#dissonantblackmetal — Public Fediverse posts

Thunder rattles the ducts as my minions trudge through heated aluminum and flimsy copper to clean out the detritus left by endless storms. Sometimes I wonder if I should invest in a “health plan” for them to offset the debilitating turnover resulting from various mortal injuries and gruesome deaths this work incurs. And then I think again, and realize that would be a waste of “profits.” There will always be more dummies willing to dive in with the promise of treasure sparkling in their eyes.

Aaaaannnnyyyyway, nobody lost limb or life in the Filter today, but we did manage a decent haul. BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Burning Bastion

Forsmán // Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur [June 26th, 2026 – Vesperian]

Iceland is where all the cool black metal kids sit. Smeary corpse paint, cloaks, throaty roars, somehow simultaneously wet and dry snare tones, and hooky riffs surrounded in lower-pitched tremolos make the Icelandic scene almost instantly recognizable. Forsmán are no exception, the young foursome abiding by the genre blueprint—in a similar way to bands like Svartidauði and Helfró—on remarkably professional debut Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur. A deathly kink lightly twists blasty riff freakouts (“Drottinn fyrirgefur allt,” “Valdníðsla”), but when they land their impact cracks the earth underfoot. A dissonant drama further characterizes Forsmán’s black metal core to scaffold riff-driven measures and off-kilter rhythms, and yet everything remains accessible and easily digestible (“Svartir svanir,” “Andvana,” “Barmafylltar fjöldagrafir”). While Forsmán aren’t attempting to redefine the style with this debut, they do earn a spot alongside the genre’s best with tight performances, fiery riff-forward writing, and a writhing personality that is vicious as much as it is beautifully expressed (“Kynjamyndir”). In short, Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur should not be missed, as it represents with great merit the high quality I’ve come to expect from the modern Icelandic black metal scene.

Owlswald’s Sunlit Secret

Entropist // The Vision [June 26, 2026 – Self Released]

Denver progressive death metal quintet Entropist is the very definition of a Stuck in the Filter unearthing. Their debut album, The Vision, slipped through the cracks amid our June promo flood and resurfaced too late for a standard review. Time to make amends. Mixed and mastered by Jamie King (Between the Buried and Me, The Contortionist), The Vision showcases a group brimming with talent and ambition.1 Blending death with elements of progressive metal, psychedelic rock, metalcore, jazz, and classical, The Vision is a melting pot of influences that thrives on vivid atmospherics and an effective dual-vocal approach from Parker Kitching and guitarist Solomon Smith, creating a sound that is adventurous and rewarding. “Intense Warmth” opens with a bout of hypnotic throat singing that morphs into layered croons. “Desert of Limbo’s” crawling melodies evoke Haken. Elsewhere, “The Ritual’s” eerie atmosphere and its intense bridge throw serious Aeolian-era The Ocean vibes, while “Devour Us” delivers exotic acoustic guitar and violin passages before closing with a swaggering groove and a contorted solo. “Creation” proves what Entropist is capable of when all the pieces lock together. Packed with Exoplanet-like riffs, alternating growls and soaring vocals, and a heaving half-time groove, the track’s eclecticism and momentum never let up. Not every experiment lands—”Revelation” and the aptly named “Wandering” lose sight of their destination—but there’s too much talent and creativity here to ignore. The Vision may be far from flawless, but it’s without a doubt an impressive debut.

Spicie Forrest’s Mathy Morsel

eleventwelfth // 11 [June 26, 2026 – Angular//Momentum Records]

Do you remember when Sithu Aye released that Senpai series?2 Airy, engaging, and wildly emotive, I’ve been chasing that sound ever since. eleventwelfth’s newest LP, 11, scratches that itch as it hasn’t been scratched in years. Part one in a concept duology3 that will serve as the Jakarta, Indonesia-based foursome’s sophomore offering, 11 follows its protagonist as they reckon with the necessary sacrifices one must make in pursuit of a dream. Largely rooted in indie and math rock, 11 unfolds in three acts filtered through aviation metaphors. Hopeful and tender melodies dance on strings like the wind through tall grass (“far away from here,” “collision”), while vocals effortlessly swoop and soar like an albatross on ocean air currents. 7-minute closer “communicate” swells inexorably, wind gathering under its wings until, at the midpoint, it takes off in a beautiful moment of catharsis. Synths and electronic elements evoke Porter Robinson’s Nurture in their gentle and ineffably nostalgic movements (“navigate,” “to fathom the throes”). When eleventwelfth leans into their Reliant K’d rock side, as on “ascending faster than before,” “fear of what’s beyond,” or “last here all alone,” 11 moves as if in a flow state—somehow simultaneously approaching lightspeed and locked in a timeless moment. This certainly isn’t the heaviest thing you’ll hear this year—it might be the lightest—but for those who know what it means to risk it all on hopes and dreams, 11 is not to be missed.

ClarkKent’s Energetic Inputs

Finsmoonth // Chrysalis of Astral Tears [June 13th, 2026 – Disaster Records]

Indonesia’s Finsmoonth puts on a clinic of melancholic atmospheric black metal with some first-rate tremolos and affecting performances. They partake in an aggressive, melodic form of the genre that’s similar to Walg in its relentlessness. Icy cold blast beats pummel your ears while the melodic tremolos prove a soothing balm wrapped in melancholy. The two guitarists, Zulk Adhe and Irwin Ranto, are tremolo wizards, serving quality leads on each song. My favorite, “Embers at Ethereal Dawn,” displays Finsmoonth’s ability to build up to powerful emotional climaxes. Tino Guruh proves an effective and consistent vocalist. His blackened rasps form the emotional core, and on “Embers at Ethereal Dawn,” he breaks into agonized cries that are just heartbreaking. The passing of the band’s bassist, Maulana Fachrul, less than two months ahead of the release of Chrysalis of Astral Tears adds further to the poignancy. Fachrul puts on a first-rate performance, with some stellar lonesome instrumental stretches on “An Endless Depth,” as well as a bit of smooth jazz noodling towards the end of “Foliage of the Wings.” If Indonesian black metal reminds you of Pure Wrath, then it might not be a surprise to learn that Januaryo Hardy contributes the cleans/chants, and even his wife, Isa Bellum, has a couple of small parts. I don’t know what’s going on in Jakarta to make these artists so sad, but they’re writing some damn fine music.

Inherits the Void // The Silent Abscission [June 19th, 2026 – Avantgarde Music]

France’s Antoine Scholtès has been quite busy since forming his solo black metal project, Inherits the Void, in 2020. Thus Spoke had kind words for the previous two, 2023’s The Impending Fall of Stars and 2024’s Scars of Yesteryear, comparing the former to the atmospheric meloblack of Mare Cognitum. This time around, Scholtès brings along some friends, including Romain Negro (Apolaustic, ex-Stortregn) to helm the mic. Romain brings a much more aggressive blackened edge to the vocals, cracking with a relentless energy. Scholtès still contributes backing vocals, and a mysterious Nicolas S. sings cleans on a couple of tracks, including a great soaring bit on the finale, “Inherits the Void.” The Silent Abscission feels a touch more aggressive than what Inherits the Void generally plays. Between the blast beats, furious tremolos, and Romain’s blackened assault, there’s a sense of constant kinetic motion. It’s true that some of this stuff can blend together, but there’s plenty of great melodies to keep it enjoyable from start to finish. While Scholtès continues to use synths and arpeggios as brief reprieves from the blast beat attack, he also invites Kevon S. to play some sax (“Wrath of the Endless Sea,” “Inherits the Void”), bringing to mind Burial in the Sky or White Ward. The Silent Abscission is yet another impressive outing in Inherits the Void’s discography, with Scholtès showing that he’s willing to take some risks in order to make things more interesting.

Grin Reaper’s Nocturnal Nuggets

Hecate // Comment Est la Nuit? [June 12th, 2026 – Self Released]

Since forming in 2009, French ensemble Hecate has steadily released reliable and trve black metal. Fourth album Comment Est la Nuit?4 serves as my introduction to the act, and after visiting earlier albums I’m confident that their latest is their greatest (so far).5 Where debut Chronicles d’un Autre Temps sounds more modern (think 1349 or Watain), subsequent albums gravitate towards raw production that radiates early second-wave energy. Comment Est la Nuit? perpetuates this aesthetic, though Hecate adorns it with classical frills that I find irresistible, such as their seamless integration of piano, flute, and cello with gusts of piercing tremolos and grating rasps. Though Comment Est la Nuit? remains solidly rooted in black metal, the keys function as a core component like never before. Each time I listen, Hecate reveals new facets that only get better with familiarity. The intro to “Aubes aux pâles salives” begins with a beautiful piano refrain supported by clean guitars and a subtle bass thread before tumbling into distorted trems that bear the same melodic framework. Likewise, the range of “Hymne au clair de lune” batters listeners between scathing muscle and delicate respites. I don’t expect Comment Est la Nuit? to change opinions about black metal, but those who enjoy it will find Hecate has written an engrossing experience that wonderfully details the rhythms of the night.

Stormkeep // The Nocturnes of Iswylm [June 12th, 2026 – Vesperian]

Like many, I eagerly awaited a full-length follow-up to Stormkeep’s magnificent debut Tales of Othertime, uncertain if or when it would arrive. Because the band’s other projects consistently enrapture me (Wayfarer and Blood Incantation, in particular), I never worried whether the Denver, Colorado collective’s sophomore platter would satisfy the promises made by Othertime. And while I’m not convinced that The Nocturnes of Iswylm reaches the heights the debut, Stormkeep still unleashes goodies aplenty that litter Nocturnes three-quarters of an hour. Gone are the instrumentals from Tales of Othertime—instead, Stormkeep dials down the cinema in favor of more straightforward meloblack, although drama still seethes beneath the surface. String embellishments dot the arrangements (“The Taste of Immortal Blood,” “Imperious Sanguine Eroticism,” “Carnal Tapestries of Nailtorn Flesh”), imparting dramatic flair and a welcome dimension to Stormkeep’s fantastical atmosphere. And like the cover art, The Nocturnes of Iswylm embraces darker textures that wrestle in doleful gloom, engendering a subtler experience that took time to sink in and appreciate. While this approach doesn’t ply the same epic theatricality as the debut, The Nocturnes of Iswylm nonetheless worms its way into ears and hearts with nefarious glamours that crackle with danger.

Belarus Beaver // Grind af den Brune Bäfver [June 17th, 2026 – Self Released]

Sweden plays host to many metallic endeavors, and I often feel like I’m picking up secondhand geography lessons as a result of listening to its exports. Belarus Beaver, then, supplies a toofer, as they began their journey in melodeath mecca Gothenburg before settling down in Jönköping (also home to Hällas, Rexoria, and Narnia). Rather than progressive rock or power metal, though, Belarus Beaver obliterates listeners with a bucktoothed bombshell of devastating deathgrind that’s at once savagely br00tal and pure fun. Also, it’s all about beavers. On fourth album Grind af den Brune Bäfver, Belarus Beaver weaves together groove-laced blasts with industrial trimmings that recall a mixture of early Anaal Nathrakh (“I Want to Pet a Beaver”) and Exhumed (“Den Gnagande Plågan,” “Begravd i en Flod”). Occasionally, though, Grind af den Brune Bäfver reaches for a twist in their songwriting repertoire that uplifts the music, like the Eastern stringed instrument at the beginning of “Urbävern” or the unexpected melodic guitar support midway through “Mutated Beaver Moose.” These moments and others like them elevate Grind af den Brune Bäfver above sheer novelty, and if you’re not sold on Beaver fever, you’re missing out. So let your hair down and give yourself over to the Grind—it’s dam fun.

Creeping Ivy’s Classic Catch

Dead Kosmonaut // Retrospectre [June 26th, 2026 – Edged Circle Productions]

Dead Kosmonaut conceived a perfect title for their third album. Since 2014, this Swedish quintet has been molding traditional heavy metal hearkening to the late 70s and early 80s. This style—the first wave of metal itself—haunts any and every musician in the genre with aspirations of crafting something trve. With the specter of retro metal hanging over the band’s collective head, Retrospectre delivers 38 minutes of classic goodness, imbued with a somber longing. Dead Kosmonaut is a well-credentialed crew, starting with guitarists Fredrik Folkare (ex-Necrophobic) and Peter Hallgren (Sorcerer), who dole out irresistible guitarmonies and audacious solos in the spirit of Iron Maiden (“Out of the Shadow Rising”). The rhythm section, comprised of bassist Mattias Reinholdsson and drummer Henrik Johansson (both ex-Book of Hours), punches through the mix with power and a bit of grit (“Wake of Aquarius”). And of course, vocalist Per ‘Hellbutcher’ Gustavsson shines, trading his black metal bona fides for commanding cleans that drive some damn fine choruses (“View from the Future”). Lyrically, the album especially develops its theme of retrospection in the latter half, with songs about aging (“Eyes Grow Old”), defeat (“The Battle is Over”), and the inexorable march of time (“The Retrospectre”). Retrospectre will certainly scratch any itches for timeless, classic metal, but Dead Kosmonaut have enough talent, character, and craftmanship to make their third offering more than mere nostalgia.

Thunder rattles the ducts as my minions trudge through heated aluminum and flimsy copper to clean out the detritus left by endless storms. Sometimes I wonder if I should invest in a “health plan” for them to offset the debilitating turnover resulting from various mortal injuries and gruesome deaths this work incurs. And then I think again, and realize that would be a waste of “profits.” There will always be more dummies willing to dive in with the promise of treasure sparkling in their eyes.

Aaaaannnnyyyyway, nobody lost limb or life in the Filter today, but we did manage a decent haul. BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Burning Bastion

Forsmán // Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur [June 26th, 2026 – Vesperian]

Iceland is where all the cool black metal kids sit. Smeary corpse paint, cloaks, throaty roars, somehow simultaneously wet and dry snare tones, and hooky riffs surrounded in lower-pitched tremolos make the Icelandic scene almost instantly recognizable. Forsmán are no exception, the young foursome abiding by the genre blueprint—in a similar way to bands like Svartidauði and Helfró—on remarkably professional debut Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur. A deathly kink lightly twists blasty riff freakouts (“Drottinn fyrirgefur allt,” “Valdníðsla”), but when they land their impact cracks the earth underfoot. A dissonant drama further characterizes Forsmán’s black metal core to scaffold riff-driven measures and off-kilter rhythms, and yet everything remains accessible and easily digestible (“Svartir svanir,” “Andvana,” “Barmafylltar fjöldagrafir”). While Forsmán aren’t attempting to redefine the style with this debut, they do earn a spot alongside the genre’s best with tight performances, fiery riff-forward writing, and a writhing personality that is vicious as much as it is beautifully expressed (“Kynjamyndir”). In short, Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur should not be missed, as it represents with great merit the high quality I’ve come to expect from the modern Icelandic black metal scene.

Owlswald’s Sunlit Secret

Entropist // The Vision [June 26, 2026 – Self Released]

Denver progressive death metal quintet Entropist is the very definition of a Stuck in the Filter unearthing. Their debut album, The Vision, slipped through the cracks amid our June promo flood and resurfaced too late for a standard review. Time to make amends. Mixed and mastered by Jamie King (Between the Buried and Me, The Contortionist), The Vision showcases a group brimming with talent and ambition.1 Blending death with elements of progressive metal, psychedelic rock, metalcore, jazz, and classical, The Vision is a melting pot of influences that thrives on vivid atmospherics and an effective dual-vocal approach from Parker Kitching and guitarist Solomon Smith, creating a sound that is adventurous and rewarding. “Intense Warmth” opens with a bout of hypnotic throat singing that morphs into layered croons. “Desert of Limbo’s” crawling melodies evoke Haken. Elsewhere, “The Ritual’s” eerie atmosphere and its intense bridge throw serious Aeolian-era The Ocean vibes, while “Devour Us” delivers exotic acoustic guitar and violin passages before closing with a swaggering groove and a contorted solo. “Creation” proves what Entropist is capable of when all the pieces lock together. Packed with Exoplanet-like riffs, alternating growls and soaring vocals, and a heaving half-time groove, the track’s eclecticism and momentum never let up. Not every experiment lands—”Revelation” and the aptly named “Wandering” lose sight of their destination—but there’s too much talent and creativity here to ignore. The Vision may be far from flawless, but it’s without a doubt an impressive debut.

Spicie Forrest’s Mathy Morsel

eleventwelfth // 11 [June 26, 2026 – Angular//Momentum Records]

Do you remember when Sithu Aye released that Senpai series?2 Airy, engaging, and wildly emotive, I’ve been chasing that sound ever since. eleventwelfth’s newest LP, 11, scratches that itch as it hasn’t been scratched in years. Part one in a concept duology3 that will serve as the Jakarta, Indonesia-based foursome’s sophomore offering, 11 follows its protagonist as they reckon with the necessary sacrifices one must make in pursuit of a dream. Largely rooted in indie and math rock, 11 unfolds in three acts filtered through aviation metaphors. Hopeful and tender melodies dance on strings like the wind through tall grass (“far away from here,” “collision”), while vocals effortlessly swoop and soar like an albatross on ocean air currents. 7-minute closer “communicate” swells inexorably, wind gathering under its wings until, at the midpoint, it takes off in a beautiful moment of catharsis. Synths and electronic elements evoke Porter Robinson’s Nurture in their gentle and ineffably nostalgic movements (“navigate,” “to fathom the throes”). When eleventwelfth leans into their Reliant K’d rock side, as on “ascending faster than before,” “fear of what’s beyond,” or “last here all alone,” 11 moves as if in a flow state—somehow simultaneously approaching lightspeed and locked in a timeless moment. This certainly isn’t the heaviest thing you’ll hear this year—it might be the lightest—but for those who know what it means to risk it all on hopes and dreams, 11 is not to be missed.

ClarkKent’s Energetic Inputs

Finsmoonth // Chrysalis of Astral Tears [June 13th, 2026 – Disaster Records]

Indonesia’s Finsmoonth puts on a clinic of melancholic atmospheric black metal with some first-rate tremolos and affecting performances. They partake in an aggressive, melodic form of the genre that’s similar to Walg in its relentlessness. Icy cold blast beats pummel your ears while the melodic tremolos prove a soothing balm wrapped in melancholy. The two guitarists, Zulk Adhe and Irwin Ranto, are tremolo wizards, serving quality leads on each song. My favorite, “Embers at Ethereal Dawn,” displays Finsmoonth’s ability to build up to powerful emotional climaxes. Tino Guruh proves an effective and consistent vocalist. His blackened rasps form the emotional core, and on “Embers at Ethereal Dawn,” he breaks into agonized cries that are just heartbreaking. The passing of the band’s bassist, Maulana Fachrul, less than two months ahead of the release of Chrysalis of Astral Tears adds further to the poignancy. Fachrul puts on a first-rate performance, with some stellar lonesome instrumental stretches on “An Endless Depth,” as well as a bit of smooth jazz noodling towards the end of “Foliage of the Wings.” If Indonesian black metal reminds you of Pure Wrath, then it might not be a surprise to learn that Januaryo Hardy contributes the cleans/chants, and even his wife, Isa Bellum, has a couple of small parts. I don’t know what’s going on in Jakarta to make these artists so sad, but they’re writing some damn fine music.

Inherits the Void // The Silent Abscission [June 19th, 2026 – Avantgarde Music]

France’s Antoine Scholtès has been quite busy since forming his solo black metal project, Inherits the Void, in 2020. Thus Spoke had kind words for the previous two, 2023’s The Impending Fall of Stars and 2024’s Scars of Yesteryear, comparing the former to the atmospheric meloblack of Mare Cognitum. This time around, Scholtès brings along some friends, including Romain Negro (Apolaustic, ex-Stortregn) to helm the mic. Romain brings a much more aggressive blackened edge to the vocals, cracking with a relentless energy. Scholtès still contributes backing vocals, and a mysterious Nicolas S. sings cleans on a couple of tracks, including a great soaring bit on the finale, “Inherits the Void.” The Silent Abscission feels a touch more aggressive than what Inherits the Void generally plays. Between the blast beats, furious tremolos, and Romain’s blackened assault, there’s a sense of constant kinetic motion. It’s true that some of this stuff can blend together, but there’s plenty of great melodies to keep it enjoyable from start to finish. While Scholtès continues to use synths and arpeggios as brief reprieves from the blast beat attack, he also invites Kevon S. to play some sax (“Wrath of the Endless Sea,” “Inherits the Void”), bringing to mind Burial in the Sky or White Ward. The Silent Abscission is yet another impressive outing in Inherits the Void’s discography, with Scholtès showing that he’s willing to take some risks in order to make things more interesting.

Grin Reaper’s Nocturnal Nuggets

Hecate // Comment Est la Nuit? [June 12th, 2026 – Self Released]

Since forming in 2009, French ensemble Hecate has steadily released reliable and trve black metal. Fourth album Comment Est la Nuit?4 serves as my introduction to the act, and after visiting earlier albums I’m confident that their latest is their greatest (so far).5 Where debut Chronicles d’un Autre Temps sounds more modern (think 1349 or Watain), subsequent albums gravitate towards raw production that radiates early second-wave energy. Comment Est la Nuit? perpetuates this aesthetic, though Hecate adorns it with classical frills that I find irresistible, such as their seamless integration of piano, flute, and cello with gusts of piercing tremolos and grating rasps. Though Comment Est la Nuit? remains solidly rooted in black metal, the keys function as a core component like never before. Each time I listen, Hecate reveals new facets that only get better with familiarity. The intro to “Aubes aux pâles salives” begins with a beautiful piano refrain supported by clean guitars and a subtle bass thread before tumbling into distorted trems that bear the same melodic framework. Likewise, the range of “Hymne au clair de lune” batters listeners between scathing muscle and delicate respites. I don’t expect Comment Est la Nuit? to change opinions about black metal, but those who enjoy it will find Hecate has written an engrossing experience that wonderfully details the rhythms of the night.

Stormkeep // The Nocturnes of Iswylm [June 12th, 2026 – Vesperian]

Like many, I eagerly awaited a full-length follow-up to Stormkeep’s magnificent debut Tales of Othertime, uncertain if or when it would arrive. Because the band’s other projects consistently enrapture me (Wayfarer and Blood Incantation, in particular), I never worried whether the Denver, Colorado collective’s sophomore platter would satisfy the promises made by Othertime. And while I’m not convinced that The Nocturnes of Iswylm reaches the heights the debut, Stormkeep still unleashes goodies aplenty that litter Nocturnes three-quarters of an hour. Gone are the instrumentals from Tales of Othertime—instead, Stormkeep dials down the cinema in favor of more straightforward meloblack, although drama still seethes beneath the surface. String embellishments dot the arrangements (“The Taste of Immortal Blood,” “Imperious Sanguine Eroticism,” “Carnal Tapestries of Nailtorn Flesh”), imparting dramatic flair and a welcome dimension to Stormkeep’s fantastical atmosphere. And like the cover art, The Nocturnes of Iswylm embraces darker textures that wrestle in doleful gloom, engendering a subtler experience that took time to sink in and appreciate. While this approach doesn’t ply the same epic theatricality as the debut, The Nocturnes of Iswylm nonetheless worms its way into ears and hearts with nefarious glamours that crackle with danger.

Belarus Beaver // Grind af den Brune Bäfver [June 17th, 2026 – Self Released]

Sweden plays host to many metallic endeavors, and I often feel like I’m picking up secondhand geography lessons as a result of listening to its exports. Belarus Beaver, then, supplies a toofer, as they began their journey in melodeath mecca Gothenburg before settling down in Jönköping (also home to Hällas, Rexoria, and Narnia). Rather than progressive rock or power metal, though, Belarus Beaver obliterates listeners with a bucktoothed bombshell of devastating deathgrind that’s at once savagely br00tal and pure fun. Also, it’s all about beavers. On fourth album Grind af den Brune Bäfver, Belarus Beaver weaves together groove-laced blasts with industrial trimmings that recall a mixture of early Anaal Nathrakh (“I Want to Pet a Beaver”) and Exhumed (“Den Gnagande Plågan,” “Begravd i en Flod”). Occasionally, though, Grind af den Brune Bäfver reaches for a twist in their songwriting repertoire that uplifts the music, like the Eastern stringed instrument at the beginning of “Urbävern” or the unexpected melodic guitar support midway through “Mutated Beaver Moose.” These moments and others like them elevate Grind af den Brune Bäfver above sheer novelty, and if you’re not sold on Beaver fever, you’re missing out. So let your hair down and give yourself over to the Grind—it’s dam fun.

