#dimmuborgir — Public Fediverse posts on home.social

Brent Lineberry @[email protected] · 2026-09-11 · 00:02 UTC

Today, Megan and I drove east from Akureyri, saw waterfalls, hiked, soaked in hot baths, and drove back to Akureyri.

https://www.brentlineberry.com/posts/4066/iceland-day-4-godafoss-dimmuborgir-earth-lagoon-myvatn-and-dettifoss

#Hiking #2026IcelandTrip #Iceland #Goðafoss #Dimmuborgir #EarthLagoonMývatn #DiamondCircle #Dettifoss #Selfoss #GrösBistro

#hiking #2026icelandtrip #iceland #godafoss #dimmuborgir #earthlagoonmyvatn

Angry Metal Guy @[email protected] · 2026-07-07 · 15:56 UTC

Walg – VI Review By ClarkKent

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

#AndOceans #2026 #35 #Antrisch #BlackMetal #DimmuBorgir #DutchMetal #Jun26 #MelodicBlackMetal #OldManSChild #Review #Reviews #SelfReleased #VI #Walg

#andoceans #antrisch #blackmetal #dimmuborgir #dutchmetal #jun26

Angry Metal Guy @[email protected] · 2026-05-21 · 15:37 UTC

Dimmu Borgir – Grand Serpent Rising Review By Grin Reaper

At their best, Dimmu Borgir exudes a wicked majesty, governing the forces of darkness with dispassionate contempt and an utter certainty in their ungodly mandate. This attitude, along with the confluence of grandeur and melodrama, defines what initially drew me to Dimmu Borgir years ago, and what has kept me interested despite the interminable gaps between releases. Since forming in 1993, Shagrath and Silenoz have consistently delivered symphonic black metal that tempers the unrelenting acrimony of second-wave black metal with wistful melodies, sculpting an extensive emotional palette. In 2000, Dimmu Borgir enlisted Old Man’s Child’s Galder as lead guitarist, and the three of them penned bewitching black metal for a quarter century. As with all good things, though, it didn’t last, and Galder departed in 2024 to focus on Old Man’s Child once more. Given the shakeup of a longtime winning formula, do Shagrath and Silenoz silence naysayers with Grand Serpent Rising, or are listeners saddled with Temu Borgir?1

As ever, Dimmu Borgir discharges extravagant theater through the lens of black metal, drenching Grand Serpent Rising in haunting atmospherics and lush orchestrations. Since Death Cult Armageddon, the incorporation of symphonic elements has steadily grown more prominent, and over the years, these Norwegians have carved out a niche that exists somewhere between Gorgoroth and Nightwish. And like Cradle of Filth, Dimmu Borgir goes for baroque, though instead of luxuriating in garish excess, they compose with nuanced sophistication. Grand Serpent Rising is the culmination of the intervening albums, with Galder’s departure pushing Dimmu Borgir to fill the void he left with more deliberate arrangements. Thankfully, Grand Serpent Rising advances what yielded success for the band over the last couple decades, dredging textural depths and honing the intricate interplays of instrumentation that didn’t reach quite far enough on Eonian.

Though Shagrath and Silenoz shoulder many of Grand Serpent Rising’s performances, a handful of guests play pivotal roles in defining one of Dimmu Borgir’s best-sounding records. Longtime session and live drummer Daray gets an immediate boost, where the drumheads’ natural timbres and resonances leap out of the mix to imbue a thunderous dimension missing from Eonian (“The Qryptfarer,” “Phantom of the Nemesis”). The orchestrations and keyboards also integrate better on Grand Serpent Rising,2 their presence is more intentional and interwoven in lieu of Galder’s nimble lead work. None of this should suggest that the guitars take a backseat, though, as Silenoz and Kjell ‘Damage’ Karlsen (Chrome Division)3 pluck and shred with conviction as songs demand (check the intro to “Repository of Divine Transmutation” and the solo in “Ascent”). The riffs and leads merit attention as well, with soaring melodies (“Slik Minnes en Alkymist”), crystalline cleans (“As Seen in the Unseen”), and trem-picked offensives emboldening the Serpent. All the while, Shagrath croaks (“Slik Minnes en Alkymist”) and croons (“Ascent”), supplying one of black metal’s least abrasive vocal styles.

Dimmu Borgir prevails throughout Grand Serpent Rising, although a few issues from previous albums linger. At sixty-nine minutes long, Grand Serpent Rising sprawls. To be fair, the album is dynamic and intricate enough that parts rarely (if ever) feel repetitive, and proceedings slither quicker than the length suggests. Yet condensing the runtime by ten minutes would improve the overarching impact and effectiveness. Compounding and confounding the duration is the complexity of Grand Serpent Rising’s arrangements—they richly reward those with the patience to fully engage for multiple listens, but present a hurdle for impatient or distracted listening. Still, while the album isn’t perfect, these complaints pale in comparison to the triumph Dimmu Burger devises on Grand Serpent Rising.

