#feb26 — Public Fediverse posts

Rocking the same lineup since 2016, Helsinki foursome Chalice returns to serve up their sophomore offering, Divine Spear. Debut Trembling Crown dropped at the tail-end of 2020, and just over five years later, its follow-up retains Chalice’s essence while evolving the previous album’s rugged character. Where Trembling Crown rumbles with a raucous vigor, Divine Spear more often exudes a silky, polished sheen, enlivening its tracks with slick guitars, a vibrant production, and Jethro Tullian flourishes. The brew may have matured, but the core ingredients remain the same—so let us quaff from the Chalice and see if the draught is divine enough to raise our spears!

Chalice covers a variegated landscape of inspirations on Divine Spear, drawing from the realms of heavy metal and hard rock. Especially refreshing about Chalice’s ingestion of influences is their ability to seamlessly weave homage into their songs. “Hollow Curtain,” for instance, radiates top-Týr charisma throughout verse and chorus, with vocalist Verneri Benjamin Pouttu sustaining notes that echo Heri Joensen’s longship-ready croon. Later in the song, particularly in the solo, the marrow of Iron Maiden crackles with a guitar tone ripped from Brave New World. This modus operandi holds true throughout the album, whether it’s the Ian Anderson flute toots in “Empyrean Liturgy,” the “Aqualung”-coded solo from “Age Ethereal,” or the Pink Floydian psychedelia of “Alioth,” which is redolent of “Comfortably Numb” and patchouli. Despite the diverse calls to other bands, Chalice’s magic on Divine Spear lies in blending inspirations into a cohesive whole, taking the sounds of influences and knitting them into a unified platter informed by muses rather than mimicking them.1

Divine Spear by Chalice

Aiding the lush instrumentation on Divine Spear, Chalice nails the production and mix. The dynamic range boasts an impressive score, and while that doesn’t guarantee a great soundscape,2 it proves true here. Divine Spear sounds incredible throughout its forty-eight minutes, regardless of whether I’m listening in my car, through my headphones, or on my phone speaker.3 The six-string tandem of Mikael Cristian Haavisto and guitarist/vocalist Pouttu is especially arresting, from the twists and chugs of “Dwell of a Stellar Trance” to the acoustic warbles in “Mare Imbrium” and “Empyrean Liturgy.” Chalice’s rhythm section also avails itself niftily, never quite in the spotlight but handily hammering away in service of the songs. Drummer Olli Törrönen rarely reaches fever pitch, but neither is he content to remain planted in the pocket, loosing a quick fill here and a double-kick roll there. No moment ever feels compressed or too busy, and the overarching aural experience goes down as smooth as Joni Adrian Petander’s bass.4

Offsetting the myriad reasons to love Divine Spear, Chalice’s subtle songwriting occasionally suppresses what could be an even better album. Divine Spear is rife with variety, both in pacing and instrumentation, but while satisfyingly spirited moments dot the experience, too often I feel like Chalice holds back rather than capitalizing on big moments. According to the Bandcamp page, the band delivers ‘poignant shifts into cleaner, quieter territory, truly heightening the drama.’ This rings true, but composing livelier moments, particularly on “Empyrean Liturgy” and “Alioth,” could elevate songs by imbuing atmospheres with a contrast that ratchets up tension rather than maintaining a subdued pace for six minutes. And speaking of runtimes, every now and again, song durations on Divine Spear push past what’s needed. Other than “Age Ethereal,” whose eight minutes could be significantly trimmed, Chalice does well not going far past tracks’ expiration dates. Still, tightening them up would engender greater results.

In total, Chalice proves their interpretation of trad metal works as well through a gentler lens as it does on their rough-and-tumble debut. The choruses catch, the riffs hook, and the music feels familiar and novel all at once, eliciting an engaging encounter that rewards multiple listens. A few small adjustments could make an immediate and outsized impact, though I have to emphasize that, even as is, Divine Spear merits a listen. There’s no doubt Chalice possesses a winning recipe, and I hope we don’t have to wait quite so long for their next effort. Until then, Divine Spear’s formulation is plenty Good enough.

Rating: Good!
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

In my hitherto short stint of indefinite indentured servitude in the hall, I’ve frequently noted the importance of albums with narrative. In my younger days, I was a simp for albums with as many tracks as I could find. Deluxe editions? Yes please. Reissues, demos, covers, unreleased bonus cuts? Heck yeah, inject that right into my veins. It’s only as the responsibilities of adulthood overtook casual listening time that I began to appreciate albums with brevity, direction, and a distinct sense of a complete, full-bodied work. Well, everybody buckle in, because somewhere in the ether a big middle finger on a monkey’s paw has curled in my direction, by way of Italy’s Dwellnought, presenting their debut album Monolith of Ephemerality. Oh, we will go on a journey together, alright, but will there be anything left worth recounting of this Monolith on our return?

Despite an album title seemingly indebted to the more thesaurus-riddled branches of slam, Dwellnought actually traffic in a brand of feedback-drenched blackened doom. Atmospheric theatrics are the name of the game, with an album that seeks to deprive the listener of anything approaching light, optimism, or major keys. Rumbling feedback collapses into slow bpm plods with sustained trem-chords filling in the negative spaces in time for single cymbal/bass drum hits before eventually metamorphosing into an earthquake shattering riff while vocalist S bellows and wails from just beyond the mix. The doom takes the biggest prevalence as Monolith of Ephemerality rarely exceeds a brisk trot in pace, with any spurts of speed eventually devolving back into exhausted continuations.

Monolith of Ephemerality by DWELLNOUGHT

Such commitment to crippling atmosphere is admirable, but it comes at the expense of almost everything else. Dwellnought have attempted an unusual formula, channeling the claustrophobia of Teitanblood in production but channeled through an almost Bell Witch chord pacing with occasional flourishes of Ossuary crust-heaving. The formula finds its peak at the beginning, with long-form intro “Slumbering Through the Dream of Impermanence” flowing seamlessly into massive 17-minute barnburner “The Final Desire is Unbeing.” Here is the Dwellnought recipe at its most refined. The otherwise needlessly lengthy intro is atmospheric and mood-setting, with the oscillation of tempo and tone in its follow-up masterfully executed. Within this lengthy run comes segments heavily indebted to drum-machine era Blut Aus Nord gelling into a barbaric Cough waltz with effortlessness. This 20-minute kickoff shows real promise, evoking the abyss with texture as much as color, or lack thereof.

If only the rest of the album followed suit. The quality dip in the back three-fifths represents not a slope as much as a sudden drop-off where memorable songwriting is sacrificed utterly at the altar of mood. The dedication to the mood is palpable, as not one note approaches anything optimistic or upbeat, but in their avoidance of such things, Dwellnought also sidestep memorability or impact. “Crystalized Flesh Identities Condensed into Wombs of Matter” can’t make up its mind whether it wants to be fast or slow and has tempo changes marked more by indecision than deliberate arrangement. Both this and “Ill Whispers” frequently rely on chords ringing out via prolonged strum with minimalized drumbeats, but the notes are mixed so homogenously I struggle to tell if there are actual riffs or if Dwellnought are riding atonality into oblivion. The opening to both tracks borders on self-plagiarism in their similarity, and no single moment of menace comes close to matching the peak of the preceding songs. Additionally, Monolith of Ephemerality ends on a 6-minute assault of nothing but static and a grumbly voice speaking out of the void, which is wild since that’s exactly how “Crystalized Flesh…” ends as well. An attempt at a narrative is clear, and yet this climax is far from earned, given the drought of memorable set pieces to justify such a noise-rooted outro.

And yet, I keep coming back to those first twenty minutes. It takes balls the size of a bird of a plane of ClarkKent1 to open up your already longform album with your highest quality riffs. Had these two songs made up all of Monolith of Ephemerality as a single-track ep (not dissimilar to Suffering Hour’s Dwell, for example), this would make an excellent addition to the end-of-the-year EP roundups. There’s a genuine seed of promise in how Dwellnought have put their best foot forward, but the collapse in quality as the album continues cannot be denied. The mix is massive, the tone dark, the atmosphere oppressive, and the influences are a recipe for a good time. But somewhere along the way, Dwellnought stared so hard into the abyss that eventually even the abyss stopped staring back. All atmosphere and very little riffage, this album is an excellent reminder to be careful what we wish for.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Caligari Records
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026

It’s not uncommon for death metal musicians to mellow and prog out the longer they roam this Earth. Far from a negative connotation, enough songwriting prowess can lead to a tasteful and potent way to carry out said development. One of many collectives in this category is the Morbus Chron expanded universe. These Swedes first went from classic death metal to Sweven, which eventually led to an even proggier Sweven. Now, in a further evolution following the Law of Increasing Hippietude™, we arrive at Speglas. Although predating Sweven by some five years, it took until now for the debut full-length Endarkenment, Being & Death to come to fruition. Their goal of fusing death and black metal with heavy metal, however, has remained the same throughout. With two degrees of staff and sound separation between Morbus Chron and Speglas, where has all this evolution led to?

The Sweven presence in the lineup of Speglas is noticeable from the get go. Isak Rosemarin (Sweven, ex-Morbus Chron) acts as half of the guitar crew and all of the vocal crew, lending the album a warm but powerful, raspy growl often reminiscent of Niilo Sevänen (Insomnium). Jesper Nyrelius’s (Sweven) drumming is varied and detailed (“The Spirit Postmortem,” “Hitherto Awry”). Alexi Hedlund’s guitar and Victor Berg’s bass round out the great performances of the lineup. Musically, Endarkenment… tends to fall somewhere between Inconcessus Lux Lucis’s blackened Iron Maiden approach (sadly gone unmentioned on site until now) and Chapel of Disease’s severely underrated deathened dad rock from 2024. Fans of Tribulation’s Down Below era might find a lot to like here as well. The songwriting builds upon their preceding EPs—2015’s Birth, Dreams & Death and 2022’s Time, Futility & Death—but improves on all aspects, nailing down the vocals and crafting a memorable dual guitar tandem (“Incessant Severance,” “Dies Mali”). And while the project’s vision does precede Sweven by a lot, its instrumentation inevitably ends up feeling distantly related (“Dearth”).

Endarkenment, Being & Death by Speglas

Endarkenment, Being & Death flows seamlessly from atmospheric to intense in various styles and tempos. Iron Maiden licks run amok throughout the album’s dual-harmonized guitar work (“Dearth,” “Rage upon the Dying Fire”) of course, but they’re not carrying the record alone. Gorgeous clean guitar parts (“Ailing,” “Dearth”) and sadboi tremolos (“Dies Mali”) accompany the superb rhythm and lead guitar efforts elsewhere. Parts of “The Endarkenment” even resemble Alcest by way of Spiritual Instinct’s fantastic post-black direction. All this leads to Speglas being progressive without it getting in the way of the music. In addition, a stellar production job only lifts up the band’s great stylistic choices. Simon Söderberg’s (whose production credits surprisingly include early Ghost) placement of drums and bass in the mix deserve special mention, as it makes an already good set of instruments sound incredible. Though not a massively layered or complex album, the combination of both songwriting and production depth makes for a highly repeatable experience.

Careful pacing allows Speglas to end their experiment with a triumphant bang instead of a whimper. Though the album could benefit from showing more teeth and grit at its most aggressive, the ending one-two punch of the album in “Dies Mali” and “Rage upon the Dying Fire” is a cornerstone hard to argue against. I wouldn’t be surprised if both end up being among my Song o’ the Year finalists. As for its softer side, the beauty of “Woe” and “Ailing” won’t change the minds of people diametrically opposed to intros and interludes. Some will say Speglas’s style is too watered down, others might think it’s not watered down enough. But I think Endarkenment… strikes a great balance in between, the music being both heavy and beautiful, intricate and addictingly catchy as a result.

You don’t need to reinvent the wheel to craft something that feels fresh and exemplary. Speglas took a long while to fine-tune their writing prowess for the debut, and it paid off in spades. Endarkenment, Being & Death succeeds in its primary goal as a superb example of progressive, deathened and blackened heavy metal. Despite not featuring any cowbell, I reckon it’ll be difficult for future 2026 albums to top this one come year-end. As the final recent n00b remaining who hadn’t broken the Score Safety Counter yet, I’m glad I held out this long for something remarkable. And I wasn’t even originally in charge of covering it!

Rating: Excellent
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Trust No One Recordings | Bandcamp
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

Reviewing albums explicitly labelled post-metal always seems to bring out my inner pedant. I know all genre labels are kind of meaningless, but post-metal specifically seems to simply be slapped onto anything with fewer riffs than your average atmo-black record, but a lot more cleans. Nonetheless, you know what it sounds like, in essence. If that essence had form, it could be Unverkalt on their third LP Héréditaire. Born in Greece and now split between Greece and Germany, Unverkalt’s self-styled avant-garde approach to post-metal takes its “heaviest and most heartfelt” form on this album, which also marks their signing with Season of Mist. Unknown to me beforehand, promotional references to Cut of Luna and Sylvaine in particular caught my eye, along with the art. I’m glad I picked it up because Unverkalt have something that approaches brilliance at many times. But in embodying the vague yet recognisable subgenre—and sounding good whilst doing it—Héréditaire fails to go further than the safety of the minimum required.

Ignore the artist touchstones in the promo; Unverkalt has little meaningful in common with them: a female lead vocalist is about where that starts and ends. If anything, the aura reflects more Harakiri for the Sky, Heretoir, or maybe Frayle. Lead vocalist Dimitra Kalavrezou sings with a distinctive, somewhat sweet intonation, and screams with articulate fierceness—impressive considering this is her first record providing harsh vocals. Her voice is joined by that of guitarist Eli Mavrychev and—in a late-album highlight—Sakis Tolis (“I, The Deceit”), often layered and intermingled to lend a chorus-of-many-voices air that can be quite powerful. This sense of solidarity and humanity ties into Héréditaire’s overt emotionality—easily its greatest asset—which revolves around mournful yet uplifting themes that rise from softly resonant notes into the (regrettably blurry) weeping of tremolo and chunky riffs. It’s through the continued swell and fade of each composition that we get to see the greats that Unverkalt is capable of.

Héréditaire by Unverkalt

Even as songs tend to repeat the same pattern, most manage to draw the listener in. Synths (“Oath ov Prometheus”), vaguely MENA-style saxophone (“Ænæ Lithi”), and sprinklings of piano (“Penumbrian Lament”), and humming strings (“Maladie de l’Esprit”)1 float in and out, and I only wish they were used more. Harnessing the drama of surging, urgent riffs (“Die Auslöschung,” “Oath ov Prometheus”) and heartfelt group screams and singing (“Death is Forever,” “A Lullaby for the Descent”), the iterated compositions win you over by sheer force. These plainly beautiful melodies and ardent vocal performances are inextricable, each lending the other a level of strength and gravity neither could claim in isolation. Some songs stand head and shoulders above others in this regard: “Die Auslöschung,” “Death is Forever,” “Maladie de l’Esprit,” and in particular, “I, the Deceit,” where Sakis Tolis brings not only his voice but a distinctly Scandinavian melodeath2 vibe to a song where he and Dimitria also duet in their shared native tongue. That song and many others are also examples of Unverkalt’s strange, quasi-pop-rock leanings that they incorporate through the use of bobbing, understated clean refrains that slingshot back into something heavier or more atmospheric (“Oath ov Prometheus,” “A Lullaby for the Descent,” “Introjects”). This weirdness sharpens Unverkalt’s style and works surprisingly well.

Héréditaire thus brims with feeling, strong melodies, and potential. Undeniably stirring at its best (“Die Auslöschung,” “I, the Deceit,” “Maladie de l’Esprit”), and with little idiosyncrasies of style giving it distinction, as a whole it feels oddly unrealised. One culprit is the shockingly compressed mix, which robs the guitars of their body and drums of their bite. Given the vocal range on display and the elements of instrumental experimentation (horns, piano, etc), this would sound far better with a roomier production. But it’s primarily the overly repetitive structure of the compositions that causes issues. Though the passion of the singing or screaming, and the force of a good melody cause you to briefly forget, every song follows essentially the same trajectory—or rather, the same sequence of things repeats across the album, sometimes spanning between songs. Whispers or quiet singing, a steady beat and post-rock atmosphere, black-adjacent speed and screaming, and a lapse into a swaying tempo. With nine tracks adding up to around 50 minutes, you start to notice.

I don’t want to rag on Héréditarire too much; it’s a good album. The fervency and melancholia of the vocal performances—from Dimitria especially—and melodies show the passion behind the project, and there’s a thread of individuality that could pull them out of obscurity. But for as expressive, intriguing, and compelling as their music often is, Unverkalt’s reluctance—or inability—to step outside of a template holds them down when they could be soaring.

Rating: Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Season of Mist
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

Here at AMG Industries, we strive to unearth as many underground gems as possible. Sometimes, though, we may get a bit carried away, as Master of Muppets once did in a TYMHM article wherein he crammed as many shoutouts to other groups as possible. As this solitary line1 has been the only coverage Nullingroots has received here so far, allow me to introduce them more formally. Based in Phoenix, Arizona, Nullingroots was originally formed by Cameron Boesch as an instrumental post-metal solo project. Various shades of black metal were added over time alongside additional band members. The current iteration of Nullingroots includes Alex Haddad, the founder of rising progressive death metal act Dessiderium.2 Now, Fourth Dimensional Dreamscape signals Nullingroots’ re-emergence after a six-year hiatus.

I don’t know the extent to which Alex Haddad participated in writing Fourth Dimensional Dreamscape, but it certainly sounds as if he had a hand in it. The breezy major key melodies that defined last year’s Dessiderium record can be easily discerned in the guitar, bass, and piano, albeit filtered through a post-black lens instead of progressive death. In this way, I prefer Fourth Dimensional Dreamscape to its 2019 predecessor, Malady’s Black Maw, which was much more uniformly blackened with fewer instances to breathe. The most compelling moments now come from the piano and various other keyboard effects, which add a crystalline luster much like the otherworldly stylings of Unreqvited.

Fourth Dimensional Dreamscape by Nullingroots

Nullingroots packed a lot into the 55 minutes of Fourth Dimensional Dreamscape. The guitar chords often straddle the line between consonance and dissonance (“Fourth Dimensional Dreamscape,” “Remember My Name”). Drum tempo shifts are plentiful to the point of feeling erratic rather than progressive. The most intriguing track, “In Reverie’s Embrace,” combines a mystical keyboard tune with something almost resembling a rap beat played on the virtual drum kit. The vocals are the only area that can sometimes feel monotonous. The fierce rasps fit better within faster-paced songs like “Remember My Name,” but don’t mesh as well with the gentler “Memoir of a Frail Past,” though there are brief instances of smoother, gentler growls (“Life Thief”). The biggest missed opportunity is the complete absence of clean vocals, as Haddad’s singing would likely have complemented much of the instrumentation well if given the opportunity.

Despite its busyness, Fourth Dimensional Dreamscape doesn’t accomplish as much as it could. More often than not, it presents a jumble of independent moments as opposed to a fluid whole. Some of these moments are, admittedly, impressive, such as the guitar shredding partway through “The Optimist.” “Memoir of a Frail Past” and “In Reverie’s Embrace” fare better thanks to recurring keyboard melodies, but the rest of Fourth Dimensional Dreamscape is largely disjointed and at times nondescript. With a minimum track length of 7 minutes, the listener needs more reinforcement to stay grounded, especially in a setting where song intros and conclusions are regarded as optional. Ultimately, I don’t feel guided so much as roughly dragged through the majority of these long-form excursions.