Creeping Ivy’s Classic Catch

Dead Kosmonaut // Retrospectre [June 26th, 2026 – Edged Circle Productions]

Dead Kosmonaut conceived a perfect title for their third album. Since 2014, this Swedish quintet has been molding traditional heavy metal hearkening to the late 70s and early 80s. This style—the first wave of metal itself—haunts any and every musician in the genre with aspirations of crafting something trve. With the specter of retro metal hanging over the band’s collective head, Retrospectre delivers 38 minutes of classic goodness, imbued with a somber longing. Dead Kosmonaut is a well-credentialed crew, starting with guitarists Fredrik Folkare (ex-Necrophobic) and Peter Hallgren (Sorcerer), who dole out irresistible guitarmonies and audacious solos in the spirit of Iron Maiden (“Out of the Shadow Rising”). The rhythm section, comprised of bassist Mattias Reinholdsson and drummer Henrik Johansson (both ex-Book of Hours), punches through the mix with power and a bit of grit (“Wake of Aquarius”). And of course, vocalist Per ‘Hellbutcher’ Gustavsson shines, trading his black metal bona fides for commanding cleans that drive some damn fine choruses (“View from the Future”). Lyrically, the album especially develops its theme of retrospection in the latter half, with songs about aging (“Eyes Grow Old”), defeat (“The Battle is Over”), and the inexorable march of time (“The Retrospectre”). Retrospectre will certainly scratch any itches for timeless, classic metal, but Dead Kosmonaut have enough talent, character, and craftmanship to make their third offering more than mere nostalgia.

Thunder rattles the ducts as my minions trudge through heated aluminum and flimsy copper to clean out the detritus left by endless storms. Sometimes I wonder if I should invest in a “health plan” for them to offset the debilitating turnover resulting from various mortal injuries and gruesome deaths this work incurs. And then I think again, and realize that would be a waste of “profits.” There will always be more dummies willing to dive in with the promise of treasure sparkling in their eyes.

Aaaaannnnyyyyway, nobody lost limb or life in the Filter today, but we did manage a decent haul. BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Burning Bastion

Forsmán // Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur [June 26th, 2026 – Vesperian]

Iceland is where all the cool black metal kids sit. Smeary corpse paint, cloaks, throaty roars, somehow simultaneously wet and dry snare tones, and hooky riffs surrounded in lower-pitched tremolos make the Icelandic scene almost instantly recognizable. Forsmán are no exception, the young foursome abiding by the genre blueprint—in a similar way to bands like Svartidauði and Helfró—on remarkably professional debut Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur. A deathly kink lightly twists blasty riff freakouts (“Drottinn fyrirgefur allt,” “Valdníðsla”), but when they land their impact cracks the earth underfoot. A dissonant drama further characterizes Forsmán’s black metal core to scaffold riff-driven measures and off-kilter rhythms, and yet everything remains accessible and easily digestible (“Svartir svanir,” “Andvana,” “Barmafylltar fjöldagrafir”). While Forsmán aren’t attempting to redefine the style with this debut, they do earn a spot alongside the genre’s best with tight performances, fiery riff-forward writing, and a writhing personality that is vicious as much as it is beautifully expressed (“Kynjamyndir”). In short, Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur should not be missed, as it represents with great merit the high quality I’ve come to expect from the modern Icelandic black metal scene.

Owlswald’s Sunlit Secret

Entropist // The Vision [June 26, 2026 – Self Released]

Denver progressive death metal quintet Entropist is the very definition of a Stuck in the Filter unearthing. Their debut album, The Vision, slipped through the cracks amid our June promo flood and resurfaced too late for a standard review. Time to make amends. Mixed and mastered by Jamie King (Between the Buried and Me, The Contortionist), The Vision showcases a group brimming with talent and ambition.1 Blending death with elements of progressive metal, psychedelic rock, metalcore, jazz, and classical, The Vision is a melting pot of influences that thrives on vivid atmospherics and an effective dual-vocal approach from Parker Kitching and guitarist Solomon Smith, creating a sound that is adventurous and rewarding. “Intense Warmth” opens with a bout of hypnotic throat singing that morphs into layered croons. “Desert of Limbo’s” crawling melodies evoke Haken. Elsewhere, “The Ritual’s” eerie atmosphere and its intense bridge throw serious Aeolian-era The Ocean vibes, while “Devour Us” delivers exotic acoustic guitar and violin passages before closing with a swaggering groove and a contorted solo. “Creation” proves what Entropist is capable of when all the pieces lock together. Packed with Exoplanet-like riffs, alternating growls and soaring vocals, and a heaving half-time groove, the track’s eclecticism and momentum never let up. Not every experiment lands—”Revelation” and the aptly named “Wandering” lose sight of their destination—but there’s too much talent and creativity here to ignore. The Vision may be far from flawless, but it’s without a doubt an impressive debut.

Spicie Forrest’s Mathy Morsel

eleventwelfth // 11 [June 26, 2026 – Angular//Momentum Records]

Do you remember when Sithu Aye released that Senpai series?2 Airy, engaging, and wildly emotive, I’ve been chasing that sound ever since. eleventwelfth’s newest LP, 11, scratches that itch as it hasn’t been scratched in years. Part one in a concept duology3 that will serve as the Jakarta, Indonesia-based foursome’s sophomore offering, 11 follows its protagonist as they reckon with the necessary sacrifices one must make in pursuit of a dream. Largely rooted in indie and math rock, 11 unfolds in three acts filtered through aviation metaphors. Hopeful and tender melodies dance on strings like the wind through tall grass (“far away from here,” “collision”), while vocals effortlessly swoop and soar like an albatross on ocean air currents. 7-minute closer “communicate” swells inexorably, wind gathering under its wings until, at the midpoint, it takes off in a beautiful moment of catharsis. Synths and electronic elements evoke Porter Robinson’s Nurture in their gentle and ineffably nostalgic movements (“navigate,” “to fathom the throes”). When eleventwelfth leans into their Reliant K’d rock side, as on “ascending faster than before,” “fear of what’s beyond,” or “last here all alone,” 11 moves as if in a flow state—somehow simultaneously approaching lightspeed and locked in a timeless moment. This certainly isn’t the heaviest thing you’ll hear this year—it might be the lightest—but for those who know what it means to risk it all on hopes and dreams, 11 is not to be missed.

ClarkKent’s Energetic Inputs

Finsmoonth // Chrysalis of Astral Tears [June 13th, 2026 – Disaster Records]

Indonesia’s Finsmoonth puts on a clinic of melancholic atmospheric black metal with some first-rate tremolos and affecting performances. They partake in an aggressive, melodic form of the genre that’s similar to Walg in its relentlessness. Icy cold blast beats pummel your ears while the melodic tremolos prove a soothing balm wrapped in melancholy. The two guitarists, Zulk Adhe and Irwin Ranto, are tremolo wizards, serving quality leads on each song. My favorite, “Embers at Ethereal Dawn,” displays Finsmoonth’s ability to build up to powerful emotional climaxes. Tino Guruh proves an effective and consistent vocalist. His blackened rasps form the emotional core, and on “Embers at Ethereal Dawn,” he breaks into agonized cries that are just heartbreaking. The passing of the band’s bassist, Maulana Fachrul, less than two months ahead of the release of Chrysalis of Astral Tears adds further to the poignancy. Fachrul puts on a first-rate performance, with some stellar lonesome instrumental stretches on “An Endless Depth,” as well as a bit of smooth jazz noodling towards the end of “Foliage of the Wings.” If Indonesian black metal reminds you of Pure Wrath, then it might not be a surprise to learn that Januaryo Hardy contributes the cleans/chants, and even his wife, Isa Bellum, has a couple of small parts. I don’t know what’s going on in Jakarta to make these artists so sad, but they’re writing some damn fine music.

Inherits the Void // The Silent Abscission [June 19th, 2026 – Avantgarde Music]

France’s Antoine Scholtès has been quite busy since forming his solo black metal project, Inherits the Void, in 2020. Thus Spoke had kind words for the previous two, 2023’s The Impending Fall of Stars and 2024’s Scars of Yesteryear, comparing the former to the atmospheric meloblack of Mare Cognitum. This time around, Scholtès brings along some friends, including Romain Negro (Apolaustic, ex-Stortregn) to helm the mic. Romain brings a much more aggressive blackened edge to the vocals, cracking with a relentless energy. Scholtès still contributes backing vocals, and a mysterious Nicolas S. sings cleans on a couple of tracks, including a great soaring bit on the finale, “Inherits the Void.” The Silent Abscission feels a touch more aggressive than what Inherits the Void generally plays. Between the blast beats, furious tremolos, and Romain’s blackened assault, there’s a sense of constant kinetic motion. It’s true that some of this stuff can blend together, but there’s plenty of great melodies to keep it enjoyable from start to finish. While Scholtès continues to use synths and arpeggios as brief reprieves from the blast beat attack, he also invites Kevon S. to play some sax (“Wrath of the Endless Sea,” “Inherits the Void”), bringing to mind Burial in the Sky or White Ward. The Silent Abscission is yet another impressive outing in Inherits the Void’s discography, with Scholtès showing that he’s willing to take some risks in order to make things more interesting.

Grin Reaper’s Nocturnal Nuggets

Hecate // Comment Est la Nuit? [June 12th, 2026 – Self Released]

Since forming in 2009, French ensemble Hecate has steadily released reliable and trve black metal. Fourth album Comment Est la Nuit?4 serves as my introduction to the act, and after visiting earlier albums I’m confident that their latest is their greatest (so far).5 Where debut Chronicles d’un Autre Temps sounds more modern (think 1349 or Watain), subsequent albums gravitate towards raw production that radiates early second-wave energy. Comment Est la Nuit? perpetuates this aesthetic, though Hecate adorns it with classical frills that I find irresistible, such as their seamless integration of piano, flute, and cello with gusts of piercing tremolos and grating rasps. Though Comment Est la Nuit? remains solidly rooted in black metal, the keys function as a core component like never before. Each time I listen, Hecate reveals new facets that only get better with familiarity. The intro to “Aubes aux pâles salives” begins with a beautiful piano refrain supported by clean guitars and a subtle bass thread before tumbling into distorted trems that bear the same melodic framework. Likewise, the range of “Hymne au clair de lune” batters listeners between scathing muscle and delicate respites. I don’t expect Comment Est la Nuit? to change opinions about black metal, but those who enjoy it will find Hecate has written an engrossing experience that wonderfully details the rhythms of the night.

Stormkeep // The Nocturnes of Iswylm [June 12th, 2026 – Vesperian]

Like many, I eagerly awaited a full-length follow-up to Stormkeep’s magnificent debut Tales of Othertime, uncertain if or when it would arrive. Because the band’s other projects consistently enrapture me (Wayfarer and Blood Incantation, in particular), I never worried whether the Denver, Colorado collective’s sophomore platter would satisfy the promises made by Othertime. And while I’m not convinced that The Nocturnes of Iswylm reaches the heights the debut, Stormkeep still unleashes goodies aplenty that litter Nocturnes three-quarters of an hour. Gone are the instrumentals from Tales of Othertime—instead, Stormkeep dials down the cinema in favor of more straightforward meloblack, although drama still seethes beneath the surface. String embellishments dot the arrangements (“The Taste of Immortal Blood,” “Imperious Sanguine Eroticism,” “Carnal Tapestries of Nailtorn Flesh”), imparting dramatic flair and a welcome dimension to Stormkeep’s fantastical atmosphere. And like the cover art, The Nocturnes of Iswylm embraces darker textures that wrestle in doleful gloom, engendering a subtler experience that took time to sink in and appreciate. While this approach doesn’t ply the same epic theatricality as the debut, The Nocturnes of Iswylm nonetheless worms its way into ears and hearts with nefarious glamours that crackle with danger.

Belarus Beaver // Grind af den Brune Bäfver [June 17th, 2026 – Self Released]

Sweden plays host to many metallic endeavors, and I often feel like I’m picking up secondhand geography lessons as a result of listening to its exports. Belarus Beaver, then, supplies a toofer, as they began their journey in melodeath mecca Gothenburg before settling down in Jönköping (also home to Hällas, Rexoria, and Narnia). Rather than progressive rock or power metal, though, Belarus Beaver obliterates listeners with a bucktoothed bombshell of devastating deathgrind that’s at once savagely br00tal and pure fun. Also, it’s all about beavers. On fourth album Grind af den Brune Bäfver, Belarus Beaver weaves together groove-laced blasts with industrial trimmings that recall a mixture of early Anaal Nathrakh (“I Want to Pet a Beaver”) and Exhumed (“Den Gnagande Plågan,” “Begravd i en Flod”). Occasionally, though, Grind af den Brune Bäfver reaches for a twist in their songwriting repertoire that uplifts the music, like the Eastern stringed instrument at the beginning of “Urbävern” or the unexpected melodic guitar support midway through “Mutated Beaver Moose.” These moments and others like them elevate Grind af den Brune Bäfver above sheer novelty, and if you’re not sold on Beaver fever, you’re missing out. So let your hair down and give yourself over to the Grind—it’s dam fun.

Creeping Ivy’s Classic Catch

Dead Kosmonaut // Retrospectre [June 26th, 2026 – Edged Circle Productions]

Dead Kosmonaut conceived a perfect title for their third album. Since 2014, this Swedish quintet has been molding traditional heavy metal hearkening to the late 70s and early 80s. This style—the first wave of metal itself—haunts any and every musician in the genre with aspirations of crafting something trve. With the specter of retro metal hanging over the band’s collective head, Retrospectre delivers 38 minutes of classic goodness, imbued with a somber longing. Dead Kosmonaut is a well-credentialed crew, starting with guitarists Fredrik Folkare (ex-Necrophobic) and Peter Hallgren (Sorcerer), who dole out irresistible guitarmonies and audacious solos in the spirit of Iron Maiden (“Out of the Shadow Rising”). The rhythm section, comprised of bassist Mattias Reinholdsson and drummer Henrik Johansson (both ex-Book of Hours), punches through the mix with power and a bit of grit (“Wake of Aquarius”). And of course, vocalist Per ‘Hellbutcher’ Gustavsson shines, trading his black metal bona fides for commanding cleans that drive some damn fine choruses (“View from the Future”). Lyrically, the album especially develops its theme of retrospection in the latter half, with songs about aging (“Eyes Grow Old”), defeat (“The Battle is Over”), and the inexorable march of time (“The Retrospectre”). Retrospectre will certainly scratch any itches for timeless, classic metal, but Dead Kosmonaut have enough talent, character, and craftmanship to make their third offering more than mere nostalgia.

Thunder rattles the ducts as my minions trudge through heated aluminum and flimsy copper to clean out the detritus left by endless storms. Sometimes I wonder if I should invest in a “health plan” for them to offset the debilitating turnover resulting from various mortal injuries and gruesome deaths this work incurs. And then I think again, and realize that would be a waste of “profits.” There will always be more dummies willing to dive in with the promise of treasure sparkling in their eyes.

Aaaaannnnyyyyway, nobody lost limb or life in the Filter today, but we did manage a decent haul. BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Burning Bastion

Forsmán // Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur [June 26th, 2026 – Vesperian]

Iceland is where all the cool black metal kids sit. Smeary corpse paint, cloaks, throaty roars, somehow simultaneously wet and dry snare tones, and hooky riffs surrounded in lower-pitched tremolos make the Icelandic scene almost instantly recognizable. Forsmán are no exception, the young foursome abiding by the genre blueprint—in a similar way to bands like Svartidauði and Helfró—on remarkably professional debut Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur. A deathly kink lightly twists blasty riff freakouts (“Drottinn fyrirgefur allt,” “Valdníðsla”), but when they land their impact cracks the earth underfoot. A dissonant drama further characterizes Forsmán’s black metal core to scaffold riff-driven measures and off-kilter rhythms, and yet everything remains accessible and easily digestible (“Svartir svanir,” “Andvana,” “Barmafylltar fjöldagrafir”). While Forsmán aren’t attempting to redefine the style with this debut, they do earn a spot alongside the genre’s best with tight performances, fiery riff-forward writing, and a writhing personality that is vicious as much as it is beautifully expressed (“Kynjamyndir”). In short, Brenndar rústir & fuðrandi fjörur should not be missed, as it represents with great merit the high quality I’ve come to expect from the modern Icelandic black metal scene.

Owlswald’s Sunlit Secret

Entropist // The Vision [June 26, 2026 – Self Released]

Denver progressive death metal quintet Entropist is the very definition of a Stuck in the Filter unearthing. Their debut album, The Vision, slipped through the cracks amid our June promo flood and resurfaced too late for a standard review. Time to make amends. Mixed and mastered by Jamie King (Between the Buried and Me, The Contortionist), The Vision showcases a group brimming with talent and ambition.1 Blending death with elements of progressive metal, psychedelic rock, metalcore, jazz, and classical, The Vision is a melting pot of influences that thrives on vivid atmospherics and an effective dual-vocal approach from Parker Kitching and guitarist Solomon Smith, creating a sound that is adventurous and rewarding. “Intense Warmth” opens with a bout of hypnotic throat singing that morphs into layered croons. “Desert of Limbo’s” crawling melodies evoke Haken. Elsewhere, “The Ritual’s” eerie atmosphere and its intense bridge throw serious Aeolian-era The Ocean vibes, while “Devour Us” delivers exotic acoustic guitar and violin passages before closing with a swaggering groove and a contorted solo. “Creation” proves what Entropist is capable of when all the pieces lock together. Packed with Exoplanet-like riffs, alternating growls and soaring vocals, and a heaving half-time groove, the track’s eclecticism and momentum never let up. Not every experiment lands—”Revelation” and the aptly named “Wandering” lose sight of their destination—but there’s too much talent and creativity here to ignore. The Vision may be far from flawless, but it’s without a doubt an impressive debut.

Spicie Forrest’s Mathy Morsel

eleventwelfth // 11 [June 26, 2026 – Angular//Momentum Records]

Do you remember when Sithu Aye released that Senpai series?2 Airy, engaging, and wildly emotive, I’ve been chasing that sound ever since. eleventwelfth’s newest LP, 11, scratches that itch as it hasn’t been scratched in years. Part one in a concept duology3 that will serve as the Jakarta, Indonesia-based foursome’s sophomore offering, 11 follows its protagonist as they reckon with the necessary sacrifices one must make in pursuit of a dream. Largely rooted in indie and math rock, 11 unfolds in three acts filtered through aviation metaphors. Hopeful and tender melodies dance on strings like the wind through tall grass (“far away from here,” “collision”), while vocals effortlessly swoop and soar like an albatross on ocean air currents. 7-minute closer “communicate” swells inexorably, wind gathering under its wings until, at the midpoint, it takes off in a beautiful moment of catharsis. Synths and electronic elements evoke Porter Robinson’s Nurture in their gentle and ineffably nostalgic movements (“navigate,” “to fathom the throes”). When eleventwelfth leans into their Reliant K’d rock side, as on “ascending faster than before,” “fear of what’s beyond,” or “last here all alone,” 11 moves as if in a flow state—somehow simultaneously approaching lightspeed and locked in a timeless moment. This certainly isn’t the heaviest thing you’ll hear this year—it might be the lightest—but for those who know what it means to risk it all on hopes and dreams, 11 is not to be missed.

ClarkKent’s Energetic Inputs

Finsmoonth // Chrysalis of Astral Tears [June 13th, 2026 – Disaster Records]

Indonesia’s Finsmoonth puts on a clinic of melancholic atmospheric black metal with some first-rate tremolos and affecting performances. They partake in an aggressive, melodic form of the genre that’s similar to Walg in its relentlessness. Icy cold blast beats pummel your ears while the melodic tremolos prove a soothing balm wrapped in melancholy. The two guitarists, Zulk Adhe and Irwin Ranto, are tremolo wizards, serving quality leads on each song. My favorite, “Embers at Ethereal Dawn,” displays Finsmoonth’s ability to build up to powerful emotional climaxes. Tino Guruh proves an effective and consistent vocalist. His blackened rasps form the emotional core, and on “Embers at Ethereal Dawn,” he breaks into agonized cries that are just heartbreaking. The passing of the band’s bassist, Maulana Fachrul, less than two months ahead of the release of Chrysalis of Astral Tears adds further to the poignancy. Fachrul puts on a first-rate performance, with some stellar lonesome instrumental stretches on “An Endless Depth,” as well as a bit of smooth jazz noodling towards the end of “Foliage of the Wings.” If Indonesian black metal reminds you of Pure Wrath, then it might not be a surprise to learn that Januaryo Hardy contributes the cleans/chants, and even his wife, Isa Bellum, has a couple of small parts. I don’t know what’s going on in Jakarta to make these artists so sad, but they’re writing some damn fine music.

Inherits the Void // The Silent Abscission [June 19th, 2026 – Avantgarde Music]

France’s Antoine Scholtès has been quite busy since forming his solo black metal project, Inherits the Void, in 2020. Thus Spoke had kind words for the previous two, 2023’s The Impending Fall of Stars and 2024’s Scars of Yesteryear, comparing the former to the atmospheric meloblack of Mare Cognitum. This time around, Scholtès brings along some friends, including Romain Negro (Apolaustic, ex-Stortregn) to helm the mic. Romain brings a much more aggressive blackened edge to the vocals, cracking with a relentless energy. Scholtès still contributes backing vocals, and a mysterious Nicolas S. sings cleans on a couple of tracks, including a great soaring bit on the finale, “Inherits the Void.” The Silent Abscission feels a touch more aggressive than what Inherits the Void generally plays. Between the blast beats, furious tremolos, and Romain’s blackened assault, there’s a sense of constant kinetic motion. It’s true that some of this stuff can blend together, but there’s plenty of great melodies to keep it enjoyable from start to finish. While Scholtès continues to use synths and arpeggios as brief reprieves from the blast beat attack, he also invites Kevon S. to play some sax (“Wrath of the Endless Sea,” “Inherits the Void”), bringing to mind Burial in the Sky or White Ward. The Silent Abscission is yet another impressive outing in Inherits the Void’s discography, with Scholtès showing that he’s willing to take some risks in order to make things more interesting.

Grin Reaper’s Nocturnal Nuggets

Hecate // Comment Est la Nuit? [June 12th, 2026 – Self Released]

Since forming in 2009, French ensemble Hecate has steadily released reliable and trve black metal. Fourth album Comment Est la Nuit?4 serves as my introduction to the act, and after visiting earlier albums I’m confident that their latest is their greatest (so far).5 Where debut Chronicles d’un Autre Temps sounds more modern (think 1349 or Watain), subsequent albums gravitate towards raw production that radiates early second-wave energy. Comment Est la Nuit? perpetuates this aesthetic, though Hecate adorns it with classical frills that I find irresistible, such as their seamless integration of piano, flute, and cello with gusts of piercing tremolos and grating rasps. Though Comment Est la Nuit? remains solidly rooted in black metal, the keys function as a core component like never before. Each time I listen, Hecate reveals new facets that only get better with familiarity. The intro to “Aubes aux pâles salives” begins with a beautiful piano refrain supported by clean guitars and a subtle bass thread before tumbling into distorted trems that bear the same melodic framework. Likewise, the range of “Hymne au clair de lune” batters listeners between scathing muscle and delicate respites. I don’t expect Comment Est la Nuit? to change opinions about black metal, but those who enjoy it will find Hecate has written an engrossing experience that wonderfully details the rhythms of the night.

Stormkeep // The Nocturnes of Iswylm [June 12th, 2026 – Vesperian]

Like many, I eagerly awaited a full-length follow-up to Stormkeep’s magnificent debut Tales of Othertime, uncertain if or when it would arrive. Because the band’s other projects consistently enrapture me (Wayfarer and Blood Incantation, in particular), I never worried whether the Denver, Colorado collective’s sophomore platter would satisfy the promises made by Othertime. And while I’m not convinced that The Nocturnes of Iswylm reaches the heights the debut, Stormkeep still unleashes goodies aplenty that litter Nocturnes three-quarters of an hour. Gone are the instrumentals from Tales of Othertime—instead, Stormkeep dials down the cinema in favor of more straightforward meloblack, although drama still seethes beneath the surface. String embellishments dot the arrangements (“The Taste of Immortal Blood,” “Imperious Sanguine Eroticism,” “Carnal Tapestries of Nailtorn Flesh”), imparting dramatic flair and a welcome dimension to Stormkeep’s fantastical atmosphere. And like the cover art, The Nocturnes of Iswylm embraces darker textures that wrestle in doleful gloom, engendering a subtler experience that took time to sink in and appreciate. While this approach doesn’t ply the same epic theatricality as the debut, The Nocturnes of Iswylm nonetheless worms its way into ears and hearts with nefarious glamours that crackle with danger.

