautiful trem melody that provides VI a rather lovely conclusion.

My journey with VI contained moments of ups and downs. Admittedly, my initial spins left it wanting—something felt different that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Eventually, however, it clicked, and I began to again appreciate Walg’s songwriting magic. There’s a duet here between a gentle beauty and repellent wildness. Walg still sound like Walg, yet there’s a subtle evolution. They have managed to craft a very enjoyable record, and this brief package shows that Walg remain a wrecking ball force of nature in the realm of melodic black metal. However, one can hope they’re able to take a further step in their evolution on the follow-up to VI—VII.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Walg appeared out of nowhere in 2021 with a debut filled with tenacious riffs, creative melodies, and impassioned performances. They have attained a sort of cult status in the years since—not quite widely known, but fiercely beloved by their fans. Their energetic fervor has swept up a few writers here at AMG, including Gardenstale, Grin Reaper, and me.1 Walg have been prolific since their debut, releasing one album per year—sometimes there’s just no stopping the creative juices from flowing. On the flip side, such a prolific release schedule risks snuffing out the candle of passion by falling into the trap of formulaic songwriting. Walg continue to conjure that amazing, infectious energy, but once you’ve heard it 3 or 4 or 5 times, it’s difficult to create that original magic. So what will it be for this sixth go-around? Will the bellows continue to feed the flames of passion, or have the flames dwindled to mere embers?

On VI, Walg still tenaciously cling to the passion that drove them on their debut. “Nevel” starts things off with your typical Walg guitar lead—energetic and catchy as hell. Subtle symphonics enhance the music and bring their style of meloblack closer to the likes of Dimmu Borgir, Old Man’s Child, and …And Oceans. Yet Walg also sound fiercely like their own beast. VI does have a slightly different vibe compared to the earlier records; it’s missing those spontaneous moments of sudden passionate melodicism that surprised and delighted on prior records. The tunes here feel more deliberately crafted and controlled. A tenacity on past works has given way to a little more restraint. Of course, they still play with hunger and deliver many exceptional melodies. They also pause more frequently for moments of quieter beauty, as on “1597” when Robert Koning sings his plaintive cleans amidst some gentle tremolos.

That Walg wildness still remains, though, and it largely comes out in the vocal performance of Yorick Keijzer. He snarls and rasps like a wounded animal. While his deranged delivery gives the impression of a record careening out of control, there’s a method to his madness. His cadence sometimes brings to mind that of Maurice Wilson (Antrisch), and it adds a distinctive character to the heart and soul of the music. While the songs themselves have more constrained structures to offset Yorick’s wildness, there is one exception. The six-minute “De Eenlonkster” is an uncaged beast that is among Walg’s most creative. From arpeggios and riffs with a country twang, to a gently sung portion accompanied by the sound of lapping waves, to a brief moment when it nearly dives into death-doom territory, “De Eenlonkster” kicks and bucks, leaving you with whiplash and a purple bruise around your eye, but you’ll be grinning, missing teeth and all, when the tune rolls to its end.

Having written dozens of songs in the six years of their existence, it’s safe to wonder if Walg are running out of ideas, especially when they deliver, at 34 minutes and 8 songs, their shortest album to date. And yet they have meticulously crafted something fabulous, still full of the Walg zeal and spark. It’s true, though, as Gardenstale pointed out in his review of V, that the veneer of their formula is starting to wear thin. There’s a sense of déjà vu when a band releases material so frequently and consistently. On VI’s weaker tracks on the back half of the record, “Stil Geboren” and “De Nacht Behoort On Allen Toes” (which are still plenty fun), the repetition is more obvious than on other tracks. The back half does have a couple of winners, however. “Het Klooster Van Ter Apel” has some creative percussion work along with a sweet riff line, while “Erfvloek” takes a more subdued route with a beautiful trem melody that provides VI a rather lovely conclusion.