Fourth Dimensional Dreamscape is a promising new sonic direction for Nullingroots after an extended absence, though it’s not without growing pains. I am convinced by the band members’ instrumental prowess, but less so by the songcraft. The first half goes down more smoothly than the second half, but the entire package isn’t sufficiently focused or cohesive. While it’s tough to wholeheartedly recommend Fourth Dimensional Dreamscape, with some tweaks and tightening, there’s a ton of potential for something really good to come. I’m (Nulling)rooting for them.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Self-Release
Websites: nullingroots.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/nullingroots
Releases Worldwide: February 11th, 2026

Following a string of setbacks, barriers, and logistical complications, Aussie progressive rock/metal juggernaut Karnivool finally return with their hotly anticipated fourth opus, In Verses. After nearly thirteen years between drinks, the crafty quartet, from the far reaches and musical hotbed of Perth, Western Australia, make a welcome return for prog aficionados and longtime fans of the veteran collective, who flourished from crunchy alt metal and nü flavored beginnings, into a revered progressive band through three previous LPs of high quality. From the clever arrangements and blockbuster hooks of 2005’s Themata, through to the accomplished, complex Toolisms and evolving textures of stunning sophomore platter Sound Awake (2009), to the rawer, experimental edge of 2013’s Asymmetry, Karnivool’s discography is sparse yet undeniably excellent.

Approaching In Verses feels a little strange initially. Karnivool’s curious decision to gradually drip-feed half the album’s songs across numerous months lends a familiarity to those without the willpower to give in to temptation, ensuring several of the songs are well lived in before giving the entire opus full attention. Take, for instance, the stormy rhythmic thrust and instantly gratifying hooks of lead single “Drone” (released in July 2025) or the revamped, stuttering crunch of “All It Takes,” originally released back in 2021. These higher energy songs are scattered throughout an album that pivots into more measured, subdued progressive pathways, courtesy of several longer form melodic odysseys, rich in detail, slow burning builds, and emotive, gorgeous vocals from silky voiced frontman Ian Kenny.

Opener “Ghost” unfurls at a relaxed pace, ramping up tension before a delightfully heavy, Middle Eastern-esque groove kicks in. After doing the rounds in their live shows, it is cool to finally hear the song in its studio form. Its complex arrangement and grinding edge lend a darker, off-kilter punch before the infectious burst of “Drone” makes its impressive mark. In Verses largely maintains momentum, sequencing quibbles aside. The softer material and prog power balladry roughly consume half the album, finding Karnivool snaking down introspective, heartfelt pathways, while compromising elements of Karnivool’s signature heavier, energetic fare, leading to pangs of initial disappointment. Over time, these feelings subsided as the brooding tones, glistening melodies, and gentle swells washed over. Soaring mid-album cut “Conversations” comes replete with delicate guitar work undercutting earworm hooks that cut deep. From noodling, melancholic builds, to crunchier undertones and hooks that eventually penetrate the brain and prove tough to dislodge, “Reanimation” culminates with an epic, soul-tingling solo from prog veteran Guthrie Govan (The Aristocrats, Steven Wilson).

Following the infectious grooves and bright melodies of “Remote Self-Control”, In Verses wraps up with a pair of wrenching, lighter in the air ballads (“Opal,” and haunting, bagpiped-adorned “Salva”). Again, displaying the slow-burning unfurl, structural subtleties and pop sensibilities featuring prominently across the album’s mellower cuts. Kenny’s powerhouse singing has been a staple of the Aussie music scene for decades now, both with Karnivool and high-profile rockers (now the questionably pop-inclined) Birds of Tokyo. It’s another highlight reel performance, bolstering Karnivool’s muscular, progressive rock/metallic core with blockbuster hooks, singalong anthems, and an emotionally raw delivery. Drummer Steve Judd and bassist Jon Stockman lay a mighty foundation, through a complex, tightly synced mix of tricky rhythms and driving grooves, paving way for guitarists Drew Goddard and Mark Hosking to delve into their bag of tricks. Supplementing crushing bursts of technical riffage and chunky grooves with understated layers of texture and noodling prog excursions, the duo perform impressively.

Over an hour-long runtime, Karnivool mostly get things right, though astute editing in patches and sequencing to more effectively disperse the mellower fare and energetic numbers, creates lingering nitpicks. Thus, In Verses proves difficult to score. Much of the material achieves, or at least teeters on the cusp of greatness, though the minor bloat, uneven pacing, and ballad-heavy approach compromise the album’s undeniable strengths. Regardless, In Verses marks a nuanced, introspective step in Karnivool’s evolution, rewarding patience, while retaining the signature hallmarks, intelligent songwriting, and hooky accessibility curated over the past couple of decades. Definitely a grower, In Verses won’t change the minds of listeners previously unmoved by Karnivool. Another singular entry into the band’s outstanding repertoire, In Verses stays true to the winning facets that have led to Karnivool’s revered status. Falling narrowly short of the lofty heights of Themata or Sound Awake, flaws and all, In Verses triumphs on its own merits.



Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Cymatic Records
Websites: Official | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

Charm is a powerful drug. At the farthest extremes, charm can alter my perception at a fundamental level, warping what might otherwise be boring, unreliable, or even downright problematic things into something worth defending or even loving. But when it comes to music, charm—in measured doses, of course—allows me to fully enjoy the good in something flawed. This is what ultimately drew me to Greek doom startups Distorted Reflection in 2024, and now again in 2026.

2024’s Doom Rules Eternally introduced founding member Kostas Salodmidis’ new project to the world and established Distorted Reflection’s core of doom. Combining Candlemass riffs with Sorcerer drama and a touch of Sorrows Path shred, that core carries over unchanged into Doom Zone. Kostas’ beefy riffs and screaming solos remain as present as ever, and so does his shaky baritone croon. Vangelis gains greater presence with his bass here, which is a welcome improvement over the debut, burbling in lockstep with riffs and offering counterpoint during solo breaks. Filling out the lineup, Thomas Zen pounds the skins with a swinging stomp that suits this doom-laden material like a fitted suit, classy and reigned into the pocket at all times. It might not be the most exciting or unique formula, but it works.

Unfortunately, Doom Zone lacks the one thing that made Doom Rules Eternally worth covering: charm. Doom Zone isn’t completely soulless, but its flaws dominate my experience, leaving very little room for Distorted Reflection’s earnest delivery and competent riffcraft to shine. Evident from the onset of opener “3000 A.D.” and unrelenting throughout the runtime, Kostas’ vocals conspire to distract and detract at almost every opportunity. Unstable vibrato, strained upper range1, abysmal growls and repetitive melodic phrasing make tracks like “My Second Father,” “Gates of Paranoia,” “Tower of Dreams,” and “Morbid Reality” difficult to enjoy. Doom Zone’s songwriting is also noticeably weaker, suffering from a deeply repetitive structure and monotonous pacing that inevitably stalls any momentum individual elements (riffs, solos, choruses) initiate (“Asphyxiation,” “The Final Attempt”). It’s a good thing, then, that Doom Zone is short, clocking in at a responsible 39 minutes. Even so, it drags such that I routinely check my playback to see if I’m close to the end.

This is a shame, because Distorted Reflection are gifted musicians with great potential. Kostas filled Doom Zone with an arsenal of chunky riffs and high-octane solos (“3000 A.D.,” “Certain Death,” “Diminished,” “Morbid Reality”), many of which aptly reference the great works of the doom metal scene, though perhaps a bit too closely. Zen’s drumming is a perfect fit for this sound as well, and Vangelis’ bass noodling is a delight to hear with such clarity. More importantly, everybody understands their role and can play their instruments well enough to attract the spotlight without having to force it away from someone else. The overarching problem ultimately lies in the songwriting. With the exception of a few solid tracks at the album’s midpoint, like “Diminished,” Doom Zone wholly lacks the dynamics, the creativity, and the voice it needs to succeed.

Charm can go a long way to make me like something I would otherwise pass up. Distorted Reflection almost instantaneously lost the charm they once had after my time with Doom Zone. Unmemorable, uninspired, and at times downright irritating, Doom Zone fails to exhibit Distorted Reflection’s strengths in a way that overshadows their flaws. Instead, it accomplished the inverse. Flaws glare, making the process of picking out highlights a grind, and the experience of enjoying the good a chore. I still have hope that they can turn it around with album three, but as it stands, my recommendation is to leave Doom Zone behind while you traverse the doom zone.



Rating: Bad
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Iron Shield Records
Websites: distortedreflectiondoom.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/distortedreflectiondoom
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

Unlike some of our staff, I’ve never been in a band. However, I can imagine the feeling of satisfaction in putting together and releasing that first full-length record. For every band that achieves this milestone, countless more never do. Italy’s Borrower was nearly among that number. Formed in 1993, Borrower released three demos in the ’90s, a fourth in 2005, and then disappeared until 2018 with their debut EP. Whatever interrupted their musical career, the dream remained, and they finally released their first album (and signed to a label, to boot) 33 years later with their founding vocalist, Massano Ratano, and drummer, Frank Formoso, joined by new guitarists Matteo Marzo and Matteo Marini. Behold their vision, a story of killer, humanoid demons as told through music that harks back to some of the legends of ’80s and ’90s speed metal.

Granted, the concept of an album where each song tells a story about a distinctive demonic entity with its own unique “physical traits” and “specific weapon” is extremely silly, yet Killerdemons proves to be a catchy and cool affair. Borrower claim Motörhead, Judas Priest, and Dio as their main influences, and they write spare, riff-tastic tunes in their honor. The guitars carry much more heft than their influences, however, with enough reverb to take tunes dangerously close to stoner territory a lá High on Fire and Black Sabbath. This marriage between speed and stoner proves effective. “El Degollador” oscillates between lightning-fast, “Ace of Spades”-inspired riffs and slower, “War Pigs”-style stoner riffs in a performance that’s sure to give you whiplash. Taking a cue from AC/DC, Borrower keeps their song structures simple yet catchy. The rollicking “Stay Alive” best demonstrates this virtue with crisp songwriting and energetic pacing. Each track has distinctive riffs that are far more powerful than the demons it conjures.

In the eight years since their 2018 EP, A Plague Chapter…, Borrower has vastly improved their sound and instrumental prowess. The two Matteos have played a major role in this transformation. Marini’s fuzzy guitar tone adds heft where the EP’s guitars sounded tinny. His blending of Motörhead-style riffcrafting with the density of High on Fire and Mastodon adds an extra oomph to tracks like “Der Todessoldat” and “Tough Fight.” Marzo’s bass takes a commanding presence as well. He adds depth and backbone to the music, making his presence especially felt on the slower moments of “Knocking on the Coffins.” Formoso takes a restrained approach behind the kit, occasionally blasting the cymbals (“Dream on Fire”), but mostly setting the pace with an effective simplicity. The wild card of the group is vocalist Ratano. He seemingly channels Lemmy, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Fozzie Bear in a truly strange, yet somehow endearing performance. His Italian accent, which drags out the words “kee-ler dee-mons” during the chorus of “Killerdemons,” adds a level of camp that contributes to the goofy fun.

While Borrower keeps Killerdemons to a concise 36 minutes, the record does falter on the two songs that stray from the 3-4 minute range. The first, “Knocking on the Coffins,” has some memorable riffs, including a cool, old school solo, but at over five minutes, it drags on a bit too long. Positioned between the album’s two best tracks, it also proves to be a major momentum killer. The biggest sore thumb, however, is the six-plus minute finale, “A Chaos Vortex.” Not only does it lack memorable riffs, but it falters in its final two minutes as the band sorely misjudges when to best wrap it up. Trimming 2-3 minutes from each of these songs would have immensely improved the album’s otherwise incredible pacing.

As I established last month, metal tends to invite some weird characters, and the killer demon universe created here is certainly an odd one. But that’s also what makes metal so much fun. Bands feel free to try out their off-the-wall ideas, from literary– or video game-inspired themes to the creation of fantasy or sci-fi realms. And sometimes these ideas actually work. Borrower finally sees through their vision, or at least the start of it, and presents it in such a catchy, cool way. I love to see original ideas performed with such care and passion, and I hope these guys continue to cultivate their ideas and musical talents.



Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Website: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

I’m going to come out and say it. Arch Enemy has done untold damage to female-fronted metal bands. While their influence is undeniable, every iteration of the band has featured monotone vocals, cringe-inducing lyrics, and leather-clad frontwomen. As a woman, I have no issue with these things in a vacuum, but in the larger music sphere, they created simultaneously high and absurdly low standards. Requiring frontwomen to be stereotypically hot, thin, and sport bright hair, while also plummeting standards on the musical side with their milquetoast melodeath slop. This is an ill omen for North Carolina’s Blackwater Drowning, seemingly following in Arch Enemy’s footsteps on a surface level, but do they make the same mistakes from a musical perspective, or are they influenced only in aesthetics?

Blackwater Drowning’s sophomore album, Obscure Sorrows, is at times a grab bag of popular metal cliches. Their latest is full of groovy, djent-laden riffs and chugging, staccato metalcore. Light orchestration adds obligatory bombast to intros and a few sections, while uninspired cleans occasionally show up as if they are a necessary evil. Vocalist Morgan Riley has more range and skill than their clear inspirations (Arch Enemy), but ultimately sits in the mid-range for far too long, and her clean singing lacks skill and panache. The highlight of Obscure Sorrows is guitarist Ron Dalton’s playing and the rich production (courtesy of Cryptopsy guitarist Christian Donaldson). Dalton’s riffs cover a wide range of styles, and the album highlight “Heir Of The Witch” is where the band should focus their sound, with its rolling energy and massive groove. Bassist Aria Novi shines due to the quality production, and frequently bolsters Dalton’s riffs and drummer Aamon Dalton’s technical hammering. There is no lack of talent across the band, but the whole crew seems too comfortable sitting in the mid-range, making for an album that bleeds together.

Obscure Sorrows’ biggest sin is its inability to shake things up. Across the ten tracks, they all sit in such similar spaces that they are hard to tell apart. Even song lengths are eerily similar, and they tend to reach for the same tired notes, making for music that lacks hooks. It feels harsh to lay so much at the feet of Blackwater Drowning, because the band clearly isn’t lacking in technical skill, but I think comparing songs to each other and treating the album as a whole shows a record that is far too safe and too middling in its soundscape. Clean singing makes occasional appearances but rarely stands out except on “Teeth and Claws,” which features some genuine atmosphere and brooding emotion.

Obscure Sorrows isn’t bad by any stretch, and the album opener, “The Sixth Omen,” features a roaring intro riff, even if it devolves into an uninspired chorus. The production elevates the album, and the clarity and crunch on display are admirable even if the source material doesn’t necessarily do it justice. “Washed Out, Washed Away” is backed by a crushing blackened death riff, and “Where Men Fear To Tread” showcases Morgan Riley’s skill on the low end alongside an anthemic chorus bookended by a teetering solo. “Teeth And Claws” evil lead riff helps the track ascend the mid-range soup and features some creative cleans from Riley.

In the end, Obscure Sorrows is an album I wanted to love, and with a bit of editing, variety, and focus on groove, Blackwater Drowning could truly stomp fools on their next record. As it stands, their latest is a competent, if safe, drop in the female-fronted melodeath bucket. Fans of the genre may get more out of it than I did, and they easily beat Arch Enemy at their own game, but Blackwater Drowning has a bit of work to do before they can truly drop the barn burner I know they are capable of. Luckily, this is a young band with a hopefully long career ahead of them, and as many say, the third time is the charm.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Bleeding Art Collective
Websites: blackwaterdrowning.com | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

Once upon a time, before I was a battle-jacket-wearing, corpse-paint-adorned, trve-metal warrior of the highest order, I was a high-school prog nerd. The djent wave was cresting just as I began to really delve deeper into music, and the hordes of technical, djenty bands with ultra-modern production and surprising amounts of melody still sit near and dear to my heart, even if I rarely reach back into the Sumerian-scented pile in my regular listening habits. 1 That’s why when I saw the promo for Hiraeth, the 2nd album by Brazilian prog metallers Abstracted, with comparisons to The Contortionist, The Human Abstract, and Between the Buried and Me, I couldn’t help but get a little excited at the prospect of newer music tapping into those formative sounds. Abstracted have been a band since 2013, and their long-gestating debut record, 2022’s Atma Conflux, was an effective and varied slab of djenty progressive death metal, marred by tepid production and less-than-stellar clean vocals. More than anything, though, it showed potential as a record brimming with ideas that was so close to being great. With Hiraeth, can the Brazilian group finally unify their influences into something more than the sum of their parts?

On Hiraeth, Abstracted demonstrates a thorough understanding of contemporary progressive metal styles and integrates them into something all their own. The band’s main sound is a djent-fueled take on modern progressive death metal, closest to early-era The Contortionist in its blending of odd-meter riffery, post-rock-influenced textures, and an enticing contrast between melancholic space-age cleans and technical 6-string chugs. Abstracted balance this with more traditional Haken-esque classic prog turnarounds and jazz breaks (“Sirens”), fast-paced Between the Buried and Me riff marathons (“To Quench This Insatiable Thirst”), and harmonic nuance within darker moments à la Persefone (“Requiem”). The result is a varied and dynamic set of tunes that glide effortlessly between impressive riff-fueled aggression and cathartic melodies. Songs like “The Utter End” and “The Barren Grave of God” demonstrate the band’s ability to naturally move from strength to strength without missing a beat, unfolding across expansive guitar arpeggios, delightfully off-kilter breakdowns, virtuosic solos, and powerful musical climaxes.

Hiraeth by Abstracted

This level of fluidity and genre cohesion on Hiraeth is only made possible by the high level of musicianship Abstracted display. Guitarists José Consani and Leonardo Brito give varied performances that successfully meld more djent-centric playing with classic death metal sensibilities and demonstrate keen melodic ears with dense jazz chords and powerful lead lines. Drummer Fernando Pollen blends Latin grooves with acrobatic modern metal flourishes, and the production’s more natural drum tone allows his dynamic nuances to guide several songs. 2 On bass, Riverton Alves turns in a thoroughly warm and jazz-based, Cynic-flavored performance that shines during quieter moments, while keyboardist Carol Lynn supplies plenty of atmosphere through subtle synth textures and steps to the forefront a few times with quirky, but effective synth lines reminiscent of Diego Tejeida. Together, this ensemble breathes plenty of life into a style of music that can often feel over-processed, and their performances help to unify this collection of songs into a cohesive whole.The only elements of Hiraeth that aren’t immediately impressive are the vocals and the production. Rosano Pedro Matiussi delivers an impassioned performance, and his vocal lines often fit the songs well, but his clean singing lacks a certain impact or personality to elevate good moments into great ones. Initially, this was enough to deter me from really digging deeper and appreciating the songcraft on display, but the singing grew on me quite a bit with time. Similarly, his death growls are solid, if not one-note, and they feel like they exist more so to fill a role than to accent particular sections. This could potentially be the production’s fault, as Hiraeth sounds generally good and more natural than the swaths of overproduced modern prog 3 but lacks a certain sonic clarity, occasionally making especially dense sections harder to parse. There’s a distinct lack of reverb on the harsh vocals, and I can’t help but wonder if a stronger mix could fit the layered clean singing a bit better. Matiussi’s vocals are far from bad, and there are parts like the somber intro to “Requiem” where he sounds great, but when everything else is operating at such a high level, they feel like a weak link.