Belarus Beaver // Grind af den Brune Bäfver [June 17th, 2026 – Self Released]

Sweden plays host to many metallic endeavors, and I often feel like I’m picking up secondhand geography lessons as a result of listening to its exports. Belarus Beaver, then, supplies a toofer, as they began their journey in melodeath mecca Gothenburg before settling down in Jönköping (also home to Hällas, Rexoria, and Narnia). Rather than progressive rock or power metal, though, Belarus Beaver obliterates listeners with a bucktoothed bombshell of devastating deathgrind that’s at once savagely br00tal and pure fun. Also, it’s all about beavers. On fourth album Grind af den Brune Bäfver, Belarus Beaver weaves together groove-laced blasts with industrial trimmings that recall a mixture of early Anaal Nathrakh (“I Want to Pet a Beaver”) and Exhumed (“Den Gnagande Plågan,” “Begravd i en Flod”). Occasionally, though, Grind af den Brune Bäfver reaches for a twist in their songwriting repertoire that uplifts the music, like the Eastern stringed instrument at the beginning of “Urbävern” or the unexpected melodic guitar support midway through “Mutated Beaver Moose.” These moments and others like them elevate Grind af den Brune Bäfver above sheer novelty, and if you’re not sold on Beaver fever, you’re missing out. So let your hair down and give yourself over to the Grind—it’s dam fun.

Creeping Ivy’s Classic Catch

Dead Kosmonaut // Retrospectre [June 26th, 2026 – Edged Circle Productions]

Dead Kosmonaut conceived a perfect title for their third album. Since 2014, this Swedish quintet has been molding traditional heavy metal hearkening to the late 70s and early 80s. This style—the first wave of metal itself—haunts any and every musician in the genre with aspirations of crafting something trve. With the specter of retro metal hanging over the band’s collective head, Retrospectre delivers 38 minutes of classic goodness, imbued with a somber longing. Dead Kosmonaut is a well-credentialed crew, starting with guitarists Fredrik Folkare (ex-Necrophobic) and Peter Hallgren (Sorcerer), who dole out irresistible guitarmonies and audacious solos in the spirit of Iron Maiden (“Out of the Shadow Rising”). The rhythm section, comprised of bassist Mattias Reinholdsson and drummer Henrik Johansson (both ex-Book of Hours), punches through the mix with power and a bit of grit (“Wake of Aquarius”). And of course, vocalist Per ‘Hellbutcher’ Gustavsson shines, trading his black metal bona fides for commanding cleans that drive some damn fine choruses (“View from the Future”). Lyrically, the album especially develops its theme of retrospection in the latter half, with songs about aging (“Eyes Grow Old”), defeat (“The Battle is Over”), and the inexorable march of time (“The Retrospectre”). Retrospectre will certainly scratch any itches for timeless, classic metal, but Dead Kosmonaut have enough talent, character, and craftmanship to make their third offering more than mere nostalgia.

I love me an honest promo blurb. In a world where every advertisement promises more brutality than a 20-year exclusive diet of doughnuts and American cheese, and more emotional trauma than walking in your parents whipping you up a sibling, there are points to be earned for labels real enough to simply tell us what this is and who it’s for. The sophomore album by one-man project Agonanist arrived with the very simple description that this was “…adjacent to dissonant black metal in the vein of Deathspell Omega, Blut aus Nord, Xasthur, and Krallice.” I happen to have some degree of appreciation for all those bands, ranging from acknowledgement of importance to unbridled fanaticism, so I couldn’t wait to get my paws on this. Toss in some info about hand-carved microtonal guitars in the spirit of Jute Gyte, and this sets the stage for a blackened slab of ugly indeed. Can The Spirit of Gravity possibly live up to such a pedigree?

No, but the Spirit is definitely there. Agonanist could have just as easily labeled The Spirit of Gravity as experimental atmo-black and still been on the money, as the expected ugliness and mind-warping generally take a back seat to heaps and heaps of spacey, ambient atmosphere. It helps that the whole album is deeply overlaid with synth work, softening the more abrasive edges (“The Gateway”) and offering up transitional passages of beauty (“Collapse”) while rarely turning into their own highlight reel. “Effacement” is the two-pronged statement of intent, beginning with the required ugly chords, murky and full and indeed carrying a whiff of vintage Xasthur, but then blending into much more beautiful, hypnotic notes reminiscent of a less peaceful Cosmosophy. This dual approach is found in the bulk of The Spirit of Gravity, as flirtations with genuine microtonal oppression always give way to something more ethereal, and, dare I say, meditative.

Curiously, Agonanist thrives most when it leans into those moments of beauty and atmosphere over the aggressive and ugly. “Silent Absent” takes on a near shoegaze quality in the riff style and tones, and “Disruption and Decay” features some prolonged simple melodies of melancholy and reflection. Featuring a list of guest instrumentalists from bands as diverse as Krallice, Ripped to Shreds, and even Benighted, the overall sound never wanders beyond the adventurous gardens of the more tranquilly inclined Bluts and Xasthurs of the world. “For Mia” tries to channel some real pathos, with a simple, thick chord progression applying some emotional heft in defiance of the expected cosmic perversion of sound, with decent results. The entire body of work across The Spirit of Gravity lends itself more to relaxing, sky-watching atmospherics, only pausing at times to remind us all of the unknowable everything waiting just beyond the view of the horizon.

It’s in those pauses that The Spirit of Gravity falters. “Cry of Cages” is the most straightforwardly ugly song on the album, lurching here and there without an immediately obvious structure or hook beyond its warped and mutated lead. This song is also a strange blip in the Agonanist experience, as the bulk of The Spirit of Gravity tries to wield its two tonal influences in somewhat equal measure. Most of the speed present on the album finds itself in the uglier bits, with the first third of “Collapse”, the beginning of “Disruption…” and “Silent Absent” using tempo modulations to emphasize the spiritual shift before eventually easing just a touch into more major progressions and softer notes. The greatest riddle of the album is found in “Collapse”, which uses its gorgeous synth interlude to segue into a full five-minute outro of the rawest, screechiest guitar feedback and drumming, reminiscent of Spektr’s Et Fugit Interea Fugit Irreparabile Tempus. Suddenly the fusion is achieved, as the most objectively raw piece of the album masters the introspective and ethereal mood teased at and grasped for throughout, and I’m left desperately wanting more of that. It shows that there are greater things waiting in the project’s future, if they can commit more to a lane or improve in their combination of such disparate ingredients.

Much as the art depicts a mass of bright light surrounded by so much darkness, The Spirit of Gravity is an enjoyable, but imperfect amalgamation of two moods. It isn’t the soul-burning exposure to horrors beyond I was expecting, nor does it turn so beautiful that it can be described as anything truly melodic. What it shows is a unique vision, a sign of promise from a fledgling artist with an already well-crafted and distinct flavor. I’d love to hear more consistency, in one direction or the other; a deeper commitment to the horrors beyond or the beauty within. For now, Agonanist have dropped an interesting release in the realm of dissonant black metal, so come take a dive down this gravity well and pray you land on the right side of the light.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transylvanian Recordings
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: August 28th, 2026

I love me an honest promo blurb. In a world where every advertisement promises more brutality than a 20-year exclusive diet of doughnuts and American cheese, and more emotional trauma than walking in your parents whipping you up a sibling, there are points to be earned for labels real enough to simply tell us what this is and who it’s for. The sophomore album by one-man project Agonanist arrived with the very simple description that this was “…adjacent to dissonant black metal in the vein of Deathspell Omega, Blut aus Nord, Xasthur, and Krallice.” I happen to have some degree of appreciation for all those bands, ranging from acknowledgement of importance to unbridled fanaticism, so I couldn’t wait to get my paws on this. Toss in some info about hand-carved microtonal guitars in the spirit of Jute Gyte, and this sets the stage for a blackened slab of ugly indeed. Can The Spirit of Gravity possibly live up to such a pedigree?

No, but the Spirit is definitely there. Agonanist could have just as easily labeled The Spirit of Gravity as experimental atmo-black and still been on the money, as the expected ugliness and mind-warping generally take a back seat to heaps and heaps of spacey, ambient atmosphere. It helps that the whole album is deeply overlaid with synth work, softening the more abrasive edges (“The Gateway”) and offering up transitional passages of beauty (“Collapse”) while rarely turning into their own highlight reel. “Effacement” is the two-pronged statement of intent, beginning with the required ugly chords, murky and full and indeed carrying a whiff of vintage Xasthur, but then blending into much more beautiful, hypnotic notes reminiscent of a less peaceful Cosmosophy. This dual approach is found in the bulk of The Spirit of Gravity, as flirtations with genuine microtonal oppression always give way to something more ethereal, and, dare I say, meditative.

Curiously, Agonanist thrives most when it leans into those moments of beauty and atmosphere over the aggressive and ugly. “Silent Absent” takes on a near shoegaze quality in the riff style and tones, and “Disruption and Decay” features some prolonged simple melodies of melancholy and reflection. Featuring a list of guest instrumentalists from bands as diverse as Krallice, Ripped to Shreds, and even Benighted, the overall sound never wanders beyond the adventurous gardens of the more tranquilly inclined Bluts and Xasthurs of the world. “For Mia” tries to channel some real pathos, with a simple, thick chord progression applying some emotional heft in defiance of the expected cosmic perversion of sound, with decent results. The entire body of work across The Spirit of Gravity lends itself more to relaxing, sky-watching atmospherics, only pausing at times to remind us all of the unknowable everything waiting just beyond the view of the horizon.

It’s in those pauses that The Spirit of Gravity falters. “Cry of Cages” is the most straightforwardly ugly song on the album, lurching here and there without an immediately obvious structure or hook beyond its warped and mutated lead. This song is also a strange blip in the Agonanist experience, as the bulk of The Spirit of Gravity tries to wield its two tonal influences in somewhat equal measure. Most of the speed present on the album finds itself in the uglier bits, with the first third of “Collapse”, the beginning of “Disruption…” and “Silent Absent” using tempo modulations to emphasize the spiritual shift before eventually easing just a touch into more major progressions and softer notes. The greatest riddle of the album is found in “Collapse”, which uses its gorgeous synth interlude to segue into a full five-minute outro of the rawest, screechiest guitar feedback and drumming, reminiscent of Spektr’s Et Fugit Interea Fugit Irreparabile Tempus. Suddenly the fusion is achieved, as the most objectively raw piece of the album masters the introspective and ethereal mood teased at and grasped for throughout, and I’m left desperately wanting more of that. It shows that there are greater things waiting in the project’s future, if they can commit more to a lane or improve in their combination of such disparate ingredients.

Much as the art depicts a mass of bright light surrounded by so much darkness, The Spirit of Gravity is an enjoyable, but imperfect amalgamation of two moods. It isn’t the soul-burning exposure to horrors beyond I was expecting, nor does it turn so beautiful that it can be described as anything truly melodic. What it shows is a unique vision, a sign of promise from a fledgling artist with an already well-crafted and distinct flavor. I’d love to hear more consistency, in one direction or the other; a deeper commitment to the horrors beyond or the beauty within. For now, Agonanist have dropped an interesting release in the realm of dissonant black metal, so come take a dive down this gravity well and pray you land on the right side of the light.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transylvanian Recordings
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: August 28th, 2026

I love me an honest promo blurb. In a world where every advertisement promises more brutality than a 20-year exclusive diet of doughnuts and American cheese, and more emotional trauma than walking in your parents whipping you up a sibling, there are points to be earned for labels real enough to simply tell us what this is and who it’s for. The sophomore album by one-man project Agonanist arrived with the very simple description that this was “…adjacent to dissonant black metal in the vein of Deathspell Omega, Blut aus Nord, Xasthur, and Krallice.” I happen to have some degree of appreciation for all those bands, ranging from acknowledgement of importance to unbridled fanaticism, so I couldn’t wait to get my paws on this. Toss in some info about hand-carved microtonal guitars in the spirit of Jute Gyte, and this sets the stage for a blackened slab of ugly indeed. Can The Spirit of Gravity possibly live up to such a pedigree?

No, but the Spirit is definitely there. Agonanist could have just as easily labeled The Spirit of Gravity as experimental atmo-black and still been on the money, as the expected ugliness and mind-warping generally take a back seat to heaps and heaps of spacey, ambient atmosphere. It helps that the whole album is deeply overlaid with synth work, softening the more abrasive edges (“The Gateway”) and offering up transitional passages of beauty (“Collapse”) while rarely turning into their own highlight reel. “Effacement” is the two-pronged statement of intent, beginning with the required ugly chords, murky and full and indeed carrying a whiff of vintage Xasthur, but then blending into much more beautiful, hypnotic notes reminiscent of a less peaceful Cosmosophy. This dual approach is found in the bulk of The Spirit of Gravity, as flirtations with genuine microtonal oppression always give way to something more ethereal, and, dare I say, meditative.

Curiously, Agonanist thrives most when it leans into those moments of beauty and atmosphere over the aggressive and ugly. “Silent Absent” takes on a near shoegaze quality in the riff style and tones, and “Disruption and Decay” features some prolonged simple melodies of melancholy and reflection. Featuring a list of guest instrumentalists from bands as diverse as Krallice, Ripped to Shreds, and even Benighted, the overall sound never wanders beyond the adventurous gardens of the more tranquilly inclined Bluts and Xasthurs of the world. “For Mia” tries to channel some real pathos, with a simple, thick chord progression applying some emotional heft in defiance of the expected cosmic perversion of sound, with decent results. The entire body of work across The Spirit of Gravity lends itself more to relaxing, sky-watching atmospherics, only pausing at times to remind us all of the unknowable everything waiting just beyond the view of the horizon.

It’s in those pauses that The Spirit of Gravity falters. “Cry of Cages” is the most straightforwardly ugly song on the album, lurching here and there without an immediately obvious structure or hook beyond its warped and mutated lead. This song is also a strange blip in the Agonanist experience, as the bulk of The Spirit of Gravity tries to wield its two tonal influences in somewhat equal measure. Most of the speed present on the album finds itself in the uglier bits, with the first third of “Collapse”, the beginning of “Disruption…” and “Silent Absent” using tempo modulations to emphasize the spiritual shift before eventually easing just a touch into more major progressions and softer notes. The greatest riddle of the album is found in “Collapse”, which uses its gorgeous synth interlude to segue into a full five-minute outro of the rawest, screechiest guitar feedback and drumming, reminiscent of Spektr’s Et Fugit Interea Fugit Irreparabile Tempus. Suddenly the fusion is achieved, as the most objectively raw piece of the album masters the introspective and ethereal mood teased at and grasped for throughout, and I’m left desperately wanting more of that. It shows that there are greater things waiting in the project’s future, if they can commit more to a lane or improve in their combination of such disparate ingredients.

Much as the art depicts a mass of bright light surrounded by so much darkness, The Spirit of Gravity is an enjoyable, but imperfect amalgamation of two moods. It isn’t the soul-burning exposure to horrors beyond I was expecting, nor does it turn so beautiful that it can be described as anything truly melodic. What it shows is a unique vision, a sign of promise from a fledgling artist with an already well-crafted and distinct flavor. I’d love to hear more consistency, in one direction or the other; a deeper commitment to the horrors beyond or the beauty within. For now, Agonanist have dropped an interesting release in the realm of dissonant black metal, so come take a dive down this gravity well and pray you land on the right side of the light.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transylvanian Recordings
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: August 28th, 2026

I love me an honest promo blurb. In a world where every advertisement promises more brutality than a 20-year exclusive diet of doughnuts and American cheese, and more emotional trauma than walking in your parents whipping you up a sibling, there are points to be earned for labels real enough to simply tell us what this is and who it’s for. The sophomore album by one-man project Agonanist arrived with the very simple description that this was “…adjacent to dissonant black metal in the vein of Deathspell Omega, Blut aus Nord, Xasthur, and Krallice.” I happen to have some degree of appreciation for all those bands, ranging from acknowledgement of importance to unbridled fanaticism, so I couldn’t wait to get my paws on this. Toss in some info about hand-carved microtonal guitars in the spirit of Jute Gyte, and this sets the stage for a blackened slab of ugly indeed. Can The Spirit of Gravity possibly live up to such a pedigree?

No, but the Spirit is definitely there. Agonanist could have just as easily labeled The Spirit of Gravity as experimental atmo-black and still been on the money, as the expected ugliness and mind-warping generally take a back seat to heaps and heaps of spacey, ambient atmosphere. It helps that the whole album is deeply overlaid with synth work, softening the more abrasive edges (“The Gateway”) and offering up transitional passages of beauty (“Collapse”) while rarely turning into their own highlight reel. “Effacement” is the two-pronged statement of intent, beginning with the required ugly chords, murky and full and indeed carrying a whiff of vintage Xasthur, but then blending into much more beautiful, hypnotic notes reminiscent of a less peaceful Cosmosophy. This dual approach is found in the bulk of The Spirit of Gravity, as flirtations with genuine microtonal oppression always give way to something more ethereal, and, dare I say, meditative.

Curiously, Agonanist thrives most when it leans into those moments of beauty and atmosphere over the aggressive and ugly. “Silent Absent” takes on a near shoegaze quality in the riff style and tones, and “Disruption and Decay” features some prolonged simple melodies of melancholy and reflection. Featuring a list of guest instrumentalists from bands as diverse as Krallice, Ripped to Shreds, and even Benighted, the overall sound never wanders beyond the adventurous gardens of the more tranquilly inclined Bluts and Xasthurs of the world. “For Mia” tries to channel some real pathos, with a simple, thick chord progression applying some emotional heft in defiance of the expected cosmic perversion of sound, with decent results. The entire body of work across The Spirit of Gravity lends itself more to relaxing, sky-watching atmospherics, only pausing at times to remind us all of the unknowable everything waiting just beyond the view of the horizon.

It’s in those pauses that The Spirit of Gravity falters. “Cry of Cages” is the most straightforwardly ugly song on the album, lurching here and there without an immediately obvious structure or hook beyond its warped and mutated lead. This song is also a strange blip in the Agonanist experience, as the bulk of The Spirit of Gravity tries to wield its two tonal influences in somewhat equal measure. Most of the speed present on the album finds itself in the uglier bits, with the first third of “Collapse”, the beginning of “Disruption…” and “Silent Absent” using tempo modulations to emphasize the spiritual shift before eventually easing just a touch into more major progressions and softer notes. The greatest riddle of the album is found in “Collapse”, which uses its gorgeous synth interlude to segue into a full five-minute outro of the rawest, screechiest guitar feedback and drumming, reminiscent of Spektr’s Et Fugit Interea Fugit Irreparabile Tempus. Suddenly the fusion is achieved, as the most objectively raw piece of the album masters the introspective and ethereal mood teased at and grasped for throughout, and I’m left desperately wanting more of that. It shows that there are greater things waiting in the project’s future, if they can commit more to a lane or improve in their combination of such disparate ingredients.

Much as the art depicts a mass of bright light surrounded by so much darkness, The Spirit of Gravity is an enjoyable, but imperfect amalgamation of two moods. It isn’t the soul-burning exposure to horrors beyond I was expecting, nor does it turn so beautiful that it can be described as anything truly melodic. What it shows is a unique vision, a sign of promise from a fledgling artist with an already well-crafted and distinct flavor. I’d love to hear more consistency, in one direction or the other; a deeper commitment to the horrors beyond or the beauty within. For now, Agonanist have dropped an interesting release in the realm of dissonant black metal, so come take a dive down this gravity well and pray you land on the right side of the light.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transylvanian Recordings
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: August 28th, 2026

Review: Inferno – The Anthropic Sophisms (On the Heights of Despair)

Published by Andy on 2026/08/232026/08/23 Artwork by: Dávid Glomba Style: Dissonant Black Metal, Experimental Doom Metal (Harsh Vocals)Recommended…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #7.5 #Czechlyrics #Czechia #DebemurMortiProductions #dissonantblackmetal #Englishlyrics #Entertainment #experimentaldoommetal #harshvocals #july #UK #UnitedKingdom
https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/747330/

https://www.europesays.com/ie/652555/ Review: Inferno – The Anthropic Sophisms (On the Heights of Despair) #2026 #75 #CzechLyrics #Czechia #DebemurMortiProductions #DissonantBlackMetal #Éire #EnglishLyrics #Entertainment #ExperimentalDoomMetal #HarshVocals #IE #Ireland #july #Music

The spirit of metal has always been transgressive. Even though the genre can no longer be epitomized by a group of men with long hair, wearing all black, screaming about Satan and death,1, there remains an element that threatens an established order or sensibility. This is most obvious in the sound itself, which apparently turns a majority of listeners away even as it attracts weirdos like us. But while we may roll our eyes at metal of any kind being dismissed as ‘just noise’ and ‘horrible’, there are some cases where we can acknowledge that the music in question really is very inaccessible. Then we’re confronted with that same transgressiveness non-metalheads face when they listen to less-extreme metal, and enjoyment—let alone qualitative assessment—becomes complex. So it was when I was faced with Dhrupad Anutpada (ধপদ অন$ৎপ&দ): Apophatic Ragas Of Non-Origination, the debut of Indian/Canadian act Nirriti whose intense blackened noise is paired with a philosophical theme that denies the occurrence of creation. Its heresy is every bit as transcendentally horrifying as it sounds.

Nirriti are fully committed to their unorthodoxy. As members of black/noise circle Kolkata Inner Order Propaganda—along with Tetragrammacide, Necrodeity, among others—the trio demonstrate a level of nightmarishness worthy of the circle’s proclaimed “esoterrorism.” Not only is the lyrical theme bizarre yet intriguing, but the music is some of the most oppressive I’ve ever heard. For context, after finishing my first play-through of Dhrupad Anutpada, I decided to listen to Portal to “wind down.” Nirriti’s use of guitar as something from which to make a shuddering wall of sound, from which the occasional dissonant tremolo scale creeps out, is somewhat similar to Portal’s. Here, this wall feels still more monolithic due to Dodecahedron-on-steroids percussive violence that breaks away from a cacophonous blast, only to smash any hint of quiet with cymbals. Omnipresent vocal reverb, that iterates nigh on every hellish roar into a multiplicity of frightening confusion and chaos, becomes the final smothering layer in Dhrupad Anutpada’s impenetrable shroud of horror.

Up to this point, everything I’ve said about Dhrupad Anutpada could be taken positively or negatively—a quirk of how we often discuss extreme metal. This cognitive dissonance is as central to the proper experience of the album as literal harmonic dissonance. Nirriti’s take on noisy brutality approaches the hypnotic as they infuse passages with a sense of repetition through just-audible repeating scales and the aforementioned flickering echoes of vocals (“Mandukya…,”2 “In the Hallways…”). This creates a viscerally chilling sense of a tape skipping or playing backwards, or of the dizziness you feel just before you faint. It’s strange, but such passages grip the listener more powerfully than those where the reverb and blackened sensibility soften to allow the riffs breathing room (“One Foot…,” “Glissando…”), though the latter do reset the sempiternal rhythm, and inject needed jabs of urgency at their best (“One foot…,” “Golden Yolk…”). The relentless drumming, often more prominent than the guitars, serves primarily as a propeller to churn up these waters, such that it becomes a perverse relief when it settles into a battering, crashing attack (“In the Hallways…,” “Golden Yolk…,” “Vilambit Laya…”); because you can at least count the blows.

Dhrupad Anutpada maintains a consistent level of intensity thanks to these constant, if sometimes subtle, fluctuations. Creeping guitar ascents (“In the Hallways…,”), a rhythmic syncopation between roars and drums (“Mandukya…”), and the sudden breaks into noise (“Glissando…”) or the comparative ease of dissonant death metal (“One Foot…”) keep one hooked, straining one’s ears to catch the nuances in this chthonic chaos. Nirriti display an impressive command of their craft, turning harsh vocals into a weapon of horror, wielding guitars like percussion and percussion like punishment. It’s clearly intended to overwhelm and unsettle its audience. The problem is that it’s perhaps too successful, Dhrupad Anutpada being so exhausting that it can make one feel physically nauseated. After many listens, once the initial shock has passed, it’s easier to spot the places Nirriti reuse their tricks, and the corresponding movements lose a little potency (“In the Hallways…,” “Vilambit Laya…”).

