#dissonantdeathmetal — Public Fediverse posts

In an act of unconscious serendipity, shortly before beginning this review, I re-read Jean-Paul Sartre’s Nausea. The serendipity is not in the proximity between Nausea and Vomit—though that’s also interesting—but in a particular manner of revelation. There’s a part in the book where our protagonist, suddenly seized by a violent attack of his titular malaise, rushes near-blindly through the streets, and his thoughts become fragmented into repetitive near-word-association as he begins to confront the horror of things existing.1 The lyrics of Acausal Intrusion’s fourth album, Vomit Meditations, are disjointed and uncanny in precisely this sense; reading them instantly linked these two works in my mind. The music itself is no less viscerally chaotic and confrontational, as the duo step into what’s possibly the heaviest and strangest iteration of their already intense and avant-garde sound so far—one which pairs perfectly with a life-altering existential crisis.

Vomit Meditations lives up to its moniker as it sees Acausal Intrusion’s signature hyper-dissonance and unsettling contemplativeness contorted into a bizarre series of violent spewings, punctuated by uneasy moments of reflective resonance, even beauty, to which Panpsychism’s doomier shades are confined, channeled through the acoustic and ambient. The free-jazz influence is stark, and not only in the prominence of piano in the album’s stiller passages (“Vomit Meditation,” “Psychic Abolishment”). Twisted guitar lines—more Cosmic Putrefaction or Ad Nauseum than Gorguts—writhe up and down and in and out of focus above the churning miasma of impossible tempos and abyssal belches—unheard this side of Portal—their seeming stochasticism belied as they coalesce into a shape more than their sum. Spasmodic scales and sudden lead switches from which one reflexively recoils start to make sense, and the real melodicisms that arise over the runtime grow more apparent. Recurring seizures of percussion grow hypnotic as the curve of their circularity becomes clear (“Convex Hidden Echoes”), and a ringing mass of wails and riffs rises until the overlapping tones produce the illusion of symphonics (“Psychic Abolishment”). The barrier to entry remains high, but the rewards are significant.

It’s in this paradox of chaotic reasoning where Vomit Meditations develops its vice grip. With alluring psychedelic rock (“Vomit Meditation”) it beckons its subject in, and with a chilling nocturne it leads them to the final, most awful revelation of all (“Psychic Abolishment”). With barely a beat between the unironic beauty and the hellish cacophony, the latter in particular gains near-transcendence. Although the album is marked by repeated 180-degree turns in rhythm (most aggressive on “Usurping Vaporous Primal Vibrations” and “Convex Hidden Echoes”), it has an unexplainable almost groove, which actually becomes explicit at times (“Vital Transformation”), and the endless about-turns and restless rolling and crashing morph into a hideously compelling dance (“Vomit Meditation,” “Requiem Murmur”). Once again, I struggle to believe drummer and vocalist Cave Ritual’s humanity, hearing such things. Although guitars jump in and out of focus (“Usurping…,” “Psychic Abolishment”) with riffs mostly possessing a stabbing, dragging, flailing discordance as though Nythroth’s fingers were strangling the very instrument used to produce them, their purpose never fails to manifest in the organic yet unpredictable shapes they create (“Convex…,” “Requiem Murmur”). Plus, there’s a lot more melody infused into the music than an uncritical ear would like to acknowledge (“Vomit Meditation,” “Vital Transformation”).

Vomit Meditations also largely improves on areas where previous records fell short. It flows with remarkable ease considering its freeform style and considerable 50-minute runtime and grows more compelling as it progresses. The second half’s superiority is arguably down to paying off what is better than the first in pacing, intrigue, and memorability, though arguably this is dependent on the first half having set up the themes it pays off. The production, continuing to be rich and dynamic for death metal but with the vocals and drums relatively forward, works better than it has previously. I’d recommend listening on a pair of good headphones that will enable you to catch the myriad horrors occurring within the soundscape. Nonetheless, the mix, as well as the relentless complexity and improvisational feel, will persist in alienating many listeners. Though Acausal Intrusion distinguish themselves from the ultra-extreme-for-extremity’s sake crowd by demonstrating that they can turn apparent randomness into a form of reason, they could perhaps tone it down just a tad.