With Hiraeth, Abstracted have delivered an impressive piece of modern progressive metal. This record is a grower for sure, with dense and layered compositions often revealing their clever construction and intense interconnectedness only after repeated spins. Even if the vocals leave a little to be desired, the Brazilian group has successfully combined the sounds of several of the best modern prog bands into something exciting and nuanced.

Rating: Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: M-Theory Audio
Websites: abstractedmetal.bandcamp | facebook.com/abstractedbr
Releases Worldwide: February 20, 2026

Malefic – Impermanence Review | Angry Metal Guy

A tabby cat is what you get when you let nature take its course. Nearly every stray is…
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Malefic – Impermanence Review | Angry Metal Guy

A tabby cat is what you get when you let nature take its course. Nearly every stray is…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2.5 #2026 #AmericanMetal #AU #Australia #BlackMetal #DeathMetal #Dissection #Entertainment #Feb26 #impermanence #Malefic #Opeth #review #reviews #TerminusHateCity #Testament #ThrashMetal #Trivium #Xoth
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https://www.europesays.com/ie/364714/ Malefic – Impermanence Review | Angry Metal Guy #25 #2026 #AmericanMetal #BlackMetal #DeathMetal #Dissection #Éire #Entertainment #Feb26 #IE #impermanence #Ireland #Malefic #Music #Opeth #Review #Reviews #TerminusHateCity #Testament #ThrashMetal #Trivium #Xoth

A tabby cat is what you get when you let nature take its course. Nearly every stray is a tabby because, without selective breeding from human interference, cats just end up looking like that most of the time. Similarly, Atlanta’s Malefic feel to me what you’d get if you let the faster variants of extreme metal reach their natural conclusion. Playing a style that draws from thrash, black and death metal, Malefic formed in 2007 with the stated goal of modernizing black metal. In doing so, they’ve imbued in their slow-cooked debut Impermanence, an intensity and drive befitting a genre-forwarding record. But is Impermanence the cat’s meow, or did Malefic cough up a hairball?

Like how tabbies are genetically diverse but visually similar, Malefic’s many ingredients blend into a kind of extreme metal slurry on Impermanence, all present but difficult to identify individually. Sure, some riffs are more typically one thing than another, like the Testament-like thrash chops opening “In Darkest Dreams,” or the Dissectionesque blackened trems on “Blood of the Throne,” or the Opethian deathly grooves of “It Haunts.” But taken as a whole, Impermanence doesn’t lean towards one sub-genre over another. Instead, Malefic’s mutt-metal manifests into an off-kilter, volatile force of hostility, recalling heavily of the genre-blending approach Xoth take. Xoth are actually probably the best comparison to Malefic, as drummer Aaron Baumoel’s rasps and screams sound a lot like both of their vocal duo, and guitarists Jason Davila and Sam Williams’ solos follow the melodically rich, whammy-friendly stylings of Xoth (“Idiocracy”). Bolstered by a rhythm section of Baumoel and bassist Andy McGraw, who both know how to lay down some serious groove when needed (“Deserter”) and a dynamic mix, Impermanence shows that those years of honing their style have paid off for Malefic. It’s a good sound!

But what confuses me about Impermanence is that it feels aimless in many places, but not because Malefic can’t edit. To the contrary, every song on Impermanence is tight and focused, only running past five minutes on “It Haunts.”1 Malefic also aren’t indulging in extraneous instrumentals or soloing, as songs like “Of Gods and Man” and “Disembodiment” showcase the band’s restraint within their buck-wild playing. The issue is that Impermanence doesn’t stick with an idea long enough. “Blood of the Throne” and “Obsidian Earth” have, like, five riffs in their first minutes or so each; instead of expounding upon a few ideas, Malefic often churns through ideas before they’ve settled into something sticky. This pattern especially stinks when they land on something great and don’t develop it, like the swinging, discordant riff in the second verse(?) of “Echoes of Silence” or the guitar runs opening “Obsidian Earth.” Impermanence sees a band on a mission, but maybe also a band in too much of a hurry.

What this amounts to is that Impermanence possesses a sound I can’t say I’ve heard before, but also, confusingly, one that’s somewhat indistinct from other extreme metal albums. Malefic’s aforementioned style-soup is so dense with expansive inspirations and somewhat progressive tendencies (“Disembodiment,” “It Haunts”) that, besides some serious Xothisms here and there, it adds up to something not exactly like the sum of all of their influences. But at the same time, Impermanence’s loose structuring and lack of purposeful repetition hampers Malefic’s ability to craft lasting hooks. By and large, most songs start with some fanfare, rage for three-to-four minutes straight while Malefic tear through riffs with reckless abandon like a more evil, more succinct Trivium and end with little resolution. It can be very exciting and enjoyable in the moment, but I’m left with little to remember Impermanence by the time it’s over.

But there is nothing wrong with a tabby cat,2 and there’s nothing wrong with Malefic. They’ve carved out a great sound for themselves that more purposeful songwriting could harness into a truly hog-wild time. But where Impermanence excels in thrills, it lacks staying power, mostly in part to Malefic’s restless pursuit of riffs above all else. Fans of blackened thrash, blackened death, death thrash or bethrashened black death could do a lot worse than giving Impermanence a spin, but it’s probably not the genre-shaking game changer the band wanted. There’s always the sophomore album, however…



Rating: Mixed
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Terminus Hate City
Websites: maleficband.com | malefic.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/MaleficBandATL
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

A tabby cat is what you get when you let nature take its course. Nearly every stray is a tabby because, without selective breeding from human interference, cats just end up looking like that most of the time. Similarly, Atlanta’s Malefic feel to me what you’d get if you let the faster variants of extreme metal reach their natural conclusion. Playing a style that draws from thrash, black and death metal, Malefic formed in 2007 with the stated goal of modernizing black metal. In doing so, they’ve imbued in their slow-cooked debut Impermanence, an intensity and drive befitting a genre-forwarding record. But is Impermanence the cat’s meow, or did Malefic cough up a hairball?

Like how tabbies are genetically diverse but visually similar, Malefic’s many ingredients blend into a kind of extreme metal slurry on Impermanence, all present but difficult to identify individually. Sure, some riffs are more typically one thing than another, like the Testament-like thrash chops opening “In Darkest Dreams,” or the Dissectionesque blackened trems on “Blood of the Throne,” or the Opethian deathly grooves of “It Haunts.” But taken as a whole, Impermanence doesn’t lean towards one sub-genre over another. Instead, Malefic’s mutt-metal manifests into an off-kilter, volatile force of hostility, recalling heavily of the genre-blending approach Xoth take. Xoth are actually probably the best comparison to Malefic, as drummer Aaron Baumoel’s rasps and screams sound a lot like both of their vocal duo, and guitarists Jason Davila and Sam Williams’ solos follow the melodically rich, whammy-friendly stylings of Xoth (“Idiocracy”). Bolstered by a rhythm section of Baumoel and bassist Andy McGraw, who both know how to lay down some serious groove when needed (“Deserter”) and a dynamic mix, Impermanence shows that those years of honing their style have paid off for Malefic. It’s a good sound!

But what confuses me about Impermanence is that it feels aimless in many places, but not because Malefic can’t edit. To the contrary, every song on Impermanence is tight and focused, only running past five minutes on “It Haunts.”1 Malefic also aren’t indulging in extraneous instrumentals or soloing, as songs like “Of Gods and Man” and “Disembodiment” showcase the band’s restraint within their buck-wild playing. The issue is that Impermanence doesn’t stick with an idea long enough. “Blood of the Throne” and “Obsidian Earth” have, like, five riffs in their first minutes or so each; instead of expounding upon a few ideas, Malefic often churns through ideas before they’ve settled into something sticky. This pattern especially stinks when they land on something great and don’t develop it, like the swinging, discordant riff in the second verse(?) of “Echoes of Silence” or the guitar runs opening “Obsidian Earth.” Impermanence sees a band on a mission, but maybe also a band in too much of a hurry.

What this amounts to is that Impermanence possesses a sound I can’t say I’ve heard before, but also, confusingly, one that’s somewhat indistinct from other extreme metal albums. Malefic’s aforementioned style-soup is so dense with expansive inspirations and somewhat progressive tendencies (“Disembodiment,” “It Haunts”) that, besides some serious Xothisms here and there, it adds up to something not exactly like the sum of all of their influences. But at the same time, Impermanence’s loose structuring and lack of purposeful repetition hampers Malefic’s ability to craft lasting hooks. By and large, most songs start with some fanfare, rage for three-to-four minutes straight while Malefic tear through riffs with reckless abandon like a more evil, more succinct Trivium and end with little resolution. It can be very exciting and enjoyable in the moment, but I’m left with little to remember Impermanence by the time it’s over.

But there is nothing wrong with a tabby cat,2 and there’s nothing wrong with Malefic. They’ve carved out a great sound for themselves that more purposeful songwriting could harness into a truly hog-wild time. But where Impermanence excels in thrills, it lacks staying power, mostly in part to Malefic’s restless pursuit of riffs above all else. Fans of blackened thrash, blackened death, death thrash or bethrashened black death could do a lot worse than giving Impermanence a spin, but it’s probably not the genre-shaking game changer the band wanted. There’s always the sophomore album, however…



Rating: Mixed
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Terminus Hate City
Websites: maleficband.com | malefic.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/MaleficBandATL
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

A tabby cat is what you get when you let nature take its course. Nearly every stray is a tabby because, without selective breeding from human interference, cats just end up looking like that most of the time. Similarly, Atlanta’s Malefic feel to me what you’d get if you let the faster variants of extreme metal reach their natural conclusion. Playing a style that draws from thrash, black and death metal, Malefic formed in 2007 with the stated goal of modernizing black metal. In doing so, they’ve imbued in their slow-cooked debut Impermanence, an intensity and drive befitting a genre-forwarding record. But is Impermanence the cat’s meow, or did Malefic cough up a hairball?

Like how tabbies are genetically diverse but visually similar, Malefic’s many ingredients blend into a kind of extreme metal slurry on Impermanence, all present but difficult to identify individually. Sure, some riffs are more typically one thing than another, like the Testament-like thrash chops opening “In Darkest Dreams,” or the Dissectionesque blackened trems on “Blood of the Throne,” or the Opethian deathly grooves of “It Haunts.” But taken as a whole, Impermanence doesn’t lean towards one sub-genre over another. Instead, Malefic’s mutt-metal manifests into an off-kilter, volatile force of hostility, recalling heavily of the genre-blending approach Xoth take. Xoth are actually probably the best comparison to Malefic, as drummer Aaron Baumoel’s rasps and screams sound a lot like both of their vocal duo, and guitarists Jason Davila and Sam Williams’ solos follow the melodically rich, whammy-friendly stylings of Xoth (“Idiocracy”). Bolstered by a rhythm section of Baumoel and bassist Andy McGraw, who both know how to lay down some serious groove when needed (“Deserter”) and a dynamic mix, Impermanence shows that those years of honing their style have paid off for Malefic. It’s a good sound!

But what confuses me about Impermanence is that it feels aimless in many places, but not because Malefic can’t edit. To the contrary, every song on Impermanence is tight and focused, only running past five minutes on “It Haunts.”1 Malefic also aren’t indulging in extraneous instrumentals or soloing, as songs like “Of Gods and Man” and “Disembodiment” showcase the band’s restraint within their buck-wild playing. The issue is that Impermanence doesn’t stick with an idea long enough. “Blood of the Throne” and “Obsidian Earth” have, like, five riffs in their first minutes or so each; instead of expounding upon a few ideas, Malefic often churns through ideas before they’ve settled into something sticky. This pattern especially stinks when they land on something great and don’t develop it, like the swinging, discordant riff in the second verse(?) of “Echoes of Silence” or the guitar runs opening “Obsidian Earth.” Impermanence sees a band on a mission, but maybe also a band in too much of a hurry.

What this amounts to is that Impermanence possesses a sound I can’t say I’ve heard before, but also, confusingly, one that’s somewhat indistinct from other extreme metal albums. Malefic’s aforementioned style-soup is so dense with expansive inspirations and somewhat progressive tendencies (“Disembodiment,” “It Haunts”) that, besides some serious Xothisms here and there, it adds up to something not exactly like the sum of all of their influences. But at the same time, Impermanence’s loose structuring and lack of purposeful repetition hampers Malefic’s ability to craft lasting hooks. By and large, most songs start with some fanfare, rage for three-to-four minutes straight while Malefic tear through riffs with reckless abandon like a more evil, more succinct Trivium and end with little resolution. It can be very exciting and enjoyable in the moment, but I’m left with little to remember Impermanence by the time it’s over.

But there is nothing wrong with a tabby cat,2 and there’s nothing wrong with Malefic. They’ve carved out a great sound for themselves that more purposeful songwriting could harness into a truly hog-wild time. But where Impermanence excels in thrills, it lacks staying power, mostly in part to Malefic’s restless pursuit of riffs above all else. Fans of blackened thrash, blackened death, death thrash or bethrashened black death could do a lot worse than giving Impermanence a spin, but it’s probably not the genre-shaking game changer the band wanted. There’s always the sophomore album, however…



Rating: Mixed
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Terminus Hate City
Websites: maleficband.com | malefic.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/MaleficBandATL
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

A tabby cat is what you get when you let nature take its course. Nearly every stray is a tabby because, without selective breeding from human interference, cats just end up looking like that most of the time. Similarly, Atlanta’s Malefic feel to me what you’d get if you let the faster variants of extreme metal reach their natural conclusion. Playing a style that draws from thrash, black and death metal, Malefic formed in 2007 with the stated goal of modernizing black metal. In doing so, they’ve imbued in their slow-cooked debut Impermanence, an intensity and drive befitting a genre-forwarding record. But is Impermanence the cat’s meow, or did Malefic cough up a hairball?

Like how tabbies are genetically diverse but visually similar, Malefic’s many ingredients blend into a kind of extreme metal slurry on Impermanence, all present but difficult to identify individually. Sure, some riffs are more typically one thing than another, like the Testament-like thrash chops opening “In Darkest Dreams,” or the Dissectionesque blackened trems on “Blood of the Throne,” or the Opethian deathly grooves of “It Haunts.” But taken as a whole, Impermanence doesn’t lean towards one sub-genre over another. Instead, Malefic’s mutt-metal manifests into an off-kilter, volatile force of hostility, recalling heavily of the genre-blending approach Xoth take. Xoth are actually probably the best comparison to Malefic, as drummer Aaron Baumoel’s rasps and screams sound a lot like both of their vocal duo, and guitarists Jason Davila and Sam Williams’ solos follow the melodically rich, whammy-friendly stylings of Xoth (“Idiocracy”). Bolstered by a rhythm section of Baumoel and bassist Andy McGraw, who both know how to lay down some serious groove when needed (“Deserter”) and a dynamic mix, Impermanence shows that those years of honing their style have paid off for Malefic. It’s a good sound!

But what confuses me about Impermanence is that it feels aimless in many places, but not because Malefic can’t edit. To the contrary, every song on Impermanence is tight and focused, only running past five minutes on “It Haunts.”1 Malefic also aren’t indulging in extraneous instrumentals or soloing, as songs like “Of Gods and Man” and “Disembodiment” showcase the band’s restraint within their buck-wild playing. The issue is that Impermanence doesn’t stick with an idea long enough. “Blood of the Throne” and “Obsidian Earth” have, like, five riffs in their first minutes or so each; instead of expounding upon a few ideas, Malefic often churns through ideas before they’ve settled into something sticky. This pattern especially stinks when they land on something great and don’t develop it, like the swinging, discordant riff in the second verse(?) of “Echoes of Silence” or the guitar runs opening “Obsidian Earth.” Impermanence sees a band on a mission, but maybe also a band in too much of a hurry.

What this amounts to is that Impermanence possesses a sound I can’t say I’ve heard before, but also, confusingly, one that’s somewhat indistinct from other extreme metal albums. Malefic’s aforementioned style-soup is so dense with expansive inspirations and somewhat progressive tendencies (“Disembodiment,” “It Haunts”) that, besides some serious Xothisms here and there, it adds up to something not exactly like the sum of all of their influences. But at the same time, Impermanence’s loose structuring and lack of purposeful repetition hampers Malefic’s ability to craft lasting hooks. By and large, most songs start with some fanfare, rage for three-to-four minutes straight while Malefic tear through riffs with reckless abandon like a more evil, more succinct Trivium and end with little resolution. It can be very exciting and enjoyable in the moment, but I’m left with little to remember Impermanence by the time it’s over.

But there is nothing wrong with a tabby cat,2 and there’s nothing wrong with Malefic. They’ve carved out a great sound for themselves that more purposeful songwriting could harness into a truly hog-wild time. But where Impermanence excels in thrills, it lacks staying power, mostly in part to Malefic’s restless pursuit of riffs above all else. Fans of blackened thrash, blackened death, death thrash or bethrashened black death could do a lot worse than giving Impermanence a spin, but it’s probably not the genre-shaking game changer the band wanted. There’s always the sophomore album, however…



Rating: Mixed
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Terminus Hate City
Websites: maleficband.com | malefic.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/MaleficBandATL
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

A tabby cat is what you get when you let nature take its course. Nearly every stray is a tabby because, without selective breeding from human interference, cats just end up looking like that most of the time. Similarly, Atlanta’s Malefic feel to me what you’d get if you let the faster variants of extreme metal reach their natural conclusion. Playing a style that draws from thrash, black and death metal, Malefic formed in 2007 with the stated goal of modernizing black metal. In doing so, they’ve imbued in their slow-cooked debut Impermanence, an intensity and drive befitting a genre-forwarding record. But is Impermanence the cat’s meow, or did Malefic cough up a hairball?

Like how tabbies are genetically diverse but visually similar, Malefic’s many ingredients blend into a kind of extreme metal slurry on Impermanence, all present but difficult to identify individually. Sure, some riffs are more typically one thing than another, like the Testament-like thrash chops opening “In Darkest Dreams,” or the Dissectionesque blackened trems on “Blood of the Throne,” or the Opethian deathly grooves of “It Haunts.” But taken as a whole, Impermanence doesn’t lean towards one sub-genre over another. Instead, Malefic’s mutt-metal manifests into an off-kilter, volatile force of hostility, recalling heavily of the genre-blending approach Xoth take. Xoth are actually probably the best comparison to Malefic, as drummer Aaron Baumoel’s rasps and screams sound a lot like both of their vocal duo, and guitarists Jason Davila and Sam Williams’ solos follow the melodically rich, whammy-friendly stylings of Xoth (“Idiocracy”). Bolstered by a rhythm section of Baumoel and bassist Andy McGraw, who both know how to lay down some serious groove when needed (“Deserter”) and a dynamic mix, Impermanence shows that those years of honing their style have paid off for Malefic. It’s a good sound!

But what confuses me about Impermanence is that it feels aimless in many places, but not because Malefic can’t edit. To the contrary, every song on Impermanence is tight and focused, only running past five minutes on “It Haunts.”1 Malefic also aren’t indulging in extraneous instrumentals or soloing, as songs like “Of Gods and Man” and “Disembodiment” showcase the band’s restraint within their buck-wild playing. The issue is that Impermanence doesn’t stick with an idea long enough. “Blood of the Throne” and “Obsidian Earth” have, like, five riffs in their first minutes or so each; instead of expounding upon a few ideas, Malefic often churns through ideas before they’ve settled into something sticky. This pattern especially stinks when they land on something great and don’t develop it, like the swinging, discordant riff in the second verse(?) of “Echoes of Silence” or the guitar runs opening “Obsidian Earth.” Impermanence sees a band on a mission, but maybe also a band in too much of a hurry.