I want to believe Dhrupad Anutpada is as profound as it presents itself. There is something to be said for an album that so powerfully confronts and terrifies its listener—it is the very essence of metal and the heart of philosophical unorthodoxy. Yet Nirriti tread a touch too far into the formless abyss to reach all but the most dedicated acolytes of the heretical metal underground. Dhrupad Anutpada may open your mind, but it’s just as likely to send you scrambling, horrified, away from the nightmare Nirriti have unleashed.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Iron Bonehead Productions
Websites: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

The spirit of metal has always been transgressive. Even though the genre can no longer be epitomized by a group of men with long hair, wearing all black, screaming about Satan and death,1, there remains an element that threatens an established order or sensibility. This is most obvious in the sound itself, which apparently turns a majority of listeners away even as it attracts weirdos like us. But while we may roll our eyes at metal of any kind being dismissed as ‘just noise’ and ‘horrible’, there are some cases where we can acknowledge that the music in question really is very inaccessible. Then we’re confronted with that same transgressiveness non-metalheads face when they listen to less-extreme metal, and enjoyment—let alone qualitative assessment—becomes complex. So it was when I was faced with Dhrupad Anutpada (ধপদ অন$ৎপ&দ): Apophatic Ragas Of Non-Origination, the debut of Indian/Canadian act Nirriti whose intense blackened noise is paired with a philosophical theme that denies the occurrence of creation. Its heresy is every bit as transcendentally horrifying as it sounds.

Nirriti are fully committed to their unorthodoxy. As members of black/noise circle Kolkata Inner Order Propaganda—along with Tetragrammacide, Necrodeity, among others—the trio demonstrate a level of nightmarishness worthy of the circle’s proclaimed “esoterrorism.” Not only is the lyrical theme bizarre yet intriguing, but the music is some of the most oppressive I’ve ever heard. For context, after finishing my first play-through of Dhrupad Anutpada, I decided to listen to Portal to “wind down.” Nirriti’s use of guitar as something from which to make a shuddering wall of sound, from which the occasional dissonant tremolo scale creeps out, is somewhat similar to Portal’s. Here, this wall feels still more monolithic due to Dodecahedron-on-steroids percussive violence that breaks away from a cacophonous blast, only to smash any hint of quiet with cymbals. Omnipresent vocal reverb, that iterates nigh on every hellish roar into a multiplicity of frightening confusion and chaos, becomes the final smothering layer in Dhrupad Anutpada’s impenetrable shroud of horror.

Up to this point, everything I’ve said about Dhrupad Anutpada could be taken positively or negatively—a quirk of how we often discuss extreme metal. This cognitive dissonance is as central to the proper experience of the album as literal harmonic dissonance. Nirriti’s take on noisy brutality approaches the hypnotic as they infuse passages with a sense of repetition through just-audible repeating scales and the aforementioned flickering echoes of vocals (“Mandukya…,”2 “In the Hallways…”). This creates a viscerally chilling sense of a tape skipping or playing backwards, or of the dizziness you feel just before you faint. It’s strange, but such passages grip the listener more powerfully than those where the reverb and blackened sensibility soften to allow the riffs breathing room (“One Foot…,” “Glissando…”), though the latter do reset the sempiternal rhythm, and inject needed jabs of urgency at their best (“One foot…,” “Golden Yolk…”). The relentless drumming, often more prominent than the guitars, serves primarily as a propeller to churn up these waters, such that it becomes a perverse relief when it settles into a battering, crashing attack (“In the Hallways…,” “Golden Yolk…,” “Vilambit Laya…”); because you can at least count the blows.

Dhrupad Anutpada maintains a consistent level of intensity thanks to these constant, if sometimes subtle, fluctuations. Creeping guitar ascents (“In the Hallways…,”), a rhythmic syncopation between roars and drums (“Mandukya…”), and the sudden breaks into noise (“Glissando…”) or the comparative ease of dissonant death metal (“One Foot…”) keep one hooked, straining one’s ears to catch the nuances in this chthonic chaos. Nirriti display an impressive command of their craft, turning harsh vocals into a weapon of horror, wielding guitars like percussion and percussion like punishment. It’s clearly intended to overwhelm and unsettle its audience. The problem is that it’s perhaps too successful, Dhrupad Anutpada being so exhausting that it can make one feel physically nauseated. After many listens, once the initial shock has passed, it’s easier to spot the places Nirriti reuse their tricks, and the corresponding movements lose a little potency (“In the Hallways…,” “Vilambit Laya…”).

I want to believe Dhrupad Anutpada is as profound as it presents itself. There is something to be said for an album that so powerfully confronts and terrifies its listener—it is the very essence of metal and the heart of philosophical unorthodoxy. Yet Nirriti tread a touch too far into the formless abyss to reach all but the most dedicated acolytes of the heretical metal underground. Dhrupad Anutpada may open your mind, but it’s just as likely to send you scrambling, horrified, away from the nightmare Nirriti have unleashed.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Iron Bonehead Productions
Websites: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

The spirit of metal has always been transgressive. Even though the genre can no longer be epitomized by a group of men with long hair, wearing all black, screaming about Satan and death,1, there remains an element that threatens an established order or sensibility. This is most obvious in the sound itself, which apparently turns a majority of listeners away even as it attracts weirdos like us. But while we may roll our eyes at metal of any kind being dismissed as ‘just noise’ and ‘horrible’, there are some cases where we can acknowledge that the music in question really is very inaccessible. Then we’re confronted with that same transgressiveness non-metalheads face when they listen to less-extreme metal, and enjoyment—let alone qualitative assessment—becomes complex. So it was when I was faced with Dhrupad Anutpada (ধপদ অন$ৎপ&দ): Apophatic Ragas Of Non-Origination, the debut of Indian/Canadian act Nirriti whose intense blackened noise is paired with a philosophical theme that denies the occurrence of creation. Its heresy is every bit as transcendentally horrifying as it sounds.

Nirriti are fully committed to their unorthodoxy. As members of black/noise circle Kolkata Inner Order Propaganda—along with Tetragrammacide, Necrodeity, among others—the trio demonstrate a level of nightmarishness worthy of the circle’s proclaimed “esoterrorism.” Not only is the lyrical theme bizarre yet intriguing, but the music is some of the most oppressive I’ve ever heard. For context, after finishing my first play-through of Dhrupad Anutpada, I decided to listen to Portal to “wind down.” Nirriti’s use of guitar as something from which to make a shuddering wall of sound, from which the occasional dissonant tremolo scale creeps out, is somewhat similar to Portal’s. Here, this wall feels still more monolithic due to Dodecahedron-on-steroids percussive violence that breaks away from a cacophonous blast, only to smash any hint of quiet with cymbals. Omnipresent vocal reverb, that iterates nigh on every hellish roar into a multiplicity of frightening confusion and chaos, becomes the final smothering layer in Dhrupad Anutpada’s impenetrable shroud of horror.

Up to this point, everything I’ve said about Dhrupad Anutpada could be taken positively or negatively—a quirk of how we often discuss extreme metal. This cognitive dissonance is as central to the proper experience of the album as literal harmonic dissonance. Nirriti’s take on noisy brutality approaches the hypnotic as they infuse passages with a sense of repetition through just-audible repeating scales and the aforementioned flickering echoes of vocals (“Mandukya…,”2 “In the Hallways…”). This creates a viscerally chilling sense of a tape skipping or playing backwards, or of the dizziness you feel just before you faint. It’s strange, but such passages grip the listener more powerfully than those where the reverb and blackened sensibility soften to allow the riffs breathing room (“One Foot…,” “Glissando…”), though the latter do reset the sempiternal rhythm, and inject needed jabs of urgency at their best (“One foot…,” “Golden Yolk…”). The relentless drumming, often more prominent than the guitars, serves primarily as a propeller to churn up these waters, such that it becomes a perverse relief when it settles into a battering, crashing attack (“In the Hallways…,” “Golden Yolk…,” “Vilambit Laya…”); because you can at least count the blows.

Dhrupad Anutpada maintains a consistent level of intensity thanks to these constant, if sometimes subtle, fluctuations. Creeping guitar ascents (“In the Hallways…,”), a rhythmic syncopation between roars and drums (“Mandukya…”), and the sudden breaks into noise (“Glissando…”) or the comparative ease of dissonant death metal (“One Foot…”) keep one hooked, straining one’s ears to catch the nuances in this chthonic chaos. Nirriti display an impressive command of their craft, turning harsh vocals into a weapon of horror, wielding guitars like percussion and percussion like punishment. It’s clearly intended to overwhelm and unsettle its audience. The problem is that it’s perhaps too successful, Dhrupad Anutpada being so exhausting that it can make one feel physically nauseated. After many listens, once the initial shock has passed, it’s easier to spot the places Nirriti reuse their tricks, and the corresponding movements lose a little potency (“In the Hallways…,” “Vilambit Laya…”).

I want to believe Dhrupad Anutpada is as profound as it presents itself. There is something to be said for an album that so powerfully confronts and terrifies its listener—it is the very essence of metal and the heart of philosophical unorthodoxy. Yet Nirriti tread a touch too far into the formless abyss to reach all but the most dedicated acolytes of the heretical metal underground. Dhrupad Anutpada may open your mind, but it’s just as likely to send you scrambling, horrified, away from the nightmare Nirriti have unleashed.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Iron Bonehead Productions
Websites: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

The spirit of metal has always been transgressive. Even though the genre can no longer be epitomized by a group of men with long hair, wearing all black, screaming about Satan and death,1, there remains an element that threatens an established order or sensibility. This is most obvious in the sound itself, which apparently turns a majority of listeners away even as it attracts weirdos like us. But while we may roll our eyes at metal of any kind being dismissed as ‘just noise’ and ‘horrible’, there are some cases where we can acknowledge that the music in question really is very inaccessible. Then we’re confronted with that same transgressiveness non-metalheads face when they listen to less-extreme metal, and enjoyment—let alone qualitative assessment—becomes complex. So it was when I was faced with Dhrupad Anutpada (ধপদ অন$ৎপ&দ): Apophatic Ragas Of Non-Origination, the debut of Indian/Canadian act Nirriti whose intense blackened noise is paired with a philosophical theme that denies the occurrence of creation. Its heresy is every bit as transcendentally horrifying as it sounds.

Nirriti are fully committed to their unorthodoxy. As members of black/noise circle Kolkata Inner Order Propaganda—along with Tetragrammacide, Necrodeity, among others—the trio demonstrate a level of nightmarishness worthy of the circle’s proclaimed “esoterrorism.” Not only is the lyrical theme bizarre yet intriguing, but the music is some of the most oppressive I’ve ever heard. For context, after finishing my first play-through of Dhrupad Anutpada, I decided to listen to Portal to “wind down.” Nirriti’s use of guitar as something from which to make a shuddering wall of sound, from which the occasional dissonant tremolo scale creeps out, is somewhat similar to Portal’s. Here, this wall feels still more monolithic due to Dodecahedron-on-steroids percussive violence that breaks away from a cacophonous blast, only to smash any hint of quiet with cymbals. Omnipresent vocal reverb, that iterates nigh on every hellish roar into a multiplicity of frightening confusion and chaos, becomes the final smothering layer in Dhrupad Anutpada’s impenetrable shroud of horror.

Up to this point, everything I’ve said about Dhrupad Anutpada could be taken positively or negatively—a quirk of how we often discuss extreme metal. This cognitive dissonance is as central to the proper experience of the album as literal harmonic dissonance. Nirriti’s take on noisy brutality approaches the hypnotic as they infuse passages with a sense of repetition through just-audible repeating scales and the aforementioned flickering echoes of vocals (“Mandukya…,”2 “In the Hallways…”). This creates a viscerally chilling sense of a tape skipping or playing backwards, or of the dizziness you feel just before you faint. It’s strange, but such passages grip the listener more powerfully than those where the reverb and blackened sensibility soften to allow the riffs breathing room (“One Foot…,” “Glissando…”), though the latter do reset the sempiternal rhythm, and inject needed jabs of urgency at their best (“One foot…,” “Golden Yolk…”). The relentless drumming, often more prominent than the guitars, serves primarily as a propeller to churn up these waters, such that it becomes a perverse relief when it settles into a battering, crashing attack (“In the Hallways…,” “Golden Yolk…,” “Vilambit Laya…”); because you can at least count the blows.

Dhrupad Anutpada maintains a consistent level of intensity thanks to these constant, if sometimes subtle, fluctuations. Creeping guitar ascents (“In the Hallways…,”), a rhythmic syncopation between roars and drums (“Mandukya…”), and the sudden breaks into noise (“Glissando…”) or the comparative ease of dissonant death metal (“One Foot…”) keep one hooked, straining one’s ears to catch the nuances in this chthonic chaos. Nirriti display an impressive command of their craft, turning harsh vocals into a weapon of horror, wielding guitars like percussion and percussion like punishment. It’s clearly intended to overwhelm and unsettle its audience. The problem is that it’s perhaps too successful, Dhrupad Anutpada being so exhausting that it can make one feel physically nauseated. After many listens, once the initial shock has passed, it’s easier to spot the places Nirriti reuse their tricks, and the corresponding movements lose a little potency (“In the Hallways…,” “Vilambit Laya…”).

I want to believe Dhrupad Anutpada is as profound as it presents itself. There is something to be said for an album that so powerfully confronts and terrifies its listener—it is the very essence of metal and the heart of philosophical unorthodoxy. Yet Nirriti tread a touch too far into the formless abyss to reach all but the most dedicated acolytes of the heretical metal underground. Dhrupad Anutpada may open your mind, but it’s just as likely to send you scrambling, horrified, away from the nightmare Nirriti have unleashed.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Iron Bonehead Productions
Websites: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

There’s a lot of weird shit floating around the metalsphere, and that includes Voidthrone’s newest addition, Dreaming Rat. The Seattle quartet has been kicking around for a decade, and in that time have released three prior platters of escalating lunacy. Without question, Dreaming Rat is Voidthrone’s most unhinged concoction to date, and a quick look at their Bandcamp credits gives prospective listeners a window into the alchemical ingredients they cook with, including Otamatone, conch shell, jaw harp, vibraslap, digeridoo, spoons, and a fretless bass. Throw in vocalist Zhenya Frolov’s deranged vocal stylings, and you’ve got yourself a bona fide manic expression of dissonant blackened death metal. With so many disparate components in Dreaming Rat’s stew, does Voidthrone soothe the savage beast or unleash a waking nightmare?

Listening to Dreaming Rat is a bit like experiencing an auditory fever dream, where disconnected fragments congeal into lurid, atonal anarchy. Voidthrone didn’t arrive at this sound overnight, though. Debut Spiritual War Tactics whipped and frothed with the restrained vitality of Krallice, and follow-up Kur added jazz-informed touches in the vein of Imperial Triumphant. Physical Degradation evolved Voidthrone’s sound, integrating more unconventional instrumentation and pushing the band’s songwriting past its comfort zone. On Dreaming Rat, Voidthrone takes the blueprint laid out on Physical Degradation and indiscriminately expands the range for strange. The result sees Frolov stretching his vocal performance into frenzied tirades, covering the gamut from Replicant’s vomitous barks to Sigh’s oddball deliveries. The instrumentation also gets exponentially wackier, as it conjures the rabid wrath of Pyrrhon along with the chaotic instincts of Afterbirth, resulting in an unpredictable romp to the end of the world.

At Dreaming Rat’s core, Voidthrone details the life and death of a solar system through bleak eras, segmenting the album into present, past, and future. The arcs are presented in that order, with each one comprised of three songs. The present describes the apex of a civilization, harnessing the promises forged upon the hopes and chaos of the past. Meanwhile, Voidthrone paints a grim outlook for the future, specifically calling out ‘an extinguished, lonely death of the physical, spiritual, and cognitive.’1 The lyrics throughout Dreaming Rat read like the demented ravings of a madman’s manifesto,2 and while I don’t think I could have divined the album’s overarching concept from them alone, reading them amplifies the bedlam Voidthrone has crafted on Dreaming Rat.

Writing music this lawless may seem haphazard, but over repeated listens, I’ve begun to glimpse the method to Dreaming Rat’s madness. Without question, everyone in Voidthrone earns their stripes. Ronald Foodsack’s guitars drench Dreaming Rat with warbling dissonance, perpetually in flux so that there’s never a riff or refrain to inhibit the music’s incessant lurch. Whether moving at frantic paces (“III-I. Surfing the Abyss”) or decelerating to a plodding crawl (“II-II. Morbid Seagull”), Ron’s six-stringed blitz never stalls. Additionally, Gavin Brooks contributes acoustic guitar and solos while manning the glorious fretless bass.3 Technical death metal has hogged the fretless bass for too long, and I’m glad Voidthrone has the stones to add it to disso metal’s tool chest. Tracks like “I-I. Bergen” and “II-I. Homeless Animal” showcase the character the instrument offers, bolstering the ever-shifting nature of Dreaming Rat. Drummer Josh Keifer grounds the band ably, locked into a supporting role that allows the other instruments to take center stage while he keeps things on the rails. Frolov’s feral vocals and the host of unconventional instruments further enrich Voidthrone’s distinctive identity, establishing what sounds like it could be the death throes of the universe.

What Voidthrone accomplishes with Dreaming Rat is fascinating and unique, and merits everyone’s attention. Sure, some songs could be trimmed to make such a scathing album a bit shorter and more palatable, and the three arcs could use some musical cues to distinguish songs thematically from one another, but Dreaming Rat is a crowning achievement for the band. Voidthrone’s psychedelic psychosis makes bold promises on paper and completely delivers in fact, and when I’m in the mood to get really weird with it, this will be the album I reach for.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

There’s a lot of weird shit floating around the metalsphere, and that includes Voidthrone’s newest addition, Dreaming Rat. The Seattle quartet has been kicking around for a decade, and in that time have released three prior platters of escalating lunacy. Without question, Dreaming Rat is Voidthrone’s most unhinged concoction to date, and a quick look at their Bandcamp credits gives prospective listeners a window into the alchemical ingredients they cook with, including Otamatone, conch shell, jaw harp, vibraslap, digeridoo, spoons, and a fretless bass. Throw in vocalist Zhenya Frolov’s deranged vocal stylings, and you’ve got yourself a bona fide manic expression of dissonant blackened death metal. With so many disparate components in Dreaming Rat’s stew, does Voidthrone soothe the savage beast or unleash a waking nightmare?

Listening to Dreaming Rat is a bit like experiencing an auditory fever dream, where disconnected fragments congeal into lurid, atonal anarchy. Voidthrone didn’t arrive at this sound overnight, though. Debut Spiritual War Tactics whipped and frothed with the restrained vitality of Krallice, and follow-up Kur added jazz-informed touches in the vein of Imperial Triumphant. Physical Degradation evolved Voidthrone’s sound, integrating more unconventional instrumentation and pushing the band’s songwriting past its comfort zone. On Dreaming Rat, Voidthrone takes the blueprint laid out on Physical Degradation and indiscriminately expands the range for strange. The result sees Frolov stretching his vocal performance into frenzied tirades, covering the gamut from Replicant’s vomitous barks to Sigh’s oddball deliveries. The instrumentation also gets exponentially wackier, as it conjures the rabid wrath of Pyrrhon along with the chaotic instincts of Afterbirth, resulting in an unpredictable romp to the end of the world.

At Dreaming Rat’s core, Voidthrone details the life and death of a solar system through bleak eras, segmenting the album into present, past, and future. The arcs are presented in that order, with each one comprised of three songs. The present describes the apex of a civilization, harnessing the promises forged upon the hopes and chaos of the past. Meanwhile, Voidthrone paints a grim outlook for the future, specifically calling out ‘an extinguished, lonely death of the physical, spiritual, and cognitive.’1 The lyrics throughout Dreaming Rat read like the demented ravings of a madman’s manifesto,2 and while I don’t think I could have divined the album’s overarching concept from them alone, reading them amplifies the bedlam Voidthrone has crafted on Dreaming Rat.

Writing music this lawless may seem haphazard, but over repeated listens, I’ve begun to glimpse the method to Dreaming Rat’s madness. Without question, everyone in Voidthrone earns their stripes. Ronald Foodsack’s guitars drench Dreaming Rat with warbling dissonance, perpetually in flux so that there’s never a riff or refrain to inhibit the music’s incessant lurch. Whether moving at frantic paces (“III-I. Surfing the Abyss”) or decelerating to a plodding crawl (“II-II. Morbid Seagull”), Ron’s six-stringed blitz never stalls. Additionally, Gavin Brooks contributes acoustic guitar and solos while manning the glorious fretless bass.3 Technical death metal has hogged the fretless bass for too long, and I’m glad Voidthrone has the stones to add it to disso metal’s tool chest. Tracks like “I-I. Bergen” and “II-I. Homeless Animal” showcase the character the instrument offers, bolstering the ever-shifting nature of Dreaming Rat. Drummer Josh Keifer grounds the band ably, locked into a supporting role that allows the other instruments to take center stage while he keeps things on the rails. Frolov’s feral vocals and the host of unconventional instruments further enrich Voidthrone’s distinctive identity, establishing what sounds like it could be the death throes of the universe.

What Voidthrone accomplishes with Dreaming Rat is fascinating and unique, and merits everyone’s attention. Sure, some songs could be trimmed to make such a scathing album a bit shorter and more palatable, and the three arcs could use some musical cues to distinguish songs thematically from one another, but Dreaming Rat is a crowning achievement for the band. Voidthrone’s psychedelic psychosis makes bold promises on paper and completely delivers in fact, and when I’m in the mood to get really weird with it, this will be the album I reach for.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

There’s a lot of weird shit floating around the metalsphere, and that includes Voidthrone’s newest addition, Dreaming Rat. The Seattle quartet has been kicking around for a decade, and in that time have released three prior platters of escalating lunacy. Without question, Dreaming Rat is Voidthrone’s most unhinged concoction to date, and a quick look at their Bandcamp credits gives prospective listeners a window into the alchemical ingredients they cook with, including Otamatone, conch shell, jaw harp, vibraslap, digeridoo, spoons, and a fretless bass. Throw in vocalist Zhenya Frolov’s deranged vocal stylings, and you’ve got yourself a bona fide manic expression of dissonant blackened death metal. With so many disparate components in Dreaming Rat’s stew, does Voidthrone soothe the savage beast or unleash a waking nightmare?

Listening to Dreaming Rat is a bit like experiencing an auditory fever dream, where disconnected fragments congeal into lurid, atonal anarchy. Voidthrone didn’t arrive at this sound overnight, though. Debut Spiritual War Tactics whipped and frothed with the restrained vitality of Krallice, and follow-up Kur added jazz-informed touches in the vein of Imperial Triumphant. Physical Degradation evolved Voidthrone’s sound, integrating more unconventional instrumentation and pushing the band’s songwriting past its comfort zone. On Dreaming Rat, Voidthrone takes the blueprint laid out on Physical Degradation and indiscriminately expands the range for strange. The result sees Frolov stretching his vocal performance into frenzied tirades, covering the gamut from Replicant’s vomitous barks to Sigh’s oddball deliveries. The instrumentation also gets exponentially wackier, as it conjures the rabid wrath of Pyrrhon along with the chaotic instincts of Afterbirth, resulting in an unpredictable romp to the end of the world.

At Dreaming Rat’s core, Voidthrone details the life and death of a solar system through bleak eras, segmenting the album into present, past, and future. The arcs are presented in that order, with each one comprised of three songs. The present describes the apex of a civilization, harnessing the promises forged upon the hopes and chaos of the past. Meanwhile, Voidthrone paints a grim outlook for the future, specifically calling out ‘an extinguished, lonely death of the physical, spiritual, and cognitive.’1 The lyrics throughout Dreaming Rat read like the demented ravings of a madman’s manifesto,2 and while I don’t think I could have divined the album’s overarching concept from them alone, reading them amplifies the bedlam Voidthrone has crafted on Dreaming Rat.