Vomit Meditations is Acausal Intrusion’s best album. Some will interpret this as damning with faint praise an album in a discography otherwise too ugly and over the top to be good. I mean it quite differently. Vomit Meditations is violently, masochistically enjoyable and multifaceted and arresting, and it gets better on each spin. It requires a certain receptiveness—what experimental extreme metal doesn’t—and Acausal Intrusion will maintain a modest following, but its mania feels so deliciously meaningful I don’t even want to try escaping it.

Rating: Very Good2
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger Records
Website: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: September 4th, 2026

While any band, metal or not, would kill to have a classic in their discography, I often feel that having one can do their other albums a disservice. Some classics continue their perpetual status by virtue of self-fulfilling “this is good because we have been told it must be” prophecy (Tomb of the Mutilated), while some keep their status because fans refuse to accept anything else as even capable of touching this particular sound (None So Vile, Dopethrone, Destroy the Opposition) irrespective of the quality of follow-up releases. Over the last decade or so, Gorguts has usurped Meshuggah for the band everyone mines for inspiration, with fantastic results. Hailing from Denmark, Carbon Tomb are here to scourge the earth with their debut album Passage to a Neutron Star, and they too have thrown their hat in the Gorguts ring. Show of hands, who’s expecting an Obscura clone?1 Well, you’re wrong, and I couldn’t be more thrilled.

The backbone of Carbon Tomb plays heavily on Gorguts more straightforward yet just as foul From Wisdom to Hate. The discordant and oppressive approaches you expect are all present, but in a far more digestible form despite the raw ugliness of the notes. Alternating between grindcore-tier assault and full speed ahead spirit with sudden half-time slowdowns and twanging leads, Passage to a Neutron Star manages to draw from more than one spirit of disharmonic masters. The alien soundscapes of Artificial Brain collide with wailing and gnashing of Teeth (“A Hidden Creature”), oppressing the listener with haunting clashes of notes while always being ready to collapse into a foul riff or grim lead. “Reversed Head Renewal” channels the riff-centric Gorguts in all its glory, high trems riding out over a bass that clangs like The Iron Giant taking a jog. Title track “Passage to a Neutron Star” alternates between blast beats galore and sudden, brief measures of brvtal Ulcerate-isms before the vocals turn more throaty in style and the chord progressions become more slammy to follow suit. All of this should be a disjointed, inapproachable mess, but it is not, and at its peak, there are signs of some truly incredible things brewing in the Carbon Tomb camp.

Those signs find themselves in the album centerpiece, “The Dog Hunter” and “Of God’s Neglect.” These two songs are a perfectly complimentary pair of violence, fusing skull-liquifying riffcraft and supremely emotive introspection in equal turn. “The Dog Hunter” centers around a riff channeling Human Cull violence which slowly unravels with drummer Mikael rocking the bat-on-an-oak-tree sounding snare in various permutations, impossibly catchy without losing a drop of its oppressive atmosphere. “Of God’s Neglect” features a positively tear-jerking synth(!!) lead over more midpaced and mournful grooves, a flourish which appears completely out of nowhere and somehow fuses with the main spirit of the album masterfully, without ever seeming like an afterthought or unnecessary gimmick. This is the closest moment of raw melody on the entire album, and despite being a complete inversion of everything Carbon Tomb seem to stand for—ugly, dissonant notes and speed, suddenly slathered with slow, singable beauty—it doesn’t just work; it’s absolutely delightful and an instant contender for Song of the Year. A complete album with this dual approach would have me ready to give the highest marks, and it’s exciting to see that in an already very good album, ideas of proper greatness are gestating.

It helps that Carbon Tomb have a good ear for good production and album flow, with a decently dynamic master, especially for the genre. Drums are well articulated and clear despite the (usually) blast-heavy presentation, and vocalist/bassist Jappe Tander keeps his instrument center stage without ever overwhelming the depressed-alien riff construction of guitarist Richardt. Jappe’s vocal style also features some decent Gorguts nods, emulating Luc Lemay’s hoarse roar when not engaging in subterranean gutturals. The only big knock against Passage to a Neutron Star is that the mid-stretch is so S-tier that the back third seems to suffer a superficial dip in quality despite none of the songs themselves suffering from any serious bloat or superficiality.