What this amounts to is that Impermanence possesses a sound I can’t say I’ve heard before, but also, confusingly, one that’s somewhat indistinct from other extreme metal albums. Malefic’s aforementioned style-soup is so dense with expansive inspirations and somewhat progressive tendencies (“Disembodiment,” “It Haunts”) that, besides some serious Xothisms here and there, it adds up to something not exactly like the sum of all of their influences. But at the same time, Impermanence’s loose structuring and lack of purposeful repetition hampers Malefic’s ability to craft lasting hooks. By and large, most songs start with some fanfare, rage for three-to-four minutes straight while Malefic tear through riffs with reckless abandon like a more evil, more succinct Trivium and end with little resolution. It can be very exciting and enjoyable in the moment, but I’m left with little to remember Impermanence by the time it’s over.

But there is nothing wrong with a tabby cat,2 and there’s nothing wrong with Malefic. They’ve carved out a great sound for themselves that more purposeful songwriting could harness into a truly hog-wild time. But where Impermanence excels in thrills, it lacks staying power, mostly in part to Malefic’s restless pursuit of riffs above all else. Fans of blackened thrash, blackened death, death thrash or bethrashened black death could do a lot worse than giving Impermanence a spin, but it’s probably not the genre-shaking game changer the band wanted. There’s always the sophomore album, however…



Rating: Mixed
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Terminus Hate City
Websites: maleficband.com | malefic.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/MaleficBandATL
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

Death Knocks isn’t the most extreme album out there, but it straddles the metal boundary more than enough to earn a spot here. While I hadn’t heard of Hoaxed before, their new release caught my eye through its album art and its impressive lead single, “Where the Seas Fall Silent.” This three-piece from Portland plays metal-edged occult rock that aims for an eerie atmosphere as much as for melodic gems. Simple and concise, Death Knocks isn’t revolutionary, but it’s a worthwhile half-hour coven excursion.

Hoaxed plays a familiar brand of bass-heavy, mid-paced doomy rock. In contrast with much of the genre, Hoaxed’s guitars might be the most understated part of their sound. Alternating between more aggressive riffs that recall Sumerlands and sparser melodies, Kat Keo’s guitar work is simple but tinged with evil. New bassist April Dimmick (Soul Grinder) brings her thrash experience to bear with aggressive thumping bass lines that often steal the show. Keo also handles lead clean vocals, while Dimmick alternates between clean harmonizing and harsh growls. These vocal melodies serve as a backbone, offering straightforward but engaging hooks to hold songs together. Rounded out by occasional synth backing, Death Knocks’ style of Gothic rock reminds me of Avatarium or a slowed-down Unto Others. It’s not an unheard-of style, but it’s one that works.

Death Knocks by Hoaxed

Death Knocks revels in its simplicity. Keo and Dimmick’s vocal work shines through its power rather than any technical gymnastics. The catchy melodies grab my attention throughout, even when other pieces falter; for instance, the rising and falling vocals of “Kill Switch” single-handedly redeem a track that struggles otherwise. Keo’s serene vocal approach sometimes reminds me of Myrkur’s folkier work (“The Fallen”). Similarly, Dimmick’s vocal harmonies aren’t earth-shattering, but they add a layer of depth throughout the album. Meanwhile, her bass riffs don’t hesitate to take center stage, adding oomph and variety (“Wretched”). But the real star of this show might be the drums. Kim Coffel’s tom-heavy and hi-hat-heavy kit attack displays a mastery of groove and creativity without feigning a technical clinic. The drums evolve constantly both within verses and between them, adding fluidity even in melodically simple moments (“Dead Ringer”). Coupled with a rich sound, Death Knocks’ drums are the most memorable part of the album, which I rarely ever say.

Straightforward songs are Hoaxed’s strength, but they can get old. Death Knocks’ song structures are cookie-cutter, with verses and choruses interspersed with instrumental interludes. While this poppy approach can work fine, it quickly loses me when the underlying melodies aren’t bulletproof (“Promised to Me”). Similarly, Hoaxed struggles to have creative outros even on their stronger tracks (“The Fallen”), making it seem like they came up with great ideas but weren’t sure how to stitch them together. Keo’s guitar melodies stand out on the opener “Where the Seas Fall Silent” and the fantastic “The Family,” but in the middle of the album, they tend to lose my interest through repetition. Death Knocks is consistently competent, but would benefit from more variety in its songwriting.

It’d be tough to argue that Death Knocks rewrites the book on anything. But with catchy vocal harmonies, engaging guitar and bass lines, and a stand-out drum performance, it’s a worthy addition to your collection. Death Knocks is also a triumph of conciseness; if this album had been 50 minutes long rather than 31, the bloat would have made it more of a chore to get through. As it stands, while Hoaxed has room to grow in their musical diversity, Death Knocks is a perfectly entertaining and ghoulish listen.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Relapse Records
Websites: hoaxed.bandcamp.com | hoaxedband.com | facebook.com/hoaxedband
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

One of the biggest challenges I’ve encountered as a music reviewer is trying to describe a band’s musical aesthetic when their discography is all over the place. Now, I know what you’re thinking: Blut Aus Nord, and you would be correct, but at least there’s an intangible thread connecting the various gnarled branches to their undulating, pulsing roots. Vaarwel, the mastermind and sole proprietor of Russia’s Frozen Ocean, takes his project to where it needs to be, and how he feels it should be delivered, musically. Over the course of 11 albums, as well as various EPs and splits, Frozen Ocean follows their own muse, without any musical correlation between them. It’s a big toss-up what you’re going to get per release, and I can’t help but respect the hell out of that.

I just wish it connected with me as well as The Prowess of Dormition did. Whereas Dormition was melodic black metal with a trip-hop undercurrent, Askdrömmar instead flirts with DSBM, rubbing shoulders with a trippier Lifelover bent. Opener “Mangata” leads off with some ambiance before a simple repeated melody takes over, followed by simplistic programmed drums, and finally other instrumentation. Vaarwel adopts more of a black metal rasp this time around, and just as the song starts to go somewhere, everything fades out, and you hear a sample of a young woman talking. Believing this would build to something, it instead leads into “Bortkastade dödsrunor,” the following track… which leads off with another sample.

The majority of what follows is a “wash-rinse-repeat” cycle among the remaining eight tracks, as they all follow a particular pattern: either a sample or piano twinkling, followed by a riff that’s more than a little reminiscent of mid-era Katatonia (“Kottkvam”), an atmospheric moment that sounds like a tremendous build-up that only goes back to the main riff, and then a sudden ending. Things start to get interesting when “Långt lopp genom mörkret” arrives, with its hyperactive keyboards and lively, energetic rhythms, but that’s track #8 of a nine-track album, and that’s just too far in the tracklisting to turn the ship around. Up until then, it’s just too formulaic and repetitive to leave a lasting mark.

The production also doesn’t help matters any, as it’s squashed and flat. The programmed drums sound like they were mixed a bit too far back, whereas the guitars, keyboards, and vocals are in-your-face, and those sound compressed within an inch of their existences. The biggest hurdle of this album lies in its conception and how it ties in with the Frozen Ocean discography. As a fan of Blut Aus Nord, I know mainman Vindsval will write whatever the fuck he feels like, and because of that, BaN’s discography runs the gamut of sounds and styles. However, the big difference is that you can still hear it’s BaN. Vaarwel doesn’t quite have that distinction when it comes to his music, as his releases are so spread out style- and quality-wise that it’s tough to find an underlying thread connecting any of it.

And that sucks to type, because I remember being impressed by The Prowess of Dormition when it released almost a decade ago. While I wasn’t expecting a repeat of that EP, I also wasn’t expecting to be bored by what’s on offer here. Vaarwel is a talented musician with great ideas, but I’m waiting for those ideas to land. With Askdrömmar, I will continue waiting.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 319 kbps mp3
Label: Apocalyptic Witchcraft
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

One of the biggest challenges I’ve encountered as a music reviewer is trying to describe a band’s musical aesthetic when their discography is all over the place. Now, I know what you’re thinking: Blut Aus Nord, and you would be correct, but at least there’s an intangible thread connecting the various gnarled branches to their undulating, pulsing roots. Vaarwel, the mastermind and sole proprietor of Russia’s Frozen Ocean, takes his project to where it needs to be, and how he feels it should be delivered, musically. Over the course of 11 albums, as well as various EPs and splits, Frozen Ocean follows their own muse, without any musical correlation between them. It’s a big toss-up what you’re going to get per release, and I can’t help but respect the hell out of that.

I just wish it connected with me as well as The Prowess of Dormition did. Whereas Dormition was melodic black metal with a trip-hop undercurrent, Askdrömmar instead flirts with DSBM, rubbing shoulders with a trippier Lifelover bent. Opener “Mangata” leads off with some ambiance before a simple repeated melody takes over, followed by simplistic programmed drums, and finally other instrumentation. Vaarwel adopts more of a black metal rasp this time around, and just as the song starts to go somewhere, everything fades out, and you hear a sample of a young woman talking. Believing this would build to something, it instead leads into “Bortkastade dödsrunor,” the following track… which leads off with another sample.

The majority of what follows is a “wash-rinse-repeat” cycle among the remaining eight tracks, as they all follow a particular pattern: either a sample or piano twinkling, followed by a riff that’s more than a little reminiscent of mid-era Katatonia (“Kottkvam”), an atmospheric moment that sounds like a tremendous build-up that only goes back to the main riff, and then a sudden ending. Things start to get interesting when “Långt lopp genom mörkret” arrives, with its hyperactive keyboards and lively, energetic rhythms, but that’s track #8 of a nine-track album, and that’s just too far in the tracklisting to turn the ship around. Up until then, it’s just too formulaic and repetitive to leave a lasting mark.

The production also doesn’t help matters any, as it’s squashed and flat. The programmed drums sound like they were mixed a bit too far back, whereas the guitars, keyboards, and vocals are in-your-face, and those sound compressed within an inch of their existences. The biggest hurdle of this album lies in its conception and how it ties in with the Frozen Ocean discography. As a fan of Blut Aus Nord, I know mainman Vindsval will write whatever the fuck he feels like, and because of that, BaN’s discography runs the gamut of sounds and styles. However, the big difference is that you can still hear it’s BaN. Vaarwel doesn’t quite have that distinction when it comes to his music, as his releases are so spread out style- and quality-wise that it’s tough to find an underlying thread connecting any of it.

And that sucks to type, because I remember being impressed by The Prowess of Dormition when it released almost a decade ago. While I wasn’t expecting a repeat of that EP, I also wasn’t expecting to be bored by what’s on offer here. Vaarwel is a talented musician with great ideas, but I’m waiting for those ideas to land. With Askdrömmar, I will continue waiting.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 319 kbps mp3
Label: Apocalyptic Witchcraft
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

One of the biggest challenges I’ve encountered as a music reviewer is trying to describe a band’s musical aesthetic when their discography is all over the place. Now, I know what you’re thinking: Blut Aus Nord, and you would be correct, but at least there’s an intangible thread connecting the various gnarled branches to their undulating, pulsing roots. Vaarwel, the mastermind and sole proprietor of Russia’s Frozen Ocean, takes his project to where it needs to be, and how he feels it should be delivered, musically. Over the course of 11 albums, as well as various EPs and splits, Frozen Ocean follows their own muse, without any musical correlation between them. It’s a big toss-up what you’re going to get per release, and I can’t help but respect the hell out of that.

I just wish it connected with me as well as The Prowess of Dormition did. Whereas Dormition was melodic black metal with a trip-hop undercurrent, Askdrömmar instead flirts with DSBM, rubbing shoulders with a trippier Lifelover bent. Opener “Mangata” leads off with some ambiance before a simple repeated melody takes over, followed by simplistic programmed drums, and finally other instrumentation. Vaarwel adopts more of a black metal rasp this time around, and just as the song starts to go somewhere, everything fades out, and you hear a sample of a young woman talking. Believing this would build to something, it instead leads into “Bortkastade dödsrunor,” the following track… which leads off with another sample.

The majority of what follows is a “wash-rinse-repeat” cycle among the remaining eight tracks, as they all follow a particular pattern: either a sample or piano twinkling, followed by a riff that’s more than a little reminiscent of mid-era Katatonia (“Kottkvam”), an atmospheric moment that sounds like a tremendous build-up that only goes back to the main riff, and then a sudden ending. Things start to get interesting when “Långt lopp genom mörkret” arrives, with its hyperactive keyboards and lively, energetic rhythms, but that’s track #8 of a nine-track album, and that’s just too far in the tracklisting to turn the ship around. Up until then, it’s just too formulaic and repetitive to leave a lasting mark.

The production also doesn’t help matters any, as it’s squashed and flat. The programmed drums sound like they were mixed a bit too far back, whereas the guitars, keyboards, and vocals are in-your-face, and those sound compressed within an inch of their existences. The biggest hurdle of this album lies in its conception and how it ties in with the Frozen Ocean discography. As a fan of Blut Aus Nord, I know mainman Vindsval will write whatever the fuck he feels like, and because of that, BaN’s discography runs the gamut of sounds and styles. However, the big difference is that you can still hear it’s BaN. Vaarwel doesn’t quite have that distinction when it comes to his music, as his releases are so spread out style- and quality-wise that it’s tough to find an underlying thread connecting any of it.

And that sucks to type, because I remember being impressed by The Prowess of Dormition when it released almost a decade ago. While I wasn’t expecting a repeat of that EP, I also wasn’t expecting to be bored by what’s on offer here. Vaarwel is a talented musician with great ideas, but I’m waiting for those ideas to land. With Askdrömmar, I will continue waiting.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 319 kbps mp3
Label: Apocalyptic Witchcraft
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

One of the biggest challenges I’ve encountered as a music reviewer is trying to describe a band’s musical aesthetic when their discography is all over the place. Now, I know what you’re thinking: Blut Aus Nord, and you would be correct, but at least there’s an intangible thread connecting the various gnarled branches to their undulating, pulsing roots. Vaarwel, the mastermind and sole proprietor of Russia’s Frozen Ocean, takes his project to where it needs to be, and how he feels it should be delivered, musically. Over the course of 11 albums, as well as various EPs and splits, Frozen Ocean follows their own muse, without any musical correlation between them. It’s a big toss-up what you’re going to get per release, and I can’t help but respect the hell out of that.

I just wish it connected with me as well as The Prowess of Dormition did. Whereas Dormition was melodic black metal with a trip-hop undercurrent, Askdrömmar instead flirts with DSBM, rubbing shoulders with a trippier Lifelover bent. Opener “Mangata” leads off with some ambiance before a simple repeated melody takes over, followed by simplistic programmed drums, and finally other instrumentation. Vaarwel adopts more of a black metal rasp this time around, and just as the song starts to go somewhere, everything fades out, and you hear a sample of a young woman talking. Believing this would build to something, it instead leads into “Bortkastade dödsrunor,” the following track… which leads off with another sample.

The majority of what follows is a “wash-rinse-repeat” cycle among the remaining eight tracks, as they all follow a particular pattern: either a sample or piano twinkling, followed by a riff that’s more than a little reminiscent of mid-era Katatonia (“Kottkvam”), an atmospheric moment that sounds like a tremendous build-up that only goes back to the main riff, and then a sudden ending. Things start to get interesting when “Långt lopp genom mörkret” arrives, with its hyperactive keyboards and lively, energetic rhythms, but that’s track #8 of a nine-track album, and that’s just too far in the tracklisting to turn the ship around. Up until then, it’s just too formulaic and repetitive to leave a lasting mark.

The production also doesn’t help matters any, as it’s squashed and flat. The programmed drums sound like they were mixed a bit too far back, whereas the guitars, keyboards, and vocals are in-your-face, and those sound compressed within an inch of their existences. The biggest hurdle of this album lies in its conception and how it ties in with the Frozen Ocean discography. As a fan of Blut Aus Nord, I know mainman Vindsval will write whatever the fuck he feels like, and because of that, BaN’s discography runs the gamut of sounds and styles. However, the big difference is that you can still hear it’s BaN. Vaarwel doesn’t quite have that distinction when it comes to his music, as his releases are so spread out style- and quality-wise that it’s tough to find an underlying thread connecting any of it.

And that sucks to type, because I remember being impressed by The Prowess of Dormition when it released almost a decade ago. While I wasn’t expecting a repeat of that EP, I also wasn’t expecting to be bored by what’s on offer here. Vaarwel is a talented musician with great ideas, but I’m waiting for those ideas to land. With Askdrömmar, I will continue waiting.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 319 kbps mp3
Label: Apocalyptic Witchcraft
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

One of the biggest challenges I’ve encountered as a music reviewer is trying to describe a band’s musical aesthetic when their discography is all over the place. Now, I know what you’re thinking: Blut Aus Nord, and you would be correct, but at least there’s an intangible thread connecting the various gnarled branches to their undulating, pulsing roots. Vaarwel, the mastermind and sole proprietor of Russia’s Frozen Ocean, takes his project to where it needs to be, and how he feels it should be delivered, musically. Over the course of 11 albums, as well as various EPs and splits, Frozen Ocean follows their own muse, without any musical correlation between them. It’s a big toss-up what you’re going to get per release, and I can’t help but respect the hell out of that.

I just wish it connected with me as well as The Prowess of Dormition did. Whereas Dormition was melodic black metal with a trip-hop undercurrent, Askdrömmar instead flirts with DSBM, rubbing shoulders with a trippier Lifelover bent. Opener “Mangata” leads off with some ambiance before a simple repeated melody takes over, followed by simplistic programmed drums, and finally other instrumentation. Vaarwel adopts more of a black metal rasp this time around, and just as the song starts to go somewhere, everything fades out, and you hear a sample of a young woman talking. Believing this would build to something, it instead leads into “Bortkastade dödsrunor,” the following track… which leads off with another sample.

The majority of what follows is a “wash-rinse-repeat” cycle among the remaining eight tracks, as they all follow a particular pattern: either a sample or piano twinkling, followed by a riff that’s more than a little reminiscent of mid-era Katatonia (“Kottkvam”), an atmospheric moment that sounds like a tremendous build-up that only goes back to the main riff, and then a sudden ending. Things start to get interesting when “Långt lopp genom mörkret” arrives, with its hyperactive keyboards and lively, energetic rhythms, but that’s track #8 of a nine-track album, and that’s just too far in the tracklisting to turn the ship around. Up until then, it’s just too formulaic and repetitive to leave a lasting mark.

The production also doesn’t help matters any, as it’s squashed and flat. The programmed drums sound like they were mixed a bit too far back, whereas the guitars, keyboards, and vocals are in-your-face, and those sound compressed within an inch of their existences. The biggest hurdle of this album lies in its conception and how it ties in with the Frozen Ocean discography. As a fan of Blut Aus Nord, I know mainman Vindsval will write whatever the fuck he feels like, and because of that, BaN’s discography runs the gamut of sounds and styles. However, the big difference is that you can still hear it’s BaN. Vaarwel doesn’t quite have that distinction when it comes to his music, as his releases are so spread out style- and quality-wise that it’s tough to find an underlying thread connecting any of it.