Writing music this lawless may seem haphazard, but over repeated listens, I’ve begun to glimpse the method to Dreaming Rat’s madness. Without question, everyone in Voidthrone earns their stripes. Ronald Foodsack’s guitars drench Dreaming Rat with warbling dissonance, perpetually in flux so that there’s never a riff or refrain to inhibit the music’s incessant lurch. Whether moving at frantic paces (“III-I. Surfing the Abyss”) or decelerating to a plodding crawl (“II-II. Morbid Seagull”), Ron’s six-stringed blitz never stalls. Additionally, Gavin Brooks contributes acoustic guitar and solos while manning the glorious fretless bass.3 Technical death metal has hogged the fretless bass for too long, and I’m glad Voidthrone has the stones to add it to disso metal’s tool chest. Tracks like “I-I. Bergen” and “II-I. Homeless Animal” showcase the character the instrument offers, bolstering the ever-shifting nature of Dreaming Rat. Drummer Josh Keifer grounds the band ably, locked into a supporting role that allows the other instruments to take center stage while he keeps things on the rails. Frolov’s feral vocals and the host of unconventional instruments further enrich Voidthrone’s distinctive identity, establishing what sounds like it could be the death throes of the universe.

What Voidthrone accomplishes with Dreaming Rat is fascinating and unique, and merits everyone’s attention. Sure, some songs could be trimmed to make such a scathing album a bit shorter and more palatable, and the three arcs could use some musical cues to distinguish songs thematically from one another, but Dreaming Rat is a crowning achievement for the band. Voidthrone’s psychedelic psychosis makes bold promises on paper and completely delivers in fact, and when I’m in the mood to get really weird with it, this will be the album I reach for.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

There’s a lot of weird shit floating around the metalsphere, and that includes Voidthrone’s newest addition, Dreaming Rat. The Seattle quartet has been kicking around for a decade, and in that time have released three prior platters of escalating lunacy. Without question, Dreaming Rat is Voidthrone’s most unhinged concoction to date, and a quick look at their Bandcamp credits gives prospective listeners a window into the alchemical ingredients they cook with, including Otamatone, conch shell, jaw harp, vibraslap, digeridoo, spoons, and a fretless bass. Throw in vocalist Zhenya Frolov’s deranged vocal stylings, and you’ve got yourself a bona fide manic expression of dissonant blackened death metal. With so many disparate components in Dreaming Rat’s stew, does Voidthrone soothe the savage beast or unleash a waking nightmare?

Listening to Dreaming Rat is a bit like experiencing an auditory fever dream, where disconnected fragments congeal into lurid, atonal anarchy. Voidthrone didn’t arrive at this sound overnight, though. Debut Spiritual War Tactics whipped and frothed with the restrained vitality of Krallice, and follow-up Kur added jazz-informed touches in the vein of Imperial Triumphant. Physical Degradation evolved Voidthrone’s sound, integrating more unconventional instrumentation and pushing the band’s songwriting past its comfort zone. On Dreaming Rat, Voidthrone takes the blueprint laid out on Physical Degradation and indiscriminately expands the range for strange. The result sees Frolov stretching his vocal performance into frenzied tirades, covering the gamut from Replicant’s vomitous barks to Sigh’s oddball deliveries. The instrumentation also gets exponentially wackier, as it conjures the rabid wrath of Pyrrhon along with the chaotic instincts of Afterbirth, resulting in an unpredictable romp to the end of the world.

At Dreaming Rat’s core, Voidthrone details the life and death of a solar system through bleak eras, segmenting the album into present, past, and future. The arcs are presented in that order, with each one comprised of three songs. The present describes the apex of a civilization, harnessing the promises forged upon the hopes and chaos of the past. Meanwhile, Voidthrone paints a grim outlook for the future, specifically calling out ‘an extinguished, lonely death of the physical, spiritual, and cognitive.’1 The lyrics throughout Dreaming Rat read like the demented ravings of a madman’s manifesto,2 and while I don’t think I could have divined the album’s overarching concept from them alone, reading them amplifies the bedlam Voidthrone has crafted on Dreaming Rat.

Writing music this lawless may seem haphazard, but over repeated listens, I’ve begun to glimpse the method to Dreaming Rat’s madness. Without question, everyone in Voidthrone earns their stripes. Ronald Foodsack’s guitars drench Dreaming Rat with warbling dissonance, perpetually in flux so that there’s never a riff or refrain to inhibit the music’s incessant lurch. Whether moving at frantic paces (“III-I. Surfing the Abyss”) or decelerating to a plodding crawl (“II-II. Morbid Seagull”), Ron’s six-stringed blitz never stalls. Additionally, Gavin Brooks contributes acoustic guitar and solos while manning the glorious fretless bass.3 Technical death metal has hogged the fretless bass for too long, and I’m glad Voidthrone has the stones to add it to disso metal’s tool chest. Tracks like “I-I. Bergen” and “II-I. Homeless Animal” showcase the character the instrument offers, bolstering the ever-shifting nature of Dreaming Rat. Drummer Josh Keifer grounds the band ably, locked into a supporting role that allows the other instruments to take center stage while he keeps things on the rails. Frolov’s feral vocals and the host of unconventional instruments further enrich Voidthrone’s distinctive identity, establishing what sounds like it could be the death throes of the universe.

What Voidthrone accomplishes with Dreaming Rat is fascinating and unique, and merits everyone’s attention. Sure, some songs could be trimmed to make such a scathing album a bit shorter and more palatable, and the three arcs could use some musical cues to distinguish songs thematically from one another, but Dreaming Rat is a crowning achievement for the band. Voidthrone’s psychedelic psychosis makes bold promises on paper and completely delivers in fact, and when I’m in the mood to get really weird with it, this will be the album I reach for.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Free download codes:

BÁL - Dög (Full-length)

"The cover talks for itself. You'll hear what you see."

https://getmusic.fm/l/u9xMZB

#blackmetal #rawblackmetal #atmosphericblackmetal #dissonantblackmetal #music

Free download codes:

BÁL - Dög (Full-length)

"The cover talks for itself. You'll hear what you see."

https://getmusic.fm/l/u9xMZB

#blackmetal #rawblackmetal #atmosphericblackmetal #dissonantblackmetal #music

Free download codes:

BÁL - Dög (Full-length)

"The cover talks for itself. You'll hear what you see."

https://getmusic.fm/l/u9xMZB

#blackmetal #rawblackmetal #atmosphericblackmetal #dissonantblackmetal #music

The thing I am most afraid of is losing my mind. The progressive destruction dementia wreaks upon a brain is upsetting enough to endure from the outside, but the horror of that brain potentially being mine is a thought that keeps me up at night. While not explicitly about dementia, To Become the Endless Static follows the disintegration of a person’s mind as “[a]ll pathways, dreams and connections to what once formed their identity spiral down, merging into the great nothing, the endless static.” It’s a frightening, abstract concept that naturally suits Aversio Humanitatis’ brand of freeform dissonant black metal, which here takes a turn for the still more intense and unsettling. The group have garnered a reputation for long rumination between releases, and though not everyone might agree, 2020’s Behold the Silent Dwellers demonstrated the fruitfulness of this approach with its nine-year-awaited greatness. Six years on, with the sophomore but a shadow in the nebulous past, the apparition of Endless Static portended greatness once more, in addition to a genuinely scary theme. I was only too happy to indulge my masochism.

Much like the march of time and an incurable disease, Endless Static does not wait until you’re ready before attacking. “Long Stretch the Shadows” threatens whiplash as it erupts off the start line with relentless percussion and tremolos bending at uncomfortable angles. It epitomises the shift in Aversio Humanitatis’ already extreme and dissonant style towards a still more complex, confrontational, and often faster version of itself, which dominates across the album. Rhythms shift more frequently, and the distortion wrought by the layering of agonised roars and churning riffs is more clamorous; even the slower aspects are more haunting. Endless Static sees a leaning into a chaotic splendour akin to a sped-up Patristic, a more acerbic Schammasch, rendered in a deceptively melodic, deeply atmospheric way that at turns also recalls Aeviterne and Selbst. But Aversio Humanitatis prefer to create their mournfulness and urgency by disguising it as dissonance in a way distinct from any of the above. Endless Static is a masterful distillation of this practice: a soundscape whose violently aversive face admits more honesty and beauty the more you allow it.

Endless Static doesn’t just embody its concept generally; it lives it viscerally. The lurching of discordant scales (title track, “Blackened Mold Marrow”), and repeated strip-back and surge in of percussion (“Long Stretch…,” “Collapsing into the Resonance”) is upsetting yet mesmerising. And its transformation into a stumbling sway (“Strange Angles,” “The White Noise is Calling”) elevates unease with doubt. Shuddering, multitracked screams, cymbals panting like laboured breaths, and disorienting rhythm and riff patterns (“Strange Angles,” “Blackened Mold Marrow”) express the nightmare of incurable confusion. The soft creep of a melancholic tremolo behind the recurrent tumbles of percussion, and the bleeding of their melody into the pervasive atmosphere (title track, “Collapsing…”) communicate the grief of loss and the fear of the future. These patterns develop with the runtime too: the tightness with which harmony is sealed into overtly cold guitar lines slowly loosens and vocals slip more frequently into a desperate, anguished wail, culminating in the stirring lead melodies and devastating resistance of closing duo “The White Noise…” and “Collapsing…” All the while, the terror-amplifying resonance of the vocals and sinister edge to the riffs never ceases to feel frightening. But Aversio Humanitatis’ ability to shape these dissonant waves of assault into something beautiful without compromising on this affecting frightfulness makes Endless Static greatly more compelling than it otherwise might have been.

That Aversio Humanitatis can communicate all this so compellingly in a mere 35 minutes makes it that much more impactful. The speed at which “Long Stretch…”‘s confrontational unease becomes the ardour-filled protest “Collapsing…” is upsetting—another metaphor perhaps. This brings me to my only real complaint about Endless Static, which is how short it is; though I suppose it’s better to have brilliance and be left hungry than have a flawed abundance. I must, more importantly, draw attention to the drumming—courtesy of J.H—that rivals last year’s Patristic in its tenacity, dynamism, and unhinged precision whilst being so ridiculously fast and expressive (“Blackened Mold Marrow” has my jaw on the floor). Its speed and violence play no small part in Endless Static’s horror. I am also sometimes drawn to wonder if vocalist A.M is actually undergoing some phantasmagorical transformation, so wild and terrifying are his howls.

Dissonant black metal bands and degenerative diseases operate in the shadows, but Aversio Humanitatis now, if never before, deserves all the light we can cast on them. But more likely that this hypnotically horrifying work will yank you violently into its darkness. Harrowingly inexorable even in its brevity, one can’t escape the draw To Become the Endless Static.

Rating: Excellent
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: Official | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

The thing I am most afraid of is losing my mind. The progressive destruction dementia wreaks upon a brain is upsetting enough to endure from the outside, but the horror of that brain potentially being mine is a thought that keeps me up at night. While not explicitly about dementia, To Become the Endless Static follows the disintegration of a person’s mind as “[a]ll pathways, dreams and connections to what once formed their identity spiral down, merging into the great nothing, the endless static.” It’s a frightening, abstract concept that naturally suits Aversio Humanitatis’ brand of freeform dissonant black metal, which here takes a turn for the still more intense and unsettling. The group have garnered a reputation for long rumination between releases, and though not everyone might agree, 2020’s Behold the Silent Dwellers demonstrated the fruitfulness of this approach with its nine-year-awaited greatness. Six years on, with the sophomore but a shadow in the nebulous past, the apparition of Endless Static portended greatness once more, in addition to a genuinely scary theme. I was only too happy to indulge my masochism.

Much like the march of time and an incurable disease, Endless Static does not wait until you’re ready before attacking. “Long Stretch the Shadows” threatens whiplash as it erupts off the start line with relentless percussion and tremolos bending at uncomfortable angles. It epitomises the shift in Aversio Humanitatis’ already extreme and dissonant style towards a still more complex, confrontational, and often faster version of itself, which dominates across the album. Rhythms shift more frequently, and the distortion wrought by the layering of agonised roars and churning riffs is more clamorous; even the slower aspects are more haunting. Endless Static sees a leaning into a chaotic splendour akin to a sped-up Patristic, a more acerbic Schammasch, rendered in a deceptively melodic, deeply atmospheric way that at turns also recalls Aeviterne and Selbst. But Aversio Humanitatis prefer to create their mournfulness and urgency by disguising it as dissonance in a way distinct from any of the above. Endless Static is a masterful distillation of this practice: a soundscape whose violently aversive face admits more honesty and beauty the more you allow it.

Endless Static doesn’t just embody its concept generally; it lives it viscerally. The lurching of discordant scales (title track, “Blackened Mold Marrow”), and repeated strip-back and surge in of percussion (“Long Stretch…,” “Collapsing into the Resonance”) is upsetting yet mesmerising. And its transformation into a stumbling sway (“Strange Angles,” “The White Noise is Calling”) elevates unease with doubt. Shuddering, multitracked screams, cymbals panting like laboured breaths, and disorienting rhythm and riff patterns (“Strange Angles,” “Blackened Mold Marrow”) express the nightmare of incurable confusion. The soft creep of a melancholic tremolo behind the recurrent tumbles of percussion, and the bleeding of their melody into the pervasive atmosphere (title track, “Collapsing…”) communicate the grief of loss and the fear of the future. These patterns develop with the runtime too: the tightness with which harmony is sealed into overtly cold guitar lines slowly loosens and vocals slip more frequently into a desperate, anguished wail, culminating in the stirring lead melodies and devastating resistance of closing duo “The White Noise…” and “Collapsing…” All the while, the terror-amplifying resonance of the vocals and sinister edge to the riffs never ceases to feel frightening. But Aversio Humanitatis’ ability to shape these dissonant waves of assault into something beautiful without compromising on this affecting frightfulness makes Endless Static greatly more compelling than it otherwise might have been.

That Aversio Humanitatis can communicate all this so compellingly in a mere 35 minutes makes it that much more impactful. The speed at which “Long Stretch…”‘s confrontational unease becomes the ardour-filled protest “Collapsing…” is upsetting—another metaphor perhaps. This brings me to my only real complaint about Endless Static, which is how short it is; though I suppose it’s better to have brilliance and be left hungry than have a flawed abundance. I must, more importantly, draw attention to the drumming—courtesy of J.H—that rivals last year’s Patristic in its tenacity, dynamism, and unhinged precision whilst being so ridiculously fast and expressive (“Blackened Mold Marrow” has my jaw on the floor). Its speed and violence play no small part in Endless Static’s horror. I am also sometimes drawn to wonder if vocalist A.M is actually undergoing some phantasmagorical transformation, so wild and terrifying are his howls.

Dissonant black metal bands and degenerative diseases operate in the shadows, but Aversio Humanitatis now, if never before, deserves all the light we can cast on them. But more likely that this hypnotically horrifying work will yank you violently into its darkness. Harrowingly inexorable even in its brevity, one can’t escape the draw To Become the Endless Static.

Rating: Excellent
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: Official | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

The thing I am most afraid of is losing my mind. The progressive destruction dementia wreaks upon a brain is upsetting enough to endure from the outside, but the horror of that brain potentially being mine is a thought that keeps me up at night. While not explicitly about dementia, To Become the Endless Static follows the disintegration of a person’s mind as “[a]ll pathways, dreams and connections to what once formed their identity spiral down, merging into the great nothing, the endless static.” It’s a frightening, abstract concept that naturally suits Aversio Humanitatis’ brand of freeform dissonant black metal, which here takes a turn for the still more intense and unsettling. The group have garnered a reputation for long rumination between releases, and though not everyone might agree, 2020’s Behold the Silent Dwellers demonstrated the fruitfulness of this approach with its nine-year-awaited greatness. Six years on, with the sophomore but a shadow in the nebulous past, the apparition of Endless Static portended greatness once more, in addition to a genuinely scary theme. I was only too happy to indulge my masochism.

Much like the march of time and an incurable disease, Endless Static does not wait until you’re ready before attacking. “Long Stretch the Shadows” threatens whiplash as it erupts off the start line with relentless percussion and tremolos bending at uncomfortable angles. It epitomises the shift in Aversio Humanitatis’ already extreme and dissonant style towards a still more complex, confrontational, and often faster version of itself, which dominates across the album. Rhythms shift more frequently, and the distortion wrought by the layering of agonised roars and churning riffs is more clamorous; even the slower aspects are more haunting. Endless Static sees a leaning into a chaotic splendour akin to a sped-up Patristic, a more acerbic Schammasch, rendered in a deceptively melodic, deeply atmospheric way that at turns also recalls Aeviterne and Selbst. But Aversio Humanitatis prefer to create their mournfulness and urgency by disguising it as dissonance in a way distinct from any of the above. Endless Static is a masterful distillation of this practice: a soundscape whose violently aversive face admits more honesty and beauty the more you allow it.

Endless Static doesn’t just embody its concept generally; it lives it viscerally. The lurching of discordant scales (title track, “Blackened Mold Marrow”), and repeated strip-back and surge in of percussion (“Long Stretch…,” “Collapsing into the Resonance”) is upsetting yet mesmerising. And its transformation into a stumbling sway (“Strange Angles,” “The White Noise is Calling”) elevates unease with doubt. Shuddering, multitracked screams, cymbals panting like laboured breaths, and disorienting rhythm and riff patterns (“Strange Angles,” “Blackened Mold Marrow”) express the nightmare of incurable confusion. The soft creep of a melancholic tremolo behind the recurrent tumbles of percussion, and the bleeding of their melody into the pervasive atmosphere (title track, “Collapsing…”) communicate the grief of loss and the fear of the future. These patterns develop with the runtime too: the tightness with which harmony is sealed into overtly cold guitar lines slowly loosens and vocals slip more frequently into a desperate, anguished wail, culminating in the stirring lead melodies and devastating resistance of closing duo “The White Noise…” and “Collapsing…” All the while, the terror-amplifying resonance of the vocals and sinister edge to the riffs never ceases to feel frightening. But Aversio Humanitatis’ ability to shape these dissonant waves of assault into something beautiful without compromising on this affecting frightfulness makes Endless Static greatly more compelling than it otherwise might have been.

That Aversio Humanitatis can communicate all this so compellingly in a mere 35 minutes makes it that much more impactful. The speed at which “Long Stretch…”‘s confrontational unease becomes the ardour-filled protest “Collapsing…” is upsetting—another metaphor perhaps. This brings me to my only real complaint about Endless Static, which is how short it is; though I suppose it’s better to have brilliance and be left hungry than have a flawed abundance. I must, more importantly, draw attention to the drumming—courtesy of J.H—that rivals last year’s Patristic in its tenacity, dynamism, and unhinged precision whilst being so ridiculously fast and expressive (“Blackened Mold Marrow” has my jaw on the floor). Its speed and violence play no small part in Endless Static’s horror. I am also sometimes drawn to wonder if vocalist A.M is actually undergoing some phantasmagorical transformation, so wild and terrifying are his howls.

Dissonant black metal bands and degenerative diseases operate in the shadows, but Aversio Humanitatis now, if never before, deserves all the light we can cast on them. But more likely that this hypnotically horrifying work will yank you violently into its darkness. Harrowingly inexorable even in its brevity, one can’t escape the draw To Become the Endless Static.

Rating: Excellent
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: Official | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

The thing I am most afraid of is losing my mind. The progressive destruction dementia wreaks upon a brain is upsetting enough to endure from the outside, but the horror of that brain potentially being mine is a thought that keeps me up at night. While not explicitly about dementia, To Become the Endless Static follows the disintegration of a person’s mind as “[a]ll pathways, dreams and connections to what once formed their identity spiral down, merging into the great nothing, the endless static.” It’s a frightening, abstract concept that naturally suits Aversio Humanitatis’ brand of freeform dissonant black metal, which here takes a turn for the still more intense and unsettling. The group have garnered a reputation for long rumination between releases, and though not everyone might agree, 2020’s Behold the Silent Dwellers demonstrated the fruitfulness of this approach with its nine-year-awaited greatness. Six years on, with the sophomore but a shadow in the nebulous past, the apparition of Endless Static portended greatness once more, in addition to a genuinely scary theme. I was only too happy to indulge my masochism.

Much like the march of time and an incurable disease, Endless Static does not wait until you’re ready before attacking. “Long Stretch the Shadows” threatens whiplash as it erupts off the start line with relentless percussion and tremolos bending at uncomfortable angles. It epitomises the shift in Aversio Humanitatis’ already extreme and dissonant style towards a still more complex, confrontational, and often faster version of itself, which dominates across the album. Rhythms shift more frequently, and the distortion wrought by the layering of agonised roars and churning riffs is more clamorous; even the slower aspects are more haunting. Endless Static sees a leaning into a chaotic splendour akin to a sped-up Patristic, a more acerbic Schammasch, rendered in a deceptively melodic, deeply atmospheric way that at turns also recalls Aeviterne and Selbst. But Aversio Humanitatis prefer to create their mournfulness and urgency by disguising it as dissonance in a way distinct from any of the above. Endless Static is a masterful distillation of this practice: a soundscape whose violently aversive face admits more honesty and beauty the more you allow it.

Endless Static doesn’t just embody its concept generally; it lives it viscerally. The lurching of discordant scales (title track, “Blackened Mold Marrow”), and repeated strip-back and surge in of percussion (“Long Stretch…,” “Collapsing into the Resonance”) is upsetting yet mesmerising. And its transformation into a stumbling sway (“Strange Angles,” “The White Noise is Calling”) elevates unease with doubt. Shuddering, multitracked screams, cymbals panting like laboured breaths, and disorienting rhythm and riff patterns (“Strange Angles,” “Blackened Mold Marrow”) express the nightmare of incurable confusion. The soft creep of a melancholic tremolo behind the recurrent tumbles of percussion, and the bleeding of their melody into the pervasive atmosphere (title track, “Collapsing…”) communicate the grief of loss and the fear of the future. These patterns develop with the runtime too: the tightness with which harmony is sealed into overtly cold guitar lines slowly loosens and vocals slip more frequently into a desperate, anguished wail, culminating in the stirring lead melodies and devastating resistance of closing duo “The White Noise…” and “Collapsing…” All the while, the terror-amplifying resonance of the vocals and sinister edge to the riffs never ceases to feel frightening. But Aversio Humanitatis’ ability to shape these dissonant waves of assault into something beautiful without compromising on this affecting frightfulness makes Endless Static greatly more compelling than it otherwise might have been.

That Aversio Humanitatis can communicate all this so compellingly in a mere 35 minutes makes it that much more impactful. The speed at which “Long Stretch…”‘s confrontational unease becomes the ardour-filled protest “Collapsing…” is upsetting—another metaphor perhaps. This brings me to my only real complaint about Endless Static, which is how short it is; though I suppose it’s better to have brilliance and be left hungry than have a flawed abundance. I must, more importantly, draw attention to the drumming—courtesy of J.H—that rivals last year’s Patristic in its tenacity, dynamism, and unhinged precision whilst being so ridiculously fast and expressive (“Blackened Mold Marrow” has my jaw on the floor). Its speed and violence play no small part in Endless Static’s horror. I am also sometimes drawn to wonder if vocalist A.M is actually undergoing some phantasmagorical transformation, so wild and terrifying are his howls.

Dissonant black metal bands and degenerative diseases operate in the shadows, but Aversio Humanitatis now, if never before, deserves all the light we can cast on them. But more likely that this hypnotically horrifying work will yank you violently into its darkness. Harrowingly inexorable even in its brevity, one can’t escape the draw To Become the Endless Static.