Carbon Tomb have come out of nowhere and offered a devastating blow to listeners around the world with a debut of excellent quality and composition. I won’t yet go so far as to declare it an instant classic, but the giants it stands on are of some very broad shoulders indeed, allowing the band to reach where few young outfits could hope to tread. Passage to a Neutron Star has announced Carbon Tomb as big-time players in the world of grindy dissodeath, and I cannot wait to see what stars await us in the future.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: July 17th, 2025

While any band, metal or not, would kill to have a classic in their discography, I often feel that having one can do their other albums a disservice. Some classics continue their perpetual status by virtue of self-fulfilling “this is good because we have been told it must be” prophecy (Tomb of the Mutilated), while some keep their status because fans refuse to accept anything else as even capable of touching this particular sound (None So Vile, Dopethrone, Destroy the Opposition) irrespective of the quality of follow-up releases. Over the last decade or so, Gorguts has usurped Meshuggah for the band everyone mines for inspiration, with fantastic results. Hailing from Denmark, Carbon Tomb are here to scourge the earth with their debut album Passage to a Neutron Star, and they too have thrown their hat in the Gorguts ring. Show of hands, who’s expecting an Obscura clone?1 Well, you’re wrong, and I couldn’t be more thrilled.

The backbone of Carbon Tomb plays heavily on Gorguts more straightforward yet just as foul From Wisdom to Hate. The discordant and oppressive approaches you expect are all present, but in a far more digestible form despite the raw ugliness of the notes. Alternating between grindcore-tier assault and full speed ahead spirit with sudden half-time slowdowns and twanging leads, Passage to a Neutron Star manages to draw from more than one spirit of disharmonic masters. The alien soundscapes of Artificial Brain collide with wailing and gnashing of Teeth (“A Hidden Creature”), oppressing the listener with haunting clashes of notes while always being ready to collapse into a foul riff or grim lead. “Reversed Head Renewal” channels the riff-centric Gorguts in all its glory, high trems riding out over a bass that clangs like The Iron Giant taking a jog. Title track “Passage to a Neutron Star” alternates between blast beats galore and sudden, brief measures of brvtal Ulcerate-isms before the vocals turn more throaty in style and the chord progressions become more slammy to follow suit. All of this should be a disjointed, inapproachable mess, but it is not, and at its peak, there are signs of some truly incredible things brewing in the Carbon Tomb camp.

Those signs find themselves in the album centerpiece, “The Dog Hunter” and “Of God’s Neglect.” These two songs are a perfectly complimentary pair of violence, fusing skull-liquifying riffcraft and supremely emotive introspection in equal turn. “The Dog Hunter” centers around a riff channeling Human Cull violence which slowly unravels with drummer Mikael rocking the bat-on-an-oak-tree sounding snare in various permutations, impossibly catchy without losing a drop of its oppressive atmosphere. “Of God’s Neglect” features a positively tear-jerking synth(!!) lead over more midpaced and mournful grooves, a flourish which appears completely out of nowhere and somehow fuses with the main spirit of the album masterfully, without ever seeming like an afterthought or unnecessary gimmick. This is the closest moment of raw melody on the entire album, and despite being a complete inversion of everything Carbon Tomb seem to stand for—ugly, dissonant notes and speed, suddenly slathered with slow, singable beauty—it doesn’t just work; it’s absolutely delightful and an instant contender for Song of the Year. A complete album with this dual approach would have me ready to give the highest marks, and it’s exciting to see that in an already very good album, ideas of proper greatness are gestating.

It helps that Carbon Tomb have a good ear for good production and album flow, with a decently dynamic master, especially for the genre. Drums are well articulated and clear despite the (usually) blast-heavy presentation, and vocalist/bassist Jappe Tander keeps his instrument center stage without ever overwhelming the depressed-alien riff construction of guitarist Richardt. Jappe’s vocal style also features some decent Gorguts nods, emulating Luc Lemay’s hoarse roar when not engaging in subterranean gutturals. The only big knock against Passage to a Neutron Star is that the mid-stretch is so S-tier that the back third seems to suffer a superficial dip in quality despite none of the songs themselves suffering from any serious bloat or superficiality.