My journey with VI contained moments of ups and downs. Admittedly, my initial spins left it wanting—something felt different that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Eventually, however, it clicked, and I began to again appreciate Walg’s songwriting magic. There’s a duet here between a gentle beauty and repellent wildness. Walg still sound like Walg, yet there’s a subtle evolution. They have managed to craft a very enjoyable record, and this brief package shows that Walg remain a wrecking ball force of nature in the realm of melodic black metal. However, one can hope they’re able to take a further step in their evolution on the follow-up to VI—VII.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Now here’s a band with pedigree! Norway’s black metal squad Mortem have been around since 1987, right at the forefront of the infamous second wave. Though their heyday produced only the Slow Death demo and their debut record, Ravnsvart, took until 2019 to release, their individual band members have kept themselves busy. Consisting of guitarist/keyboardist Steinar Sverd Johnsen, vocalist Marius Vold, drummer Jan “Hellhammer” Blomberg, and newcomer bassist Tor Stavenes, Mortem’s genealogy traces lines through the likes of Mayhem, Arcturus, Thorns, 1349, Emperor, and way too many other bands. Now, almost forty years since their inception, Mortem are unleashing their sophomore album Mørketid, promising in their promo “eight tracks of savage, eerie, and often epic black metal.” Will Mortem’s collective experience translate to top-shelf black metal, or will Mørketid’s time under the sun be short-lived?

“Mørketid” is the Norwegian word for polar night, where the sun stays below the horizon for weeks during the winter months. It’s an eerie time that Mortem capture well on Mørketid. Between the persistent tremolos and rasps across Mørketid, an unsettling and understated melody gives the project an uncanny feel. Mortem’s keyboard presence does a lot for Mørketid’s texture, bestowing a creepy music box melody to “Aftermath” and a beefy Dimmu Borgir symphonic gothicness to “Ditt Ødes Ære.” But overall, if you’ve heard Mayhem’s early stuff, you know what to expect from Mortem. Buzzsaw guitars, phlegmy rasps, and drawn-out staggering through the dark are the name of the game here, highlighted on songs like “The Mighty Odious” and “Mørkets Ormebol.” Mortem have been around long enough to get these fundamentals down pat.

Though Mortem clearly put in the work, there are yet few standout performances on Mørketid. Outside of some surprisingly shreddy solos across Mørketid’s back end (“Den Sanne Gud,” “Aftermath”), Johnsen’s riffs are murky and standard-issue black metal, and while I appreciate Stavenes’ pronounced bass presence and the punchiness that comes with it (“Skyggeånd”), it nonetheless stays too firmly in the pocket. Similarly, Vold’s rasps are thick and gritty but rarely venture off from his slow-n-low mode, making his vocal presence seep into the background. Johnsen’s keyboards and Hellhammer’s drumming deserve note, however, as spidery key runs on “Mørketid” and “Mørkets Ormebol” do the heavy lifting in building mood and identity on their tracks, and shifting grooves and blasts all across Mørketid are its most varied and exciting asset. Mortem’s songwriting approach likely contributes to the muted performances: they’re hellbent for murk. But Mortem have ludicrous talent in their ranks, and I think a few more standout moments would’ve easily elevated Mørketid.

And therein lies Mørketid’s biggest issue: memorability. Besides “Blodvassen Grunn,” where Mortem open the blinds a smidge for a touch of lightness in their style, Mørketid is monotonously dark. Over-repetition plagues many of Mørketid’s tracks, watering down the vitality of songs like “Mørkets Ormebol” and “Skyggeånd” while inflating Mørketid’s runtime. None of Mortem’s songs are extraordinarily long, sitting around four to six minutes on average, but I often found myself checking the time halfway through each song anyway. Production owns some of the blame here; though everything’s clearly audible, everything sounds crushed and undynamic, wearing on both the ears and mind. There are times when Mortem flirt with variety, like the darkly groovy second half of “Aftermath” and the time “Den Sanne Gud” gets quiet and threatens to veer into an Iron Maiden epic,1 but these are few and far between on Mørketid. I don’t think I can give high marks to something I can’t remember after many listens.

