#folkmetal — Public Fediverse posts

WAYFARER (Estats Units) presenta nou single: "Hollow Hearts on the Trail to Eden" #Wayfarer #AtmosphericBlack #FolkMetal #Setembre2026 #EstatsUnits #NouSingle #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

WAYFARER (Estats Units) presenta nou single: "Hollow Hearts on the Trail to Eden" #Wayfarer #AtmosphericBlack #FolkMetal #Setembre2026 #EstatsUnits #NouSingle #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

CALES (Repu?blica Txeca) presenta nou àlbum: "Unexplored Territories" #Cales #MelodicDoom #Pagan #FolkMetal #Setembre2026 #Repu?blicaTxeca #NouÀlbum #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

CALES (Repu?blica Txeca) presenta nou àlbum: "Unexplored Territories" #Cales #MelodicDoom #Pagan #FolkMetal #Setembre2026 #Repu?blicaTxeca #NouÀlbum #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

Today's music:

ELVENKING - The Past is Forever

https://youtu.be/lGgJ7uFvIbQ

#metal #FolkMetal #PowerMetal #italy #music #np #NowPlaying #MastoMusic

Today's music:

ELVENKING - The Past is Forever

https://youtu.be/lGgJ7uFvIbQ

#metal #FolkMetal #PowerMetal #italy #music #np #NowPlaying #MastoMusic

Today's music:

ELVENKING - The Past is Forever

https://youtu.be/lGgJ7uFvIbQ

#metal #FolkMetal #PowerMetal #italy #music #np #NowPlaying #MastoMusic

Today's music:

ELVENKING - The Past is Forever

https://youtu.be/lGgJ7uFvIbQ

#metal #FolkMetal #PowerMetal #italy #music #np #NowPlaying #MastoMusic

Today's music:

ELVENKING - The Past is Forever

https://youtu.be/lGgJ7uFvIbQ

#metal #FolkMetal #PowerMetal #italy #music #np #NowPlaying #MastoMusic

Vengeful trickster fairies, a realm of impenetrable cold and boundless frost, a dragon gnawing away at the roots of the World Tree; Norse iconography is intense, and metal bands have known this at least since Led Zeppelin. Sweden’s Fejd, a folk metal group formed in 2001 from the folk duo Rimmerfors and the prog-thrash band Pathos,1 have been weaving Norse history and mythology into their acoustics-forward heavy metal for decades. They were last heard with 2016’s Trolldom, followed by a decade of inactivity as far as new music is concerned. But now, drummer Esko Sallow, keyboardist Lennart Specht, bassist Thomas Antonsson, vocalist/moraharpa player Niklas Rimmerfors, and multi-instrumentalist Patrik Rimmerfors2 have taken the Fejd banner to Nifelheim, the Norse realm of ice and an album steeped in mist-wrapped mystery. Fejd sing in Swedish and, being a Swiss-cheese-brained American, I can’t tell you if they capture their “Nordic melancholy” in lyricism. But can they musically?

“Folk metal” encompasses a lot of different sounds; the way Fejd do it, Nifelheim is folk, folk metal. Fejd’s approach immediately reminded me of The Hu’s early material, where amidst the great score of acoustic instrumentation, keyboards, and drums, not one distorted guitar appears. This is no issue. The lively, drone-noted strumming on “Edsvuren” and “Sköldborg”‘s Amon Amarthesque fighting riffs prove Fejd can bring the goods without them. Nifelheim’s acoustic soundscape—beautifully captured in a warm and dynamic mastering job—smells of sea salt on “Älvagrimmar” with its wind-swept majesty and “Strilja”‘s medieval jauntiness and Sgàile-like grandeur. On first listen, I was quickly and easily engrossed. Nifelheim doesn’t actually sound Nordic—like most Viking-y folk music these days, Fejd mostly play a hodgepodge of Asian and Eastern European instruments—but it nonetheless sounds like a dip into the primordial world.

Fejd use a lot of instruments on Nifelheim, and brother, you better believe they’re using them all in the same song. “Nidhögg” navigates between mouth harp,3 a plethora of strings, synthesizers, and group vocals while the title track opens to a cavalcade of drums, horns, and synchronized string riffs to bombastic effect. Nifelheim is just about always like this. But what’s crazy is that Nifelheim never sounds overly crowded. This owes partly to its aforementioned mix but also Fejd’s delicate songcraft, which sees pieces sliding in and out of the music in seamless, natural transitions. But what’s similarly baffling is that, though Fejd weave such big compositions together, Nifelheim still sounds kinda thin. This is in part due to a lack of low end, which is mostly handled by Salow kicking the dookie out of his drums, because Antonsson’s bass basically stands in the back of the mix sipping a beer mead. Regardless, in tying Nifelheim’s anachronistic musical identity together into a cohesive package, it’s safe to say these Swedes left no “Ø” uncrossed or “Ä” undotted.

But with how spirited Fejd’s musical identity is and how rich Nifelheim’s compositions can be, it’s a bit surprising how much steam the record loses by the end. Nifelheim keeps to a mid-pace throughout its runtime, and though Fejd can play briskly—Salow really lets loose on the kit when he wants to (“Edsvuren”)—the music nonetheless feels stuck in one speed. Similarly, I’d describe Rimmerfors’ vocals as workmanlike on Nifelheim, serving the music well but being too constrained to stand out or elevate it. Factored together, these two problems conspire to give Nifelheim a feeling of déjà vu. When closer “Svarta Tjärn” rolls out its big conclusion in hopes of a true Viking funeral, a track worthy of one in a vacuum, over-familiarity dims its flame to a serviceable campfire instead. Nifelheim is smooth sailing, but perhaps the trip would’ve been more memorable had Fejd challenged some choppier waters.

Nifelheim is a fun and expertly crafted album the whole way through, but a lack of exciting highs keeps me from giving a full-chested recommendation of it. Fans of folk metal will likely enjoy what Fejd offer on it, and genre diehards are likely to rate it more highly than I. I hear all the essence of a great album in Nifelheim, from Fejd’s expert chemistry to the record’s effortless fluidity. But I also hear the potential for something to really blow the roof off with Nifelheim gone unrealized. A few stronger hooks or up-tempo moments would’ve really gone a long way. But regardless, Nifelheim is a sound warship for Fejd to get back on the warpath with, and more than worthy of your consideration for listening. Skol!

Rating: Good
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Black Lodge | Sound Pollution
Websites: fejd.se | facebook.com/Fejdofficial
Releases Worldwide: August 21st, 2026

Vengeful trickster fairies, a realm of impenetrable cold and boundless frost, a dragon gnawing away at the roots of the World Tree; Norse iconography is intense, and metal bands have known this at least since Led Zeppelin. Sweden’s Fejd, a folk metal group formed in 2001 from the folk duo Rimmerfors and the prog-thrash band Pathos,1 have been weaving Norse history and mythology into their acoustics-forward heavy metal for decades. They were last heard with 2016’s Trolldom, followed by a decade of inactivity as far as new music is concerned. But now, drummer Esko Sallow, keyboardist Lennart Specht, bassist Thomas Antonsson, vocalist/moraharpa player Niklas Rimmerfors, and multi-instrumentalist Patrik Rimmerfors2 have taken the Fejd banner to Nifelheim, the Norse realm of ice and an album steeped in mist-wrapped mystery. Fejd sing in Swedish and, being a Swiss-cheese-brained American, I can’t tell you if they capture their “Nordic melancholy” in lyricism. But can they musically?

“Folk metal” encompasses a lot of different sounds; the way Fejd do it, Nifelheim is folk, folk metal. Fejd’s approach immediately reminded me of The Hu’s early material, where amidst the great score of acoustic instrumentation, keyboards, and drums, not one distorted guitar appears. This is no issue. The lively, drone-noted strumming on “Edsvuren” and “Sköldborg”‘s Amon Amarthesque fighting riffs prove Fejd can bring the goods without them. Nifelheim’s acoustic soundscape—beautifully captured in a warm and dynamic mastering job—smells of sea salt on “Älvagrimmar” with its wind-swept majesty and “Strilja”‘s medieval jauntiness and Sgàile-like grandeur. On first listen, I was quickly and easily engrossed. Nifelheim doesn’t actually sound Nordic—like most Viking-y folk music these days, Fejd mostly play a hodgepodge of Asian and Eastern European instruments—but it nonetheless sounds like a dip into the primordial world.