And that sucks to type, because I remember being impressed by The Prowess of Dormition when it released almost a decade ago. While I wasn’t expecting a repeat of that EP, I also wasn’t expecting to be bored by what’s on offer here. Vaarwel is a talented musician with great ideas, but I’m waiting for those ideas to land. With Askdrömmar, I will continue waiting.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 319 kbps mp3
Label: Apocalyptic Witchcraft
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

Atmospheric post-black metal is quite the concept. Both titular subgenres span wide varieties of inspirations, levels of aggression, and affinities for emotion. Done well, they are gateways to catharsis and emotional storytelling. So I was intrigued when Rituel : Initiation caught my eye. This is the debut full-length release from Swiss post-black metal band De l’Abîme Naît l’Aube, recommended, or so I’m told, for fans of Alcest and Heilung. You never quite know what you’re going to get with a debut, but I was eager enough from the concept to want more. On paper, Rituel : Initiation could go anywhere.

Fortunately, the first few minutes of Rituel : Initiation act as an interesting microcosm for its whole: “Une Pleine Absence” lulls you in slowly with heavy atmosphere, wordless sighs, throat singing (I believe from lead vocalist Sébastien Defabiani), and acoustic passages, slowly building in intensity. It does this so effectively, in fact, that when the guitars do arrive, they feel overly jagged, loud, and harsh. I signed up for a post-black metal album—I expected loud. But De l’Abîme Naît l’Aube do somber atmosphere very well, and they do post and black metal well, but it’s interesting how the two can be at odds with each other in this style. Ten minutes later, this moment is forgotten, and the guitars sound as natural as anything else. “Une Pleine Absence” is still going, incorporating tremolos and depressive shrieks as a heavier atmospheric element, and you know well what to expect over the rest of Rituel : Initiation.

Rituel : Initiation by De l’Abîme Naît l’Aube

This intersection of rough-around-the-edges post metal, black metal aggression, and atmospheric melancholy seems to define both Rituel : Initiation and De l’Abîme Naît l’Aube. “Le Vertige d’une Descendance” is similar to the intro in that it starts slowly and gives bassist Valerian Burki a moment to shine. It leans more post than black, with some strong riffs that give the song groove and, if you’ll forgive a technical term, head-nod factor. “Un Sanctuaire de Cendres” is much more blackened than post, but when Fantine Schütz’s clean singing soars through the gloom, it’s a genuinely touching moment. Tremolos towards the end from guitarists Dominique Blanc and Kilian Caddoux counterbalance nicely with Valentin Boada’s frantic drumming, and here, the intersections work very well.

If I were to criticize one thing about Rituel : Initiation, it’s that the blended styles don’t allow for a ton of memorability. There are great moments throughout the five tracks—I’ve mentioned a few already, and want to highlight the slow march riffing around the midpoint of “Un Sanctuaire de Cendres” as well. But generally, Rituel : Initiation does not feel very strongly structured as an album. Songs, all but one over eleven minutes long, move from one idea to the next coherently and naturally, but in such a way as to evade hooks or moments of particular catchiness or impact. I always enjoy listening, but after the fifty-three minutes are done, I don’t have much impression of specific songs I liked; rather, it’s moments here and there that I know were early or late in the session. This makes sense of the style De l’Abîme Naît l’Aube play, but it also gives the impression of a dense album that I perhaps still need to spend more time with to truly crack.

Still, I like what De l’Abîme Naît l’Aube are doing here. Cold, regal, aggressive, anguished, and balanced on a knife’s edge—there’s some good metal here! As “Une Absolute Prèsence” builds to the album’s climactic end, I can’t help but be impressed. I wouldn’t have hated more editing—there’s a lot of metal here too—but too much of a good thing isn’t a bad thing. Rituel : Initiation is, in my mind, an exciting debut, the kind that speaks of genuine potential. Color me intrigued.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Hypnotic Dirge Records
Websites: danapostmetal.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/dana.postmetal
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

Even with someone as infinitely absorbent as this sponge, things slip through the cracks sometimes. In 2019, I gave a shout to Post Luctum’s debut EP After Mourning, citing its very promising funereal pall as a welcome comrade to contemporary heavy hitters like Altars of Grief and Slow. Somehow, some way, I completely missed not one, not two, but three full-lengths from the Maryland-based solo artist in the span between then and 2026’s Timor Lucis. But it couldn’t have come at a better time, with the inclement weather demanding tunes of a dour, reposed, overcast character. The only variable left is how much Post Luctum changed in the years since my last visit.

Aside from overall recording quality and songwriting polish—both of which have improved significantly over the course of seven years—Post Luctum are exactly as I remember, just more refined. Like a friend for whom time apart never creates a mire of awkwardness at the point of reunion, mastermind Ian Goetchius’ slow and steady despair rings with the same earnestness that made After Mourning such a striking proof of concept. At once, I feel comforted and warmed by Timor Lucis’ Slowed melodies, chilled by its Altars of Grief-like eulogy, and heartened by post-metallic touches that evoke hints of In Mourning or Latitudes. It’s a reliable sound that should be familiar to anyone who partakes of the funeral side of the doom spectrum, and Post Luctum applies it with poise and passion.

Timor Lucis by Post Luctum

As the crooning cleans of “Approaching Light” give way to the lumbering march of the deadly “Shrouded by the Sea,” Timor Lucis envelops me in a kind of sorrow that pulls me into full immersion with an uncanny ease. Almost an autonomic response beyond my control, this immersion feels akin to immediacy in the context of this music, where memorability is found not so much in individual notes and compartmentalized verses, but rather in moods and moments of emotional significance. Even as songs gently coast from a desperate roar to a delicate breeze (“Sunken Fate” into “In Water”) to form notable highlights, I always recall the moment I heard it—where I was, what I felt, what visions these sonic waves summoned from my thoughts—more vividly than the music’s corporeal form. A different impression than what many artists design for their audience, this experience is its own kind of magic. Difficult to conjure and even trickier to master, Post Luctum struck the right balance of texture, timing, and feeling to invoke such magic and impose its power on my mind, revealing Timor Lucis’ greatest strength.

Curious, then, that once the final note fades into the ether, I struggle to find that pull which brings me back into Timor Lucis’ loving, tear-soaked embrace. As I continued my tenure with this record, I wondered if the root of that struggle was familiarity. Songs like “Disavowed,” “A Curse Now A Plague,” and “I Welcome In the Cold” reminded so strongly of the core of my funeral doom rotation (Slow, Un, Woebegone Obscured) that Post Luctum inadvertently guided me directly into their clutches, and I found myself forgetting about Timor Lucis. I realize now that this is the double-edged sword of the aforementioned strength this record holds. Immersive as it undoubtedly is, and as reliable as its writing is in achieving that immersion minute-to-minute, Timor Lucis simply isn’t bold enough as a distinct entity to draw me away from those acts it resembles with which I enjoy a deeper, more established relationship.

This dichotomy exposes one of the greatest challenges not just in reviewership, but also in songwriting from the perspective of the listener. A record is not made unworthy strictly because it is familiar, nor is my enjoyment of this material lessened by my personal history with the genre. Chances are good that I will return to Timor Lucis with a willing and eager heart over the course of the year. Equally, I acknowledge that it will never meaningfully challenge those records I deem the highest order in the style. On the other hand, you, the reader, might find this is your highest order. Regardless, Post Luctum deserves a chance to take you into its heart, and in the spirit of that truth, I offer my warm, albeit moderated, recommendation.

Rating: Good!
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Meuse Music Records
Websites: postluctum.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/postluctum
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

I’ve kicked off this year with a good old-fashioned death binge. My putrid immersion has taken me around the world so far: first to Chile, then across the Pacific to Australia, and now back across continents to Sweden. Next up is Stockholm-based duo Harrowed. Consisting of dual-threat drummer and vocalist Adam Lindmark (ex-Morbus Chron) and guitarist/bassist Tobias Alpadie (VAK and former live guitarist for Tribulation), the pair linked up through a past project to pay homage to the SweDeath sounds of olde. With only a demo and a split to their name, their debut album, The Eternal Hunger, unleashes Harrowed’s fetid disposition upon the world with a fresh edge, proving these Swedes are more than just HM-2 clones.

But rest easy—no HM-2 pedals were harmed in the making of The Eternal Hunger. Instead, Harrowed delivers enough primitive-drenched filth to satisfy any SweDeath devotee craving the crunch. Alpadie’s serrated tremolos and lacerating riffs cut like rotary blades, while Lindmark’s feverish blasts and tribal tom rolls drench highlights like “Blood Covenant” and “The Cold of A Thousand Snows” in a heavy layer of cavernous abrasion, tearing through the speakers with surgical precision. The Stockholm sound’s hardcore punk DNA is also front and center, as the duo rips through tracks like “Ultra Terrene Phantasmagoria,” “Bayonet,” and “The Reins” with high-octane skank beats and wailing dirges. Lindmark’s vocals are a caustic mix of barbaric regurgitations, adding formaldehyde-infused dressing on Harrowed’s cadaver sandwich. Tied together by a punchy production that preserves the weight of the muddy sound of yore while also maintaining a modern, nimble edge, every disgusting note on The Eternal Hunger lands with maximum impact.

The Eternal Hunger by Harrowed

The Eternal Hunger channels the spirit of ’90s-era Entombed, yet Harrowed also weaponizes influences from far beyond Swedish borders. The duo frequently abandons standard old-school formulas to explore a diverse palette of unbridled savagery. On “Blood Covenant,” Lindmark’s stampeding, guttural-punctuated rhythms and turbulent transitions coalesce with Alpadie’s blazing fretwork, leaning closer to classic thrash than typical SweDeath. Pivoting from there, “Ultra Terrene Phantasmagoria” and “The Cold of A Thousand Snows” embrace a blackened speed identity where icy tremolos, demented double-bass attacks, and progressive ride patterns imbue a sinister edge outside typical HM-2 purism. Harrowed also pulls from the American scene. “The Eternal Hunger” mirrors the swampy, gore-soaked roots of early Autopsy and Death, while the haunting, clean arpeggios driving the title track and “The Haunter” resurrect Slayer’s “Seasons in the Abyss.” Strategic moments of suspense, where the duo strips away the distorted crust in favor of suspenseful intros and bridges, only make the final blows feel more devastating as hammering half-time grooves (“Blood Covenant”) and esoteric patterns (“Formaldehyde Dreaming,” “The Reins”) work well to keep the listener off-balance.

While Harrowed’s varied songwriting is largely airtight, certain songs reveal minor cracks. “The Reins” suffers from a disjointed bridge that briefly stalls the track’s momentum, though Lindmark’s technical drumming and visceral vocal attack do well to anchor the chaos. There are also occasional moments when tracks feel like retreads, suggesting Harrowed may have hit the bottom of their bag of tricks. “Formaldehyde Dreaming,” for instance, relies on a riff set strikingly similar to those found in “Bayonet” and “The Cold of A Thousand Snows,” while the clean intro of “The Eternal Hunger” echoes “The Haunter.” Furthermore, the title track’s brooding build-up fails to deliver a proportional payoff, indicating the track would have benefited from more editing. Despite these slip-ups, however, The Eternal Hunger remains 36 minutes of grime-soaked efficiency that favors memorable songwriting over high-concept filler.

Harrowed successfully pays homage to the Swedish spirit without merely exhuming its grave. By channeling a wide-reaching spectrum of influences and pushing them through a modern SweDeath filter, they’ve created a record that is easy to like and refuses to grow stale. Much of The Eternal Hunger’s success stems from Harrowed’s balanced and varied songwriting, with Lindmark and Alpadie both pulling their weight equally to flex their creative muscle and produce material that sounds both familiar and surprisingly fresh. A debut with this much power is impressive, especially coming from only two people. If this is what the new wave of SweDeath sounds like, I’m on board—and you should be too.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: dyingvictimsproductions.bandcamp.com/album/the-eternal-hunger | facebook.com/harroweddeathmetal
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

After removing my clothes, I wade into the promo sump. Yes, nakedness is advised for such a foray, as any loose material can get you ensnared by the bog’s filtration and disposal machinery or by the foul denizens that reside within the sludge. I enter herein with a single purpose in mind: to find a promo that will restore my credibility as a reviewer, if I ever had any to begin with. Since my return to the hall, I’ve written 3.5 after 3.5, and I am in search of something that will bring my average down before I am made to “non-suspiciously” disappear again. I reach down and grasp a promising prospect. Pieces of congealed n00b meat and 16-year-old promo remains fall from the cover, revealing a band name that sounds like some guy’s last name and a photo of several dudes in various tough-guy poses. I smile, allowing myself to hope that I’ve found what I’m looking for. Further investigation reveals Rozario’s Northern Crusaders to be a 50-minute-long heavy/power metal album, and I tell myself that this has 2.5 written all over it. Yep, this’ll do.

My confidence grows when I see that these Norwegians have picked the album’s first two songs as singles. “Fire and Ice” starts things off with some energetic power metal-infused heavy metal that brings Dream Evil immediately to mind. After a huge earworm chorus and some killer riffing and leads, the song winds down, and I’m horrified to realize that I’ve been involuntarily smiling and headbanging the whole time. Fear not, I say to myself. The next single can’t be as good. “We are One” takes the momentum of the opener and runs with it. I hear Brainstorm. I hear Dio. I hear more Dream Evil. I hear an even bigger chorus. Shit.

Not to worry! I’m sure they’ve simply stacked the singles at the front because they’re the best tunes. A qualitative drop-off is sure to come! Just as those foolish words finish leaving my mind-lips, “Down Low” slaps me across the face with a down-tuned chug that I didn’t see coming. This PED-enhanced version of Rozario, also seen on “Sleepless” and “Betrayed,” fits the Brainstorm mold alluded to above, and even ventures towards Mystic Prophecy levels of heaviness. “Crusader” and “Die Like Warriors” both see the band putting their Saxon pants on, their quality daring me to add them both to my “SWOARDS” playlist of battle-ready metal.

I finish Northern Crusaders for the first time and am surprised at just how fast the album’s 50 minutes flew by. I play it again. I like it even more. I am totally fucked. Sure, I can look across the album’s track list and pick out two songs that I don’t absolutely love (“Coming Home” and “The Warning”), but they’re still good songs whose place in the runtime almost totally mitigates any potential impact they could have had on the overall flow. I’m rather pissed that singer David Rosario puts in a journeyman performance with his weathered voice, and I’m even more upset that he’s filled his near-eponymous band with so much talent, particularly on guitar. The duo of Stein Hjertholm and Taran Lister has filled these tracks with muscular riffs, beautiful leads, and face-melting solos, and this is a huge reason that Northern Crusader feels so effortless and easily replayable. Even the production is fantastic. Gah! What a catastrophe!

It’s now been several weeks since I plucked this from the sump. As I put the finishing touches on the review and prepare to enter the final rating, I am suddenly aware of a presence in the room with me. I look up from my laptop screen to see 3.5 glaring at me with a sinister smile on its face. “You couldn’t live with your own failure,” it says. “Where did that bring you? Back to me.” I type the score, realizing it is futile to resist, fully aware that I’ve made the mistake of judging Rozario’s Northern Crusaders by its cover. I slam my computer screen down, stand up, and walk away, naked and full of shame.1

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Pride & Joy Music
Websites: rozarioofficial.com | facebook.com/rozarioband
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026

There’s a burgeoning old school 80s trve metal movement growing these days, with more and more young bands longing to sound really olde. Steel is there for that, as it speaks directly to his ancient bones. A good number of these retro sword-swinging acts seem to be coming out of Sweden of late. We covered Century’s Sign of the Storm last year, and here comes Templar with their Conquering Swords debut, which was produced by Century’s Staffan Tengnér. As a fan of conquest and swords (and that awesome van-worthy cover art), I’m the target audience for this early 80s throwback insanity, which steals from cult acts like Manilla Road, Cirith Ungol, and Brocas Helm as well as NWoBHM heroes like Satan and Witchfinder General. All this is to be expected, but what I didn’t see coming was the hefty Mercyful Fate influence that Templar throw around like a 50-pound sack of wet concrete. On paper, that should not work, but does it work in your tin ear? Let’s take a peek.

After a rousing, table-setting intro, you’re launched into “Witchking” and greeted by classic 80s guitar lines with a burly trve vibe sure to get your lust for battle growing. When Isak Neffling starts singing, those familiar with the Mercyful Fate demos and the original EP will hear a notable similarity to an early-day King Diamond. I don’t mean the high-pitched falsettos, but the ominous baritones he used regularly before he became a faux-evil cartoon character. One could also say Isak also reminds of The Night Eternal’s Ricardo Baum, who borrowed a lot from Mr. Diamond vocally himself. Either way, it makes for an interesting listen as Isak sings of Tolkien baddies, swords, and sorcery. “Excalibur” is all beef and chest-pounding bravado with a galloping pace, scrotal power to spare, and a chorus that feels just epic enough. It hits all the nostalgia bells and feels ancient as fook, but it can still beat your ass like a back-alley thug.

Elsewhere, “Exiled in Fire” is fast, fist-pumping classic metal with sweet guitar work and a rowdy, rough edge that takes me back to the dirty, unpolished NWoBHM days. “Shipwreck” is another riffy good time with a vague In Solitude vibe, and “White Wolf” is about as epic 80s metal as it gets without lapsing into Spinal Tap levels of parody. At a tight 40 minutes and with all songs contained in the 4-5 minute window, there’s not much fluff or blubber on the compositions. The only drawback is that the writing routinely sits in that “good and almost very good” pocket, never fully reaching that next level of badassery. It’s an easy, entertaining spin, but it won’t blow anyone’s mind or make many end-of-year lists. The production is painstakingly designed to sound rough and vintage, and it does hit that 1980-1982 aura with a warmth and texture that modern recordings often lack.

Gustav Harrysson and Teddy Edoff bring the sounds of proto and epic 80s metal to the Great Hall, cleaving closely to the NWoBHM blueprint but always injecting that grand and glorious edge to their playing. I hear many hints of early Mercyful Fate and Satan in their choices, and the Manilla Road-isms are there too. I don’t know if Isak Neffling was trying to channel King Diamond, but he certainly does, and that adds to the nostalgic appeal. Listen to “White Wolf,” and you hear the earliest days of Mercyful Fate, and that’s undeniably cool. His vocals don’t always work, though, and things get especially weird and awkward on “The Sorceress.” In toto, Isak gives Templar an X factor the band wouldn’t have otherwise, and that certainly works in their favor despite a few misfires.

Conquering Swords is an interesting and engaging debut from a band that have the potential to be much more. There are moments scattered across the album that hint at greatness, and maybe with more time and effort, those parts lead someplace special. As things stand, Templar are a good throwback band with one foot in the past and the other looking for the next place to stomp. Where they go from here will prove interesting. Worth checking out for the love of Diamond and rust(ed swords).



Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Jawbreaker
Websites: facebook.com/templarsweden | instagram.com/templar.band
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

Returning with their over-the-top, moar is moar philosophy of fun and shred, on Outstanding Power Lovebites cooks up a sugarbomb so explosive it’ll blow your teeth out your earholes. Minted in 2016, Lovebites has been slinging their brand of power metal for a decade, dropping five full-lengths over that time.1 Outstanding Power marks the band’s fifth full-length release and the first since 2023’s Judgement Day, and these women from Tokyo used the intervening three years to cast a platter that shatters any illusion of restraint. With kicks and licks galore, does Lovebites cram in too much of a good thing, or can their latest LP stand the power?

Anyone unfamiliar with Lovebites can approximate their sound as an all-female version of Galneryus,2 although Lovebites is much more than a clone of a great band. Their full-length debut Awakening from Abyss dropped in 2017, with subsequent albums Clockwork Immortality and Electric Pentagram released in 2018 and 2020, respectively. Both follow-ups impressed, but nothing quite reached the heights of their debut until fourth album Judgement Day hit shelves in 2023. Introducing new bassist Fami,3 Judgement Day honed Lovebites’ attack to a lethal edge, and with even more time spent sharpening their craft, Outstanding Power cuts deeper than ever.