Rating: Excellent
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: Official | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

ANGR - Descent in Ginnungagap [2026, Dissonant Black Metal]

https://youtu.be/WT1Dc-vkTvA

On song.link: https://song.link/de/i/1885708010

… from the album *The Darkness of Primordial Nonexistence* by Angr: https://rateyourmusic.com/release/album/angr/the-darkness-of-primordial-nonexistence/

#DissonantBlackMetal

There’s an Agitating Tension for Something so Constant, as Little Stillness in Gorrch’s Stillamentum Is Mostly Momentum.

https://cardigansandcorpsepaint.blog/2026/02/06/theres-an-agitating-tension-for-something-so-constant-as-little-stillness-in-gorrchs-stillamentum-is-mostly-momentum/

#BlackMetal #DissonantBlackMetal #AvantgadeMetal

A Disorienting Listen for Something So Familiar, as Eldjudnir's Self Titled Remaster Abrades the Cleanliness in Favor of the Grime. If you're not a fan of clean vocals and might have written this album off because of it, it's worth a new listen.

https://cardigansandcorpsepaint.blog/2026/01/31/a-disorienting-listen-for-something-so-familiar-as-eldjudnirs-self-titled-remaster-abrades-the-cleanliness-in-favor-of-the-grime/

#BlackMetal #AvantGardeBlackMetal #DissonantBlackMetal

Miasme – Keep Them at a Distance
#AtmosphericBlackMetal #Blackgaze #DoomDeathMetal #Metal #atmosphericblackmetal #blackmetal #dissonantblackmetal #doommetal #postblackmetal #postmetal #progressiveblackmetal #Bolesławiec
CC BY (#CreativeCommons Attribution) #ccmusic
https://miasme.bandcamp.com/album/keep-them-at-a-distance

Miasme – Keep Them at a Distance
#AtmosphericBlackMetal #Blackgaze #DoomDeathMetal #Metal #atmosphericblackmetal #blackmetal #dissonantblackmetal #doommetal #postblackmetal #postmetal #progressiveblackmetal #Bolesławiec
CC BY (#CreativeCommons Attribution) #ccmusic
https://miasme.bandcamp.com/album/keep-them-at-a-distance

Miasme – Keep Them at a Distance
#AtmosphericBlackMetal #Blackgaze #DoomDeathMetal #Metal #atmosphericblackmetal #blackmetal #dissonantblackmetal #doommetal #postblackmetal #postmetal #progressiveblackmetal #Bolesławiec
CC BY (#CreativeCommons Attribution) #ccmusic
https://miasme.bandcamp.com/album/keep-them-at-a-distance

Miasme – Keep Them at a Distance
#AtmosphericBlackMetal #Blackgaze #DoomDeathMetal #Metal #atmosphericblackmetal #blackmetal #dissonantblackmetal #doommetal #postblackmetal #postmetal #progressiveblackmetal #Bolesławiec
CC BY (#CreativeCommons Attribution) #ccmusic
https://miasme.bandcamp.com/album/keep-them-at-a-distance

Missed Album Review: Strigiform – Aconite

Published by Andy on January 6, 2026January 6, 2026 Artwork by: Joonas Räsänen (EvM) Style: Avant-garde black metal,…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2025 #8 #avant-gardeblackmetal #dissonantblackmetal #Englishlyrics #Entertainment #harshvocals #IVoidhangerRecords #Italy #MissedAlbums #november #technicalblackmetal #UK #UnitedKingdom
https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/356624/

https://www.europesays.com/uk/679402/ Missed Album Review: Strigiform – Aconite #2025 #8 #AvantGardeBlackMetal #DissonantBlackMetal #EnglishLyrics #Entertainment #HarshVocals #IVoidhangerRecords #Italy #MissedAlbums #music #november #TechnicalBlackMetal #UK #UnitedKingdom

Free download codes:

BÁL - Dög (Full-length)

"The cover talks for itself. You'll hear what you see."

https://getmusic.fm/l/o9ELbS

#blackmetal #rawblackmetal #atmosphericblackmetal #dissonantblackmetal #music

Free download codes:

BÁL - Dög (Full-length)

"The cover talks for itself. You'll hear what you see."

https://getmusic.fm/l/o9ELbS

#blackmetal #rawblackmetal #atmosphericblackmetal #dissonantblackmetal #music

Free download codes:

BÁL - Dög (Full-length)

"The cover talks for itself. You'll hear what you see."

https://getmusic.fm/l/o9ELbS

#blackmetal #rawblackmetal #atmosphericblackmetal #dissonantblackmetal #music

Free download codes:

BÁL - Dög (Full-length)

"The cover talks for itself. You'll hear what you see."

https://getmusic.fm/l/WvEweF

#blackmetal #rawblackmetal #atmosphericblackmetal #dissonantblackmetal #music

Free download codes:

BÁL - Dög (Full-length)

"The cover talks for itself. You'll hear what you see."

https://getmusic.fm/l/WvEweF

#blackmetal #rawblackmetal #atmosphericblackmetal #dissonantblackmetal #music

Free download codes:

BÁL - Dög (Full-length)

"The cover talks for itself. You'll hear what you see."

https://getmusic.fm/l/WvEweF

#blackmetal #rawblackmetal #atmosphericblackmetal #dissonantblackmetal #music

Review: Kamra – Unending Confluence

Published by Justin on September 28, 2025September 28, 2025 Artwork by Jeff Christensen Style: Atmospheric Black Metal, Dissonant…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2025 #7: #AtmosphericBlackMetal #AU #Australia #Avant-GardeMusic #dissonantblackmetal #Entertainment #mixedvocals #SEPTEMBER #Slovenia
https://www.newsbeep.com/au/191390/

Review: Hasard – Abgnose – The Progressive Subway

Published by Andy on September 30, 2025September 30, 2025 Artwork by: Roy de Rat Style: dissonant black metal,…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2025 #6 #dissonantblackmetal #Englishlyrics #Entertainment #France #harshvocals #IVoidhangerRecords #september #symphonicblackmetal #UK #UnitedKingdom
https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/171597/

https://www.europesays.com/uk/463954/ Review: Hasard – Abgnose – The Progressive Subway #2025 #6 #DissonantBlackMetal #EnglishLyrics #Entertainment #France #HarshVocals #IVoidhangerRecords #music #September #SymphonicBlackMetal #UK #UnitedKingdom

Free download codes:

BÁL - Dög (Full-length)

"The cover talks for itself. You'll hear what you see."

https://getmusic.fm/l/7eHtR8

#blackmetal #rawblackmetal #atmosphericblackmetal #dissonantblackmetal #music

Free download codes:

BÁL - Dög (Full-length)

"The cover talks for itself. You'll hear what you see."

https://getmusic.fm/l/7eHtR8

#blackmetal #rawblackmetal #atmosphericblackmetal #dissonantblackmetal #music

Free download codes:

BÁL - Dög (Full-length)

"The cover talks for itself. You'll hear what you see."

https://getmusic.fm/l/7eHtR8

#blackmetal #rawblackmetal #atmosphericblackmetal #dissonantblackmetal #music

Free download codes:

BÁL - Dög (Full-length)

"The cover talks for itself. You'll hear what you see."

https://getmusic.fm/l/R7m8xn

#blackmetal #rawblackmetal #atmosphericblackmetal #dissonantblackmetal #music

Free download codes:

BÁL - Dög (Full-length)

"The cover talks for itself. You'll hear what you see."

https://getmusic.fm/l/R7m8xn

#blackmetal #rawblackmetal #atmosphericblackmetal #dissonantblackmetal #music

Free download codes:

BÁL - Dög (Full-length)

"The cover talks for itself. You'll hear what you see."

https://getmusic.fm/l/R7m8xn

#blackmetal #rawblackmetal #atmosphericblackmetal #dissonantblackmetal #music

Felgrave – Otherlike Darknesses Review

By Thus Spoke

When a promo doesn’t adequately prepare you for what an album will sound like, one of two things is usually the case. Either the promo is poorly written, or the music is particularly description-defying. The promo for Felgrave’s sophomore, Otherlike Darknesses, while well-written, was insufficient to convey the music’s especially idiosyncratic nature. Despite the forewarnings that it “[melds] doom, black, and death metal in a way rarely done before,”1 and contains “intense and complex parts that wouldn’t be out of place on a technical death metal album,” Otherlike Darknesses is far stranger and deeper than expected.

In a fashion mimicking the genre of Felgrave’s early work—doom—Otherlike Darknesses consists of just three songs, each titanic in scope. But rather than steadily constructing towers of hefty riffs and crescendoing melodies, these songs erratically climb up and down the steep walls of already ruined castles, throwing the listener off the edge of a parapet to crash to earth or float down with chilling grace. Without abandoning compositional coherence, themes are not so much reprises as tethers that bind chaos into monstrous complex wholes. The twisted dissonance of guitars—accelerating and contorting discomfortingly, chirruping like alarms (“Winds Batter My Keep”), and walking in jerky rhythms—over a backdrop of variously whooshing and moaning synths (“Pale Flowers Under an Empty Sky”) is both confrontational and horribly transfixing. It’s a sound so vibrantly reminiscent of Thantifaxath, that I felt the need to confirm multiple times that no affiliation exists between them and Felgrave. But this similarity is only one side of Otherlike Darknesses. In a way that seems to amplify distress, Felgrave incorporate ample use of cleans and disquieting calm. While the latter heightens tension insidiously, the former do so overtly, as belted-out, half-sung wails, often multi-tracked until they are noisier than the instrumentation, or eerily intoned as a softly repeated refrain (“Pale Flowers…”). And yet, amidst the horror, there is also strange elegance and heart.

Otherlike Darknesses is an intense listening experience. The moaning, discordant cries and throaty screams that narrate it respectively ring with haunting strangeness, and drip with malevolence. The endlessly shifting, slowing down, speeding up, lurching cacophony of tremolos and plucks and impossibly fast and flexible drums contains barely a few minutes of (relative) calm in all its near-50, and even these are menacing thanks to the cruel shifts between harmony and dissonance (“Pale Flowers…,” “Otherlike Darknesses”), and the spiderlike wanderings of fretless bass prominent against stripped-back ambience (“Winds Batter…”). It is nauseating and jaw-droppingly brilliant. Felgrave aren’t throwing things haphazardly at the wall to show off or shock; the pieces that appear scattered fit together into grand, compelling compositions, no matter how unconventional. It’s impressive and terrifying, given the wild places they go, just how easily and how organically Felgrave maintain such coherence. How a diabolical chaos can hide the subtle theme that hums in a later synth and manifests again as gut-clenching a series of chords (“Winds Batter…” “Otherlike Darknesses”); how a stillness can turn so quickly into a storm and singing fall into place so naturally beside them both (“Pale Flowers…). When at last, a mournful melody blossoms (“Otherlike Darknesses”) its brevity and natural fulfilment of its origins make it precious and magnificent. The acrobatic, terrifying things M.L Jupe is doing with guitars, and the profound distinction and interplay between the synths, creeping bass, and manic treble is frightening and wonderful, and never feel self-indulgent. The drumming—courtesy of Robin Stone (Evilyn, Norse)— is as insanely good as it is insane; often inhumanly fast, presciently dynamic, and in constant evolution.

In spite of my awe, it would be remiss not to admit that Otherlike Darknesses is still a bit much.2 Due to its structure, one must endure its itinerant movements without even the brief respite that comes from such music being split into more, shorter songs, and this can prove a little exhausting, considering their calibre. Felgrave’s clever weaving of disparate elements create just enough order to maintain integrity, and slips into snatches of quiet and melody just in time, and so manages to keep the derangement from becoming overwhelming. The congruence that this album possesses is, admittedly, of the sort grasped better through patience and repeated listens, but unlike many such unusual extreme metal works, its assets are so immediately transparent they make for powerful motivators to take up this mantle.

Otherlike Darknesses proved to be the best kind of surprise. Though following its trajectory can be daunting, Felgrave has created an experience that is consuming and thrilling enough to make that journey far easier than one might expect. Twisted and scary, but human and graceful, and nonchalantly epic, it’s not something I’ll soon forget.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 25th, 2025

#2025 #35 #BlackMetal #DeathMetal #DissonantBlackMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #Evilyn #ExperimentalMetal #Felgrave #Mar25 #Norse #NorwegianMetal #OtherlikeDarknesses #Review #Reviews #Thantifaxath #TranscendingObscurityRecords

Felgrave – Otherlike Darknesses Review

By Thus Spoke

When a promo doesn’t adequately prepare you for what an album will sound like, one of two things is usually the case. Either the promo is poorly written, or the music is particularly description-defying. The promo for Felgrave’s sophomore, Otherlike Darknesses, while well-written, was insufficient to convey the music’s especially idiosyncratic nature. Despite the forewarnings that it “[melds] doom, black, and death metal in a way rarely done before,”1 and contains “intense and complex parts that wouldn’t be out of place on a technical death metal album,” Otherlike Darknesses is far stranger and deeper than expected.

In a fashion mimicking the genre of Felgrave’s early work—doom—Otherlike Darknesses consists of just three songs, each titanic in scope. But rather than steadily constructing towers of hefty riffs and crescendoing melodies, these songs erratically climb up and down the steep walls of already ruined castles, throwing the listener off the edge of a parapet to crash to earth or float down with chilling grace. Without abandoning compositional coherence, themes are not so much reprises as tethers that bind chaos into monstrous complex wholes. The twisted dissonance of guitars—accelerating and contorting discomfortingly, chirruping like alarms (“Winds Batter My Keep”), and walking in jerky rhythms—over a backdrop of variously whooshing and moaning synths (“Pale Flowers Under an Empty Sky”) is both confrontational and horribly transfixing. It’s a sound so vibrantly reminiscent of Thantifaxath, that I felt the need to confirm multiple times that no affiliation exists between them and Felgrave. But this similarity is only one side of Otherlike Darknesses. In a way that seems to amplify distress, Felgrave incorporate ample use of cleans and disquieting calm. While the latter heightens tension insidiously, the former do so overtly, as belted-out, half-sung wails, often multi-tracked until they are noisier than the instrumentation, or eerily intoned as a softly repeated refrain (“Pale Flowers…”). And yet, amidst the horror, there is also strange elegance and heart.

Otherlike Darknesses is an intense listening experience. The moaning, discordant cries and throaty screams that narrate it respectively ring with haunting strangeness, and drip with malevolence. The endlessly shifting, slowing down, speeding up, lurching cacophony of tremolos and plucks and impossibly fast and flexible drums contains barely a few minutes of (relative) calm in all its near-50, and even these are menacing thanks to the cruel shifts between harmony and dissonance (“Pale Flowers…,” “Otherlike Darknesses”), and the spiderlike wanderings of fretless bass prominent against stripped-back ambience (“Winds Batter…”). It is nauseating and jaw-droppingly brilliant. Felgrave aren’t throwing things haphazardly at the wall to show off or shock; the pieces that appear scattered fit together into grand, compelling compositions, no matter how unconventional. It’s impressive and terrifying, given the wild places they go, just how easily and how organically Felgrave maintain such coherence. How a diabolical chaos can hide the subtle theme that hums in a later synth and manifests again as gut-clenching a series of chords (“Winds Batter…” “Otherlike Darknesses”); how a stillness can turn so quickly into a storm and singing fall into place so naturally beside them both (“Pale Flowers…). When at last, a mournful melody blossoms (“Otherlike Darknesses”) its brevity and natural fulfilment of its origins make it precious and magnificent. The acrobatic, terrifying things M.L Jupe is doing with guitars, and the profound distinction and interplay between the synths, creeping bass, and manic treble is frightening and wonderful, and never feel self-indulgent. The drumming—courtesy of Robin Stone (Evilyn, Norse)— is as insanely good as it is insane; often inhumanly fast, presciently dynamic, and in constant evolution.

In spite of my awe, it would be remiss not to admit that Otherlike Darknesses is still a bit much.2 Due to its structure, one must endure its itinerant movements without even the brief respite that comes from such music being split into more, shorter songs, and this can prove a little exhausting, considering their calibre. Felgrave’s clever weaving of disparate elements create just enough order to maintain integrity, and slips into snatches of quiet and melody just in time, and so manages to keep the derangement from becoming overwhelming. The congruence that this album possesses is, admittedly, of the sort grasped better through patience and repeated listens, but unlike many such unusual extreme metal works, its assets are so immediately transparent they make for powerful motivators to take up this mantle.

Otherlike Darknesses proved to be the best kind of surprise. Though following its trajectory can be daunting, Felgrave has created an experience that is consuming and thrilling enough to make that journey far easier than one might expect. Twisted and scary, but human and graceful, and nonchalantly epic, it’s not something I’ll soon forget.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 25th, 2025

#2025 #35 #BlackMetal #DeathMetal #DissonantBlackMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #Evilyn #ExperimentalMetal #Felgrave #Mar25 #Norse #NorwegianMetal #OtherlikeDarknesses #Review #Reviews #Thantifaxath #TranscendingObscurityRecords

Felgrave – Otherlike Darknesses Review

By Thus Spoke

When a promo doesn’t adequately prepare you for what an album will sound like, one of two things is usually the case. Either the promo is poorly written, or the music is particularly description-defying. The promo for Felgrave’s sophomore, Otherlike Darknesses, while well-written, was insufficient to convey the music’s especially idiosyncratic nature. Despite the forewarnings that it “[melds] doom, black, and death metal in a way rarely done before,”1 and contains “intense and complex parts that wouldn’t be out of place on a technical death metal album,” Otherlike Darknesses is far stranger and deeper than expected.

In a fashion mimicking the genre of Felgrave’s early work—doom—Otherlike Darknesses consists of just three songs, each titanic in scope. But rather than steadily constructing towers of hefty riffs and crescendoing melodies, these songs erratically climb up and down the steep walls of already ruined castles, throwing the listener off the edge of a parapet to crash to earth or float down with chilling grace. Without abandoning compositional coherence, themes are not so much reprises as tethers that bind chaos into monstrous complex wholes. The twisted dissonance of guitars—accelerating and contorting discomfortingly, chirruping like alarms (“Winds Batter My Keep”), and walking in jerky rhythms—over a backdrop of variously whooshing and moaning synths (“Pale Flowers Under an Empty Sky”) is both confrontational and horribly transfixing. It’s a sound so vibrantly reminiscent of Thantifaxath, that I felt the need to confirm multiple times that no affiliation exists between them and Felgrave. But this similarity is only one side of Otherlike Darknesses. In a way that seems to amplify distress, Felgrave incorporate ample use of cleans and disquieting calm. While the latter heightens tension insidiously, the former do so overtly, as belted-out, half-sung wails, often multi-tracked until they are noisier than the instrumentation, or eerily intoned as a softly repeated refrain (“Pale Flowers…”). And yet, amidst the horror, there is also strange elegance and heart.

Otherlike Darknesses is an intense listening experience. The moaning, discordant cries and throaty screams that narrate it respectively ring with haunting strangeness, and drip with malevolence. The endlessly shifting, slowing down, speeding up, lurching cacophony of tremolos and plucks and impossibly fast and flexible drums contains barely a few minutes of (relative) calm in all its near-50, and even these are menacing thanks to the cruel shifts between harmony and dissonance (“Pale Flowers…,” “Otherlike Darknesses”), and the spiderlike wanderings of fretless bass prominent against stripped-back ambience (“Winds Batter…”). It is nauseating and jaw-droppingly brilliant. Felgrave aren’t throwing things haphazardly at the wall to show off or shock; the pieces that appear scattered fit together into grand, compelling compositions, no matter how unconventional. It’s impressive and terrifying, given the wild places they go, just how easily and how organically Felgrave maintain such coherence. How a diabolical chaos can hide the subtle theme that hums in a later synth and manifests again as gut-clenching a series of chords (“Winds Batter…” “Otherlike Darknesses”); how a stillness can turn so quickly into a storm and singing fall into place so naturally beside them both (“Pale Flowers…). When at last, a mournful melody blossoms (“Otherlike Darknesses”) its brevity and natural fulfilment of its origins make it precious and magnificent. The acrobatic, terrifying things M.L Jupe is doing with guitars, and the profound distinction and interplay between the synths, creeping bass, and manic treble is frightening and wonderful, and never feel self-indulgent. The drumming—courtesy of Robin Stone (Evilyn, Norse)— is as insanely good as it is insane; often inhumanly fast, presciently dynamic, and in constant evolution.

In spite of my awe, it would be remiss not to admit that Otherlike Darknesses is still a bit much.2 Due to its structure, one must endure its itinerant movements without even the brief respite that comes from such music being split into more, shorter songs, and this can prove a little exhausting, considering their calibre. Felgrave’s clever weaving of disparate elements create just enough order to maintain integrity, and slips into snatches of quiet and melody just in time, and so manages to keep the derangement from becoming overwhelming. The congruence that this album possesses is, admittedly, of the sort grasped better through patience and repeated listens, but unlike many such unusual extreme metal works, its assets are so immediately transparent they make for powerful motivators to take up this mantle.

Otherlike Darknesses proved to be the best kind of surprise. Though following its trajectory can be daunting, Felgrave has created an experience that is consuming and thrilling enough to make that journey far easier than one might expect. Twisted and scary, but human and graceful, and nonchalantly epic, it’s not something I’ll soon forget.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 25th, 2025

#2025 #35 #BlackMetal #DeathMetal #DissonantBlackMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #Evilyn #ExperimentalMetal #Felgrave #Mar25 #Norse #NorwegianMetal #OtherlikeDarknesses #Review #Reviews #Thantifaxath #TranscendingObscurityRecords

Ruinous Power – EXTREME DANGER: Prototype Weaponry Review

By Kenstrosity

As I get older, I grow ever more tired of labels. Yes, it’s helpful to have a baseline frame of reference for what something is, but lately, I find myself abandoning these kinds of single-use terms in favor of something more substantial and descriptive. So, when Canada’s Ruinous Power entered my review rotation, I allowed myself more room than ever before to interpret what they craft outside of the multitudinous boxes in which they could fit. A newer outfit comprised by members of Egregore and Mitochondrion (among many other bands) in 2021, Ruinous Power incubated their debut record EXTREME DANGER: Prototype Weaponry until its inevitable escape from the confines of twisted minds into meatspace, where it corrupts all who would encounter it.

Based on the lore and aesthetics of the Warhammer 40k franchise, Prototype Weaponry takes what on the surface sounds like blackened death metal, endows it with a raucous thrall of thrash, and imbues within it an eerie, synth-woven atmosphere. Comparisons to both Mitochondrion and Egregore are apt, placing Ruinous Power comfortably inside that family tree of skronked-up up blackened death pedigree. However, that extra dose of mutated thrash allows a twist of The Outer Limits Voivod to pulse beneath the skin, while Ulthar‘s unearthly, necrotic limb hovers just over Ruinous Power’s writhing flesh. Juggling long-form excursions into the murky abyss with violent expulsions of a much more expeditious nature, Ruinous Power embodies Prototype Weaponry with a restless, anxious energy and equips it with lethal armaments liable to destroy us all.

Prototype Weaponry wields those armaments with aplomb despite its unpredictable nature, expertly balancing impenetrable discordance with highly accessible rhythms and infectious repetition. Ten-minute opening epic “But What of Sacred Mars?” takes tumbling, scraping riffs in stride, sticking the landing with a proggy companion motif that ripples with lean power. Pumping that momentum for five minutes, this track takes its rest and allows a bass-led, Mare Cognitum-esque second act to immerse the listener with lush instrumental developments. In doing this, Ruinous Power prepare the listener for what’s to come, and what’s to come is unchecked destruction. “The Long Game,” “Kneel,” and album highlight “+++ Engine Kill +++” represent Prototype Weaponry’s most vicious salvos. All three toss the listener clear across a dystopian battlefield with tearing leads evoking a sooty and scrawled Portal-ish visage (“The Long Game”), relentless riffs that refuse to adhere to either death metal or thrash metal conventions while still inheriting many of their physical traits (“Kneel,” “+++ Engine Kill +++”), and an uncanny sense of melody that defies Ruinous Power’s inhuman lust for aural obliteration (“The Long Game”). So as to not deprive the listener of a cohesive experience, Ruinous Power stitches these divergent anatomies together with strange, but never unfamiliar, connective tissue in such a way that transitions between seemingly incompatible segments provide the context necessary to justify their positioning at every joint.

In this way, Prototype Weaponry proves that Ruinous Power’s experience with the weird and wild pays dividends even when crafting more straightforward material than their more notable main projects. However, a few nagging concerns remain. Though its myriad riffs and motifs feel fresh and vital in the context of the greater metalverse, Protoype Weaponry also toys with self-plagiarism a little too closely in its album-wide microcosm. “The Descent of the Host” inherits an assortment of its constituent building blocks from the motifs introduced by “But What of Sacred Mars?” and “+++ Engine Kill +++,” and some of the arpeggiated wiggles and runs featured on “Cerebrum Malefice” feel all too familiar to those on earlier cuts like “Kneel.” On a separate note, with an album as tight as Prototype Weaponry—a mere thirty-one minutes, rounding up—instrumental interludes like the title track provide very little outside of superficial atmosphere, taking away from the whole rather than bolstering it.