Fejd use a lot of instruments on Nifelheim, and brother, you better believe they’re using them all in the same song. “Nidhögg” navigates between mouth harp,3 a plethora of strings, synthesizers, and group vocals while the title track opens to a cavalcade of drums, horns, and synchronized string riffs to bombastic effect. Nifelheim is just about always like this. But what’s crazy is that Nifelheim never sounds overly crowded. This owes partly to its aforementioned mix but also Fejd’s delicate songcraft, which sees pieces sliding in and out of the music in seamless, natural transitions. But what’s similarly baffling is that, though Fejd weave such big compositions together, Nifelheim still sounds kinda thin. This is in part due to a lack of low end, which is mostly handled by Salow kicking the dookie out of his drums, because Antonsson’s bass basically stands in the back of the mix sipping a beer mead. Regardless, in tying Nifelheim’s anachronistic musical identity together into a cohesive package, it’s safe to say these Swedes left no “Ø” uncrossed or “Ä” undotted.

But with how spirited Fejd’s musical identity is and how rich Nifelheim’s compositions can be, it’s a bit surprising how much steam the record loses by the end. Nifelheim keeps to a mid-pace throughout its runtime, and though Fejd can play briskly—Salow really lets loose on the kit when he wants to (“Edsvuren”)—the music nonetheless feels stuck in one speed. Similarly, I’d describe Rimmerfors’ vocals as workmanlike on Nifelheim, serving the music well but being too constrained to stand out or elevate it. Factored together, these two problems conspire to give Nifelheim a feeling of déjà vu. When closer “Svarta Tjärn” rolls out its big conclusion in hopes of a true Viking funeral, a track worthy of one in a vacuum, over-familiarity dims its flame to a serviceable campfire instead. Nifelheim is smooth sailing, but perhaps the trip would’ve been more memorable had Fejd challenged some choppier waters.

Nifelheim is a fun and expertly crafted album the whole way through, but a lack of exciting highs keeps me from giving a full-chested recommendation of it. Fans of folk metal will likely enjoy what Fejd offer on it, and genre diehards are likely to rate it more highly than I. I hear all the essence of a great album in Nifelheim, from Fejd’s expert chemistry to the record’s effortless fluidity. But I also hear the potential for something to really blow the roof off with Nifelheim gone unrealized. A few stronger hooks or up-tempo moments would’ve really gone a long way. But regardless, Nifelheim is a sound warship for Fejd to get back on the warpath with, and more than worthy of your consideration for listening. Skol!

Rating: Good
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Black Lodge | Sound Pollution
Websites: fejd.se | facebook.com/Fejdofficial
Releases Worldwide: August 21st, 2026

Vengeful trickster fairies, a realm of impenetrable cold and boundless frost, a dragon gnawing away at the roots of the World Tree; Norse iconography is intense, and metal bands have known this at least since Led Zeppelin. Sweden’s Fejd, a folk metal group formed in 2001 from the folk duo Rimmerfors and the prog-thrash band Pathos,1 have been weaving Norse history and mythology into their acoustics-forward heavy metal for decades. They were last heard with 2016’s Trolldom, followed by a decade of inactivity as far as new music is concerned. But now, drummer Esko Sallow, keyboardist Lennart Specht, bassist Thomas Antonsson, vocalist/moraharpa player Niklas Rimmerfors, and multi-instrumentalist Patrik Rimmerfors2 have taken the Fejd banner to Nifelheim, the Norse realm of ice and an album steeped in mist-wrapped mystery. Fejd sing in Swedish and, being a Swiss-cheese-brained American, I can’t tell you if they capture their “Nordic melancholy” in lyricism. But can they musically?

“Folk metal” encompasses a lot of different sounds; the way Fejd do it, Nifelheim is folk, folk metal. Fejd’s approach immediately reminded me of The Hu’s early material, where amidst the great score of acoustic instrumentation, keyboards, and drums, not one distorted guitar appears. This is no issue. The lively, drone-noted strumming on “Edsvuren” and “Sköldborg”‘s Amon Amarthesque fighting riffs prove Fejd can bring the goods without them. Nifelheim’s acoustic soundscape—beautifully captured in a warm and dynamic mastering job—smells of sea salt on “Älvagrimmar” with its wind-swept majesty and “Strilja”‘s medieval jauntiness and Sgàile-like grandeur. On first listen, I was quickly and easily engrossed. Nifelheim doesn’t actually sound Nordic—like most Viking-y folk music these days, Fejd mostly play a hodgepodge of Asian and Eastern European instruments—but it nonetheless sounds like a dip into the primordial world.

Fejd use a lot of instruments on Nifelheim, and brother, you better believe they’re using them all in the same song. “Nidhögg” navigates between mouth harp,3 a plethora of strings, synthesizers, and group vocals while the title track opens to a cavalcade of drums, horns, and synchronized string riffs to bombastic effect. Nifelheim is just about always like this. But what’s crazy is that Nifelheim never sounds overly crowded. This owes partly to its aforementioned mix but also Fejd’s delicate songcraft, which sees pieces sliding in and out of the music in seamless, natural transitions. But what’s similarly baffling is that, though Fejd weave such big compositions together, Nifelheim still sounds kinda thin. This is in part due to a lack of low end, which is mostly handled by Salow kicking the dookie out of his drums, because Antonsson’s bass basically stands in the back of the mix sipping a beer mead. Regardless, in tying Nifelheim’s anachronistic musical identity together into a cohesive package, it’s safe to say these Swedes left no “Ø” uncrossed or “Ä” undotted.

But with how spirited Fejd’s musical identity is and how rich Nifelheim’s compositions can be, it’s a bit surprising how much steam the record loses by the end. Nifelheim keeps to a mid-pace throughout its runtime, and though Fejd can play briskly—Salow really lets loose on the kit when he wants to (“Edsvuren”)—the music nonetheless feels stuck in one speed. Similarly, I’d describe Rimmerfors’ vocals as workmanlike on Nifelheim, serving the music well but being too constrained to stand out or elevate it. Factored together, these two problems conspire to give Nifelheim a feeling of déjà vu. When closer “Svarta Tjärn” rolls out its big conclusion in hopes of a true Viking funeral, a track worthy of one in a vacuum, over-familiarity dims its flame to a serviceable campfire instead. Nifelheim is smooth sailing, but perhaps the trip would’ve been more memorable had Fejd challenged some choppier waters.

Nifelheim is a fun and expertly crafted album the whole way through, but a lack of exciting highs keeps me from giving a full-chested recommendation of it. Fans of folk metal will likely enjoy what Fejd offer on it, and genre diehards are likely to rate it more highly than I. I hear all the essence of a great album in Nifelheim, from Fejd’s expert chemistry to the record’s effortless fluidity. But I also hear the potential for something to really blow the roof off with Nifelheim gone unrealized. A few stronger hooks or up-tempo moments would’ve really gone a long way. But regardless, Nifelheim is a sound warship for Fejd to get back on the warpath with, and more than worthy of your consideration for listening. Skol!

Rating: Good
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Black Lodge | Sound Pollution
Websites: fejd.se | facebook.com/Fejdofficial
Releases Worldwide: August 21st, 2026

Vengeful trickster fairies, a realm of impenetrable cold and boundless frost, a dragon gnawing away at the roots of the World Tree; Norse iconography is intense, and metal bands have known this at least since Led Zeppelin. Sweden’s Fejd, a folk metal group formed in 2001 from the folk duo Rimmerfors and the prog-thrash band Pathos,1 have been weaving Norse history and mythology into their acoustics-forward heavy metal for decades. They were last heard with 2016’s Trolldom, followed by a decade of inactivity as far as new music is concerned. But now, drummer Esko Sallow, keyboardist Lennart Specht, bassist Thomas Antonsson, vocalist/moraharpa player Niklas Rimmerfors, and multi-instrumentalist Patrik Rimmerfors2 have taken the Fejd banner to Nifelheim, the Norse realm of ice and an album steeped in mist-wrapped mystery. Fejd sing in Swedish and, being a Swiss-cheese-brained American, I can’t tell you if they capture their “Nordic melancholy” in lyricism. But can they musically?