It’s crazy to think that a band whose line-up is as storied as Mortem’s could struggle with a sophomore slump this far into their career, but here we are. Mørketid isn’t a bad record, but one that’s played too safely to truly stand out. Production issues and monotonous songwriting knock it down a notch further. Mortem occupy a space in metal’s history where a subpar record isn’t going to blemish their legacy. They were instrumental in founding one of its most iconic sub-genres. But Mørketid wasn’t released in 1987, and so has to stand up against the scores of other black metal releases from the decades since then. Sadly, it doesn’t.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps MP3
Label: Peaceville Records
Websites: facebook.com/mortemnorway | bandcamp.com/album/morketid
Releases Worldwide: July 3rd, 2026

Now here’s a band with pedigree! Norway’s black metal squad Mortem have been around since 1987, right at the forefront of the infamous second wave. Though their heyday produced only the Slow Death demo and their debut record, Ravnsvart, took until 2019 to release, their individual band members have kept themselves busy. Consisting of guitarist/keyboardist Steinar Sverd Johnsen, vocalist Marius Vold, drummer Jan “Hellhammer” Blomberg, and newcomer bassist Tor Stavenes, Mortem’s genealogy traces lines through the likes of Mayhem, Arcturus, Thorns, 1349, Emperor, and way too many other bands. Now, almost forty years since their inception, Mortem are unleashing their sophomore album Mørketid, promising in their promo “eight tracks of savage, eerie, and often epic black metal.” Will Mortem’s collective experience translate to top-shelf black metal, or will Mørketid’s time under the sun be short-lived?

“Mørketid” is the Norwegian word for polar night, where the sun stays below the horizon for weeks during the winter months. It’s an eerie time that Mortem capture well on Mørketid. Between the persistent tremolos and rasps across Mørketid, an unsettling and understated melody gives the project an uncanny feel. Mortem’s keyboard presence does a lot for Mørketid’s texture, bestowing a creepy music box melody to “Aftermath” and a beefy Dimmu Borgir symphonic gothicness to “Ditt Ødes Ære.” But overall, if you’ve heard Mayhem’s early stuff, you know what to expect from Mortem. Buzzsaw guitars, phlegmy rasps, and drawn-out staggering through the dark are the name of the game here, highlighted on songs like “The Mighty Odious” and “Mørkets Ormebol.” Mortem have been around long enough to get these fundamentals down pat.

Though Mortem clearly put in the work, there are yet few standout performances on Mørketid. Outside of some surprisingly shreddy solos across Mørketid’s back end (“Den Sanne Gud,” “Aftermath”), Johnsen’s riffs are murky and standard-issue black metal, and while I appreciate Stavenes’ pronounced bass presence and the punchiness that comes with it (“Skyggeånd”), it nonetheless stays too firmly in the pocket. Similarly, Vold’s rasps are thick and gritty but rarely venture off from his slow-n-low mode, making his vocal presence seep into the background. Johnsen’s keyboards and Hellhammer’s drumming deserve note, however, as spidery key runs on “Mørketid” and “Mørkets Ormebol” do the heavy lifting in building mood and identity on their tracks, and shifting grooves and blasts all across Mørketid are its most varied and exciting asset. Mortem’s songwriting approach likely contributes to the muted performances: they’re hellbent for murk. But Mortem have ludicrous talent in their ranks, and I think a few more standout moments would’ve easily elevated Mørketid.

And therein lies Mørketid’s biggest issue: memorability. Besides “Blodvassen Grunn,” where Mortem open the blinds a smidge for a touch of lightness in their style, Mørketid is monotonously dark. Over-repetition plagues many of Mørketid’s tracks, watering down the vitality of songs like “Mørkets Ormebol” and “Skyggeånd” while inflating Mørketid’s runtime. None of Mortem’s songs are extraordinarily long, sitting around four to six minutes on average, but I often found myself checking the time halfway through each song anyway. Production owns some of the blame here; though everything’s clearly audible, everything sounds crushed and undynamic, wearing on both the ears and mind. There are times when Mortem flirt with variety, like the darkly groovy second half of “Aftermath” and the time “Den Sanne Gud” gets quiet and threatens to veer into an Iron Maiden epic,1 but these are few and far between on Mørketid. I don’t think I can give high marks to something I can’t remember after many listens.