As the dust clears and the bodies are counted, Prototype Weaponry stands strong and victorious, but the battle left a few weak points exposed. Not to be deterred by mere flesh wounds, Ruinous Power used their extensive past experience crafting dense, oppressive extreme metal to make a bold statement inside a more accessible framework. Thus, Prototype Weaponry earns my overall recommendation. Its riffs break necks as easily as they invite spirited imagination. Its dynamic structures immerse as readily as they immolate. Its presence enthralls as deeply as it terrifies. If that entices you even in the slightest, and you crave EXTREME DANGER, secure yourself some Prototype Weaponry today!

Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger Records
Website: Too Kvlt for Webz
Releases Worldwide: February 28th, 2025

#2025 #35 #BlackMetal #CanadianMetal #DeathMetal #DissonantBlackMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #Egregore #EXTREMEDANGERPrototypeWeaponry #Feb25 #I #MareCognitum #Mitochondrion #Portal #Review #Reviews #RuinousPower #ThrashMetal #Ulthar #VoidhangerRecords #Voivod

Ruinous Power – EXTREME DANGER: Prototype Weaponry Review

By Kenstrosity

As I get older, I grow ever more tired of labels. Yes, it’s helpful to have a baseline frame of reference for what something is, but lately, I find myself abandoning these kinds of single-use terms in favor of something more substantial and descriptive. So, when Canada’s Ruinous Power entered my review rotation, I allowed myself more room than ever before to interpret what they craft outside of the multitudinous boxes in which they could fit. A newer outfit comprised by members of Egregore and Mitochondrion (among many other bands) in 2021, Ruinous Power incubated their debut record EXTREME DANGER: Prototype Weaponry until its inevitable escape from the confines of twisted minds into meatspace, where it corrupts all who would encounter it.

Based on the lore and aesthetics of the Warhammer 40k franchise, Prototype Weaponry takes what on the surface sounds like blackened death metal, endows it with a raucous thrall of thrash, and imbues within it an eerie, synth-woven atmosphere. Comparisons to both Mitochondrion and Egregore are apt, placing Ruinous Power comfortably inside that family tree of skronked-up up blackened death pedigree. However, that extra dose of mutated thrash allows a twist of The Outer Limits Voivod to pulse beneath the skin, while Ulthar‘s unearthly, necrotic limb hovers just over Ruinous Power’s writhing flesh. Juggling long-form excursions into the murky abyss with violent expulsions of a much more expeditious nature, Ruinous Power embodies Prototype Weaponry with a restless, anxious energy and equips it with lethal armaments liable to destroy us all.

Prototype Weaponry wields those armaments with aplomb despite its unpredictable nature, expertly balancing impenetrable discordance with highly accessible rhythms and infectious repetition. Ten-minute opening epic “But What of Sacred Mars?” takes tumbling, scraping riffs in stride, sticking the landing with a proggy companion motif that ripples with lean power. Pumping that momentum for five minutes, this track takes its rest and allows a bass-led, Mare Cognitum-esque second act to immerse the listener with lush instrumental developments. In doing this, Ruinous Power prepare the listener for what’s to come, and what’s to come is unchecked destruction. “The Long Game,” “Kneel,” and album highlight “+++ Engine Kill +++” represent Prototype Weaponry’s most vicious salvos. All three toss the listener clear across a dystopian battlefield with tearing leads evoking a sooty and scrawled Portal-ish visage (“The Long Game”), relentless riffs that refuse to adhere to either death metal or thrash metal conventions while still inheriting many of their physical traits (“Kneel,” “+++ Engine Kill +++”), and an uncanny sense of melody that defies Ruinous Power’s inhuman lust for aural obliteration (“The Long Game”). So as to not deprive the listener of a cohesive experience, Ruinous Power stitches these divergent anatomies together with strange, but never unfamiliar, connective tissue in such a way that transitions between seemingly incompatible segments provide the context necessary to justify their positioning at every joint.

In this way, Prototype Weaponry proves that Ruinous Power’s experience with the weird and wild pays dividends even when crafting more straightforward material than their more notable main projects. However, a few nagging concerns remain. Though its myriad riffs and motifs feel fresh and vital in the context of the greater metalverse, Protoype Weaponry also toys with self-plagiarism a little too closely in its album-wide microcosm. “The Descent of the Host” inherits an assortment of its constituent building blocks from the motifs introduced by “But What of Sacred Mars?” and “+++ Engine Kill +++,” and some of the arpeggiated wiggles and runs featured on “Cerebrum Malefice” feel all too familiar to those on earlier cuts like “Kneel.” On a separate note, with an album as tight as Prototype Weaponry—a mere thirty-one minutes, rounding up—instrumental interludes like the title track provide very little outside of superficial atmosphere, taking away from the whole rather than bolstering it.

As the dust clears and the bodies are counted, Prototype Weaponry stands strong and victorious, but the battle left a few weak points exposed. Not to be deterred by mere flesh wounds, Ruinous Power used their extensive past experience crafting dense, oppressive extreme metal to make a bold statement inside a more accessible framework. Thus, Prototype Weaponry earns my overall recommendation. Its riffs break necks as easily as they invite spirited imagination. Its dynamic structures immerse as readily as they immolate. Its presence enthralls as deeply as it terrifies. If that entices you even in the slightest, and you crave EXTREME DANGER, secure yourself some Prototype Weaponry today!

Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger Records
Website: Too Kvlt for Webz
Releases Worldwide: February 28th, 2025

#2025 #35 #BlackMetal #CanadianMetal #DeathMetal #DissonantBlackMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #Egregore #EXTREMEDANGERPrototypeWeaponry #Feb25 #I #MareCognitum #Mitochondrion #Portal #Review #Reviews #RuinousPower #ThrashMetal #Ulthar #VoidhangerRecords #Voivod

Ruinous Power – EXTREME DANGER: Prototype Weaponry Review

By Kenstrosity

As I get older, I grow ever more tired of labels. Yes, it’s helpful to have a baseline frame of reference for what something is, but lately, I find myself abandoning these kinds of single-use terms in favor of something more substantial and descriptive. So, when Canada’s Ruinous Power entered my review rotation, I allowed myself more room than ever before to interpret what they craft outside of the multitudinous boxes in which they could fit. A newer outfit comprised by members of Egregore and Mitochondrion (among many other bands) in 2021, Ruinous Power incubated their debut record EXTREME DANGER: Prototype Weaponry until its inevitable escape from the confines of twisted minds into meatspace, where it corrupts all who would encounter it.

Based on the lore and aesthetics of the Warhammer 40k franchise, Prototype Weaponry takes what on the surface sounds like blackened death metal, endows it with a raucous thrall of thrash, and imbues within it an eerie, synth-woven atmosphere. Comparisons to both Mitochondrion and Egregore are apt, placing Ruinous Power comfortably inside that family tree of skronked-up up blackened death pedigree. However, that extra dose of mutated thrash allows a twist of The Outer Limits Voivod to pulse beneath the skin, while Ulthar‘s unearthly, necrotic limb hovers just over Ruinous Power’s writhing flesh. Juggling long-form excursions into the murky abyss with violent expulsions of a much more expeditious nature, Ruinous Power embodies Prototype Weaponry with a restless, anxious energy and equips it with lethal armaments liable to destroy us all.

Prototype Weaponry wields those armaments with aplomb despite its unpredictable nature, expertly balancing impenetrable discordance with highly accessible rhythms and infectious repetition. Ten-minute opening epic “But What of Sacred Mars?” takes tumbling, scraping riffs in stride, sticking the landing with a proggy companion motif that ripples with lean power. Pumping that momentum for five minutes, this track takes its rest and allows a bass-led, Mare Cognitum-esque second act to immerse the listener with lush instrumental developments. In doing this, Ruinous Power prepare the listener for what’s to come, and what’s to come is unchecked destruction. “The Long Game,” “Kneel,” and album highlight “+++ Engine Kill +++” represent Prototype Weaponry’s most vicious salvos. All three toss the listener clear across a dystopian battlefield with tearing leads evoking a sooty and scrawled Portal-ish visage (“The Long Game”), relentless riffs that refuse to adhere to either death metal or thrash metal conventions while still inheriting many of their physical traits (“Kneel,” “+++ Engine Kill +++”), and an uncanny sense of melody that defies Ruinous Power’s inhuman lust for aural obliteration (“The Long Game”). So as to not deprive the listener of a cohesive experience, Ruinous Power stitches these divergent anatomies together with strange, but never unfamiliar, connective tissue in such a way that transitions between seemingly incompatible segments provide the context necessary to justify their positioning at every joint.

In this way, Prototype Weaponry proves that Ruinous Power’s experience with the weird and wild pays dividends even when crafting more straightforward material than their more notable main projects. However, a few nagging concerns remain. Though its myriad riffs and motifs feel fresh and vital in the context of the greater metalverse, Protoype Weaponry also toys with self-plagiarism a little too closely in its album-wide microcosm. “The Descent of the Host” inherits an assortment of its constituent building blocks from the motifs introduced by “But What of Sacred Mars?” and “+++ Engine Kill +++,” and some of the arpeggiated wiggles and runs featured on “Cerebrum Malefice” feel all too familiar to those on earlier cuts like “Kneel.” On a separate note, with an album as tight as Prototype Weaponry—a mere thirty-one minutes, rounding up—instrumental interludes like the title track provide very little outside of superficial atmosphere, taking away from the whole rather than bolstering it.

As the dust clears and the bodies are counted, Prototype Weaponry stands strong and victorious, but the battle left a few weak points exposed. Not to be deterred by mere flesh wounds, Ruinous Power used their extensive past experience crafting dense, oppressive extreme metal to make a bold statement inside a more accessible framework. Thus, Prototype Weaponry earns my overall recommendation. Its riffs break necks as easily as they invite spirited imagination. Its dynamic structures immerse as readily as they immolate. Its presence enthralls as deeply as it terrifies. If that entices you even in the slightest, and you crave EXTREME DANGER, secure yourself some Prototype Weaponry today!

Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger Records
Website: Too Kvlt for Webz
Releases Worldwide: February 28th, 2025

#2025 #35 #BlackMetal #CanadianMetal #DeathMetal #DissonantBlackMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #Egregore #EXTREMEDANGERPrototypeWeaponry #Feb25 #I #MareCognitum #Mitochondrion #Portal #Review #Reviews #RuinousPower #ThrashMetal #Ulthar #VoidhangerRecords #Voivod

Choir – Smithe Thee Smoldering Providence [Things You Might Have Missed 2024]

By Dear Hollow

Bring them tired ashes to the black waters and sing an anthem for the famine! Smithe Thee Smoldering Providence is blasphemy, a molten and silt-laden horror that saturates every negative space with noise, desolation, and punishment. It dirges and roars like the gods that you thought were benevolent and merciful – their faces lurid and nauseating when you looked upon them. Hallelujah, you will go mad. You will embrace your fate with arms outstretched and feet running until you sink. You will vomit and rejoice at the coming of ruin. You will praise your master. Choir preaches to this manic truth and gospel of filth, recalling the memory of a ritual buried deep in a book of death-bathed dark. As you are baptized in the muddy river, buried with Christ, and raised to walk in newness of life, open your eyes and look below and you’ll notice the abyss of the dead and rotting staring back.

Choir is a one-man act from Singapore consisting of musician/producer The Choir, offering extreme metal dredged in obscurity and violence. At once blending the pulverizing weight of death/doom, the raw hatred of black metal, and the cavernous echoes of death metal, crammed to the brim with misanthropic dissonance, dense atmospherics, and vicious noise, the act can be compared to the likes of Impetuous Ritual, Infernal Coil, Menace Ruine, and Primitive Man, but with an interpretation of pain all its own. While 2021’s first full-length Songs for a Tarnished World introduced this noise, its follow-up Smithe Thee Smoldering Providence hones it, Choir’s sound achieves relentless devastation and palpable purpose. And it’s a damn shame it was released so late in 2024.

Smithe Thee Smoldering Providence consists of two twenty-two-minute songs, but the tracklist breaks them into three and four movements respectively – one of the few mercies you will receive listening to Choir’s relentless onslaught. Like 2024’s boundary-pushing Ingurgitating Oblivion, Choir combines the outer limits of extreme metal. However, contrary to the elegance, technicality, and grace of Ontology of Nought, Choir molds the festering and rotten loams of lumbering weight, blackened chaos, and ruthless dissonance into a lethal clay, encased in the thick grime of murk. Emerging like many-eyed and many-limbed creatures emerging from the muddy river, movements will sear themselves into your ears from out of nowhere, such as the Mitochondrion-esque chugging riffs (“Bring Them… I,” “Bring Them… III,” “And Sing… IV”), dizzying brain-bleeds and complete disintegrations into noise and dissonance (“And Sing… III”), full-on blackened assaults buried beneath the garbling Portal-esque weight of mud (“And Sing… I”), and ambient sprawls with a rotten hum and bilious distortion trembling beneath (“Bring Them… II”). Gorgeous synth melodies are sparse and stand in stark contrast during capitalizations of crescendos (“And Sing… IV”). While nonetheless bathed in the blood of distortion, they add a distinctly human feel that somehow makes the album much more punishing by contrast while also providing a jagged light at the end of Choir’s pitch-black tunnel.

Choir has accomplished an insane feat, creating an experience that balances haunting hypnotism, primitive ritualism, and cutthroat punishment in its misanthropic blend of extreme styles. Simultaneously a thunderously colossal and lumbering beast and a hateful specter with teeth of lightning, Smithe Thee Smoldering Providence is a portrayal of divine smelt, god silt, and blasphemous murk. Molten and filthy, hypnotic and punishing, Choir is an easy triumph for year-end lists had it been released earlier.

Tracks to Check Out: “Bring Them Tired Ashes to the Black Waters,” “And Sing an Anthem for the Famine”

#2024 #AmbientBlackMetal #AmbientNoise #BlackMetal #BlackenedDeathMetal #BlackenedDoomMetal #Choir #DeathMetal #DeathDoomMetal #DissonantBlackMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #ImpetuousRitual #InfernalCoil #IngurgitatingOblivion #MenaceRuine #Mitochondrion #Portal #PrimitiveMan #SingaporeanMetal #SmitheTheeSmolderingProvidence #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed2024 #TYMHM

Choir – Smithe Thee Smoldering Providence [Things You Might Have Missed 2024]

By Dear Hollow

Bring them tired ashes to the black waters and sing an anthem for the famine! Smithe Thee Smoldering Providence is blasphemy, a molten and silt-laden horror that saturates every negative space with noise, desolation, and punishment. It dirges and roars like the gods that you thought were benevolent and merciful – their faces lurid and nauseating when you looked upon them. Hallelujah, you will go mad. You will embrace your fate with arms outstretched and feet running until you sink. You will vomit and rejoice at the coming of ruin. You will praise your master. Choir preaches to this manic truth and gospel of filth, recalling the memory of a ritual buried deep in a book of death-bathed dark. As you are baptized in the muddy river, buried with Christ, and raised to walk in newness of life, open your eyes and look below and you’ll notice the abyss of the dead and rotting staring back.

Choir is a one-man act from Singapore consisting of musician/producer The Choir, offering extreme metal dredged in obscurity and violence. At once blending the pulverizing weight of death/doom, the raw hatred of black metal, and the cavernous echoes of death metal, crammed to the brim with misanthropic dissonance, dense atmospherics, and vicious noise, the act can be compared to the likes of Impetuous Ritual, Infernal Coil, Menace Ruine, and Primitive Man, but with an interpretation of pain all its own. While 2021’s first full-length Songs for a Tarnished World introduced this noise, its follow-up Smithe Thee Smoldering Providence hones it, Choir’s sound achieves relentless devastation and palpable purpose. And it’s a damn shame it was released so late in 2024.

Smithe Thee Smoldering Providence consists of two twenty-two-minute songs, but the tracklist breaks them into three and four movements respectively – one of the few mercies you will receive listening to Choir’s relentless onslaught. Like 2024’s boundary-pushing Ingurgitating Oblivion, Choir combines the outer limits of extreme metal. However, contrary to the elegance, technicality, and grace of Ontology of Nought, Choir molds the festering and rotten loams of lumbering weight, blackened chaos, and ruthless dissonance into a lethal clay, encased in the thick grime of murk. Emerging like many-eyed and many-limbed creatures emerging from the muddy river, movements will sear themselves into your ears from out of nowhere, such as the Mitochondrion-esque chugging riffs (“Bring Them… I,” “Bring Them… III,” “And Sing… IV”), dizzying brain-bleeds and complete disintegrations into noise and dissonance (“And Sing… III”), full-on blackened assaults buried beneath the garbling Portal-esque weight of mud (“And Sing… I”), and ambient sprawls with a rotten hum and bilious distortion trembling beneath (“Bring Them… II”). Gorgeous synth melodies are sparse and stand in stark contrast during capitalizations of crescendos (“And Sing… IV”). While nonetheless bathed in the blood of distortion, they add a distinctly human feel that somehow makes the album much more punishing by contrast while also providing a jagged light at the end of Choir’s pitch-black tunnel.

Choir has accomplished an insane feat, creating an experience that balances haunting hypnotism, primitive ritualism, and cutthroat punishment in its misanthropic blend of extreme styles. Simultaneously a thunderously colossal and lumbering beast and a hateful specter with teeth of lightning, Smithe Thee Smoldering Providence is a portrayal of divine smelt, god silt, and blasphemous murk. Molten and filthy, hypnotic and punishing, Choir is an easy triumph for year-end lists had it been released earlier.

Tracks to Check Out: “Bring Them Tired Ashes to the Black Waters,” “And Sing an Anthem for the Famine”

#2024 #AmbientBlackMetal #AmbientNoise #BlackMetal #BlackenedDeathMetal #BlackenedDoomMetal #Choir #DeathMetal #DeathDoomMetal #DissonantBlackMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #ImpetuousRitual #InfernalCoil #IngurgitatingOblivion #MenaceRuine #Mitochondrion #Portal #PrimitiveMan #SingaporeanMetal #SmitheTheeSmolderingProvidence #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed2024 #TYMHM

Stuck in the Filter: October 2024’s Angry Misses

By Kenstrosity

Never fear, the blog’s penchant for deep lateness punctuality persists! It is likely the new year already by the time you see this post, but we’re taking a step back. Way back, into October. I was deep in the shit then, and therefore couldn’t do anything blog-related. And yet, my minions, those very laborers for whom I provide absolutely no compensation whatsoever, toiled dutifully in the metallic dinge that is our Filter. Unforgiving though those environs undoubtedly are, they scraped and scoured until, at long last, small shards of precious ore glimmered to the surface.

These glimmers are the same which you witness before you. Some are big, some are small. Some are short, some are tall. But all are worthy. Behold!

Kenstrosity’s Belated Bombardments

Cosmic Putrefaction // Emerald Fires atop the Farewell Mountains [October 4th, 2024 – Profound Lore Records]

I was originally slated to take over reviewing duties for Cosmic Putrefaction this year, as Thus Spoke had a prior commitment and needed a buddy to step in. Unfortunately, I was rendered useless by a force of nature for a while, so I had to let go of several items of interest. But I couldn’t let 2024 go by without saying something! Entitled Emeral Fires atop the Farewell Mountains, Cosmic Putrefaction’s fourth represents one of the smoothest, most ethereal interpretations of weird, dissonant death metal. The classic Cosmic Putrefaction riffsets under an auroric sky remain, as evidenced by ripping examples “[Entering the Vortex Temporum] – Pre-mortem Phosphenes” and “Swirling Madness, Supernal Ordeal,” but there lurks within a monstrous technical death metal creature who rabidly chases the atmospheric spirits of olde (“I Should Great the Inexorable Darkness,” “Eudaemonist Withdrawal”). While in lesser hands these distinct aesthetics would undoubtedly clash on a dissonant platform such as this, Cosmic Putrefaction’s particular application of sound and style coalesces in devastating beauty and relentless purpose (“Hallways Engraved in Aether,” “Emerald Fires atop the Farewell Mountains”). Were it not for some instances wherein, for the first time ever, Cosmic Putrefaction threatens to self-plagiarize their own material (“Eudaemonist Withdrawal”), I would likely consider Emerald Fires atop the Farewell Mountains for year-end list status.

Feral // To Usurp the Thrones [October 18th, 2024 – Transcending Obscurity Records]

Another one of my charges that I unfortunately had to put down against my will, Swedish death metal fiends Feral’s fourth salvo To Usurp the Thrones deserves a spotlight here. Where Flesh for Funerals Eternal impressed me as my introduction to the band and, arguably, my introduction to modern buzzsaw Swedeath, To Usurp the Thrones impresses me as a singularly vicious record in the style. Faster, meaner, more varied, and longer than its predecessor, Thrones offers the punk-tinged, thrashy death riffs you know and love, with bluesy touches reminiscent of Entombed’s Wolverine Blues adding a bit of drunken swagger to the affair (“Vile Malediction,” “Phantoms of Iniquity,” “Into the Ashes of History”). Absolute rippers like “To Drain the World of Light,” “Deformed Mentality,” “Decimated,” and “Soaked in Blood” live up to the band’s moniker, rabid and relentless in their assault. In many ways, Thrones evokes the same bloodsoaked sense of fun that Helslave’s From the Sulphur Depths conjured, but it’s angrier, more unhinged (“Spirits Without Rest,” “Stripped of Flesh”). Consequently, Thrones stands out as one of the more fun records of its ilk to come out this year. Don’t miss it!

Sun Worship // Upon the Hills of Divination [October 31st, 2024 – Vendetta Records]

Back in 2020, our dear Roquentin offered some damn fine words of praise for Germany’s Sun Worship and their third blackened blade, Emanations of Desolation. It’s been six years since that record dropped, and Upon the Hills of Divination picks up right where Emanations left off. That is to say, absolutely slimy, post-metal-tinged riffs bolstered by dense layers of warm tremolos and mid-frequency roars. Opener “Within the Machine” offers a concrete encapsulation of what to expect: bits and pieces of Hulder, Gaerea, and Vorga melding together into a compelling concoction of hypnotic black metal. Using the long form to their utmost advantage, Sun Worship craft immersive soundscapes liable to scald the flesh just as quickly as they seduce the senses, leaving me as a brainwashed minion doing a twisted mystic’s bidding unconditionally (“Serpent Nebula,” “Covenant”). Yet, there roils a sense of urgency in these songs, despite many of them occupying a mid-paced cadence, which unveils a bleeding heart willingly wrenched from Sun Worship’s body (“Fractal Entity,” the title track, and “Stormbringer”). This is what sets it apart from its contemporaries, and what makes it worthy of mention. Why it’s gotten so little attention escapes me. It is with the intent of rectifying that condition that I pen this woefully insufficient segment.

Dolphin Whisperer’s Duty Free Rifftrocity

Extorted // Cognitive Dissonance [October 16th, 2024 – Self Release]

You don’t need to read this review to know that the Kiwis of Extorted plays pit-whipping death/thrash. Though not adorned with other obvious symbols, like Vietnam War paraphernalia or crushed beer cans, the Ed Repka-penned brain-ripped head figure screams “no thoughts only riff” all the same. With snares set to pow and crashes set to kshhh, Cognitive Dissonance finds low resistance to accelerating early Death-indebted refrains. Vocalist Joel Clark even plays as a dead ringer for pre-Human Schuldiner or Van Drunen (Asphyx, ex-Pestilence) as the torture in many lines grows (on “Infected” and “Ghastly Creatures” in particular). And in a continued tour of Van Drunen-associated sounds, Extorted’s ability to find a push-and-pull cadence that twists the fury of thrash with the cutting drag of death hits that hard-to-nail early Pestilence pocket with studied flair (“Deception,” “Limits of Reality”). Though a considerable amount of the Extorted identity rests in ideas borrowed and reinterpreted, a modern tonal canvas gives Cognitive Dissonance’s rhythms a punchy and balanced low-end weight that doesn’t always present itself in the world of old. Couple that with hooks that reach far beyond the limits of pure homage (“Transformation of Dreams,” “Violence”), and it’s easy to plow through the thirty minutes of tasteful harmonies, bending solos, and spit-stained lamentations that Extorted offers with their powerful debut.