Carbon Tomb have come out of nowhere and offered a devastating blow to listeners around the world with a debut of excellent quality and composition. I won’t yet go so far as to declare it an instant classic, but the giants it stands on are of some very broad shoulders indeed, allowing the band to reach where few young outfits could hope to tread. Passage to a Neutron Star has announced Carbon Tomb as big-time players in the world of grindy dissodeath, and I cannot wait to see what stars await us in the future.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: July 17th, 2025

While any band, metal or not, would kill to have a classic in their discography, I often feel that having one can do their other albums a disservice. Some classics continue their perpetual status by virtue of self-fulfilling “this is good because we have been told it must be” prophecy (Tomb of the Mutilated), while some keep their status because fans refuse to accept anything else as even capable of touching this particular sound (None So Vile, Dopethrone, Destroy the Opposition) irrespective of the quality of follow-up releases. Over the last decade or so, Gorguts has usurped Meshuggah for the band everyone mines for inspiration, with fantastic results. Hailing from Denmark, Carbon Tomb are here to scourge the earth with their debut album Passage to a Neutron Star, and they too have thrown their hat in the Gorguts ring. Show of hands, who’s expecting an Obscura clone?1 Well, you’re wrong, and I couldn’t be more thrilled.

The backbone of Carbon Tomb plays heavily on Gorguts more straightforward yet just as foul From Wisdom to Hate. The discordant and oppressive approaches you expect are all present, but in a far more digestible form despite the raw ugliness of the notes. Alternating between grindcore-tier assault and full speed ahead spirit with sudden half-time slowdowns and twanging leads, Passage to a Neutron Star manages to draw from more than one spirit of disharmonic masters. The alien soundscapes of Artificial Brain collide with wailing and gnashing of Teeth (“A Hidden Creature”), oppressing the listener with haunting clashes of notes while always being ready to collapse into a foul riff or grim lead. “Reversed Head Renewal” channels the riff-centric Gorguts in all its glory, high trems riding out over a bass that clangs like The Iron Giant taking a jog. Title track “Passage to a Neutron Star” alternates between blast beats galore and sudden, brief measures of brvtal Ulcerate-isms before the vocals turn more throaty in style and the chord progressions become more slammy to follow suit. All of this should be a disjointed, inapproachable mess, but it is not, and at its peak, there are signs of some truly incredible things brewing in the Carbon Tomb camp.

Those signs find themselves in the album centerpiece, “The Dog Hunter” and “Of God’s Neglect.” These two songs are a perfectly complimentary pair of violence, fusing skull-liquifying riffcraft and supremely emotive introspection in equal turn. “The Dog Hunter” centers around a riff channeling Human Cull violence which slowly unravels with drummer Mikael rocking the bat-on-an-oak-tree sounding snare in various permutations, impossibly catchy without losing a drop of its oppressive atmosphere. “Of God’s Neglect” features a positively tear-jerking synth(!!) lead over more midpaced and mournful grooves, a flourish which appears completely out of nowhere and somehow fuses with the main spirit of the album masterfully, without ever seeming like an afterthought or unnecessary gimmick. This is the closest moment of raw melody on the entire album, and despite being a complete inversion of everything Carbon Tomb seem to stand for—ugly, dissonant notes and speed, suddenly slathered with slow, singable beauty—it doesn’t just work; it’s absolutely delightful and an instant contender for Song of the Year. A complete album with this dual approach would have me ready to give the highest marks, and it’s exciting to see that in an already very good album, ideas of proper greatness are gestating.

It helps that Carbon Tomb have a good ear for good production and album flow, with a decently dynamic master, especially for the genre. Drums are well articulated and clear despite the (usually) blast-heavy presentation, and vocalist/bassist Jappe Tander keeps his instrument center stage without ever overwhelming the depressed-alien riff construction of guitarist Richardt. Jappe’s vocal style also features some decent Gorguts nods, emulating Luc Lemay’s hoarse roar when not engaging in subterranean gutturals. The only big knock against Passage to a Neutron Star is that the mid-stretch is so S-tier that the back third seems to suffer a superficial dip in quality despite none of the songs themselves suffering from any serious bloat or superficiality.