It’s crazy to think that a band whose line-up is as storied as Mortem’s could struggle with a sophomore slump this far into their career, but here we are. Mørketid isn’t a bad record, but one that’s played too safely to truly stand out. Production issues and monotonous songwriting knock it down a notch further. Mortem occupy a space in metal’s history where a subpar record isn’t going to blemish their legacy. They were instrumental in founding one of its most iconic sub-genres. But Mørketid wasn’t released in 1987, and so has to stand up against the scores of other black metal releases from the decades since then. Sadly, it doesn’t.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps MP3
Label: Peaceville Records
Websites: facebook.com/mortemnorway | bandcamp.com/album/morketid
Releases Worldwide: July 3rd, 2026

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

New post: Behemoth drop new video for ‘I, Scvlptor’ title track and announce massive UK co-headline date https://moshville.co.uk/news/video/2026/06/behemoth-drop-new-video-for-i-scvlptor-title-track-and-announce-massive-uk-co-headline-date/ #Behemoth #DarkFuneral #DimmuBorgir

Where darkness reigns supreme, Dimmu Borgir transforms the abyss into an anthem 🤘🏽🤘🏽🤘🏽

Donde la oscuridad corona su triunfo, Dimmu Borgir convierte el abismo en himno 🤘🏽🤘🏽🤘🏽🎸
#heavymetal #dimmuborgir #musical #metal #vinyl

Where darkness reigns supreme, Dimmu Borgir transforms the abyss into an anthem 🤘🏽🤘🏽🤘🏽

Donde la oscuridad corona su triunfo, Dimmu Borgir convierte el abismo en himno 🤘🏽🤘🏽🤘🏽🎸
#heavymetal #dimmuborgir #musical #metal #vinyl

Previously, I have banged on about my relationship with black metal being a slightly strange one, and rarely do I nab a black metal release from the promo sump. And though my interest in modern black metal is hit or miss, the timing seems ripe for the picking. Following some personal hardship and soul searching my listening habits have gravitated heavily towards the blackened arts, specifically binge listening of legendary acts such as Darkthrone, Emperor, Dimmu Borgir, and Bathory. Embracing the past has led to this present-day slab of blackened extremity from the contrastingly sunny shores of Brisbane, Australia. Unheralded act Graveir return with their third LP, The Festering Triad, hellbent on transporting the listener through a bleak, ugly vortex of demented groove, bleak atmosphere, and unsettling stabs of dissonance. However, let us explore whether Graveir possess the songwriting chops to match their grimly effective ingredients.

Armed with a foreboding presence and feral streak, Graveir pull no punches, nor are they interested in adorning their abrasive and dread-soaked sound with any bells or whistles. The Festering Triad goes for the throat and refuses to relent across an appropriately lean and efficient thirty-seven-minute blast. Anguished croaks and ominous, measured tempos open proceedings on the ominously moody trudge of “Lords of Misrule.” While not catchy in a traditional sense, the arrangement has enough subtle and intriguing components to maintain interest, as the atmosphere effectively oozes bleak, depressive vibes.

Featuring a rugged backbone of pummeling percussion and dense, stormy riffage, the depressive stomp of “A Futile Exhortation” eventually turns its menacing plod into crackling bursts of speed, a climactic variation that pays off. Bolstered by its disso edge, crunching intensity, and grimly oppressive atmosphere, The Festering Triad simmers with tension, occasionally broken up with groovier, riffy beatdowns, such as the horns-up riffage on the title track. Later in proceedings, “By the Will of the Goat” injects a raw and nasty second wave bluster, adding welcome variety, hammering intensity, and punky edge. Despite the album’s relative brevity, the songwriting occasionally struggles to distinguish from song to song, and a sense of familiarity and monotony seeps through Graveir’s ragged exterior. Genuinely infectious and gripping moments are sparsely strewn across the album. And too often, the upfront drums overpower everything else, and the riffs don’t provide the noteworthy punch frequently enough.