Outstanding Power by Lovebites

Lovebites’ stable lineup exudes an electrifying chemistry throughout Outstanding Power. Each component of the band’s auditory milieu complements the others, whether it’s the blazing guitar tandem of Midori and Miyako, Haruna’s meticulously mechanical drumming, or Fami’s low-end purr and incredibly hooky countermelodies. Musically, Lovebites has never been this exacting. From the calculated rhythms in “Silence the Void” to the galloping rolls in “Blazing Halo,” Haruna’s drumming goads songs with an unflappable urgency that’s simultaneously composed and tempestuous. Meanwhile, Fami’s bass flexes mondo swagger that recalls Geddy Lee’s aggressive plucks and twangs (“The Castaway”) as well as Flea-bitten flourishes (the intro to “Blazing Halo”). In fact, the bass’s expanded role on Outstanding Power defines what elevates the album above the rest of Lovebites’ already first-rate output. Besides trading vicious solos and captivating riffs with fellow axe-bearer Midori, Miyako supplies the keys, channeling duel-lead, arpeggiated runs à la Children of Bodom (“The Castaway”) as nimbly as she blankets moods with Sonata Arctica-informed synth and piano (“Eternally,” “One Will Remain”). Atop it all, singer Asami coos, belts, and wails with a voice that some may find an acquired taste with her heavy use of vibrato, but is powerful and unique. Overall, the songwriting on Outstanding Power synchronizes into lock-step bombast, where each track dazzles with its own fully-fleshed identity and laser-honed melodies.

Though not without fault, Outstanding Power unequivocally claims the top spot in Lovebites’ catalog (so far). No small part of this is thanks to Fami and Haruna, who bring the rhythm section to the fore with undeniable performances that match the high-flying axe-work besieging previous releases. The biggest strike against Outstanding Power is the album’s sixty-four-minute runtime, which the sharp songwriting mitigates with infectious melodies and perfectly executed instrumentation. Even Outstanding Power’s weakest cut, seven-minute ballad “Eternally,” contains good moments despite fumbling Lovebites’ momentum down the home stretch. Add in the surprisingly spacious mix4 that gives the band ample space to pop and you’ve got yourself a bona fide power metal classic on your hands.

Power metal presents a challenge to rate, as its natural optimism and oft-cheesy tropes can be at odds with what typically engenders high scores and opinions, and makes Outstanding Power the most difficult score I’ve assessed up to this point. Throughout, Lovebites exemplifies power metal ethos, unleashing high-octane shredded cheese with a flagrant nonchalance that is shamelessly irresistible. With Outstanding Power, Lovebites not only delivers their greatest achievement so far, but the best power metal release I’ve heard in over a year. Relentless riffs, grooves, and fills assail listeners with flamboyant moxie and technical ecstasy, defining an album I haven’t been able to put down since I got my grubby mitts on the damned thing. If fun won’t kill you, give Lovebites’ opus a spin. Or maybe give it a listen anyway, because what’s life without a little Love?

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Napalm Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 18th, 2026

Maddog

Much to her chagrin, Thus Spoke and I share many things in common. Chief among them is our anaphylactic allergy to major scales; being the two resident vegans, we struggle with cheesy music.5 While this has made power metal a difficult subgenre, Lovebites is an exception. Our coverage of this Japanese juggernaut has been scarce, but I gave 2023’s Judgement Day a tempered positive filter review. Outstanding Power has the same foundation as Lovebites’ prior work, but with a beefier rhythm section, more variety, better riffs, hookier hooks, and more cohesive songwriting. It’s a fantastic record.

Outstanding Power is textbook power metal, in the same sense that Rust in Peace is textbook thrash. The centerpiece is Asami’s vocal performance, which is appropriately over-the-top but steps back to let the instruments shine. Lovebites’ most visible weapon is their dual-guitar assault. Across theatrical leads, deathy riffs, and unrestrained solos, guitarists Midori and Miyako display a mastery of melody. Even with such stiff competition, Lovebites’ rhythm section stands out. Fami’s bass plays every part it can, with blistering riffs, playful lines that recall a young Steve Harris, and explosive additions to choruses. Haruna’s drumming is a gem, especially when her lavish fills and opening salvos help stitch the album together. Both the bass and the drums peak when their respective musicians take the songwriting reins; Fami’s collaborative composition “Blazing Halo” features irresistible dueling bass and guitar solos, while Haruna’s “Forbidden Thirst” highlights her grooviest drum work. No member of Lovebites ever fades into obscurity.

Outstanding Power holds me rapt throughout. Across their hyperactive leads, 1980s virtuoso shredfests (“One Will Remain”), and fanciful Mark Knopfler-style (Dire Straits) joyrides (“Wheels on Fire”), guitarists Midori and Miyako don’t miss a beat. Their dominance becomes clearest when they join forces. Lovebites’ harmonies recall Iron Maiden, and the guitarists’ knack for separating and rejoining makes “The Castaway” an early contender for Song o’ the Year. Asami’s vocals aren’t bulletproof, particularly in her higher register. Still, the vocals and the guitars forge an ironclad alliance that raises Outstanding Power to new heights. The guitars’ imitation of the vocal shouts on “[Grin] Reaper’s Lullaby” makes me grin every time, while the orgiastic leads that accompany the final chorus of “Out of Control” remind me of Madonna’s classic “Burning Up.” Even the ballad “Eternally” is a triumph. While its vocal melodies are memorable, “Eternally” takes a cue from Gamma Ray’s “Lake of Tears” in delegating much of the heavy lifting to the weepy guitars. These ingredients make Outstanding Power a wellspring of enormous climaxes. The guitar solos are at once emotive and explosive (“The Eve of Change”), and each song ends with pizzazz (“Silence the Void”). In short, Outstanding Power is a goddamn pleasure.

Outstanding Power is such a spectacle that I can’t even begrudge its excess. I hear Sunburst in the chugging riffs of “Blazing Halo.” I hear Riot in the downright rowdy “Silence the Void.” I hear 1980s electronica interspersed with chest-thumping power metal in “The Eve of Change.” I hear Symphony X in the vocal melodies and the atmosphere of “Forbidden Thirst.” I hear Kryptos’ heavy metal revival in the rockin’ ruffian riffs of “Out of Control.” I hear blackened melodeath in the vicious “Reaper’s Lullaby,” contrasting with the heart-rending ballad “Eternally.” Most importantly, I hear Lovebites in every moment. All five band members sustain the album’s shifts while sticking to their signature styles. With its balance of variety and continuity, Outstanding Power feels half as long as its 64-minute runtime. Due to the album’s wide emotional range, I even grew to love its more upbeat tracks. Criticizing Lovebites for sounding cheerful seems akin to criticizing Monet because you don’t like yellow water lilies; sometimes flowers are yellow, you twit! Outstanding Power tries to do a lot, and it nails every piece.

As I struggle to process this album, I’m reminded of Eldritch Elitist’s review of Imperial Circus Dead Decadence. Yes, Outstanding Power is self-indulgent; what’s your point? Lovebites paints their variegated image of power metal with five brushes and five million colors, and the result is astounding. It isn’t perfect, and the crushed master makes it harder to appreciate the album’s finer features. But Outstanding Power easily won over my shriveled heart. While major scales make me gag, these ones just feel like the crest of a wave. While I tend to balk at hour-long albums, this one goes by in a heartbeat. Power metal isn’t my usual fare, but Lovebites has created a masterwork.



Rating: 4.5/5.0

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When it comes to the vast pantheons of mythological figures, Aeon Gods is clearly interested in the most powerful. Their 2024 debut album, King of Gods, expounded upon the mighty deities of Mesopotamia with plenty of power metal bombast. Now, less than 18 months later, this German five-piece turns their attention to ancient Egypt. Specifically, Reborn to Light orbits the sun god Re (more commonly known today as Ra). The first half recounts Re’s nightly voyage into the underworld and his battles with the giant snake Apophis, then the latter half describes Re’s disagreements with humankind, which lead to his eventual departure at the hands of an unbelieving population. Let’s examine this latest offering and weigh its worthiness.

Reborn to Light may be about a sun god, but Aeon Gods is more similar to the moon reflecting the light of many important power metal forebears. The predominant style is an anthemic blend of Gloryhammer and Sabaton. As expected, the music is big and dramatic, seeking to replicate the larger-than-life storytelling of Brothers of Metal, though with much more of a symphonic slant than folk. Aeon Gods stops just short of going full-blown symphonic power metal like Dragony, sticking closer to acts like Twilight Force or Freedom Call, which garnish with keyboards more judiciously. Organs and choirs at times recall the theatricality of Powerwolf. Pretty much all the main hallmarks of the genre are present on Reborn to Light.

Reborn To Light by Aeon Gods

Overall, Aeon Gods are blessed by their devout worship of these groups. Most immediately noticeable are the sharp, memorable choruses (charismatically delivered by Alex “Sol’Ra-tu” Hunzinger), as well as the bounteous guitar shredding (courtesy of Robert “Abzu’Kean” Altenbach and Nino “En-Atum” Helfrich). Reborn to Light embodies its concept unexpectedly well, being enhanced considerably by a lyric sheet (and a casual Wikipedia perusal about Egyptian mythology). The bulk of the record paints a vivid cycle of blazing sunrise (“Birth of Light”), tranquil twilight (“Barque of Millions (Amduat pt. I)”), a valiant battle (“Soldiers of Re (Amduat pt. III)”), and the inevitable victory of the sun (“Reborn to Light (Amduat pt. IV)”) again. In many important respects, Aeon Gods stacks up well against the genre greats.

On the other hand, this side-by-side comparison reveals a few qualities in which Aeon Gods is lacking. While Sol’Ra-tu has a solid singing voice—some listeners will appreciate that he avoids the typical shrill upper ranges—it isn’t always strong enough to carry the music on its own, particularly during the slower parts like quasi-ballad “Barque of Millions (Amduat pt. I).” The guitarists prove their mettle with their soloing during the bridges of most songs, but there are few notable leads that might have given the vocals a boost. Anja “Su’en-Chel” Hunzinger’s keyboards are more impactful, injecting a triumphant oomph to the chorus of “Reborn to Light (Amduat pt. IV)” and an awe-inspiring tone to “Blood and Sand (Re’s Dying Reign pt. II).” Finally, while Aeon Gods rejects bloat, Reborn to Light does not deviate at all from the standard pop structure, which gives each song a measure of predictability despite the variety in the compositions.

Imperfections notwithstanding, Reborn to Light is a great implementation of tried-and-true musical formulas. It’s executed very well, and should be a pleasantly familiar—albeit safe—experience for many power metal fans. I would, ideally, like to see Aeon Gods apply their abundant talents to more daring songwriting and let the guitars and keyboards share a bit more of the melodic load. Reborn to Light is a sizable step up from Aeon Gods’ debut, showing they are on a clear upward trajectory. I look forward to the day when Aeon Gods ascends to the echelons of full-fledged godhood.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Scarlet Records
Websites: scarletrecords.bandcamp.com | aeongods.com | facebook.com/AEONGODS
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026

When it comes to the vast pantheons of mythological figures, Aeon Gods is clearly interested in the most powerful. Their 2024 debut album, King of Gods, expounded upon the mighty deities of Mesopotamia with plenty of power metal bombast. Now, less than 18 months later, this German five-piece turns their attention to ancient Egypt. Specifically, Reborn to Light orbits the sun god Re (more commonly known today as Ra). The first half recounts Re’s nightly voyage into the underworld and his battles with the giant snake Apophis, then the latter half describes Re’s disagreements with humankind, which lead to his eventual departure at the hands of an unbelieving population. Let’s examine this latest offering and weigh its worthiness.

Reborn to Light may be about a sun god, but Aeon Gods is more similar to the moon reflecting the light of many important power metal forebears. The predominant style is an anthemic blend of Gloryhammer and Sabaton. As expected, the music is big and dramatic, seeking to replicate the larger-than-life storytelling of Brothers of Metal, though with much more of a symphonic slant than folk. Aeon Gods stops just short of going full-blown symphonic power metal like Dragony, sticking closer to acts like Twilight Force or Freedom Call, which garnish with keyboards more judiciously. Organs and choirs at times recall the theatricality of Powerwolf. Pretty much all the main hallmarks of the genre are present on Reborn to Light.

Reborn To Light by Aeon Gods

Overall, Aeon Gods are blessed by their devout worship of these groups. Most immediately noticeable are the sharp, memorable choruses (charismatically delivered by Alex “Sol’Ra-tu” Hunzinger), as well as the bounteous guitar shredding (courtesy of Robert “Abzu’Kean” Altenbach and Nino “En-Atum” Helfrich). Reborn to Light embodies its concept unexpectedly well, being enhanced considerably by a lyric sheet (and a casual Wikipedia perusal about Egyptian mythology). The bulk of the record paints a vivid cycle of blazing sunrise (“Birth of Light”), tranquil twilight (“Barque of Millions (Amduat pt. I)”), a valiant battle (“Soldiers of Re (Amduat pt. III)”), and the inevitable victory of the sun (“Reborn to Light (Amduat pt. IV)”) again. In many important respects, Aeon Gods stacks up well against the genre greats.

On the other hand, this side-by-side comparison reveals a few qualities in which Aeon Gods is lacking. While Sol’Ra-tu has a solid singing voice—some listeners will appreciate that he avoids the typical shrill upper ranges—it isn’t always strong enough to carry the music on its own, particularly during the slower parts like quasi-ballad “Barque of Millions (Amduat pt. I).” The guitarists prove their mettle with their soloing during the bridges of most songs, but there are few notable leads that might have given the vocals a boost. Anja “Su’en-Chel” Hunzinger’s keyboards are more impactful, injecting a triumphant oomph to the chorus of “Reborn to Light (Amduat pt. IV)” and an awe-inspiring tone to “Blood and Sand (Re’s Dying Reign pt. II).” Finally, while Aeon Gods rejects bloat, Reborn to Light does not deviate at all from the standard pop structure, which gives each song a measure of predictability despite the variety in the compositions.

Imperfections notwithstanding, Reborn to Light is a great implementation of tried-and-true musical formulas. It’s executed very well, and should be a pleasantly familiar—albeit safe—experience for many power metal fans. I would, ideally, like to see Aeon Gods apply their abundant talents to more daring songwriting and let the guitars and keyboards share a bit more of the melodic load. Reborn to Light is a sizable step up from Aeon Gods’ debut, showing they are on a clear upward trajectory. I look forward to the day when Aeon Gods ascends to the echelons of full-fledged godhood.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Scarlet Records
Websites: scarletrecords.bandcamp.com | aeongods.com | facebook.com/AEONGODS
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026

When it comes to the vast pantheons of mythological figures, Aeon Gods is clearly interested in the most powerful. Their 2024 debut album, King of Gods, expounded upon the mighty deities of Mesopotamia with plenty of power metal bombast. Now, less than 18 months later, this German five-piece turns their attention to ancient Egypt. Specifically, Reborn to Light orbits the sun god Re (more commonly known today as Ra). The first half recounts Re’s nightly voyage into the underworld and his battles with the giant snake Apophis, then the latter half describes Re’s disagreements with humankind, which lead to his eventual departure at the hands of an unbelieving population. Let’s examine this latest offering and weigh its worthiness.

Reborn to Light may be about a sun god, but Aeon Gods is more similar to the moon reflecting the light of many important power metal forebears. The predominant style is an anthemic blend of Gloryhammer and Sabaton. As expected, the music is big and dramatic, seeking to replicate the larger-than-life storytelling of Brothers of Metal, though with much more of a symphonic slant than folk. Aeon Gods stops just short of going full-blown symphonic power metal like Dragony, sticking closer to acts like Twilight Force or Freedom Call, which garnish with keyboards more judiciously. Organs and choirs at times recall the theatricality of Powerwolf. Pretty much all the main hallmarks of the genre are present on Reborn to Light.

Reborn To Light by Aeon Gods

Overall, Aeon Gods are blessed by their devout worship of these groups. Most immediately noticeable are the sharp, memorable choruses (charismatically delivered by Alex “Sol’Ra-tu” Hunzinger), as well as the bounteous guitar shredding (courtesy of Robert “Abzu’Kean” Altenbach and Nino “En-Atum” Helfrich). Reborn to Light embodies its concept unexpectedly well, being enhanced considerably by a lyric sheet (and a casual Wikipedia perusal about Egyptian mythology). The bulk of the record paints a vivid cycle of blazing sunrise (“Birth of Light”), tranquil twilight (“Barque of Millions (Amduat pt. I)”), a valiant battle (“Soldiers of Re (Amduat pt. III)”), and the inevitable victory of the sun (“Reborn to Light (Amduat pt. IV)”) again. In many important respects, Aeon Gods stacks up well against the genre greats.

On the other hand, this side-by-side comparison reveals a few qualities in which Aeon Gods is lacking. While Sol’Ra-tu has a solid singing voice—some listeners will appreciate that he avoids the typical shrill upper ranges—it isn’t always strong enough to carry the music on its own, particularly during the slower parts like quasi-ballad “Barque of Millions (Amduat pt. I).” The guitarists prove their mettle with their soloing during the bridges of most songs, but there are few notable leads that might have given the vocals a boost. Anja “Su’en-Chel” Hunzinger’s keyboards are more impactful, injecting a triumphant oomph to the chorus of “Reborn to Light (Amduat pt. IV)” and an awe-inspiring tone to “Blood and Sand (Re’s Dying Reign pt. II).” Finally, while Aeon Gods rejects bloat, Reborn to Light does not deviate at all from the standard pop structure, which gives each song a measure of predictability despite the variety in the compositions.

Imperfections notwithstanding, Reborn to Light is a great implementation of tried-and-true musical formulas. It’s executed very well, and should be a pleasantly familiar—albeit safe—experience for many power metal fans. I would, ideally, like to see Aeon Gods apply their abundant talents to more daring songwriting and let the guitars and keyboards share a bit more of the melodic load. Reborn to Light is a sizable step up from Aeon Gods’ debut, showing they are on a clear upward trajectory. I look forward to the day when Aeon Gods ascends to the echelons of full-fledged godhood.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Scarlet Records
Websites: scarletrecords.bandcamp.com | aeongods.com | facebook.com/AEONGODS
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026

When it comes to the vast pantheons of mythological figures, Aeon Gods is clearly interested in the most powerful. Their 2024 debut album, King of Gods, expounded upon the mighty deities of Mesopotamia with plenty of power metal bombast. Now, less than 18 months later, this German five-piece turns their attention to ancient Egypt. Specifically, Reborn to Light orbits the sun god Re (more commonly known today as Ra). The first half recounts Re’s nightly voyage into the underworld and his battles with the giant snake Apophis, then the latter half describes Re’s disagreements with humankind, which lead to his eventual departure at the hands of an unbelieving population. Let’s examine this latest offering and weigh its worthiness.

Reborn to Light may be about a sun god, but Aeon Gods is more similar to the moon reflecting the light of many important power metal forebears. The predominant style is an anthemic blend of Gloryhammer and Sabaton. As expected, the music is big and dramatic, seeking to replicate the larger-than-life storytelling of Brothers of Metal, though with much more of a symphonic slant than folk. Aeon Gods stops just short of going full-blown symphonic power metal like Dragony, sticking closer to acts like Twilight Force or Freedom Call, which garnish with keyboards more judiciously. Organs and choirs at times recall the theatricality of Powerwolf. Pretty much all the main hallmarks of the genre are present on Reborn to Light.