“Folk metal” encompasses a lot of different sounds; the way Fejd do it, Nifelheim is folk, folk metal. Fejd’s approach immediately reminded me of The Hu’s early material, where amidst the great score of acoustic instrumentation, keyboards, and drums, not one distorted guitar appears. This is no issue. The lively, drone-noted strumming on “Edsvuren” and “Sköldborg”‘s Amon Amarthesque fighting riffs prove Fejd can bring the goods without them. Nifelheim’s acoustic soundscape—beautifully captured in a warm and dynamic mastering job—smells of sea salt on “Älvagrimmar” with its wind-swept majesty and “Strilja”‘s medieval jauntiness and Sgàile-like grandeur. On first listen, I was quickly and easily engrossed. Nifelheim doesn’t actually sound Nordic—like most Viking-y folk music these days, Fejd mostly play a hodgepodge of Asian and Eastern European instruments—but it nonetheless sounds like a dip into the primordial world.

Fejd use a lot of instruments on Nifelheim, and brother, you better believe they’re using them all in the same song. “Nidhögg” navigates between mouth harp,3 a plethora of strings, synthesizers, and group vocals while the title track opens to a cavalcade of drums, horns, and synchronized string riffs to bombastic effect. Nifelheim is just about always like this. But what’s crazy is that Nifelheim never sounds overly crowded. This owes partly to its aforementioned mix but also Fejd’s delicate songcraft, which sees pieces sliding in and out of the music in seamless, natural transitions. But what’s similarly baffling is that, though Fejd weave such big compositions together, Nifelheim still sounds kinda thin. This is in part due to a lack of low end, which is mostly handled by Salow kicking the dookie out of his drums, because Antonsson’s bass basically stands in the back of the mix sipping a beer mead. Regardless, in tying Nifelheim’s anachronistic musical identity together into a cohesive package, it’s safe to say these Swedes left no “Ø” uncrossed or “Ä” undotted.

But with how spirited Fejd’s musical identity is and how rich Nifelheim’s compositions can be, it’s a bit surprising how much steam the record loses by the end. Nifelheim keeps to a mid-pace throughout its runtime, and though Fejd can play briskly—Salow really lets loose on the kit when he wants to (“Edsvuren”)—the music nonetheless feels stuck in one speed. Similarly, I’d describe Rimmerfors’ vocals as workmanlike on Nifelheim, serving the music well but being too constrained to stand out or elevate it. Factored together, these two problems conspire to give Nifelheim a feeling of déjà vu. When closer “Svarta Tjärn” rolls out its big conclusion in hopes of a true Viking funeral, a track worthy of one in a vacuum, over-familiarity dims its flame to a serviceable campfire instead. Nifelheim is smooth sailing, but perhaps the trip would’ve been more memorable had Fejd challenged some choppier waters.

Nifelheim is a fun and expertly crafted album the whole way through, but a lack of exciting highs keeps me from giving a full-chested recommendation of it. Fans of folk metal will likely enjoy what Fejd offer on it, and genre diehards are likely to rate it more highly than I. I hear all the essence of a great album in Nifelheim, from Fejd’s expert chemistry to the record’s effortless fluidity. But I also hear the potential for something to really blow the roof off with Nifelheim gone unrealized. A few stronger hooks or up-tempo moments would’ve really gone a long way. But regardless, Nifelheim is a sound warship for Fejd to get back on the warpath with, and more than worthy of your consideration for listening. Skol!

Rating: Good
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Black Lodge | Sound Pollution
Websites: fejd.se | facebook.com/Fejdofficial
Releases Worldwide: August 21st, 2026

Vengeful trickster fairies, a realm of impenetrable cold and boundless frost, a dragon gnawing away at the roots of the World Tree; Norse iconography is intense, and metal bands have known this at least since Led Zeppelin. Sweden’s Fejd, a folk metal group formed in 2001 from the folk duo Rimmerfors and the prog-thrash band Pathos,1 have been weaving Norse history and mythology into their acoustics-forward heavy metal for decades. They were last heard with 2016’s Trolldom, followed by a decade of inactivity as far as new music is concerned. But now, drummer Esko Sallow, keyboardist Lennart Specht, bassist Thomas Antonsson, vocalist/moraharpa player Niklas Rimmerfors, and multi-instrumentalist Patrik Rimmerfors2 have taken the Fejd banner to Nifelheim, the Norse realm of ice and an album steeped in mist-wrapped mystery. Fejd sing in Swedish and, being a Swiss-cheese-brained American, I can’t tell you if they capture their “Nordic melancholy” in lyricism. But can they musically?

“Folk metal” encompasses a lot of different sounds; the way Fejd do it, Nifelheim is folk, folk metal. Fejd’s approach immediately reminded me of The Hu’s early material, where amidst the great score of acoustic instrumentation, keyboards, and drums, not one distorted guitar appears. This is no issue. The lively, drone-noted strumming on “Edsvuren” and “Sköldborg”‘s Amon Amarthesque fighting riffs prove Fejd can bring the goods without them. Nifelheim’s acoustic soundscape—beautifully captured in a warm and dynamic mastering job—smells of sea salt on “Älvagrimmar” with its wind-swept majesty and “Strilja”‘s medieval jauntiness and Sgàile-like grandeur. On first listen, I was quickly and easily engrossed. Nifelheim doesn’t actually sound Nordic—like most Viking-y folk music these days, Fejd mostly play a hodgepodge of Asian and Eastern European instruments—but it nonetheless sounds like a dip into the primordial world.

Fejd use a lot of instruments on Nifelheim, and brother, you better believe they’re using them all in the same song. “Nidhögg” navigates between mouth harp,3 a plethora of strings, synthesizers, and group vocals while the title track opens to a cavalcade of drums, horns, and synchronized string riffs to bombastic effect. Nifelheim is just about always like this. But what’s crazy is that Nifelheim never sounds overly crowded. This owes partly to its aforementioned mix but also Fejd’s delicate songcraft, which sees pieces sliding in and out of the music in seamless, natural transitions. But what’s similarly baffling is that, though Fejd weave such big compositions together, Nifelheim still sounds kinda thin. This is in part due to a lack of low end, which is mostly handled by Salow kicking the dookie out of his drums, because Antonsson’s bass basically stands in the back of the mix sipping a beer mead. Regardless, in tying Nifelheim’s anachronistic musical identity together into a cohesive package, it’s safe to say these Swedes left no “Ø” uncrossed or “Ä” undotted.

But with how spirited Fejd’s musical identity is and how rich Nifelheim’s compositions can be, it’s a bit surprising how much steam the record loses by the end. Nifelheim keeps to a mid-pace throughout its runtime, and though Fejd can play briskly—Salow really lets loose on the kit when he wants to (“Edsvuren”)—the music nonetheless feels stuck in one speed. Similarly, I’d describe Rimmerfors’ vocals as workmanlike on Nifelheim, serving the music well but being too constrained to stand out or elevate it. Factored together, these two problems conspire to give Nifelheim a feeling of déjà vu. When closer “Svarta Tjärn” rolls out its big conclusion in hopes of a true Viking funeral, a track worthy of one in a vacuum, over-familiarity dims its flame to a serviceable campfire instead. Nifelheim is smooth sailing, but perhaps the trip would’ve been more memorable had Fejd challenged some choppier waters.

Nifelheim is a fun and expertly crafted album the whole way through, but a lack of exciting highs keeps me from giving a full-chested recommendation of it. Fans of folk metal will likely enjoy what Fejd offer on it, and genre diehards are likely to rate it more highly than I. I hear all the essence of a great album in Nifelheim, from Fejd’s expert chemistry to the record’s effortless fluidity. But I also hear the potential for something to really blow the roof off with Nifelheim gone unrealized. A few stronger hooks or up-tempo moments would’ve really gone a long way. But regardless, Nifelheim is a sound warship for Fejd to get back on the warpath with, and more than worthy of your consideration for listening. Skol!