In the end, Dimmu Borgir has written an album that refines their sound rather than reinventing it. If you’ve listened to any of their recent albums and formed an opinion, Grand Serpent Rising won’t change it. Instead, it proves that Dimmu remains as skilled as ever at creating opulent symphoblack, regardless of how long it takes between albums or what crucial personnel changes they endure. Dimmu Borgir perseveres For all tid, and if you’re not wholly opposed to flamboyant black metal on principle, their latest awaits to stimulate, captivate, and ensure your Grand Serpent’s Rising.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 22nd, 2026

#2026 #35 #BlackMetal #ChromeDivision #CradleOfFilth #DimmuBorgir #Gorgoroth #GrandSerpentRising #May26 #Nightwish #NorwegianMetal #NuclearBlastRecords #OldManSChild #Review #Reviews #SymphonicBlackMetal #SymphonicMetal

#reviews #symphonicblackmetal #symphonicmetal #blackmetal #chromedivision #cradleoffilth

Angry Metal Guy @[email protected] · 2025-11-21 · 17:43 UTC

Antinoë – The Fold Review

By Tyme

As the whispering winds of winter begin to blow colder through my neck of the woods, a time of year when fires get cozier, quaffed beers get darker, and we here at AMG begin to rhapsodize on things missed and regale readers with things listed, I found myself still searching for a near-end-of-year something new. When I saw Antinoë’s Dark Essence Records debut, The Fold, blurbily described as ‘Neoclassical Folk meets melancholy Pop with a Metal attitude,’ I was intrigued. Descending from the mountains of Madrid, Antinoë is the passion project of pianist and vocalist Teresa Marraco. Launched in 2021, Antinoë’s 2023 release, Whispers from the Dark Past, offered a unique piano tribute to the 90s Norwegian black metal scene, with Marraco covering everything from Emperor’s “I Am the Black Wizards” to Mayhem’s “Life Eternal” and Dimmu Borgir’s “Mourning Palace.”1 Poised to challenge the very fluid boundaries of what metal can be, let’s see if The Fold has the warmth necessary to keep those wintery winds at bay.

Void of instrumental trappings associated with most traditional metal, Antinoë relies solely on Marraco’s beautifully resonant voice and her expansive piano compositions to weave stygian tapestries. Conceptually, The Fold navigates the odyssey of accepting death, inviting listeners to tread a path through the idiomatic depths of grief’s different stages, as it traces the process of ‘folding inward.’ From the outset, as cricket-song fades into “Night Falls,” with its delicately crafted, darkly haunting piano melody and celestial vocals, the track pulls at melancholy heartstrings, drawing you into Antinoë’s dark world and setting the stage for what’s to come. The Fold offers an immersive, piano-led experience, peppered with pummeled ivories that shift with metallic force beneath sustained choral harmonies (“The Devil’s Voice”), as wispy trails of folky, Enya-esque ambiance waft amid airy, Dead Can Dance-like atmospheres (“Når Du Dør”). Not unlike Darkher, Antinoë succeeds at tapping into inscrutable emotion by minimalist means, but where Maiven casts spells webbed in doom, Marraco’s magic leans more toward the black arts.

While Antinoë draws much of its ‘metal’ from lyrical themes that explore the dense nature of grief and death, that doesn’t mean The Fold is musically bereft of heavier fare. Death angels descend on Emperor wings with halos of Dimmu Borgir to hover over the opening chords of “Threshold,” heralding dark omens in a chorus of swarming harmonies, witchy laughter, and raspy breaths, all as Antinoë pounds and trills her way through octaves in true symphonic black metal fashion.2 Is it still just a girl and her piano? Yes, but it’s by far the ‘heaviest’ song on the album. Which gives way to the excellently murky pop of “Chaos in the Sky,” another album highlight that had my neck snapped to rapt attention when Marracos, in her smoky voice, opened with “Who the fuck are you? Who the fuck am I?” like some dark-alt Adele, creating another moment more metal than not.

Drenched in warmth, The Fold’s production captures the beauty of Antinoë’s neo-classical elegance and marries it perfectly to its atmospherically blackened weight, providing a full-on musical experience. Whether it’s the delicate last minute of “The Devil’s Voice,” which flirts with a “Lágnætti” melody, off the Sólstafir magnum opus Ottá, or the inquisitive, childlike mystery of the whispers and keys on “Flock,” to the somber dirge of vocals from “Light Bringer,” listening to Antinoë is to become utterly immersed. I have little to critique, so enamored am I by Antinoë’s ability to impart complex ideas in the simplest of terms. I suppose there’s a minute or two that Marraco could have shaved from the two instrumentals, but in all honesty, there’s not a minute of The Fold that I would cut or change.

One of the things I’ve always appreciated about AMG is its fearlessness in shedding light on bands that are categorically not metal. Case in point, among many, is Dolphin Whisperer’s review of Maud the Moth’s excellent The Distaff this year. Antinoë has recorded an emotional album for healing hearts, and as I look back on the last few years of losses I’ve experienced, I’m unsurprised by how impactful it’s been to me. I wasn’t expecting something of this caliber to come sweeping in so close to list season, but here we are. I’ll gladly wrap myself in a warm blanket next to a cozy fire, slip on my favorite pair of headphones, and sip a smoky porter while letting The Fold envelop me against the impending winter’s chill.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Essence Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#2025 #40 #ambient #antinoe #darkher #deadCanDance #dimmuBorgir #emperor #enya #notMetal #nov25 #piano #review #spanishMetal #theFold