Carbon Tomb have come out of nowhere and offered a devastating blow to listeners around the world with a debut of excellent quality and composition. I won’t yet go so far as to declare it an instant classic, but the giants it stands on are of some very broad shoulders indeed, allowing the band to reach where few young outfits could hope to tread. Passage to a Neutron Star has announced Carbon Tomb as big-time players in the world of grindy dissodeath, and I cannot wait to see what stars await us in the future.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: July 17th, 2025

While any band, metal or not, would kill to have a classic in their discography, I often feel that having one can do their other albums a disservice. Some classics continue their perpetual status by virtue of self-fulfilling “this is good because we have been told it must be” prophecy (Tomb of the Mutilated), while some keep their status because fans refuse to accept anything else as even capable of touching this particular sound (None So Vile, Dopethrone, Destroy the Opposition) irrespective of the quality of follow-up releases. Over the last decade or so, Gorguts has usurped Meshuggah for the band everyone mines for inspiration, with fantastic results. Hailing from Denmark, Carbon Tomb are here to scourge the earth with their debut album Passage to a Neutron Star, and they too have thrown their hat in the Gorguts ring. Show of hands, who’s expecting an Obscura clone?1 Well, you’re wrong, and I couldn’t be more thrilled.

The backbone of Carbon Tomb plays heavily on Gorguts more straightforward yet just as foul From Wisdom to Hate. The discordant and oppressive approaches you expect are all present, but in a far more digestible form despite the raw ugliness of the notes. Alternating between grindcore-tier assault and full speed ahead spirit with sudden half-time slowdowns and twanging leads, Passage to a Neutron Star manages to draw from more than one spirit of disharmonic masters. The alien soundscapes of Artificial Brain collide with wailing and gnashing of Teeth (“A Hidden Creature”), oppressing the listener with haunting clashes of notes while always being ready to collapse into a foul riff or grim lead. “Reversed Head Renewal” channels the riff-centric Gorguts in all its glory, high trems riding out over a bass that clangs like The Iron Giant taking a jog. Title track “Passage to a Neutron Star” alternates between blast beats galore and sudden, brief measures of brvtal Ulcerate-isms before the vocals turn more throaty in style and the chord progressions become more slammy to follow suit. All of this should be a disjointed, inapproachable mess, but it is not, and at its peak, there are signs of some truly incredible things brewing in the Carbon Tomb camp.

Those signs find themselves in the album centerpiece, “The Dog Hunter” and “Of God’s Neglect.” These two songs are a perfectly complimentary pair of violence, fusing skull-liquifying riffcraft and supremely emotive introspection in equal turn. “The Dog Hunter” centers around a riff channeling Human Cull violence which slowly unravels with drummer Mikael rocking the bat-on-an-oak-tree sounding snare in various permutations, impossibly catchy without losing a drop of its oppressive atmosphere. “Of God’s Neglect” features a positively tear-jerking synth(!!) lead over more midpaced and mournful grooves, a flourish which appears completely out of nowhere and somehow fuses with the main spirit of the album masterfully, without ever seeming like an afterthought or unnecessary gimmick. This is the closest moment of raw melody on the entire album, and despite being a complete inversion of everything Carbon Tomb seem to stand for—ugly, dissonant notes and speed, suddenly slathered with slow, singable beauty—it doesn’t just work; it’s absolutely delightful and an instant contender for Song of the Year. A complete album with this dual approach would have me ready to give the highest marks, and it’s exciting to see that in an already very good album, ideas of proper greatness are gestating.

It helps that Carbon Tomb have a good ear for good production and album flow, with a decently dynamic master, especially for the genre. Drums are well articulated and clear despite the (usually) blast-heavy presentation, and vocalist/bassist Jappe Tander keeps his instrument center stage without ever overwhelming the depressed-alien riff construction of guitarist Richardt. Jappe’s vocal style also features some decent Gorguts nods, emulating Luc Lemay’s hoarse roar when not engaging in subterranean gutturals. The only big knock against Passage to a Neutron Star is that the mid-stretch is so S-tier that the back third seems to suffer a superficial dip in quality despite none of the songs themselves suffering from any serious bloat or superficiality.