Rating: Good
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Black Lodge | Sound Pollution
Websites: fejd.se | facebook.com/Fejdofficial
Releases Worldwide: August 21st, 2026

Home to cuckoo clocks, namesake gateaux,1 and Bollenhüte, Germany’s Schwarzwald (Black Forest) has functioned as folklore fodder for centuries. Ever since dropping debut EP Wiege der Finsternis, Finsterforst has mined their homeland for inspiration, and after five albums they’re Still at it. Though only three years removed from 2023’s EP Jenseits, Still is Finsterforst’s first proper album in seven years.2 If this is your Finsterfirst time experiencing the band’s wares, Finsterforst revels in long-form folk compositions that conjure the stateliness and beauty of nature, and on Still these Germaniacs deliver another generous portion of real-deal, certified folk magic. After so much time walking through the woods, does Still forge a better path, or has Finsterforst lost their way?

Fans of Finsterforst’s recent work should be pleased with Still, as the distinctly Deutsch niche they’ve carved out persists with a twist of noble melancholy. To mein ears, Still plays like folk/black metal garnished with Neue Deutsche Härte accents as they merge seismic riffs and sustained synths with atmospheric textures, cinematic orchestrations, and a staggering tonal depth. Early Finsterforst leaned heavily into folksy fun, where jaunty accordion leads and spirited bass punches draw comparisons to Korpiklaani and Turisas. As Finsterforst evolved, song lengths ballooned, and they pushed further into realms of mood and emotional swells. While vestiges of their early sound remain, Finsterforst now hews much closer to the likes of Moonsorrow, although instead of basking in the wintry waters of Scandinavian paganism, this German septet reveres the temperate charms of an enchanted wood.

From its outset, Still conjures the ethereal beauty of nature and merges it with crushing might and overwhelming pathos. Opener “Obduktion” kicks off with an airy lead before dropping the hammer with meticulously crafted riffs and synth accents that remind me of Rammstein and Eisbrecher. Yet Still doesn’t dramatically shift Finsterforst’s songwriting towards Neue Deutsche Härte—this facet has been a part of their sound for years. Rather, Finsterforst adopts a less-is-moar philosophy that makes the parallels stand out more starkly. For instance, “Stille Nacht” begins with a riff that recalls Rammstein’s “Mein Teil,” driving momentum with thick ‘n’ beefy muscle. Both “Knie Nieder” and “Herbstwanderung” expertly blend the heavy with the tender, and “Fels” glistens with acoustic guitar underpinning vocalist Olli Berlin’s mesmerizing vocals. And it’s here that Finsterforst unfetters their most potent weapon. Berlin’s vocals give me goosebumps each playthrough, and his impassioned barks and sonorous cleans proffer varied deliveries throughout Still. Yet more than that, they supply the perfect counterpoint to Finsterforst’s soundscape as the outfit maneuvers between impassioned discharges and reverb-saturated refrains supported by gorgeous choral elements and brassy orchestrations. Still captures Finsterforst at their most subtle and stripped down, where laying their arrangements bare exposes naked splendor.

Despite the extreme runtime of Still, Finsterforst retools their approach to make it more accessible. In his review of Mach Dich Frei, El Cuervo identified the record’s length as cumbersome taken all at once, even if the individual tracks succeeded. On Still, the songs boast more palatable lengths than LPs past, and here only final original track, “Leere” overstays its welcome at twenty-four minutes.3 The two covers at the end, Immortal’s “Beyond the North Waves” and Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. II” commendably adapt versions of the songs to Finsterforst’s own style, yet push the runtime an extra fourteen minutes that otherwise would have delivered the band’s most succinct album to date. More positively, the production has improved since Mach Dich Frei and Zerfall, and even though the DR score only suggests a modest improvement, Still sounds better than any of the band’s other recent output.

In a month with few highlights, Finsterforst’s Still shines as a welcome bright spot. Dynamic songwriting, masterful command of tension, and inspired performances litter the album. Finsterforst addresses past offenses by adding depth to the mix and demonstrating more economical songwriting song-by-song, even though Still’s overall length perpetuates Finsterforst’s reputation for bloat. Regardless, I often find myself lost in Still’s woods without caring about how long the walk is, as the sights along the way are unequivocally worth the stroll.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: AOP Records
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: July 31st, 2026

The storms persist, but now it’s getting hot! Steam roils inside the filter ducts as my minions scald themselves in the pursuit of moderately valuable nuggets. Will they succeed before they cook like so many broccoli florets? Only time will tell.

Dead or alive, I’ll make sure these lazy louts deliver their semi-precious lodes. So be thankful, and BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Mountainous Member

Volcandra // Beyond the Will of Mortals [April 24th, 2026 – Prosthetic Records]

Who knows why we don’t get promo sometimes? Countless times I’ve been faced with great anticipation for a new record by a band I was keeping tabs on, and countless times, for unknown reasons, promo never came. Louisville melodic black/death quartet Volcandra now enter those ranks with the unsent Beyond the Will of Mortals. Picking up where The Will of Ancients left off, Beyond the Will of Mortals expands in scope and scale, eliciting a grandeur in composition that recalls the epic yarns spun by Foretoken, Hath, and Astralborne, but with the thrashing sensibilities of Antiverse and Skeletonwitch. Leading the charge in stunning fashion, “Beyond the Will of Mortals” and “Marauders of the Cosmic Vortex” explode with a visceral burst of energy built around high-octane riffs, screaming solos, and majestic melodies. Dave Palenske in particular acquits himself admirably, expanding his vocal range far beyond the expected, foraying into scorching screams and subterranean gutturals with excellent technique and charisma (“Venom March Enchantress”). But the rest of the band easily keeps up, deftly trading blows between power metal-ready gallops, violent swings into thrash territory, and all manner of other pyrotechnics to make Beyond the Will of Mortals Volcandra’s most versatile and varied offering yet. To some, this may create a disjointed experience as rippers like “Mage of Fabled Sorcery” contrast in pacing and personality to its neighbors. However, with repeat listens that effects dissolves, making more room to appreciate how much fun this record really is. The back half capitalizes on that effect, unleashing lean and mean banger after banger to leave you salivating for another round (“Within the Webs,” “Infinite Decadence”). In sum, Beyond the Will of Mortals is a fine, invigorating inclusion into anyone’s rotation; so if you missed it, get on it now!

Creeping Ivy’s Punkyard Dogs

Dead Bob // Nothing Changes Everything [April 21st, 2026 – Wrong Records]

In The Collector’s Guide to Heavy Metal, Martin Popoff describes Wrong (1989) by Nomeansno as ‘the mightiest merger between the hateful aggression of punk and the discipline of heavy metal’ (316). Essentially, Popoff affixed to Wrong AMG’s Iconic label: 10/10.1 For readers perhaps unfamiliar with Nomeansno, my best follow-up on Popoff’s portrayal is that the band—formed in 1979 by the Wright brothers (Rob on bass/vocals, John on drums/vocals)—sounds like The Minutemen hijacked a Voivod. After an incredible eleven-album run, Nomeansno officially retired in 2016. Why am I wasting my word count with this history lesson on the greatest Canadian punk band of all time? Because Dead Bob, John Wright’s solo project, released its sophomore album this April. Whereas Life Like fulfills the vision of one man, John enlisted a band for Nothing Changes Everything. Bookending the album are the last two songs John co-wrote with Rob. The techy guitar/bass interplay of lead-off “Centre of the Universe,” as well as the pounding rhythms of closer “No Fun (Alt Mix),” come closest to the punk/metal hybridity of vintage Nomeansno. Between these tracks, the album gets increasingly weird (which is to say, it gets increasingly ‘punk,’ in the word’s original connotation). “Nothing Changes Everything” deploys horns, “Hard is Hard” mixes art/surf rock, and “The Present” sprinkles psychedelic guitar leads over pulsing synths and tribal percussion. If you’re a fan of avant-garde music in a compact package, you can’t go wrong with Nothing Changes Everything.