Band performances are generally on point, though the production and mixing choices detract from the experience. The drums are busy and occasionally explosive when breaking free from the more stock and repetitive blasting; however, the mixing forcefully jams them distractingly up front, also blunting the edge of the guitars. Meanwhile, the overly loud, brick-walled mastering does the album no favors. It’s a damn shame these production and songwriting elements unseat some of The Festering Triad’s more appealing and aggressive attributes, resulting in an unsettling though mixed final product. Even the album’s efficient length feels overly long by the conclusion due to an unfortunate combination of ear fatigue and songwriting that bleeds through and fails to leave a lasting impression.

Overall, Graveir’s third LP is an effectively intense, gritty black metal platter, which fires more successfully when the tempos shift, and Graveir break the shackles and insert greater structural variation into their volatile attack. This shit no doubt would rip live, and mileage is likely to vary. Unfortunately, the songwriting cannot quite match Graveir’s seething delivery to keep the listener consistently engaged to warrant a wholehearted endorsement. While failing to land the knockout blow, Graveir possess the fundamental skills to unleash a more substantial, higher quality album, so I’m intrigued how they develop next time round.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Apocalyptic Witchcraft
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Previously, I have banged on about my relationship with black metal being a slightly strange one, and rarely do I nab a black metal release from the promo sump. And though my interest in modern black metal is hit or miss, the timing seems ripe for the picking. Following some personal hardship and soul searching my listening habits have gravitated heavily towards the blackened arts, specifically binge listening of legendary acts such as Darkthrone, Emperor, Dimmu Borgir, and Bathory. Embracing the past has led to this present-day slab of blackened extremity from the contrastingly sunny shores of Brisbane, Australia. Unheralded act Graveir return with their third LP, The Festering Triad, hellbent on transporting the listener through a bleak, ugly vortex of demented groove, bleak atmosphere, and unsettling stabs of dissonance. However, let us explore whether Graveir possess the songwriting chops to match their grimly effective ingredients.

Armed with a foreboding presence and feral streak, Graveir pull no punches, nor are they interested in adorning their abrasive and dread-soaked sound with any bells or whistles. The Festering Triad goes for the throat and refuses to relent across an appropriately lean and efficient thirty-seven-minute blast. Anguished croaks and ominous, measured tempos open proceedings on the ominously moody trudge of “Lords of Misrule.” While not catchy in a traditional sense, the arrangement has enough subtle and intriguing components to maintain interest, as the atmosphere effectively oozes bleak, depressive vibes.

Featuring a rugged backbone of pummeling percussion and dense, stormy riffage, the depressive stomp of “A Futile Exhortation” eventually turns its menacing plod into crackling bursts of speed, a climactic variation that pays off. Bolstered by its disso edge, crunching intensity, and grimly oppressive atmosphere, The Festering Triad simmers with tension, occasionally broken up with groovier, riffy beatdowns, such as the horns-up riffage on the title track. Later in proceedings, “By the Will of the Goat” injects a raw and nasty second wave bluster, adding welcome variety, hammering intensity, and punky edge. Despite the album’s relative brevity, the songwriting occasionally struggles to distinguish from song to song, and a sense of familiarity and monotony seeps through Graveir’s ragged exterior. Genuinely infectious and gripping moments are sparsely strewn across the album. And too often, the upfront drums overpower everything else, and the riffs don’t provide the noteworthy punch frequently enough.

Band performances are generally on point, though the production and mixing choices detract from the experience. The drums are busy and occasionally explosive when breaking free from the more stock and repetitive blasting; however, the mixing forcefully jams them distractingly up front, also blunting the edge of the guitars. Meanwhile, the overly loud, brick-walled mastering does the album no favors. It’s a damn shame these production and songwriting elements unseat some of The Festering Triad’s more appealing and aggressive attributes, resulting in an unsettling though mixed final product. Even the album’s efficient length feels overly long by the conclusion due to an unfortunate combination of ear fatigue and songwriting that bleeds through and fails to leave a lasting impression.