Carbon Tomb have come out of nowhere and offered a devastating blow to listeners around the world with a debut of excellent quality and composition. I won’t yet go so far as to declare it an instant classic, but the giants it stands on are of some very broad shoulders indeed, allowing the band to reach where few young outfits could hope to tread. Passage to a Neutron Star has announced Carbon Tomb as big-time players in the world of grindy dissodeath, and I cannot wait to see what stars await us in the future.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: July 17th, 2025

While any band, metal or not, would kill to have a classic in their discography, I often feel that having one can do their other albums a disservice. Some classics continue their perpetual status by virtue of self-fulfilling “this is good because we have been told it must be” prophecy (Tomb of the Mutilated), while some keep their status because fans refuse to accept anything else as even capable of touching this particular sound (None So Vile, Dopethrone, Destroy the Opposition) irrespective of the quality of follow-up releases. Over the last decade or so, Gorguts has usurped Meshuggah for the band everyone mines for inspiration, with fantastic results. Hailing from Denmark, Carbon Tomb are here to scourge the earth with their debut album Passage to a Neutron Star, and they too have thrown their hat in the Gorguts ring. Show of hands, who’s expecting an Obscura clone?1 Well, you’re wrong, and I couldn’t be more thrilled.

The backbone of Carbon Tomb plays heavily on Gorguts more straightforward yet just as foul From Wisdom to Hate. The discordant and oppressive approaches you expect are all present, but in a far more digestible form despite the raw ugliness of the notes. Alternating between grindcore-tier assault and full speed ahead spirit with sudden half-time slowdowns and twanging leads, Passage to a Neutron Star manages to draw from more than one spirit of disharmonic masters. The alien soundscapes of Artificial Brain collide with wailing and gnashing of Teeth (“A Hidden Creature”), oppressing the listener with haunting clashes of notes while always being ready to collapse into a foul riff or grim lead. “Reversed Head Renewal” channels the riff-centric Gorguts in all its glory, high trems riding out over a bass that clangs like The Iron Giant taking a jog. Title track “Passage to a Neutron Star” alternates between blast beats galore and sudden, brief measures of brvtal Ulcerate-isms before the vocals turn more throaty in style and the chord progressions become more slammy to follow suit. All of this should be a disjointed, inapproachable mess, but it is not, and at its peak, there are signs of some truly incredible things brewing in the Carbon Tomb camp.

Those signs find themselves in the album centerpiece, “The Dog Hunter” and “Of God’s Neglect.” These two songs are a perfectly complimentary pair of violence, fusing skull-liquifying riffcraft and supremely emotive introspection in equal turn. “The Dog Hunter” centers around a riff channeling Human Cull violence which slowly unravels with drummer Mikael rocking the bat-on-an-oak-tree sounding snare in various permutations, impossibly catchy without losing a drop of its oppressive atmosphere. “Of God’s Neglect” features a positively tear-jerking synth(!!) lead over more midpaced and mournful grooves, a flourish which appears completely out of nowhere and somehow fuses with the main spirit of the album masterfully, without ever seeming like an afterthought or unnecessary gimmick. This is the closest moment of raw melody on the entire album, and despite being a complete inversion of everything Carbon Tomb seem to stand for—ugly, dissonant notes and speed, suddenly slathered with slow, singable beauty—it doesn’t just work; it’s absolutely delightful and an instant contender for Song of the Year. A complete album with this dual approach would have me ready to give the highest marks, and it’s exciting to see that in an already very good album, ideas of proper greatness are gestating.

It helps that Carbon Tomb have a good ear for good production and album flow, with a decently dynamic master, especially for the genre. Drums are well articulated and clear despite the (usually) blast-heavy presentation, and vocalist/bassist Jappe Tander keeps his instrument center stage without ever overwhelming the depressed-alien riff construction of guitarist Richardt. Jappe’s vocal style also features some decent Gorguts nods, emulating Luc Lemay’s hoarse roar when not engaging in subterranean gutturals. The only big knock against Passage to a Neutron Star is that the mid-stretch is so S-tier that the back third seems to suffer a superficial dip in quality despite none of the songs themselves suffering from any serious bloat or superficiality.