Poison Ruïn // Hymns from the Hills [April 3rd, 2026 – Relapse Records]

Whilst reading Tyme‘s (excellent) review of Twin Serpent’s (super fun) True Norwegian Blackgrass, a member of the commentariat reminded me of how much I enjoyed Poison Ruïn’s latest offering upon a first listen. That comment got me to revisit Hymn from the Hills, and I’m glad I did. To sell these Philly post-punks to the AMG Faithful, I’ll point out a few things: they’re signed to Relapse Records, they curate a medieval aesthetic (which includes deploying dungeon synths), and the new record was mastered by Arthur Rizk. In addition to liberal metal elements, Poison Ruïn occasionally stride with rock n’ roll swagger (“Hymn from the Hills”), with primary visionary Mac Kennedy channeling Blue Öyster Cult in his role as singer, guitarist, and primary songwriter (“Lily of the Valley”). “Eidolon” perfectly exemplifies the band’s hybridity, mashing up the melody of “Layla,” the propulsive drive of Hüsker Dü, and the rhythmic punctuations of “For Whom the Bell Tolls.” This may sound like a critique, but it’s not; Poison Ruïn excels at mixing punk, rock, and metal into their own arthouse concoction. Metal purists might have to wait until the end of the album, though, to have their fancy truly tickled. But wait, they should, as “Sleeping Giant (Interlude)” offers funeral doom content in a punk-sized package, while closer “The Standoff” gets moving with a wicked blast beat. I’ll definitely be heading for these post-punk hills more and more throughout the year.

Scimitar // Scimitarium II [April 24th, 2026 – Crypt of the Wizard]

Scimitar’s first song receptacle was one of my favorite debuts of 2025. On Scimitarium I, this Danish five-piece served up a scintillating selection of ‘black occult rock,’ combining the caustic fervor of Malokarpatan with the psychedelic haze of Blue Cheer, topped off with a post-punk flavoring of Joy Division. A year later, this Copenhagen cutter returns with Scimitarium II, a follow-up that satisfyingly mirrors the album-art format of its predecessor. Whereas Scimitarium I demonstrated range marred a bit by roughshod production, volume II sounds much sharper, slashing and dashing for a lean 40 minutes. The opening title track introduces our combatants: the dexterous drumming of CCsquele; the counter-melodic bass of Olle Bergholz; the sinister guitar fury of Johan L. Ekstrand and Anders M. Jørgensen; and finally, the commanding vocals of Shaam A.2 From there, the album rips through a trio of unrelenting ragers that feel like they can fall apart at any minute but miraculously hold together. “Through Lava Lit Roads to Lavilenda, Pt. II” offers the only reprieve, spotlighting Shaam’s dynamic range and impressive timbre. Closing out the collection is “Mobula Mobular,” a 13-minute monster built around a doomy riff whose chromaticism lurches upward and downward, to hypnotizing effect. If Scimitar can marry the ambition of I with the ferocity of II next time around, they’ll have a blackened-trad killer on their hands.

Andy-War-Hall’s Dandy Score Haul

Elegant Weapons // Evolution [April 24th, 2026 – Exciter Records]

Everything about Elegant Weapons and the super group’s sophomore record Evolution is a misnomer. Evolution is a high-octane slugfest of tried-and-true heavy metal-leaning hard rock, and Elegant Weapons swing, punch, and bite through it with everything but grace. Is this a problem? When Richie Faulkener’s (Judas Priest) riffs are as groovy and burly as ever and his solos as grin-inducing, Ronnie Romero’s (ex-Rainbow, ex-Michael Schenker Group) voice is booming as it is, and when Dave Rimmer (Uriah Heep) and Christopher Williams’ (Accept) bass and drums respectively, carry as tight a pulse as they do on Evolution, not at all. When it all coalesces into uber catchy fist-pumping anthems like “Bridges Burn,” “The Devil Calls,” and “Shooting Shadows,” especially so. Evolution is easy-peasy listening, and Elegant Weapons’ chemistry and knack for hookcraft make its near hour-long runtime fly by, as well as ease the cringe of the hyper-Boomeristic lyricism on “Generation Me.” They also manage to make fairly stock power ballads in “Come Back to Me” and “Keeper of the Keys” feel affecting, driven by a viral vocal presence and emotive, timeless guitar soloing. Evolution is fun, and Elegant Weapons are sharp. ‘Nuff said.

Demon Spell // Blessed Be the Dark [April 24th, 2026 – Dying Victims Productions]

Creeping from an obscure, ancient, and sinister darkness, Sicily’s Demon Spell have conjured a shadow-cast era of heavy metal’s history back to the light of day with their debut Blessed Be the Dark. Wielding the evil auras of Mercyful Fate and Witchfinder General, Demon Spell play an early-80s melange of early thrash, occult rock, and NWoBHM riffcraft and swagger. Blessed Be the Dark is driven by excellent performances. Vocalist Federico Fano’s falsetto wails evoke King Diamond at his best on “As Lucifer Smiles” while drummer Dario Casabona drops slick, pummeling fills over “Curse of the Undead.” Sinister melodies and atmospheres abound on Blessed Be the Dark, with “The Tolling” and “Hexes and Horrors” driving home a vintage horror aesthetic while tearing it up with blistering heavy metal. Blessed Be the Dark also just sounds pleasantly old. Demon Spell’s guitars and bass sound pulled straight from 1981, complementing their retro songcraft perfectly. Blessed Be the Dark sounds like the night come alive, a fast, fun, and delightfully dark exploration of the kinds of heavy metal that gave your grandma panic attacks back in the day. Fall under the Demon Spell today!

Grin Reaper’s Grim Goodies

Nervosa // Slave Machine [April 3rd, 2026 – Napalm Records]

For a band releasing their sixth album in twelve years, Nervosa sounds remarkably vital. Staying the course with a dozen tracks of their signature death/thrash, Slave Machine burns through forty-three minutes of whammy dives, soaring leads, and all-around thrashy goodness. Writing tunes that pay homage to Sepultura (“You Are Not a Hero”), Kreator (“Ghost Notes”), and Sodom (“The Call”), Nervosa bludgeons with blunt-force drama while touting slick riffs and venomous melodies. Slave Machine opens with “Impending Doom,” a stirring salvo that Arch Enemy wishes they’d written, and from there Nervosa hints at the familiar without ever straying from their own lane. “Hate” starts with a riff that simultaneously reminds of Maiden’s “Flash of the Blade” and System of a Down’s “B.Y.O.B.” before spiraling into vaguely In Flames-tinged melodeath. Meanwhile, “Crawling for Your Pride” and “Beast of Burden” draw from the viciousness of mid-aughts Soulfly. Over and over, Nervosa pulls from known sources, yet bakes enough novelty into their songwriting to sound fresh and pummeling. Those intimate with Nervosa won’t find many surprises here, but are in for a treat. If this is your first encounter with these Brazilian badasses, gird your ears and strap in—welcome to the Slave Machine.

Kõdu // Kirjad Sõgedate Külast [April 20th, 2026 – Antiq Records]

Five years after delivering debut Unusta Kõik, Estonian outfit Kõdu graces us with their sophomore album. Translated as ‘Letters from the Village of the Blind,’3 Kirjad Sõgedate Külast details the sordid ruination of a backwoods village, relating its narrative aspects through a series of letters where each song chronicles a different villager’s perspective.4 Kõdu grounds the lyrics in their native language, drawing from nineteenth and twentieth-century Estonian poets for inspiration. Despite the depth of the macabre backdrop, I never would have taken the time to learn more if Kõdu’s music hadn’t entranced me from the outset. Slow-burn black metal abounds on Kirjad Sõgedate Külast, recalling Dødheimsgard’s shifting moods (“II”) and eclectic instrumentation (“III”) muddled with Wayfarer’s rustic arrangements (“VI”) and Emperor’s dramatic flair (“V”). Musically, Kirjad Sõgedate Külast conjures lush soundscapes (“VII”) through considered songwriting, expertly balancing black metal discharges with melancholic passages that give moments just the right amount of time to bludgeon or breathe before pivoting. I regret not getting the chance to review Kõdu’s latest in full, because the folk magic they weave on Kirjad Sõgedate Külast deserves fanfare and kudõs aplenty.