Overall, Graveir’s third LP is an effectively intense, gritty black metal platter, which fires more successfully when the tempos shift, and Graveir break the shackles and insert greater structural variation into their volatile attack. This shit no doubt would rip live, and mileage is likely to vary. Unfortunately, the songwriting cannot quite match Graveir’s seething delivery to keep the listener consistently engaged to warrant a wholehearted endorsement. While failing to land the knockout blow, Graveir possess the fundamental skills to unleash a more substantial, higher quality album, so I’m intrigued how they develop next time round.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Apocalyptic Witchcraft
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Between icy winds and whispers of eternity, Stormblåst does not blow… it tears out the soul and leaves it to wander in an endless winter. 🤘🏽🤘🏽🎸😈

Entre vientos helados y susurros de eternidad, Stormblåst no sopla… arranca el alma y la deja vagar en un invierno sin fin. 🤘🏽🤘🏽🎸😈
#heavymetal #dimmuborgir #music #metal #vinyl

Between icy winds and whispers of eternity, Stormblåst does not blow… it tears out the soul and leaves it to wander in an endless winter. 🤘🏽🤘🏽🎸😈

Entre vientos helados y susurros de eternidad, Stormblåst no sopla… arranca el alma y la deja vagar en un invierno sin fin. 🤘🏽🤘🏽🎸😈
#heavymetal #dimmuborgir #music #metal #vinyl

Dimmu Borgir, Grand Serpent Rising

Let him not be taught darkness
Let him discover it
And dissolve into it
We may never tame the very beast that dwelleth within
From luminous fire, the glory and danger alike
The grand serpent rising
#dimmuborgir #symphonicblackmetal #metalmusic #darkness #NorwegianMetal #MetalSky #Fotografie #photography

Dimmu Borgir, Grand Serpent Rising

Let him not be taught darkness
Let him discover it
And dissolve into it
We may never tame the very beast that dwelleth within
From luminous fire, the glory and danger alike
The grand serpent rising
#dimmuborgir #symphonicblackmetal #metalmusic #darkness #NorwegianMetal #MetalSky #Fotografie #photography

Wow, I haven’t thought of this band in a looooong time. Known for being plagued with vocal lineup changes—even alternating between female and male leads—the last time I caught up with Italy’s Opera IX was right before the infamous Cadaveria quit. Before she began her own gothic-infused band, Cadavaria haunted every dark corner of stellar Opera IX records, like Sarco Culto and The Black Opera: Symphoniae Mysteriorum in Laudem Tenebrarum. You wouldn’t be able to tell by Cadaveria’s (the band) output, but the woman had a horrifying approach to black metal vocals. So much so that I can still hear them in my head. Those days ended shortly after she vacated the band, and the long-time guitarist took to the mic. Risky move that did not work. That’s when I walked away. Nowadays, it appears the band has gone back to the female variety and, hopefully, buried the male leads forever. So, I decided I’d give them a try and see where they’ve been the last twenty-six years.

For the last couple of albums, the band has been utilizing the voice of Dipsas Dianaria. They must like her because they decided to re-record 2015’s Back to Sepulcro in 2025. For what reason, I don’t know? To erase Abigail Dianaria’s voice from a bunch of originally re-recorded shit no one wanted? Is this fucking Iced Earth? Anyway, after goofing around wth re-recorded old shit and re-re-recorded old shit, this year’s Veneficium comes to us with ten original tracks, a 50-plus-minute runtime, and a… Black Sabbath cover? Not sure I understand that last part, but here we go.

There’s one thing that’s apparent on the first listen of Veneficium: we’ve come a long way from the ferocity of Cadaveria’s piss-spitting vocals and the band’s unique blend of black, death, doom, and goth. While Dianaria can achieve similar fluctuations in vocals (rasps, growls, and cleans), it’s far more rare to see it in a single track. That said, few can achieve that kind of vocal chaos as Cadaveria and Cradle of Filth’s Dani Filth. But, after the eerie, witchcrafty opener, “Vocatio Mortuorum” sees Dianaria attempting just that. Loaded with synths and orchestral layers akin to Dimmu Borgir, this track follows a mid-paced journey to see who can command it: the guitars and drums, or the keys. It has some redeeming qualities here and there, but the goofy, circusy, Cradle of Filth approach on the backend kinda kills it for me.