Carbon Tomb have come out of nowhere and offered a devastating blow to listeners around the world with a debut of excellent quality and composition. I won’t yet go so far as to declare it an instant classic, but the giants it stands on are of some very broad shoulders indeed, allowing the band to reach where few young outfits could hope to tread. Passage to a Neutron Star has announced Carbon Tomb as big-time players in the world of grindy dissodeath, and I cannot wait to see what stars await us in the future.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: July 17th, 2025

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

Conjurer – Unself Review

By Dear Hollow

I’m beginning to think Mire was a fluke. I’m not saying that as a bad thing, but I remember listening to Conjurer’s debut and thinking that it was a top post-metal album steeped in atmosphere and enigma, tied together with vicious vocals and vindictive weight.1 So then, I was immensely let down by follow-up Páthos because it seemed to shed substance for novelty: if I’m being honest, its stark dichotomy of heartwrenching melodies and kickass riffs felt inauthentic and shoehorned. Thus, I approached Unself carefully, hoping for something like Mire but tentatively expecting Páthos. What I got, however, was neither. You see, Mire was a fluke not in quality but in approach, because Unself proves that Conjurer prioritizes riff, weaponizing it for the very human tale of the deconstruction of self.

The title track enters with what I would expect from an early 2010s metalcore band intro,2 the Americana cover of 1919 gospel song “I Can’t Feel At Home in this World Anymore” morphing into a full-on dissodeath takedown via a barb of squealing dissonance. While this and the final song, “The World is Not My Home” seem to tie up the album into a thematic deconstruction of religion, Unself is a bit more complex than that. It reflects the journey of vocalist/guitarist Dani Nightingale through an autism diagnosis and discovery of them being non-binary. Similarly reflecting this complexity and remaining incredibly difficult to neatly categorize its sonic assault, Conjurer lays a foundation of post-metal’s meandering rhythmic hulk with death metal intensity, sludge tonal abuse, and a sleek modern production built atop, with – in Unself – hints of black metal. It’s not the second coming of Mire – it’s Unself and undeniably on-brand and completely authentic – and that’s perfectly okay for Conjurer.

Unself’s structure shows Conjurer’s devotion to natural growth, a welcome change from the shoehorned Páthos – largely because Nightingale’s sonic struggles with self-discovery undergird the movements. The two halves of the album are divided into three tracks, bookended by the Huntsmen-influenced thematic motif of the aforesaid “I Can’t Feel at Home in This World” morphed into ugly beatdowns and yearning sadness. The meat of the two suites fall into one of three categories: the relatively traditional post-metal waltzing of Amenra’s heavier moments in sprawling weight (“All Apart,” “Foreclosure”), the yearning chord progressions and melodies recalling Páthos’ emotive emphasis to a more effective degree (“There Is No Warmth,” “Let Us Live”), or the outright assaults of blackened sludge and -core breakdowns (“The Searing Glow,” “Hang Them in Your Head”). As the album progresses, so does the intensity. The latter, the most vicious of the bunch, feel like they nearly boil over, nearly forsaking the post-metal attack for an obscure death metal attack a la Convulsing or Adversarial – making interlude “A Plea” truly the eye of the storm in its minimalist approach, distant vocal samples, and acoustic strumming.

The balance between novelty and songwriting remains an issue for Conjurer. Because of the trichotomy of its sounds, Unself offers different levels of quality. At first, the more traditional post-metal cuts (“All Apart,” “Foreclosure”) feel like absolute bangers, touched with darkness and harmony – but then you hear the other two approaches and they suddenly feel overly long and uneventful in comparison. Likewise, there are several tracks that could stand a good trimming, simply because many feature a singular abrupt tonal shift from melodic to dissonant in its last respective third (“There is No Warmth,” “Let Us Live”). A more divisive take is that Conjurer’s production is very modern and sleek, the down-tuned leads more akin to 2010s metalcore acts like The Plot in You or The Sorrow, an accessibility largely contradicting post-metal’s historic opaqueness (Neurosis) and death metal’s hostility (Bolt Thrower), so while I liked its more “loud and ouchy” tones, others may not be so persuaded.

The novelty and the emotion are resolved in Unself, as Conjurer finally feels authentic and realized. No, Unself is not better than Mire, but it feels more genuine and human than Páthos, offering some of the act’s most intense material to date while chronicling the dismantling of the self into something more authentic. Not only does Dani Nightingale embark on a journey of self-discovery, but Conjurer does too. I’m just happy to be along for the ride.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: conjureruk.bandcamp.com | conjureruk.com | facebook.com/conjureruk
Releases Worldwide: October 24th, 2025

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