ClarkKent’s Epic Elegy

Bloody Valkyria // Requiem – Reveries Of The Dying [April 3rd, 2026 – Northern Silence Productions]

Bloody Valkyria, the product of Finland’s Jere Kervinen, peddles in the same sort of epic symphonic/folk black metal that the likes of Ancient Mastery, Stormkeep, and Moonlight Sorcery dish out. Kervinen’s emotionally charged project appears inspired by a personal loss, and you can feel his passion in the emotional outpouring of his music and lyrics. On the epic opener, “Symphony of Silence,” Bloody Valkyria reveal their capability with the patient slow burn. There’s the natural, serene ambience of animal sounds, strings, folky flutes, and then a sudden explosion of riffs and blast beats. And boy does Kervinen write some extraordinary leads, which makes his slow-burn approach all the more rewarding. Each song contains a well-earned hooky riff/trem that holds its sway over you even as the song grows into more thoughtful serenity. Reading along with Kervinen’s poetic, touching lyrics makes the experience all the more poignant as he ruminates on death and the meaning of life. The grief by the end, as he sings about his “beloved north” and a desire for its/her embrace, is palpable. This is a beautiful record that may be too good for these dirty filters, but I just couldn’t risk it getting lost in the shuffle of the chaos that is the end of year.

Sorry, but I can’t resist: It was in the month of May that I sat down to review the newest album by the British folk-rockers Albion, titled It Was In The Month of May I.1 This gaggle of self-declared whippersnappers blew this reviewer away with their 2024 album Lakesongs of Elbid. What started as an unassuming filter piece grew on me more and more to the point it made my (and my co-conspirator Killjoy’s) end-of-year list. Albion’s timeless, joyful folk-rock music has enjoyed constant rotations in the Hugebeard tower since then, and so a new album has been a hotly anticipated affair. Now that it’s in our hands, has Albion continued their trend for quality?

For those unfamiliar with Albion, they play a flute-heavy, wistful sort of progressive folk-rock that draws an obvious comparison to Jethro Tull and reminds me a great deal of Big Big Train. For those a little more familiar, it’s worth mentioning that It Was In The Month of May has somewhat toned down the already limited metal crunch that graced Lakesongs of Elbid. Rest assured, this is no criticism, as this album remains energetic and adventurous in all the right ways. The opening prelude, “Mis Mai,” followed by the first true foray into the album’s essence, “The Green Knight,” demonstrate Albion’s sonic strengths right out of the gates. “Mis Mai” highlights the dulcet pipes of Joe Parrish-James as he lathers the song’s Welsh lyrics in decadent velvet, while “The Green Knight” starts the album in usual Albion fashion with grandiose flute melodies explored atop galloping guitar strumming.

What I love about Albion’s music, and what they maintain in It Was In The Month of May, is a sense of effortlessness. The music is fun, it’s accessible, it’s breezy, it’s comfortably warm and full of well-crafted little moments so crisp and yet so obvious it almost makes you wonder how no one else thought of it first. The pub-rock verse of “Down With The Hero” and the epic call-and-response between the flutes and guitars in the middle of “Calan Mai” come especially to mind. In the album’s longer songs, Albion are quite eager to just let the music run free through the meadow in spacious explorations of riffs and solos, but it never feels aimless. The melodies of “The Green Knight” and “Eldest” in particular see the guitars and flutes bounce merrily along in an endless up-and-down like the rolling hills stretching before you as you prepare for adventure. The closer, “Calan Mai,” is the longest at ten minutes, but even at its most unrestrained, the song’s melodies wield graceful finality in a way that always feels satisfying.

It Was In The Month of May is almost 20 minutes shorter than its predecessor, Lakesongs, which makes for an overall cleaner listening experience. However, the album’s pacing does waver a little by over-saturating the latter half with lower-energy tunes. I really quite love “Hymn to Elbereth,” as it has this gently twisting nature to it that happily makes me think of Glass Hammer, but it’s misplaced between the otherwise pleasantly acoustic “She Is The River” and the ballad “Cherry Hill,” making for an overly languid sequence of songs. “Cherry Hill” in particular leans a bit too heavily on chorus repetition for its six-minute runtime. Still, the album ends on the right note with “Calan Mai,” and there are no other noteworthy structural issues or damaging patterns affecting the album. However, I simply must mention the “la-da-da’s” and “doo-do-do’s” in the chorus of “Down With The Hero.” I don’t mind vocalizations at all and they work perfectly well as little interstitial passages like in “Eldest,” but I find it to be a heavily misguided choice for them to carry the chorus of the album’s most upbeat song.

It Was In The Month of May is warm, adventurous, inviting, and once again, and I simply cannot stress this enough, extraordinarily British. While this album never gripped me quite like Lakesongs of Elbid did, the final word on this review is nevertheless one of eager positivity. Albion is a band I tend to think of no matter the musical flavor I’m looking for, and It Was In The Month of May only furthers that trend. This is music that is just so pleasant to listen to, no matter the day, and there are some damn good bangers to be found here for any fan of folk, British rock, or prog.

Rating: Good!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: FLAC
Label: Self-Release
Websites: official | facebook | bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: May 26th, 2026

Killjoy

In the year 2021, I unexpectedly became acquainted with the debut EP of a very special folk rock group from England. The potential that Albion showed on Pryderi was immediately obvious, and I longed for more. My wish was granted in 2024 by the whopping 70-minute full-length debut Lakesongs of Elbid, for which my esteemed colleague (and now review partner), Mystikus Hugebeard, wrote a splendid filter piece. Albion has wasted no time since then, here to regale our ears again with cheery tunes. It Was in the Month of May seeks to honor the magical time of year when spring sunsets and will soon cede to warmer temperatures.

Albion’s music is wholesome for the soul, whispering to the part of human consciousness that yearns for carefree meadows and being in nature. They primarily achieve this through the exquisite pairing of flute and guitars (both acoustic and electric). This, of course, invites comparisons to Jethro Tull,2 although Albion perhaps hews a bit closer to folk music. Take, for example, the beautiful acoustic guitar fingerpicking and Welsh singing3 in “Mis Mai.” Further, Albion plays a more modernized style of rock than Jethro Tull. “Down with the Hero” is a rousing, ultra-catchy pub rock number and the guitarwork in “The Green Knight” is elaborate, sounding like a slightly slower and proggier Dark Forest. The way that Albion harmoniously blends the old with the new is genuinely refreshing.

It Was in the Month of May similarly succeeds in striking a balance between humble and epic. In both the quiet and upbeat moments, there is an air of unassuming regality. Therefore, it makes perfect sense that Albion composed a pair of songs about Tolkien’s characters Tom Bombadil and his wife, Goldberry. “Eldest (Tom Bombadil)” contains gorgeous guitar and flute swells evoking endless verdant hillsides, as well as a Celtic folk-influenced jig reminiscent of Tuatha de Danann or Braia. “She Is the River (Goldberry)” is entirely acoustic and percussion-less (save for hand claps), with sunny guitar strumming and pleasantly poetic lyrics. Continuing with Tolkien subject matters, “Hymn to Elbereth” features vocal harmonization by Joe and Rhiannon Parrish-James which is as fair as the elves who Frodo, Sam, and Pippin overheard singing these very words in The Fellowship of the Ring. Rhiannon adds her voice to Joe’s at various other times throughout the record, and I would love to hear her take center stage in the future.

Overall, It Was in the Month of May is sharper and more focused than its predecessor. As much as I loved Lakesongs of Elbid, opening with a 9-and-a-half minute instrumental track didn’t help it find its footing. “The Green Knight,” the first full song here, isn’t much shorter but its structure is more disciplined, never wavering from its gallant, galloping theme. The other 8+ minute songs, “Eldest (Tom Bombadil)” and “Calan Mai,” also mostly justify their lengths, although the latter feels a bit meandering towards the end. But the larger issue with “Calan Mai” has to do with the track that precedes it. “Cherry Hill (Maya II)” hits like a lullaby, which might have been okay if it were 3 minutes instead of 6, so it ends up stifling the momentum leading into the ornate concluding track. I do appreciate that, with a total runtime of 52 minutes, It Was in the Month of May is easier to listen to in one sitting.