On the other side of the coin, “Saltatio Corvi” does a fantastic job making it all work and stick. While it contains the same kinds of orchestral elements, relentless guitar and drum work, and alternating vocal styles, it stands out for an addictive character that is pushed to eleven with the clever help of a nyckelharpa. It also uses much more of Dianaria’s vocals than previous tracks. For something with a bit more bruising power, “Defixiones” and “Asphodelios” do the trick with aggressive, headbangable passages that make them stand out above others. Specifically, the dark, melodic atmosphere of “Defixiones” and the death metal interlude and brawling vocals of “Asphodelios.”

After taking everything into account, Veneficium is a fairly standard sympho-black record that does little to make one erect. While some interesting elements have me revisiting a few ditties, the new Dimmu Borgir record does far more in just a handful of tracks versus the entirety of Veneficium. Outside the tracks mentioned, the one that stands out the most is the cover of Black Sabbath’s “Black Sabbath.” The vocals do a fine job of following in Ozzy’s footsteps, while the doomy qualities of the song remind me of where Opera IX used to be. Those good ole days when no one else knew about this band, and I was happy to have it that way. Now, they’re basically blending in with the rest, which is a shame. That said, there’s something here for those who follow the genre. It just takes a few spins to find it.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Edged Circle Productions | Bandcamp
Websites: operaix.it | facebook.com/officialoperaIX
Releases Worldwide: May 22nd, 2026

Wow, I haven’t thought of this band in a looooong time. Known for being plagued with vocal lineup changes—even alternating between female and male leads—the last time I caught up with Italy’s Opera IX was right before the infamous Cadaveria quit. Before she began her own gothic-infused band, Cadavaria haunted every dark corner of stellar Opera IX records, like Sarco Culto and The Black Opera: Symphoniae Mysteriorum in Laudem Tenebrarum. You wouldn’t be able to tell by Cadaveria’s (the band) output, but the woman had a horrifying approach to black metal vocals. So much so that I can still hear them in my head. Those days ended shortly after she vacated the band, and the long-time guitarist took to the mic. Risky move that did not work. That’s when I walked away. Nowadays, it appears the band has gone back to the female variety and, hopefully, buried the male leads forever. So, I decided I’d give them a try and see where they’ve been the last twenty-six years.

For the last couple of albums, the band has been utilizing the voice of Dipsas Dianaria. They must like her because they decided to re-record 2015’s Back to Sepulcro in 2025. For what reason, I don’t know? To erase Abigail Dianaria’s voice from a bunch of originally re-recorded shit no one wanted? Is this fucking Iced Earth? Anyway, after goofing around wth re-recorded old shit and re-re-recorded old shit, this year’s Veneficium comes to us with ten original tracks, a 50-plus-minute runtime, and a… Black Sabbath cover? Not sure I understand that last part, but here we go.

There’s one thing that’s apparent on the first listen of Veneficium: we’ve come a long way from the ferocity of Cadaveria’s piss-spitting vocals and the band’s unique blend of black, death, doom, and goth. While Dianaria can achieve similar fluctuations in vocals (rasps, growls, and cleans), it’s far more rare to see it in a single track. That said, few can achieve that kind of vocal chaos as Cadaveria and Cradle of Filth’s Dani Filth. But, after the eerie, witchcrafty opener, “Vocatio Mortuorum” sees Dianaria attempting just that. Loaded with synths and orchestral layers akin to Dimmu Borgir, this track follows a mid-paced journey to see who can command it: the guitars and drums, or the keys. It has some redeeming qualities here and there, but the goofy, circusy, Cradle of Filth approach on the backend kinda kills it for me.

On the other side of the coin, “Saltatio Corvi” does a fantastic job making it all work and stick. While it contains the same kinds of orchestral elements, relentless guitar and drum work, and alternating vocal styles, it stands out for an addictive character that is pushed to eleven with the clever help of a nyckelharpa. It also uses much more of Dianaria’s vocals than previous tracks. For something with a bit more bruising power, “Defixiones” and “Asphodelios” do the trick with aggressive, headbangable passages that make them stand out above others. Specifically, the dark, melodic atmosphere of “Defixiones” and the death metal interlude and brawling vocals of “Asphodelios.”