Reborn To Light by Aeon Gods

Overall, Aeon Gods are blessed by their devout worship of these groups. Most immediately noticeable are the sharp, memorable choruses (charismatically delivered by Alex “Sol’Ra-tu” Hunzinger), as well as the bounteous guitar shredding (courtesy of Robert “Abzu’Kean” Altenbach and Nino “En-Atum” Helfrich). Reborn to Light embodies its concept unexpectedly well, being enhanced considerably by a lyric sheet (and a casual Wikipedia perusal about Egyptian mythology). The bulk of the record paints a vivid cycle of blazing sunrise (“Birth of Light”), tranquil twilight (“Barque of Millions (Amduat pt. I)”), a valiant battle (“Soldiers of Re (Amduat pt. III)”), and the inevitable victory of the sun (“Reborn to Light (Amduat pt. IV)”) again. In many important respects, Aeon Gods stacks up well against the genre greats.

On the other hand, this side-by-side comparison reveals a few qualities in which Aeon Gods is lacking. While Sol’Ra-tu has a solid singing voice—some listeners will appreciate that he avoids the typical shrill upper ranges—it isn’t always strong enough to carry the music on its own, particularly during the slower parts like quasi-ballad “Barque of Millions (Amduat pt. I).” The guitarists prove their mettle with their soloing during the bridges of most songs, but there are few notable leads that might have given the vocals a boost. Anja “Su’en-Chel” Hunzinger’s keyboards are more impactful, injecting a triumphant oomph to the chorus of “Reborn to Light (Amduat pt. IV)” and an awe-inspiring tone to “Blood and Sand (Re’s Dying Reign pt. II).” Finally, while Aeon Gods rejects bloat, Reborn to Light does not deviate at all from the standard pop structure, which gives each song a measure of predictability despite the variety in the compositions.

Imperfections notwithstanding, Reborn to Light is a great implementation of tried-and-true musical formulas. It’s executed very well, and should be a pleasantly familiar—albeit safe—experience for many power metal fans. I would, ideally, like to see Aeon Gods apply their abundant talents to more daring songwriting and let the guitars and keyboards share a bit more of the melodic load. Reborn to Light is a sizable step up from Aeon Gods’ debut, showing they are on a clear upward trajectory. I look forward to the day when Aeon Gods ascends to the echelons of full-fledged godhood.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Scarlet Records
Websites: scarletrecords.bandcamp.com | aeongods.com | facebook.com/AEONGODS
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026

When it comes to the vast pantheons of mythological figures, Aeon Gods is clearly interested in the most powerful. Their 2024 debut album, King of Gods, expounded upon the mighty deities of Mesopotamia with plenty of power metal bombast. Now, less than 18 months later, this German five-piece turns their attention to ancient Egypt. Specifically, Reborn to Light orbits the sun god Re (more commonly known today as Ra). The first half recounts Re’s nightly voyage into the underworld and his battles with the giant snake Apophis, then the latter half describes Re’s disagreements with humankind, which lead to his eventual departure at the hands of an unbelieving population. Let’s examine this latest offering and weigh its worthiness.

Reborn to Light may be about a sun god, but Aeon Gods is more similar to the moon reflecting the light of many important power metal forebears. The predominant style is an anthemic blend of Gloryhammer and Sabaton. As expected, the music is big and dramatic, seeking to replicate the larger-than-life storytelling of Brothers of Metal, though with much more of a symphonic slant than folk. Aeon Gods stops just short of going full-blown symphonic power metal like Dragony, sticking closer to acts like Twilight Force or Freedom Call, which garnish with keyboards more judiciously. Organs and choirs at times recall the theatricality of Powerwolf. Pretty much all the main hallmarks of the genre are present on Reborn to Light.

Reborn To Light by Aeon Gods

Overall, Aeon Gods are blessed by their devout worship of these groups. Most immediately noticeable are the sharp, memorable choruses (charismatically delivered by Alex “Sol’Ra-tu” Hunzinger), as well as the bounteous guitar shredding (courtesy of Robert “Abzu’Kean” Altenbach and Nino “En-Atum” Helfrich). Reborn to Light embodies its concept unexpectedly well, being enhanced considerably by a lyric sheet (and a casual Wikipedia perusal about Egyptian mythology). The bulk of the record paints a vivid cycle of blazing sunrise (“Birth of Light”), tranquil twilight (“Barque of Millions (Amduat pt. I)”), a valiant battle (“Soldiers of Re (Amduat pt. III)”), and the inevitable victory of the sun (“Reborn to Light (Amduat pt. IV)”) again. In many important respects, Aeon Gods stacks up well against the genre greats.

On the other hand, this side-by-side comparison reveals a few qualities in which Aeon Gods is lacking. While Sol’Ra-tu has a solid singing voice—some listeners will appreciate that he avoids the typical shrill upper ranges—it isn’t always strong enough to carry the music on its own, particularly during the slower parts like quasi-ballad “Barque of Millions (Amduat pt. I).” The guitarists prove their mettle with their soloing during the bridges of most songs, but there are few notable leads that might have given the vocals a boost. Anja “Su’en-Chel” Hunzinger’s keyboards are more impactful, injecting a triumphant oomph to the chorus of “Reborn to Light (Amduat pt. IV)” and an awe-inspiring tone to “Blood and Sand (Re’s Dying Reign pt. II).” Finally, while Aeon Gods rejects bloat, Reborn to Light does not deviate at all from the standard pop structure, which gives each song a measure of predictability despite the variety in the compositions.

Imperfections notwithstanding, Reborn to Light is a great implementation of tried-and-true musical formulas. It’s executed very well, and should be a pleasantly familiar—albeit safe—experience for many power metal fans. I would, ideally, like to see Aeon Gods apply their abundant talents to more daring songwriting and let the guitars and keyboards share a bit more of the melodic load. Reborn to Light is a sizable step up from Aeon Gods’ debut, showing they are on a clear upward trajectory. I look forward to the day when Aeon Gods ascends to the echelons of full-fledged godhood.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Scarlet Records
Websites: scarletrecords.bandcamp.com | aeongods.com | facebook.com/AEONGODS
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026

Got a question for you all: when’s the last time an album just absolutely, from out of nowhere, blindsided you and kept you enthralled for the entirety of its length on the first play? I don’t mean from your favorite bands (though that’s pretty damn cool, too), but from a completely out-of-left-field pick in the promo sump?1 Georgian funeral directors Ennui have been toughing it out with their craft since 2012’s Mze Ukunisa, with the then-duo working with what they had available. Now, the duo is a full-fledged band, and on their fifth album, Qroba, they hit graveyard paydirt.

From the very first moment the keyboards swell in opener “Antinatalism,” you know you’re in for some fun(erally dismal) times. Creeping at the pace of a drugged-out snail in the Antarctic region, “Antinatalism” brilliantly glistens while also dragging you through the icy snow with its crashing (and crushing) riffs and methodical drumming. When founder David Unsaved growls, it’s with the force of the bear from Annihilation after freshly devouring Daniel Neagoe (Eye of Solitude and a fuckton of other bands), further throwing the listener into a pit of existential despair and woe. Most impressively, at over 10 minutes, the time flies by effortlessly, due to its ability to draw you in and keep you enthralled for the entire length.

The other four songs on this 62-minute behemoth hold up pretty damn well themselves. The album centerpiece “Decima,” which features mournful melodies from a panduri (three-stringed lute) that accentuate the sorrow midway into the song, giving the album even more breathing room to expand and envelop you in its snare. “Becoming Void” sounds like Canto III on steroids, picking a fight with Turn Loose the Swans-era My Dying Bride for lunch money, and again feels like a six-minute song at over 15 minutes due to how well-crafted it is. None of the songs overstay their welcome, but they still feel like soulful journeys to a mournful end.

Produced by Greg Chandler (Esoteric), Qroba does an amazing job of giving breathing space while also smothering the listener. The drums feel cavernous and monstrous, plodding with intent. The scant few leads2 amplify the dour vibes a thousandfold, making damn sure there’s no light escaping this realm. If there was a nitpick to be had, this is the epitome of mood music. You’re not going to grab this on a warm, sunny day out in the sun with some lemonade and a book to read.3 Qroba is solemn, reflective music if there ever was some.

And this fits in quite well with other solemn, reflection-time music from the likes of Skepticism and Shape of Despair. Qroba came at a time when I didn’t know I needed it, with all the chaos going on around the world as well as in my own circle, but I’m glad it did, as this has been playing non-stop since I first laid ears upon it. If you’ve never taken to funeral doom ever, Ennui won’t change your mind, as this is sorrow personified and exponentially amplified. However, if you need a severe purging, welcome to your new favorite band.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 319 kbps mp3
Label: Meuse Music Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

Got a question for you all: when’s the last time an album just absolutely, from out of nowhere, blindsided you and kept you enthralled for the entirety of its length on the first play? I don’t mean from your favorite bands (though that’s pretty damn cool, too), but from a completely out-of-left-field pick in the promo sump?1 Georgian funeral directors Ennui have been toughing it out with their craft since 2012’s Mze Ukunisa, with the then-duo working with what they had available. Now, the duo is a full-fledged band, and on their fifth album, Qroba, they hit graveyard paydirt.

From the very first moment the keyboards swell in opener “Antinatalism,” you know you’re in for some fun(erally dismal) times. Creeping at the pace of a drugged-out snail in the Antarctic region, “Antinatalism” brilliantly glistens while also dragging you through the icy snow with its crashing (and crushing) riffs and methodical drumming. When founder David Unsaved growls, it’s with the force of the bear from Annihilation after freshly devouring Daniel Neagoe (Eye of Solitude and a fuckton of other bands), further throwing the listener into a pit of existential despair and woe. Most impressively, at over 10 minutes, the time flies by effortlessly, due to its ability to draw you in and keep you enthralled for the entire length.

The other four songs on this 62-minute behemoth hold up pretty damn well themselves. The album centerpiece “Decima,” which features mournful melodies from a panduri (three-stringed lute) that accentuate the sorrow midway into the song, giving the album even more breathing room to expand and envelop you in its snare. “Becoming Void” sounds like Canto III on steroids, picking a fight with Turn Loose the Swans-era My Dying Bride for lunch money, and again feels like a six-minute song at over 15 minutes due to how well-crafted it is. None of the songs overstay their welcome, but they still feel like soulful journeys to a mournful end.

Produced by Greg Chandler (Esoteric), Qroba does an amazing job of giving breathing space while also smothering the listener. The drums feel cavernous and monstrous, plodding with intent. The scant few leads2 amplify the dour vibes a thousandfold, making damn sure there’s no light escaping this realm. If there was a nitpick to be had, this is the epitome of mood music. You’re not going to grab this on a warm, sunny day out in the sun with some lemonade and a book to read.3 Qroba is solemn, reflective music if there ever was some.

And this fits in quite well with other solemn, reflection-time music from the likes of Skepticism and Shape of Despair. Qroba came at a time when I didn’t know I needed it, with all the chaos going on around the world as well as in my own circle, but I’m glad it did, as this has been playing non-stop since I first laid ears upon it. If you’ve never taken to funeral doom ever, Ennui won’t change your mind, as this is sorrow personified and exponentially amplified. However, if you need a severe purging, welcome to your new favorite band.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 319 kbps mp3
Label: Meuse Music Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

Got a question for you all: when’s the last time an album just absolutely, from out of nowhere, blindsided you and kept you enthralled for the entirety of its length on the first play? I don’t mean from your favorite bands (though that’s pretty damn cool, too), but from a completely out-of-left-field pick in the promo sump?1 Georgian funeral directors Ennui have been toughing it out with their craft since 2012’s Mze Ukunisa, with the then-duo working with what they had available. Now, the duo is a full-fledged band, and on their fifth album, Qroba, they hit graveyard paydirt.

From the very first moment the keyboards swell in opener “Antinatalism,” you know you’re in for some fun(erally dismal) times. Creeping at the pace of a drugged-out snail in the Antarctic region, “Antinatalism” brilliantly glistens while also dragging you through the icy snow with its crashing (and crushing) riffs and methodical drumming. When founder David Unsaved growls, it’s with the force of the bear from Annihilation after freshly devouring Daniel Neagoe (Eye of Solitude and a fuckton of other bands), further throwing the listener into a pit of existential despair and woe. Most impressively, at over 10 minutes, the time flies by effortlessly, due to its ability to draw you in and keep you enthralled for the entire length.

The other four songs on this 62-minute behemoth hold up pretty damn well themselves. The album centerpiece “Decima,” which features mournful melodies from a panduri (three-stringed lute) that accentuate the sorrow midway into the song, giving the album even more breathing room to expand and envelop you in its snare. “Becoming Void” sounds like Canto III on steroids, picking a fight with Turn Loose the Swans-era My Dying Bride for lunch money, and again feels like a six-minute song at over 15 minutes due to how well-crafted it is. None of the songs overstay their welcome, but they still feel like soulful journeys to a mournful end.

Produced by Greg Chandler (Esoteric), Qroba does an amazing job of giving breathing space while also smothering the listener. The drums feel cavernous and monstrous, plodding with intent. The scant few leads2 amplify the dour vibes a thousandfold, making damn sure there’s no light escaping this realm. If there was a nitpick to be had, this is the epitome of mood music. You’re not going to grab this on a warm, sunny day out in the sun with some lemonade and a book to read.3 Qroba is solemn, reflective music if there ever was some.

And this fits in quite well with other solemn, reflection-time music from the likes of Skepticism and Shape of Despair. Qroba came at a time when I didn’t know I needed it, with all the chaos going on around the world as well as in my own circle, but I’m glad it did, as this has been playing non-stop since I first laid ears upon it. If you’ve never taken to funeral doom ever, Ennui won’t change your mind, as this is sorrow personified and exponentially amplified. However, if you need a severe purging, welcome to your new favorite band.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 319 kbps mp3
Label: Meuse Music Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

Got a question for you all: when’s the last time an album just absolutely, from out of nowhere, blindsided you and kept you enthralled for the entirety of its length on the first play? I don’t mean from your favorite bands (though that’s pretty damn cool, too), but from a completely out-of-left-field pick in the promo sump?1 Georgian funeral directors Ennui have been toughing it out with their craft since 2012’s Mze Ukunisa, with the then-duo working with what they had available. Now, the duo is a full-fledged band, and on their fifth album, Qroba, they hit graveyard paydirt.

From the very first moment the keyboards swell in opener “Antinatalism,” you know you’re in for some fun(erally dismal) times. Creeping at the pace of a drugged-out snail in the Antarctic region, “Antinatalism” brilliantly glistens while also dragging you through the icy snow with its crashing (and crushing) riffs and methodical drumming. When founder David Unsaved growls, it’s with the force of the bear from Annihilation after freshly devouring Daniel Neagoe (Eye of Solitude and a fuckton of other bands), further throwing the listener into a pit of existential despair and woe. Most impressively, at over 10 minutes, the time flies by effortlessly, due to its ability to draw you in and keep you enthralled for the entire length.

The other four songs on this 62-minute behemoth hold up pretty damn well themselves. The album centerpiece “Decima,” which features mournful melodies from a panduri (three-stringed lute) that accentuate the sorrow midway into the song, giving the album even more breathing room to expand and envelop you in its snare. “Becoming Void” sounds like Canto III on steroids, picking a fight with Turn Loose the Swans-era My Dying Bride for lunch money, and again feels like a six-minute song at over 15 minutes due to how well-crafted it is. None of the songs overstay their welcome, but they still feel like soulful journeys to a mournful end.

Produced by Greg Chandler (Esoteric), Qroba does an amazing job of giving breathing space while also smothering the listener. The drums feel cavernous and monstrous, plodding with intent. The scant few leads2 amplify the dour vibes a thousandfold, making damn sure there’s no light escaping this realm. If there was a nitpick to be had, this is the epitome of mood music. You’re not going to grab this on a warm, sunny day out in the sun with some lemonade and a book to read.3 Qroba is solemn, reflective music if there ever was some.

And this fits in quite well with other solemn, reflection-time music from the likes of Skepticism and Shape of Despair. Qroba came at a time when I didn’t know I needed it, with all the chaos going on around the world as well as in my own circle, but I’m glad it did, as this has been playing non-stop since I first laid ears upon it. If you’ve never taken to funeral doom ever, Ennui won’t change your mind, as this is sorrow personified and exponentially amplified. However, if you need a severe purging, welcome to your new favorite band.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 319 kbps mp3
Label: Meuse Music Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

Unmother – State Dependent Memory Review

Independent U.K. undergrounder’s, Unmother, have been holding a mirror up to urban dystopian dehumanization since forming in 2019.…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #3.0 #Ashenspire #AU #Australia #BlackMetal #ChatPile #Entertainment #Feb26 #independent #MarilynManson #Post-Metal #review #Shining #StateDependentMemory #U.K.Metal #Unmother
https://www.newsbeep.com/au/501290/

Unmother – State Dependent Memory Review

Independent U.K. undergrounder’s, Unmother, have been holding a mirror up to urban dystopian dehumanization since forming in 2019.…
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Independent U.K. undergrounder’s, Unmother, have been holding a mirror up to urban dystopian dehumanization since forming in 2019. Their 2021 debut, Lay Down the Sun, garnered significant underground acclaim that, according to the promo kit, established Unmother “as a restless and forward-thinking presence within the scene.” Foregoing the nature-scapes and mythological motifs of other post-black metal outfits, Unmother draws inspiration from the streets and, with their sophomore effort, State Dependent Memory,1 examines “urban isolation, inner dislocation, and moral decline, reflecting a world formed by concrete environments and social erosion.”2 After swapping their first “V” vocalist, Venla,3 for their second, V. (VOAK), Unmother prepares to take the next step on their evolving musical journey. Does State Dependent Memory offer a solution that might save our base, dehumanized society, from itself, or will it amount to so much piss in the wind?

State Dependent Memory crackles with gritty, asphaltic energy, casting Unmother as conscientious agitators, decrying societal urban decay in veins similar to acts like Chat Pile or Ashenspire, even if avoiding any direct auricular comparison. Departing from the rawer, denser claustrophobia of Lay Down the Sun, Unmother sought slightly warmer sonic climes on State Dependent Memory, weaving undulating post-metal textures into its mostly traditional black-metal framework. Sure, plenty of blast beats and tremolos (“My Armor,” “Bear Hug”) remain, courtesy of drummer B. and guitarists Azoso and Declwa (who also handles bass). Still, it’s what Unmother does with the spaces between that adds the most character, which begins with the varied vocal approach of V., who, like Attila Csihar, possesses a wider range of barks, croaks, shouts, and screams than his more one-dimensional predecessor, whose hissier, raw-blackened rasp overpowered much of Lay Down the Sun for me. Without dulling any of the sharp edges that, well, make them edgy, Unmother benefits from their take on “post” as a counterpoint to tradition.