It Was in the Month of May is great for drifting away and forgetting one’s troubles for a while. The uplifting compositions are easy on the ears while offering bountiful details to uncover during return visits. “Cherry Hill (Maya II)” is the main thing holding it back from unqualified greatness. That said, if Albion continues refining their songcraft at this pace, the next album will surely shatter our score safety counter. So, kick back and enjoy time outside with loved ones. It Was in the Month of May is an excellent way to ring in summer in the Northern Hemisphere.

Rating: 3.5/5.0

Melodic death metal had a banner year in 2025, brandishing outstanding releases from Aephanemer, Vittra, Buried Realm, Aversed, and others. Given that many of melodeth’s top tier releases came out in the back half of last year, there’s no cause for alarm yet, but with the exception of At the Gates’ opus The Ghost of a Future Dead, I can’t help feeling 2026 is off to a slow start.1 Throwing down the gauntlet with Old Gods Awaken, Vancouver collective Atavistia stakes their claim on this year’s melodeath throne. In his review of Cosmic Warfare, Doom_et_al noted that Atavistia made meaningful strides in songwriting since The Winter Way, but that plenty of room exists to further define an identity outside of Wintersun’s shadow. With the spotlight shining on folk metal influences throughout Old Gods Awaken, can Atavistia maintain their velocity after Cosmic Warfare, or would it have been better to let sleeping gods lie?

For anyone who’s read about Atavistia at AMG before, you know there’s one band whose temple even these Old Gods pray at.2 If you expected that to change, shame on you. With their most flagrant foray into folk metal to date, Atavistia doubles down on Wintersun worship with Old Gods Awaken while succumbing to a feverish case of Ensiferumania. On the surface, this may sound like Atavistia regressing back towards The Winter Way, but instead the band continues to refine the overwrought compositions that Doomy dinged in that review and delivers a succinct forty-three minutes of symphonic melodeath. And though Wintersun and Ensiferum cast the longest shadows, shades of Children of Bodom and Kalmah broaden Old Gods Awaken’s footprint and enrich its well of influences.

Despite Atavistia’s new musical folk-us and turning over half the band since Cosmic Warfare, they submit well-conceived orchestrations and tight performances throughout Old Gods Awaken. Specifically, Atavistia bade farewell to guitarist Dalton Meaden and bassist D’wayne Murray in 2024, welcoming Elia Baghbaniyan and Spencer Budworth in their stead. The quality of instrumentation remains consistent with previous albums, where guitars and synths steal the show as they trade earwormy melodic lines (“Mystic Tavern,” “I Skogens Djup”) that lead into heartfelt solos (“Goddess of My Dreams,” “Ride the White Storm”) and stirring, rustic breaks (“To a New World”). The haunting choirs on Cosmic Warfare have also been replaced by viking gang chants, which makes sense stylistically, but loses some of the flair that helped the former stand out. Longtime drummer Max Sepulveda lays down a commendable performance as well, spicing songs up with well-crafted fills that never overpower Old Gods Awaken’s dense compositions. Besides contributing guitar and supplying his best vocal performance to date, Atavistia ringleader Matt Sippola weaves together a rousing album that stands beside its inspirations.

While Atavistia successfully plunges headlong into folk, the move erodes some of the identity they established previously. Tracks on Cosmic Warfare recalled Wintersun, but just as much reminded me of Brymir and the choral arrangements in The Phantom Menace. Old Gods Awaken forsakes these subtle nods, and though that isn’t bad on its own, the Ensiferum influence is a safer path that deteriorates some of Atavistia’s idiosyncrasies. Additionally, some of the melodies and song structures on Old Gods Awaken blur together. “Mystic Tavern,” “Seeker of Time,” and “Goddess of My Dreams”3 all have similar-sounding leads, and the first two also have somewhat predictable compositions that stand out since the songs are back-to-back, particularly in terms of pacing and the timing of more subdued moments. Ultimately, these are minor complaints on very well-executed material, but diversifying the song structures could unveil even greater heights.

Old Gods Awaken subverts my expectations of what I thought a new Atavistia record would sound like, and even though they lean into a well-defined arena, they do so capably. Monster hooks and intricate, engaging arrangements keep the replay value of Old Gods Awaken tantalizingly high, especially with tight songwriting across the album. I’m curious where Atavistia goes next, as there’s no clear indication of what direction they’ll take. Whatever it is, the persistent urge to evolve their songcraft proves Atavistia will make it interesting and fun, and that every once in a while, you can teach Old Gods new tricks.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 15th, 2026

For years, Scottish outfit Cnoc An Tursa lurked along the periphery of my awareness. I liked the few songs I’d heard, and I frequently saw them referenced while exploring similar artists. Yet their lack of output kept me at a distance; as I expanded my taste for folk metal, I didn’t want to fall in love with a band that had little to no appetite to get in the studio.1 For Cnoc An Tursa, you can lay aside your concerns, because they’re back after a nine-year wait to unveil third full-length A Cry for the Slain. This new opus perpetuates what Cnoc An Tursa has been doing since the band formed twenty years ago—writing blackened folk bangers fraught with grace, passion, and depth. After a prolonged absence, though, it becomes more and more difficult to bounce back if expectations outpace reality’s limitations. So, given the intervening years, does A Cry for the Slain elicit tears of joy or sorrow?

On A Cry for the Slain, Cnoc An Tursa draws upon the soundscapes of both their prior albums to hatch an experience that exists somewhere between them. Debut The Giants of Auld introduced the world to Cnoc An Tursa‘s distinctive Highland hijinx, melding rousing orchestrations with meloblack might. Of their two previous albums, A Cry for the Slain shares more in common with The Giants of Auld, harkening to the debut’s more direct songwriting than The Forty Five’s melancholic, key-drenched atmospheres. The Forty Five’s solemnity persists on A Cry for the Slain, but its application rings bittersweet as triumphant melodies dance between wistful choirs and forlorn evocations. While all three albums sound unmistakably like them, their latest takes earlier victories and forges them together into Cnoc An Tursa’s best album to date.

Throughout A Cry for the Slain, Cnoc An Tursa fuses ethereal majesty with blackened stylings and traditional melodies to create a gorgeous folk metal tapestry. The band’s allure lies with their finesse as they conjure captivating and earnest music, and the more I spin A Cry for the Slain, the more I appreciate its stark and stunning beauty. Crashing waves and reverb-laden guitars set the tone within the first track, “Na for Ghorma.” The mournful female vocals crescendo into an inevitable trudge that releases into furious trems and grating rasps on follow-up “The Caoineag.” Cnoc An Tursa consistently pits black metal acerbity against contemplative sorrow, deftly wending between complex atmospheres and emotions. This is perhaps best demonstrated on tracks “Baobhan Sith”2 and “Alba in My Heart,” where Cnoc An Tursa expertly controls song dynamics and tension with peaks and valleys in volume and pathos. Also, I’d be remiss not to mention my favorite track “Am Fear Liath Mòr,” which boasts an otherworldly quality and dextrous melodic leads that simultaneously remind me of “Love Will Tear Us Apart,” Iron Maiden, and Black Cross Hotel, yet still undeniably sounds like Cnoc An Tursa.

Despite succeeding on so many fronts, A Cry for the Slain flounders on penultimate track “Address to the Devil.” To be fair, it mostly falls victim to the heights of the preceding tracks, which all possess strong identities and exemplary writing. Comparatively, “Address to the Devil” stands out as missing the same soul. It starts promisingly enough, with frenzied tremolos lashing against scathing vocals, but from there the pace decelerates to a deliberate march. Soon enough, the song strips back to a twinkling synth and fabulous bass noodling, providing a solid core that ultimately lacks purpose or a melodic through-line to bring everything together.3 Besides “Address to the Devil,” I have no material complaints. The production and mix are smart and balanced, the forty-four-minute runtime is just right, and A Cry for the Slain’s replayability is relentless.