Bríi // Camaradagem Póstuma [October 11th, 2024 – Self Release]

With Camaradagem Póstuma we enter the hazy, folky world of Caio Lemos’ unique vision of what experimental electronic music can be colored by the underpinnings of atmospheric black metal and jazz fusion. Using terraced melodies like baroque music of old and distant breakbeats like the Bong-Ra of recent yesteryears, Brazil’s Bríi represents one man’s highly specific melding that rarely occurs in this space. The guitar lines that do exist play out as textural, slow-developing passages. On tracks “Aparecidos” and “Baile Fantasma” this looping and hypnotic pattern shuffle resembles ambient Pat Metheny or King Crimson colors, the kind where finding the end of nylon pluck into a weaving, high-frequency synth patch feels not impossible but unnecessary. And on the more metallic side of things, Lemos cranks programmed blasts that carry his tortured, panning, and shrouded wails as a guide for the melodic evolution of each track, much in the same way a warping bass line would in a progressive house track. But maintaining the tempo of classic drum and bass, Camaradagem Póstuma wisps away in its atmosphere, coming back to a driving rhythm either via pummeling double kick or glitching break. Despite the hard, danceable pulse that tracks “Enlutados” and “Entre Mundos” boast, Bríi does not feel built for the kvlt klvbs of this world, leaning on a gated, lo-fi aesthetic that makes for an ideal drift away on closed cans, much like the equally idiosyncratic Wist album from earlier this year. And similarly, Camaradagem Póstuma sits in an outsider world of enjoyment. But if any of this sounds like your jam, prepare to get addicted to Bríi.

Thus Spoke’s Rotten Remnants

Livløs // The Crescent King [October 4th, 2024 – Noctum Productions]

Livløs are one of those bands that deserves far more recognition than they receive. With LP three, The Crescent King, they might finally see it. Their punchy intriguing infusion of Swedish and US melodic death metal—though the band themselves hail from Denmark—has a pleasing melancholia and satisfying bite. Here in particular, there’s more than a passing resemblance to Hath, to Cognizance, and to In Mourning. Stomping grooves (“Maelstrom,” “Usurpers”) slide in between blitzes of tripping gallops, and electrifying fretwork (“Orbit Weaver,” “Scourge of the Stars”). Mournful, compelling melodies woven into this technical tapestry—some highlights being the title track, “Harvest,” and “Endless Majesty”—turn already good melodeath into great melodeath; melodeath that’s majestic and powerful, without ever feeling overblown. With its relentless, groovy dynamism, the crisp, spacious production seals the deal for total immersion. If this is your first time hearing about Livløs, you’re in for a treat.

Sordide // Ainsi finit le jour [October 25th, 2024 – Les Acteurs de l’Ombre Productions]

And So Ends the Day, whilst another begins where I rediscover Sordide. I know not how I forgot their existence despite the impression that 2021’s Les Idées Blanches made upon me, yet all I could recall was the disturbingly simple, melty art.1 Ainsi Finit le Jour arrives with a hefty dose (53 minutes no less) of punky, dissonant black metal that’s even rawer and more pissed-off than their usual fare. “Des feux plus forts,” “La poesie du caniveau,” and the title track stand out as the most vicious, near-first-wave cuts the trio have ever laid down, with manic, group wails, and chaotic, jangling percussion. But as is so often the case with Sordide, perhaps the truest brutality comes in the slower discordant crawls of “Sous Vivre,” “Tout est a la mort,” and the particularly unsettling “La beauté du desastre,” whose creeping, half-tuneful teasing and turns to eerie spaciousness get right under your skin. It is arguably a little too long for its own good, given its intensity, but its impressiveness does mean that, this time, Sordide won’t be forgotten.

Dear Hollow’s Droll Hashals

Annihilist // Reform [October 18th, 2024 – Self Release]

What Melbourne’s Annihilist does with flamboyant flare and reckless abandon is blur the lines of its core stylistic choices. One moment it’s chugging away like a deathcore band, the next it’s dripping away with a groove metal swagger, ope, now it’s on its way to Hot Topic. All we know is that all its members attack with a chameleonic intensity and otherworldly technicality that’s hard to pin down. An insane level of technicality is the thread that courses throughout the entirety of this debut, recalling Within the Ruins or The Human Abstract in its stuttering rhythms and flailing arpeggios. From catchy leads and punishing rhythms (“The Upsend,” “Guillotine”), bouncy breakdowns, clean choruses, and wild gang vocals (“Blood”), djenty guitar seizures (“Virus,” “Better Off”) to full-on groove (“N.M.E.,” “The Host”), the likes of Lamb of God, early Architects, Born of Osiris, and Children of Bodom are conjured. Lyrics of hardcore punk’s signature anarchy and societal distrust collide with an instrumental palette of melodeath and the more technical kin of metalcore and deathcore, groove metal, and hardcore. As such, the album is complicated, episodic, and unpredictable, with only its wild technicality connecting its fragmented bits – keeping Reform from achieving the greatness that the band is so capable of. As it stands, though, Annihilist offers an insanely fun, everchanging, and unhinged roller coaster of -core proportions – a roller -corester, if you will.

Under Alekhines Gun

Theurgy // Emanations of Unconscious Luminescence [October 17th, 2024 – New Standard Elite]

In a year where slam and brutal death have already had an atypically high-quality output, international outfit Theurgy have come with an RKO out of nowhere to shatter whatever remains of your cerebral cortex. Channeling the flamboyancy of old Analepsy with the snare abuse and neanderthalic glee of Epicardiectomy, Emanations of Unconscious Luminescence wastes no time severing vertebrae and reducing eardrums to paste. Don’t mistake this for a brainless, caveman assault, however. Peppered between the hammiest of hammers are tech flourishes pulled straight from Dingir era Rings of Saturn, adding an unexpected technical edge to the blunt force trauma. The production manages to pair these two disparaging elements with lethal efficiency. Is it the techiest slam album, or the wettest, greasiest tech album? Did I mention there’s a super moldy cover of Devourment‘s “Molesting the Decapitated”? It slots right into the albums flow without feeling like a tacked-on bonus track, highlighting Theurgy’s commitment to the homicidal odes of brutality. Throw in a vocal performance that makes Angel Ochoa (Abominable Putridity) sound like Anders Fridén (In Flames), and you’re left with one last lethal assault to round out the year. Dive in and give your luminescence something to cry about.

GardensTale’s Great Glacier

Ghosts of Glaciers // Eternal [October 25th, 2024 – Translation Loss Records]

Ghosts of Glaciers’s last release, The Greatest Burden, was a masterclass of post-metal flow and has become a mainstay in my instrumental metal collection since my review in 2019. Dropping in tandem with several other high-profile releases, though, I could not give its follow-up the kind of attention it deserves. And make no mistake, it absolutely deserves that attention. The opening duo, “The Vast Expanse” and “Sunken Chamber,” measure up fully to The Greatest Burden, though it takes a few spins for that to become clear. Both use repetitive patterns more than before, but closer listens reveal how subtle variations and evolution of each cycle build gradual tension, so the release becomes all the more satisfying. I’m a little more ambivalent on the back half of Eternal, though. “Leviathan” packs a bigger punch than more of the band’s material, it lacks the swirling and sweeping currents that pull me under and demand full and uninterrupted plays every time. Closer “Regeneratio Aeterna” is a pretty but rather demure piece that lasts a bit longer than it should have. But despite these reservations, the great material outstrips the merely good, and Eternal is a worthwhile addition to any instrumental metal collection.

#AbominablePutridity #AinsiFinitLeJour #AmericanMetal #Analepsy #Annihilist #Architects #Asphyx #AtmosphericBlackMetal #AustralianMetal #BlackMetal #BongRa #BornOfOsiris #BrazilianMetal #Bríi #BrutalDeathMetal #CamaradagemPóstuma #ChildrenOfBodom #CognitiveDissonance #Cognizance #CosmicPutrefaction #Death #DeathMetal #DeathThrash #Deathcore #Devourment #DissonantBlackMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #Electronic #EmanationsOfUnconsciousLuminescence #EmeralFiresAtopTheFarewellMountains #Entombed #Epicardiectomy #Eternal #ExperimentalMetal #Extorted #Feral #FrenchMetal #Gaerea #GermanMetal #GhostsOfGlaciers #GrooveMetal #Hardcore #HardcorePunk #Hath #Helslave #Hulder #InFlames #InMourning #InternationalMetal #ItalianMetal #KingCrimson #LambOfGod #LesActeursDeLOmbreProductions #Livløs #MelodicDeathMetal #Metalcore #NewStandardElite #NewZealandMetal #NoctumProductions #OSDM #PatMetheny #Pestilence #PostBlackMetal #PostMetal #ProfoundLoreRecords #Reform #RingsOfSaturn #SelfRelease #SelfReleased #Slam #Sordide #SunWorship #SwedishMetal #TechnicalDeathMetal #TheCrescentKing #TheHumanAbstract #Theurgy #ThrashMetal #ToUsurpTheThrones #TranscendingObscurityRecords #TranslationLossRecords #UponTheHillsOfDivination #VendettaRecords #VertebraAtlantis #Vorga #Wist #WithinTheRuins

Stuck in the Filter: October 2024’s Angry Misses

By Kenstrosity

Never fear, the blog’s penchant for deep lateness punctuality persists! It is likely the new year already by the time you see this post, but we’re taking a step back. Way back, into October. I was deep in the shit then, and therefore couldn’t do anything blog-related. And yet, my minions, those very laborers for whom I provide absolutely no compensation whatsoever, toiled dutifully in the metallic dinge that is our Filter. Unforgiving though those environs undoubtedly are, they scraped and scoured until, at long last, small shards of precious ore glimmered to the surface.

These glimmers are the same which you witness before you. Some are big, some are small. Some are short, some are tall. But all are worthy. Behold!

Kenstrosity’s Belated Bombardments

Cosmic Putrefaction // Emerald Fires atop the Farewell Mountains [October 4th, 2024 – Profound Lore Records]

I was originally slated to take over reviewing duties for Cosmic Putrefaction this year, as Thus Spoke had a prior commitment and needed a buddy to step in. Unfortunately, I was rendered useless by a force of nature for a while, so I had to let go of several items of interest. But I couldn’t let 2024 go by without saying something! Entitled Emeral Fires atop the Farewell Mountains, Cosmic Putrefaction’s fourth represents one of the smoothest, most ethereal interpretations of weird, dissonant death metal. The classic Cosmic Putrefaction riffsets under an auroric sky remain, as evidenced by ripping examples “[Entering the Vortex Temporum] – Pre-mortem Phosphenes” and “Swirling Madness, Supernal Ordeal,” but there lurks within a monstrous technical death metal creature who rabidly chases the atmospheric spirits of olde (“I Should Great the Inexorable Darkness,” “Eudaemonist Withdrawal”). While in lesser hands these distinct aesthetics would undoubtedly clash on a dissonant platform such as this, Cosmic Putrefaction’s particular application of sound and style coalesces in devastating beauty and relentless purpose (“Hallways Engraved in Aether,” “Emerald Fires atop the Farewell Mountains”). Were it not for some instances wherein, for the first time ever, Cosmic Putrefaction threatens to self-plagiarize their own material (“Eudaemonist Withdrawal”), I would likely consider Emerald Fires atop the Farewell Mountains for year-end list status.

Feral // To Usurp the Thrones [October 18th, 2024 – Transcending Obscurity Records]

Another one of my charges that I unfortunately had to put down against my will, Swedish death metal fiends Feral’s fourth salvo To Usurp the Thrones deserves a spotlight here. Where Flesh for Funerals Eternal impressed me as my introduction to the band and, arguably, my introduction to modern buzzsaw Swedeath, To Usurp the Thrones impresses me as a singularly vicious record in the style. Faster, meaner, more varied, and longer than its predecessor, Thrones offers the punk-tinged, thrashy death riffs you know and love, with bluesy touches reminiscent of Entombed’s Wolverine Blues adding a bit of drunken swagger to the affair (“Vile Malediction,” “Phantoms of Iniquity,” “Into the Ashes of History”). Absolute rippers like “To Drain the World of Light,” “Deformed Mentality,” “Decimated,” and “Soaked in Blood” live up to the band’s moniker, rabid and relentless in their assault. In many ways, Thrones evokes the same bloodsoaked sense of fun that Helslave’s From the Sulphur Depths conjured, but it’s angrier, more unhinged (“Spirits Without Rest,” “Stripped of Flesh”). Consequently, Thrones stands out as one of the more fun records of its ilk to come out this year. Don’t miss it!

Sun Worship // Upon the Hills of Divination [October 31st, 2024 – Vendetta Records]

Back in 2020, our dear Roquentin offered some damn fine words of praise for Germany’s Sun Worship and their third blackened blade, Emanations of Desolation. It’s been six years since that record dropped, and Upon the Hills of Divination picks up right where Emanations left off. That is to say, absolutely slimy, post-metal-tinged riffs bolstered by dense layers of warm tremolos and mid-frequency roars. Opener “Within the Machine” offers a concrete encapsulation of what to expect: bits and pieces of Hulder, Gaerea, and Vorga melding together into a compelling concoction of hypnotic black metal. Using the long form to their utmost advantage, Sun Worship craft immersive soundscapes liable to scald the flesh just as quickly as they seduce the senses, leaving me as a brainwashed minion doing a twisted mystic’s bidding unconditionally (“Serpent Nebula,” “Covenant”). Yet, there roils a sense of urgency in these songs, despite many of them occupying a mid-paced cadence, which unveils a bleeding heart willingly wrenched from Sun Worship’s body (“Fractal Entity,” the title track, and “Stormbringer”). This is what sets it apart from its contemporaries, and what makes it worthy of mention. Why it’s gotten so little attention escapes me. It is with the intent of rectifying that condition that I pen this woefully insufficient segment.

Dolphin Whisperer’s Duty Free Rifftrocity

Extorted // Cognitive Dissonance [October 16th, 2024 – Self Release]

You don’t need to read this review to know that the Kiwis of Extorted plays pit-whipping death/thrash. Though not adorned with other obvious symbols, like Vietnam War paraphernalia or crushed beer cans, the Ed Repka-penned brain-ripped head figure screams “no thoughts only riff” all the same. With snares set to pow and crashes set to kshhh, Cognitive Dissonance finds low resistance to accelerating early Death-indebted refrains. Vocalist Joel Clark even plays as a dead ringer for pre-Human Schuldiner or Van Drunen (Asphyx, ex-Pestilence) as the torture in many lines grows (on “Infected” and “Ghastly Creatures” in particular). And in a continued tour of Van Drunen-associated sounds, Extorted’s ability to find a push-and-pull cadence that twists the fury of thrash with the cutting drag of death hits that hard-to-nail early Pestilence pocket with studied flair (“Deception,” “Limits of Reality”). Though a considerable amount of the Extorted identity rests in ideas borrowed and reinterpreted, a modern tonal canvas gives Cognitive Dissonance’s rhythms a punchy and balanced low-end weight that doesn’t always present itself in the world of old. Couple that with hooks that reach far beyond the limits of pure homage (“Transformation of Dreams,” “Violence”), and it’s easy to plow through the thirty minutes of tasteful harmonies, bending solos, and spit-stained lamentations that Extorted offers with their powerful debut.

Bríi // Camaradagem Póstuma [October 11th, 2024 – Self Release]

With Camaradagem Póstuma we enter the hazy, folky world of Caio Lemos’ unique vision of what experimental electronic music can be colored by the underpinnings of atmospheric black metal and jazz fusion. Using terraced melodies like baroque music of old and distant breakbeats like the Bong-Ra of recent yesteryears, Brazil’s Bríi represents one man’s highly specific melding that rarely occurs in this space. The guitar lines that do exist play out as textural, slow-developing passages. On tracks “Aparecidos” and “Baile Fantasma” this looping and hypnotic pattern shuffle resembles ambient Pat Metheny or King Crimson colors, the kind where finding the end of nylon pluck into a weaving, high-frequency synth patch feels not impossible but unnecessary. And on the more metallic side of things, Lemos cranks programmed blasts that carry his tortured, panning, and shrouded wails as a guide for the melodic evolution of each track, much in the same way a warping bass line would in a progressive house track. But maintaining the tempo of classic drum and bass, Camaradagem Póstuma wisps away in its atmosphere, coming back to a driving rhythm either via pummeling double kick or glitching break. Despite the hard, danceable pulse that tracks “Enlutados” and “Entre Mundos” boast, Bríi does not feel built for the kvlt klvbs of this world, leaning on a gated, lo-fi aesthetic that makes for an ideal drift away on closed cans, much like the equally idiosyncratic Wist album from earlier this year. And similarly, Camaradagem Póstuma sits in an outsider world of enjoyment. But if any of this sounds like your jam, prepare to get addicted to Bríi.

Thus Spoke’s Rotten Remnants

Livløs // The Crescent King [October 4th, 2024 – Noctum Productions]

Livløs are one of those bands that deserves far more recognition than they receive. With LP three, The Crescent King, they might finally see it. Their punchy intriguing infusion of Swedish and US melodic death metal—though the band themselves hail from Denmark—has a pleasing melancholia and satisfying bite. Here in particular, there’s more than a passing resemblance to Hath, to Cognizance, and to In Mourning. Stomping grooves (“Maelstrom,” “Usurpers”) slide in between blitzes of tripping gallops, and electrifying fretwork (“Orbit Weaver,” “Scourge of the Stars”). Mournful, compelling melodies woven into this technical tapestry—some highlights being the title track, “Harvest,” and “Endless Majesty”—turn already good melodeath into great melodeath; melodeath that’s majestic and powerful, without ever feeling overblown. With its relentless, groovy dynamism, the crisp, spacious production seals the deal for total immersion. If this is your first time hearing about Livløs, you’re in for a treat.

Sordide // Ainsi finit le jour [October 25th, 2024 – Les Acteurs de l’Ombre Productions]

And So Ends the Day, whilst another begins where I rediscover Sordide. I know not how I forgot their existence despite the impression that 2021’s Les Idées Blanches made upon me, yet all I could recall was the disturbingly simple, melty art.1 Ainsi Finit le Jour arrives with a hefty dose (53 minutes no less) of punky, dissonant black metal that’s even rawer and more pissed-off than their usual fare. “Des feux plus forts,” “La poesie du caniveau,” and the title track stand out as the most vicious, near-first-wave cuts the trio have ever laid down, with manic, group wails, and chaotic, jangling percussion. But as is so often the case with Sordide, perhaps the truest brutality comes in the slower discordant crawls of “Sous Vivre,” “Tout est a la mort,” and the particularly unsettling “La beauté du desastre,” whose creeping, half-tuneful teasing and turns to eerie spaciousness get right under your skin. It is arguably a little too long for its own good, given its intensity, but its impressiveness does mean that, this time, Sordide won’t be forgotten.

Dear Hollow’s Droll Hashals

Annihilist // Reform [October 18th, 2024 – Self Release]

What Melbourne’s Annihilist does with flamboyant flare and reckless abandon is blur the lines of its core stylistic choices. One moment it’s chugging away like a deathcore band, the next it’s dripping away with a groove metal swagger, ope, now it’s on its way to Hot Topic. All we know is that all its members attack with a chameleonic intensity and otherworldly technicality that’s hard to pin down. An insane level of technicality is the thread that courses throughout the entirety of this debut, recalling Within the Ruins or The Human Abstract in its stuttering rhythms and flailing arpeggios. From catchy leads and punishing rhythms (“The Upsend,” “Guillotine”), bouncy breakdowns, clean choruses, and wild gang vocals (“Blood”), djenty guitar seizures (“Virus,” “Better Off”) to full-on groove (“N.M.E.,” “The Host”), the likes of Lamb of God, early Architects, Born of Osiris, and Children of Bodom are conjured. Lyrics of hardcore punk’s signature anarchy and societal distrust collide with an instrumental palette of melodeath and the more technical kin of metalcore and deathcore, groove metal, and hardcore. As such, the album is complicated, episodic, and unpredictable, with only its wild technicality connecting its fragmented bits – keeping Reform from achieving the greatness that the band is so capable of. As it stands, though, Annihilist offers an insanely fun, everchanging, and unhinged roller coaster of -core proportions – a roller -corester, if you will.

Under Alekhines Gun

Theurgy // Emanations of Unconscious Luminescence [October 17th, 2024 – New Standard Elite]

In a year where slam and brutal death have already had an atypically high-quality output, international outfit Theurgy have come with an RKO out of nowhere to shatter whatever remains of your cerebral cortex. Channeling the flamboyancy of old Analepsy with the snare abuse and neanderthalic glee of Epicardiectomy, Emanations of Unconscious Luminescence wastes no time severing vertebrae and reducing eardrums to paste. Don’t mistake this for a brainless, caveman assault, however. Peppered between the hammiest of hammers are tech flourishes pulled straight from Dingir era Rings of Saturn, adding an unexpected technical edge to the blunt force trauma. The production manages to pair these two disparaging elements with lethal efficiency. Is it the techiest slam album, or the wettest, greasiest tech album? Did I mention there’s a super moldy cover of Devourment‘s “Molesting the Decapitated”? It slots right into the albums flow without feeling like a tacked-on bonus track, highlighting Theurgy’s commitment to the homicidal odes of brutality. Throw in a vocal performance that makes Angel Ochoa (Abominable Putridity) sound like Anders Fridén (In Flames), and you’re left with one last lethal assault to round out the year. Dive in and give your luminescence something to cry about.

GardensTale’s Great Glacier

Ghosts of Glaciers // Eternal [October 25th, 2024 – Translation Loss Records]

Ghosts of Glaciers’s last release, The Greatest Burden, was a masterclass of post-metal flow and has become a mainstay in my instrumental metal collection since my review in 2019. Dropping in tandem with several other high-profile releases, though, I could not give its follow-up the kind of attention it deserves. And make no mistake, it absolutely deserves that attention. The opening duo, “The Vast Expanse” and “Sunken Chamber,” measure up fully to The Greatest Burden, though it takes a few spins for that to become clear. Both use repetitive patterns more than before, but closer listens reveal how subtle variations and evolution of each cycle build gradual tension, so the release becomes all the more satisfying. I’m a little more ambivalent on the back half of Eternal, though. “Leviathan” packs a bigger punch than more of the band’s material, it lacks the swirling and sweeping currents that pull me under and demand full and uninterrupted plays every time. Closer “Regeneratio Aeterna” is a pretty but rather demure piece that lasts a bit longer than it should have. But despite these reservations, the great material outstrips the merely good, and Eternal is a worthwhile addition to any instrumental metal collection.

#AbominablePutridity #AinsiFinitLeJour #AmericanMetal #Analepsy #Annihilist #Architects #Asphyx #AtmosphericBlackMetal #AustralianMetal #BlackMetal #BongRa #BornOfOsiris #BrazilianMetal #Bríi #BrutalDeathMetal #CamaradagemPóstuma #ChildrenOfBodom #CognitiveDissonance #Cognizance #CosmicPutrefaction #Death #DeathMetal #DeathThrash #Deathcore #Devourment #DissonantBlackMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #Electronic #EmanationsOfUnconsciousLuminescence #EmeralFiresAtopTheFarewellMountains #Entombed #Epicardiectomy #Eternal #ExperimentalMetal #Extorted #Feral #FrenchMetal #Gaerea #GermanMetal #GhostsOfGlaciers #GrooveMetal #Hardcore #HardcorePunk #Hath #Helslave #Hulder #InFlames #InMourning #InternationalMetal #ItalianMetal #KingCrimson #LambOfGod #LesActeursDeLOmbreProductions #Livløs #MelodicDeathMetal #Metalcore #NewStandardElite #NewZealandMetal #NoctumProductions #OSDM #PatMetheny #Pestilence #PostBlackMetal #PostMetal #ProfoundLoreRecords #Reform #RingsOfSaturn #SelfRelease #SelfReleased #Slam #Sordide #SunWorship #SwedishMetal #TechnicalDeathMetal #TheCrescentKing #TheHumanAbstract #Theurgy #ThrashMetal #ToUsurpTheThrones #TranscendingObscurityRecords #TranslationLossRecords #UponTheHillsOfDivination #VendettaRecords #VertebraAtlantis #Vorga #Wist #WithinTheRuins

#deathmetal #thrashmetal #blackmetal #powermetal #doommetal #stonermetal #progmetal
#groovemetal #heavymetal #vikingmetal #warmetal #blackeneddeathmetal #deathnroll #melodicdeathmetal #symphonicmetal #deathdoommetal
#funeraldoommetal
#sludgemetal #folkmetal #paganmetal #glammetal
#gothicmetal #grindcore #deathcore
#deathgrind #goregrind #industrialmetal #postmetal #mathcore #dissonantdeathmetal #dissonantblackmetal #neoclassicalmetal
#speedmetal #crossovermetal #nwothm #nwobhm #djent #metalcore