After taking everything into account, Veneficium is a fairly standard sympho-black record that does little to make one erect. While some interesting elements have me revisiting a few ditties, the new Dimmu Borgir record does far more in just a handful of tracks versus the entirety of Veneficium. Outside the tracks mentioned, the one that stands out the most is the cover of Black Sabbath’s “Black Sabbath.” The vocals do a fine job of following in Ozzy’s footsteps, while the doomy qualities of the song remind me of where Opera IX used to be. Those good ole days when no one else knew about this band, and I was happy to have it that way. Now, they’re basically blending in with the rest, which is a shame. That said, there’s something here for those who follow the genre. It just takes a few spins to find it.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Edged Circle Productions | Bandcamp
Websites: operaix.it | facebook.com/officialoperaIX
Releases Worldwide: May 22nd, 2026

RE: https://metalhead.club/@Dad_Wood/116612577049223988

Ok. Das Album ist nicht schlecht. Ulvgjeld & Blodsodel, The Qryptfarer oder Repository of Divine Transmutation stechen für mich heraus ohne jedoch als "Übersongs" kategorisiert werden zu können. Die Balance zwischen symphonisch/orchestralem Bombast und klassischerem Black Metal empfinde ich für meinen Geschmack als gelungen. Gleichzeitig ist das Album aber zu lang und zu breit.
#DimmuBorgir #BlackMetal

RE: https://metalhead.club/@Dad_Wood/116612577049223988

Ok. Das Album ist nicht schlecht. Ulvgjeld & Blodsodel, The Qryptfarer oder Repository of Divine Transmutation stechen für mich heraus ohne jedoch als "Übersongs" kategorisiert werden zu können. Die Balance zwischen symphonisch/orchestralem Bombast und klassischerem Black Metal empfinde ich für meinen Geschmack als gelungen. Gleichzeitig ist das Album aber zu lang und zu breit.
#DimmuBorgir #BlackMetal

Finally got a chance to listen to the new #DimmuBorgir album and it’s fine on first pass. There’s nothing that really stopped me in my tracks and had me banging my head or air drumming. It sounds exactly like a Dimmu album just missing a Progenies or Kings in the Carnival Creation type song to pull me into it.

I’ll give it another spin in a more focused moment but there’s nothing I dislike about the album.

Finally got a chance to listen to the new #DimmuBorgir album and it’s fine on first pass. There’s nothing that really stopped me in my tracks and had me banging my head or air drumming. It sounds exactly like a Dimmu album just missing a Progenies or Kings in the Carnival Creation type song to pull me into it.

I’ll give it another spin in a more focused moment but there’s nothing I dislike about the album.

Missed a few weeks of New & Noteworthy? Catch up on releases from April 17 through May 22, featuring everything from Foo Fighters, At The Gates, and Sevendust to Dimmu Borgir, The Amity Affliction, Armored Saint, and many more.

Link: https://metalinsider.net/columns/new-noteworthy-columns/new-noteworthy-grand-serpent-releases-5-22-2026-4-17-2026

#NewAndNoteworthy #MetalInsider #NewMusic #Metal #Rock #DimmuBorgir #FooFighters #AtTheGates #Sevendust #TheAmityAffliction #ArmoredSaint

After listening on repeat today:

I might miss some of the absolute highs of their earlier work and I still have to really get to know every song but if Dimmu Borgir would stop after Grand Serpent Rising, it would be an ending on a high note and with an absolute majestic and fitting outro.🥹

#DimmuBorgir #GrandSerpentRising

After listening on repeat today:

I might miss some of the absolute highs of their earlier work and I still have to really get to know every song but if Dimmu Borgir would stop after Grand Serpent Rising, it would be an ending on a high note and with an absolute majestic and fitting outro.🥹

#DimmuBorgir #GrandSerpentRising