My Armor by Unmother

State Dependent Memory tips the scales of orthodoxy with atmospheres that are as hypnotizing as they are abrasive. Pensive and creepy, the leads that skulk through the shadowed alleys of “Modern Dystopia” are effective and shroud the track with an almost Marilyn Manson-like pall, while Declwa’s bass notes thrum and throb like slow-strobing traffic lights on a dark, misty night. Venla makes a guest appearance here as well; his croaking rasp at this dose ups the fear factor and complements V.’s tortured delivery. Satisfying, too, is the eerie, haunted-jewelry-box melody and desperate howling of V., which make up the slower-paced interlude within the trad-black assault of “Bear Hug,” offering a sprinkling of Shining-like glitter. Ironically, the most black metal track on State Dependent Memory is Unmother’s cover of “Αττική – Βικτώρια” (“Attiki Victoria”) by Greek synthwave outfit ΟΔΟΣ 55, which distills the eight-minute-long original’s main melody down to a viscerally efficient, tremolo-forward beast. It’s poppy, new-wave-esque movements, filled with an almost hopeful melodicism, are set effectively against V.’s pleading screams and shouts.

Angeliki Mourgela’s mix and Roland Rodas’ master capture the essence of Unmother’s talents. With a foggy production that reminded me of Mayhem’s Ordo ad Chao, I enjoyed Lay Down the Sun but had to strain to pick out much of its instrumental intricacy. State Dependent Memory doesn’t suffer the same issue, as each instrument glows brightly in its own space, with B.’s varied drum performance and Declwa’s excellent bass work being the biggest beneficiaries. And while I can’t say Unmother wasted any of State Dependent Memory’s thirty-eight-minute runtime, closing the album with the no-burn instrumental “Magda” was a miss. The track fades in with some reflective, organ-like synths, foreign-spoke voice samples,4 and gently plucked guitar lines bolstered with tension-building but delicately strummed chords, which all continue to build slightly over the next four minutes and twenty seconds only to fade out again. No satisfying payoff, just a segue to silence. Whether this move was intentional or not, the addition of another well-executed track proper could have avoided such a deflating ending.

Acerbically moody, Unmother possesses a maturity that belies their short existence. This quartet of relative unknowns continues to carve their mark into the U.K.’s underground metal scene, and if State Dependent Memory is any indication, they may not be toiling down there for long.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320kb/s mp3
Label: Independent
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026

Independent U.K. undergrounder’s, Unmother, have been holding a mirror up to urban dystopian dehumanization since forming in 2019. Their 2021 debut, Lay Down the Sun, garnered significant underground acclaim that, according to the promo kit, established Unmother “as a restless and forward-thinking presence within the scene.” Foregoing the nature-scapes and mythological motifs of other post-black metal outfits, Unmother draws inspiration from the streets and, with their sophomore effort, State Dependent Memory,1 examines “urban isolation, inner dislocation, and moral decline, reflecting a world formed by concrete environments and social erosion.”2 After swapping their first “V” vocalist, Venla,3 for their second, V. (VOAK), Unmother prepares to take the next step on their evolving musical journey. Does State Dependent Memory offer a solution that might save our base, dehumanized society, from itself, or will it amount to so much piss in the wind?

State Dependent Memory crackles with gritty, asphaltic energy, casting Unmother as conscientious agitators, decrying societal urban decay in veins similar to acts like Chat Pile or Ashenspire, even if avoiding any direct auricular comparison. Departing from the rawer, denser claustrophobia of Lay Down the Sun, Unmother sought slightly warmer sonic climes on State Dependent Memory, weaving undulating post-metal textures into its mostly traditional black-metal framework. Sure, plenty of blast beats and tremolos (“My Armor,” “Bear Hug”) remain, courtesy of drummer B. and guitarists Azoso and Declwa (who also handles bass). Still, it’s what Unmother does with the spaces between that adds the most character, which begins with the varied vocal approach of V., who, like Attila Csihar, possesses a wider range of barks, croaks, shouts, and screams than his more one-dimensional predecessor, whose hissier, raw-blackened rasp overpowered much of Lay Down the Sun for me. Without dulling any of the sharp edges that, well, make them edgy, Unmother benefits from their take on “post” as a counterpoint to tradition.

My Armor by Unmother

State Dependent Memory tips the scales of orthodoxy with atmospheres that are as hypnotizing as they are abrasive. Pensive and creepy, the leads that skulk through the shadowed alleys of “Modern Dystopia” are effective and shroud the track with an almost Marilyn Manson-like pall, while Declwa’s bass notes thrum and throb like slow-strobing traffic lights on a dark, misty night. Venla makes a guest appearance here as well; his croaking rasp at this dose ups the fear factor and complements V.’s tortured delivery. Satisfying, too, is the eerie, haunted-jewelry-box melody and desperate howling of V., which make up the slower-paced interlude within the trad-black assault of “Bear Hug,” offering a sprinkling of Shining-like glitter. Ironically, the most black metal track on State Dependent Memory is Unmother’s cover of “Αττική – Βικτώρια” (“Attiki Victoria”) by Greek synthwave outfit ΟΔΟΣ 55, which distills the eight-minute-long original’s main melody down to a viscerally efficient, tremolo-forward beast. It’s poppy, new-wave-esque movements, filled with an almost hopeful melodicism, are set effectively against V.’s pleading screams and shouts.

Angeliki Mourgela’s mix and Roland Rodas’ master capture the essence of Unmother’s talents. With a foggy production that reminded me of Mayhem’s Ordo ad Chao, I enjoyed Lay Down the Sun but had to strain to pick out much of its instrumental intricacy. State Dependent Memory doesn’t suffer the same issue, as each instrument glows brightly in its own space, with B.’s varied drum performance and Declwa’s excellent bass work being the biggest beneficiaries. And while I can’t say Unmother wasted any of State Dependent Memory’s thirty-eight-minute runtime, closing the album with the no-burn instrumental “Magda” was a miss. The track fades in with some reflective, organ-like synths, foreign-spoke voice samples,4 and gently plucked guitar lines bolstered with tension-building but delicately strummed chords, which all continue to build slightly over the next four minutes and twenty seconds only to fade out again. No satisfying payoff, just a segue to silence. Whether this move was intentional or not, the addition of another well-executed track proper could have avoided such a deflating ending.

Acerbically moody, Unmother possesses a maturity that belies their short existence. This quartet of relative unknowns continues to carve their mark into the U.K.’s underground metal scene, and if State Dependent Memory is any indication, they may not be toiling down there for long.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320kb/s mp3
Label: Independent
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026

Independent U.K. undergrounder’s, Unmother, have been holding a mirror up to urban dystopian dehumanization since forming in 2019. Their 2021 debut, Lay Down the Sun, garnered significant underground acclaim that, according to the promo kit, established Unmother “as a restless and forward-thinking presence within the scene.” Foregoing the nature-scapes and mythological motifs of other post-black metal outfits, Unmother draws inspiration from the streets and, with their sophomore effort, State Dependent Memory,1 examines “urban isolation, inner dislocation, and moral decline, reflecting a world formed by concrete environments and social erosion.”2 After swapping their first “V” vocalist, Venla,3 for their second, V. (VOAK), Unmother prepares to take the next step on their evolving musical journey. Does State Dependent Memory offer a solution that might save our base, dehumanized society, from itself, or will it amount to so much piss in the wind?

State Dependent Memory crackles with gritty, asphaltic energy, casting Unmother as conscientious agitators, decrying societal urban decay in veins similar to acts like Chat Pile or Ashenspire, even if avoiding any direct auricular comparison. Departing from the rawer, denser claustrophobia of Lay Down the Sun, Unmother sought slightly warmer sonic climes on State Dependent Memory, weaving undulating post-metal textures into its mostly traditional black-metal framework. Sure, plenty of blast beats and tremolos (“My Armor,” “Bear Hug”) remain, courtesy of drummer B. and guitarists Azoso and Declwa (who also handles bass). Still, it’s what Unmother does with the spaces between that adds the most character, which begins with the varied vocal approach of V., who, like Attila Csihar, possesses a wider range of barks, croaks, shouts, and screams than his more one-dimensional predecessor, whose hissier, raw-blackened rasp overpowered much of Lay Down the Sun for me. Without dulling any of the sharp edges that, well, make them edgy, Unmother benefits from their take on “post” as a counterpoint to tradition.

My Armor by Unmother

State Dependent Memory tips the scales of orthodoxy with atmospheres that are as hypnotizing as they are abrasive. Pensive and creepy, the leads that skulk through the shadowed alleys of “Modern Dystopia” are effective and shroud the track with an almost Marilyn Manson-like pall, while Declwa’s bass notes thrum and throb like slow-strobing traffic lights on a dark, misty night. Venla makes a guest appearance here as well; his croaking rasp at this dose ups the fear factor and complements V.’s tortured delivery. Satisfying, too, is the eerie, haunted-jewelry-box melody and desperate howling of V., which make up the slower-paced interlude within the trad-black assault of “Bear Hug,” offering a sprinkling of Shining-like glitter. Ironically, the most black metal track on State Dependent Memory is Unmother’s cover of “Αττική – Βικτώρια” (“Attiki Victoria”) by Greek synthwave outfit ΟΔΟΣ 55, which distills the eight-minute-long original’s main melody down to a viscerally efficient, tremolo-forward beast. It’s poppy, new-wave-esque movements, filled with an almost hopeful melodicism, are set effectively against V.’s pleading screams and shouts.

Angeliki Mourgela’s mix and Roland Rodas’ master capture the essence of Unmother’s talents. With a foggy production that reminded me of Mayhem’s Ordo ad Chao, I enjoyed Lay Down the Sun but had to strain to pick out much of its instrumental intricacy. State Dependent Memory doesn’t suffer the same issue, as each instrument glows brightly in its own space, with B.’s varied drum performance and Declwa’s excellent bass work being the biggest beneficiaries. And while I can’t say Unmother wasted any of State Dependent Memory’s thirty-eight-minute runtime, closing the album with the no-burn instrumental “Magda” was a miss. The track fades in with some reflective, organ-like synths, foreign-spoke voice samples,4 and gently plucked guitar lines bolstered with tension-building but delicately strummed chords, which all continue to build slightly over the next four minutes and twenty seconds only to fade out again. No satisfying payoff, just a segue to silence. Whether this move was intentional or not, the addition of another well-executed track proper could have avoided such a deflating ending.

Acerbically moody, Unmother possesses a maturity that belies their short existence. This quartet of relative unknowns continues to carve their mark into the U.K.’s underground metal scene, and if State Dependent Memory is any indication, they may not be toiling down there for long.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320kb/s mp3
Label: Independent
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026

Independent U.K. undergrounder’s, Unmother, have been holding a mirror up to urban dystopian dehumanization since forming in 2019. Their 2021 debut, Lay Down the Sun, garnered significant underground acclaim that, according to the promo kit, established Unmother “as a restless and forward-thinking presence within the scene.” Foregoing the nature-scapes and mythological motifs of other post-black metal outfits, Unmother draws inspiration from the streets and, with their sophomore effort, State Dependent Memory,1 examines “urban isolation, inner dislocation, and moral decline, reflecting a world formed by concrete environments and social erosion.”2 After swapping their first “V” vocalist, Venla,3 for their second, V. (VOAK), Unmother prepares to take the next step on their evolving musical journey. Does State Dependent Memory offer a solution that might save our base, dehumanized society, from itself, or will it amount to so much piss in the wind?

State Dependent Memory crackles with gritty, asphaltic energy, casting Unmother as conscientious agitators, decrying societal urban decay in veins similar to acts like Chat Pile or Ashenspire, even if avoiding any direct auricular comparison. Departing from the rawer, denser claustrophobia of Lay Down the Sun, Unmother sought slightly warmer sonic climes on State Dependent Memory, weaving undulating post-metal textures into its mostly traditional black-metal framework. Sure, plenty of blast beats and tremolos (“My Armor,” “Bear Hug”) remain, courtesy of drummer B. and guitarists Azoso and Declwa (who also handles bass). Still, it’s what Unmother does with the spaces between that adds the most character, which begins with the varied vocal approach of V., who, like Attila Csihar, possesses a wider range of barks, croaks, shouts, and screams than his more one-dimensional predecessor, whose hissier, raw-blackened rasp overpowered much of Lay Down the Sun for me. Without dulling any of the sharp edges that, well, make them edgy, Unmother benefits from their take on “post” as a counterpoint to tradition.

My Armor by Unmother

State Dependent Memory tips the scales of orthodoxy with atmospheres that are as hypnotizing as they are abrasive. Pensive and creepy, the leads that skulk through the shadowed alleys of “Modern Dystopia” are effective and shroud the track with an almost Marilyn Manson-like pall, while Declwa’s bass notes thrum and throb like slow-strobing traffic lights on a dark, misty night. Venla makes a guest appearance here as well; his croaking rasp at this dose ups the fear factor and complements V.’s tortured delivery. Satisfying, too, is the eerie, haunted-jewelry-box melody and desperate howling of V., which make up the slower-paced interlude within the trad-black assault of “Bear Hug,” offering a sprinkling of Shining-like glitter. Ironically, the most black metal track on State Dependent Memory is Unmother’s cover of “Αττική – Βικτώρια” (“Attiki Victoria”) by Greek synthwave outfit ΟΔΟΣ 55, which distills the eight-minute-long original’s main melody down to a viscerally efficient, tremolo-forward beast. It’s poppy, new-wave-esque movements, filled with an almost hopeful melodicism, are set effectively against V.’s pleading screams and shouts.

Angeliki Mourgela’s mix and Roland Rodas’ master capture the essence of Unmother’s talents. With a foggy production that reminded me of Mayhem’s Ordo ad Chao, I enjoyed Lay Down the Sun but had to strain to pick out much of its instrumental intricacy. State Dependent Memory doesn’t suffer the same issue, as each instrument glows brightly in its own space, with B.’s varied drum performance and Declwa’s excellent bass work being the biggest beneficiaries. And while I can’t say Unmother wasted any of State Dependent Memory’s thirty-eight-minute runtime, closing the album with the no-burn instrumental “Magda” was a miss. The track fades in with some reflective, organ-like synths, foreign-spoke voice samples,4 and gently plucked guitar lines bolstered with tension-building but delicately strummed chords, which all continue to build slightly over the next four minutes and twenty seconds only to fade out again. No satisfying payoff, just a segue to silence. Whether this move was intentional or not, the addition of another well-executed track proper could have avoided such a deflating ending.

Acerbically moody, Unmother possesses a maturity that belies their short existence. This quartet of relative unknowns continues to carve their mark into the U.K.’s underground metal scene, and if State Dependent Memory is any indication, they may not be toiling down there for long.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320kb/s mp3
Label: Independent
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 20th, 2026

Houston’s Necrofier first came on my radar when they played the 2024 Decibel Magazine Tour with Hulder, Devil Master, and Worm. Sadly, I missed their opening set, but gladly, I caught a recording of it on YouTube.1 Their raucous, crowd-pleasing performance compelled me to check out their recordings. At 36 minutes, debut Prophecies of Eternal Darkness (2021) is a lean, mean barrage of melodic black metal, while Burning Shadows in the Southern Night (2023) ups the ante with 47 minutes of stronger, more polished material. Necrofier’s (lone?) star seems to be on the rise since Decibel 2024, as their third album arrives on the mighty Metal Blade Records. Also on the rise are the band’s ambitions; Transcend into Oblivion spreads three three-songs suites and an eponymous closing track across a hefty 59 minutes. Everything is bigger in Texas, sure, but bigger doesn’t always mean better (or good).

Perhaps due to their sweltering abode, Necrofier draws black metal sustenance from the shivering environs of Scandinavia. Dissection is certainly an immediate reference point, if they excised the excursions into folky melodeath. Necrofier’s preferred melodicism swirls as a maelstrom of mobile power chords by guitarists Bakka and Semir Özerkan, propelled by the dexterous drumming of Dobber Beverly.2 The influence of Watain also feels present, especially since Bakka’s rasp sounds quite a bit like E. And early Emperor reigns here as well, before they fully unbound Prometheus. Violins, synthesizers, and harpsichords are felt more than heard outright, balancing a sweet spot production-wise à la Anthems to the Welkin at Dusk. On the unfortunate side of the production is bassist Mat Valentine, who gets lost in the shuffle. Nevertheless, Transcend into Oblivion consistently delivers quality black metal that is melodic but dangerous.

Transcend into Oblivion by Necrofier

Transcend into Oblivion progresses as three suites, each comprised of three songs. Together, they narrate a ‘Luciferian Night of the Dark Soul’: a spiritual awakening incites torment that ultimately engenders rebirth. Individually, they mostly play out as a collection of thematically-linked songs. “Fires of the Apocalypse, Light My Path” immediately kicks the door in (“Fires…I”) before kicking the door in again (“Fires…II”) and again—”Fires…III” is the strongest of the trio, but the listener begins wondering why these songs are presented as holistic units. The “Servants of Darkness, Guide My Way” trilogy comes closest to reaching suiteness. “Servants…I” starts with one of the album’s gnarliest trem riffs, “Servants…II” cools things down with an extended acoustic passage, and “Servants III” delightfully dips into doomy Middle-Eastern territory before black-metal blastoff. As for the “Horns of Destruction, Lift My Blade” triumvirate, it adds variety with d-beats, chunkier riffs, and a gong, but it feels like more of the same this deep into the album. There’s no real filler amongst the suites, but there aren’t any thrilling peaks either.

Keeping with their spiritualism, Necrofier nests numerology into Transcend into Oblivion, punctuating its three-song threesome with three instrumentals. For the most part, they effectively break up the black metal action. On the heels of the opening “Fires” suite, “Behold, the Birth of Ascension” conveys the onset of (re)birth pangs. Repurposing a melody from “Fires…III” with creepy bells and macabre piano, it cleverly inverts the typical function of an interlude, segueing out of a song rather than into one. More in the typical interlude camp is “Mystical Creation of Enlightenment.” Its Spanish-sounding acoustic plucks make for a soothing shift out of the savage “Servants” suite, while its ending modulation prefigures the ornery onset of the “Horns” suite. Oddly enough, it’s the eponymous instrumental that feels superfluous. “Toward the Necrofier” concludes the album with ominous space synths, incantatory spoken word, and tribal rhythms. “Horns…III,” however, ends with its own climax and a piano denouement, which makes the final instrumental feel like a coda to an album that doesn’t need more closure.

“Toward the Necrofier” does function as a serviceable springboard for a second spin of Transcend into Oblivion, an album which I ultimately recommend. It makes sense that Necrofier would cap off a work about rebirth with an eponymous song distilling the more unique elements of their sound. While Necrofier don’t fully realize their conceptual ambition, Transcend into Oblivion is sweet stuff regardless, demonstrating lots of promise for future outings. Black metal zealots of all stripes should strongly consider messing with these Texans.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed:256 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 27th, 2026

Necrosexual – Road to Rubble Review

It was a day like any other at the AMG water cooler when someone mentioned Necrosexual had a…
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https://www.newsbeep.com/us/485983/

Necrosexual – Road to Rubble Review

It was a day like any other at the AMG water cooler when someone mentioned Necrosexual had a…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2026 #3.5 #AmericanMetal #BlackMetal #BlackMetalArchives #CelticFrost #DevilMaster #Entertainment #Feb26 #KingDiamond #midnight #Necrosexual #review #reviews #RoadtoRubble #Shitfucker #ThrashMetal #Venom
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/485983/

Necrosexual – Road to Rubble Review

It was a day like any other at the AMG water cooler when someone mentioned Necrosexual had a…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #3.5 #AmericanMetal #AU #Australia #BlackMetal #BlackMetalArchives #CelticFrost #DevilMaster #Entertainment #Feb26 #KingDiamond #midnight #Necrosexual #review #reviews #RoadtoRubble #Shitfucker #ThrashMetal #Venom
https://www.newsbeep.com/au/499158/