Cnoc An Tursa breaks their nine-year silence with a bang, and fans of their work should be pleased with A Cry for the Slain. As a newer convert, I’m disappointed I didn’t make the time to discover them earlier, but visiting their prior albums along with the new one has brought me immense, befolkened joy. I hope we don’t have to wait as long for their next outing, but until then, I’m content listening to A Cry for the Slain, knowing that time hasn’t dulled their ability to Cnoc one out of the park.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Apocalyptic Witchcraft Recordings
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

La oscura velada que traerá a Chile a Arkona, Leaves’ Eyes y Atrocity | vía #SonidosOcultos

https://www.sonidosocultos.com/noticia/la-oscura-velada-que-traera-a-chile-a-arkona-leaves-eyes-y-atrocity/

#arkona #atrocity #chargolaproducciones #deathmetal #folkmetal #leaveseyes #livechile #metal #powermetal #t2025 #teatrocariola

La oscura velada que traerá a Chile a Arkona, Leaves’ Eyes y Atrocity | vía #SonidosOcultos

https://www.sonidosocultos.com/noticia/la-oscura-velada-que-traera-a-chile-a-arkona-leaves-eyes-y-atrocity/

#arkona #atrocity #chargolaproducciones #deathmetal #folkmetal #leaveseyes #livechile #metal #powermetal #t2025 #teatrocariola

Stuck in the Filter: July 2025’s Angry Misses

By Kenstrosity

If you thought June was hot, you aren’t ready for what July has in store. The thin metallic walls of these flimsy ducts warp and soften as the sweltering environs continue to challenge the definition of “habitable.” But I must force my minions to continue their work, as this duty is sacred. Our ravenous appetites cannot be slaked without the supplementary sustenance the Filter brings!

Thankfully, we rescued just enough scraps to put together a meager spread. Enjoy in moderation!

Kenstrosity’s Blackened Buds

Echoes of Gloom // The Mind’s Eternal Storm [July 12th, 2025 – Self-Release]

Queensland isn’t my first thought when considering locales for atmospheric black metal. A genre so often built upon frigid tones and icy melodies feels incongruous to the heat and beastliness of the Australian landscape. Yet, one-man atmoblack act Echoes of Gloom persists. Masterminded by one Dan Elkin, Echoes of Gloom evokes a warm, muggy, and morose spirit with debut record The Mind’s Eternal Storm. But unlike many of the atmospheric persuasion, Echoes of Gloom also injects a classic heavy metal attack and a vaguely punky/folky twist into their formula to keep interest high (“Immortality Manifest,” “Throes of Bereavement I”). Furthermore, Echoes of Gloom weaponizes their energetic take on depressing atmoblack such that even as my head bounces to the riffy groove of surprisingly propulsive numbers like “The Wandering Moon” and “Great Malignant Towers of Delirium,” a palpable pall looms ever present, sapping all color from life as I witness this work. This in turn translates well to the long form, as demonstrated by the epic two-part “Throes of Bereavement” suite and ripping ten-minute closer “Wanderer of the Mind’s Eternal Storm,” boasting dynamics uncommon in the atmospheric field. In sum, if you’re the kind of metal fan that struggles with the airier side of the spectrum, The Mind’s Eternal Storm might be a good place to start.

Witchyre // Witchy Forest Dance Contest [July 14th, 2025 – Self-Release]

Germany’s Witchyre answer a question nobody asked but everyone should: what would happen if black metal and dance music joined forces? With debut LP Witchy Forest Dance Contest, we get to experience this mad alchemy firsthand, and it is an absolute joy! The staunchly anti-fascist Witchyre take the raw sound everyone knows and pumps it full of groove, bounce, and uninhibited fun for a raucous 46 minutes. Evoking equal parts Darude and Darkthrone, bangers like “Let There be Light…,” “Witchy Forest Dance Party,” and “Lost in a Dream” burst with infectious energy that feels demonic and exuberant at the same time. The raw production of the metallic elements shouldn’t work with the glossy sheen of electronic doots, but Witchyre’s often pop-punky song structure that develops as these divergent aesthetics collide adeptly bridges the gap (“Spirits Twirling,” “The Vampire Witch,” “Dragon’s Breath”). My main gripe is that even at a reasonable 46 minutes, each song feels a bit bloated, and some dance elements feel recycled in multiple places (“The Spirits Robbed My Mind”). But don’t let that scare you away. Witchyre is a delightful little deviation from convention fit for fans of Curta’n Wall and Old Nick, and everyone should give it a whirl just for fun!

Owlswald’s Hidden Hoots

Sheev // Ate’s Alchemist [July 11th, 2025 – Ripple Music]

While stoner can be hit-or-miss, Ripple Music often delivers the goods. And with Berlin’s Sheev, they can add another notch to their sativa-flavored belt. Since 2017, the four-piece has been brewing their unique, progressive-infused stoner rock sound. On their second full-length, Ate’s Alchemist, Sheev doubles down on their sonic elixir, with a throwback prog-rock vibe that evokes the likes of Yes and Jethro Tull, but with heavy doses of grunge, jam and modern rock. Vocalist Nitzan Sheps’ provides a stripped-down and authentic performance, sounding like a cross between Muse’s Matt Bellamy and Alice in Chains’ Layne Staley. The rhythm section is particularly great here. Drummer Philipp Vogt’s kit work is exceptionally musical, with intricate cymbal patterns on tracks like “Elephant Trunk,” “Cul De Sac,” and “King Mustard II” that fuel deep-pocket grooves. He also provides Tool-like syncopated rhythms on tracks like “Tüdelüt” and “Henry” that lock with bassist Joshan Chaudhary. Chaudhary’s bass playing is rare in its prominence and clarity in the mix. He maintains a tight pocket while also venturing out regularly with nimbler, adventurous flurries that highlight his technical skill. Yeah, a couple of the longer songs get a little lost, but the album is packed with killer musicianship and vocal hooks that stick with you, so it barely matters. Overall, Sheev has delivered a solid record that I’ll be spinning a lot—and you should too.

Dephosphorus // Planetoktonos [July 18th, 2025 – Selfmadegod Records/7 Degrees Records/Nerve Altar]

Space…the final grind-tier. On their fifth album, Planetoktonos (“Planetkiller”), Greek astro-grind quartet Dephosphorus rejects normal grind classifications and instead annihilates worlds with a brutal, interstellar collision of grind, blackened death, and hardcore. Taking inspiration from the harsh sci-fi of James S.A. Corey’s The Expanse, Planetoktonos is a relentless twenty-eight-minute assault—a sonic asteroid belt of thick, menacing distortion and time-warped drumming that channels Dephosphorus’ raw, furious energy. “The Triumph of Science and Reason” and “After the Holocaust” attack with the ruthless speed of Nasum while others, such as “The Kinetics of a Superintelligence Explosion,” “Hunting for Dyson Spheres,” and “Calculating Infinity,” punctuate sludgy aggression with razor-sharp, shredding passages reminiscent of early Mastodon that offer contrasting technical and rhythmic hostility. Vocalist Panos Agoros’ despairing howls are a particular highlight, full of a gravelly, blackened urgency that sounds the alarm for an interplanetary attack. Gang vocals on tracks like “Living in a Metastable Universe” and “The Kinetics of a Superintelligence Explosion” add extra weight to his frantic performance, proving Dephosphorus can incinerate worlds and still have a blast doing it. Raw, intense, and violent, Planetokonos is a must-listen for fans seeking Remission-era energy.

Tyme’s Tattered Treats

Mortual // Altars of Brutality [July 4th, 2025 – Nuclear Winter Records]

From the fetid rainforests of Costa Rica, San Jose’s Mortual dropped their sneaky good death metal debut, Altar of Brutality, on Independence Day this year. Free of frills and fuckery, Justin Corpse and Master Killer—both have guitar, bass, and vocal credits here—go for the jugular, providing swarms of riffs entrenched in filthy, Floridian swamp waters and powdered with Jersey grit. Solo work comes fast, squealy, and furious as if graduated from the Azagthothian school of shred (“Dominion of Eternal Blasphemy,” “Skeletal Vortex”), as hints of early Deicide lurk within the chugging chunks of “Altar of Brutality” and whiffs of early Monstrosity float amongst the speedier nooks and crannies of “Divine Monstrosity.”1 Incantationally cavernous, the vocals fit the OSDM mold to a tee, sitting spaciously fat and happy within Dan Lowndes’ great mix and master, which consequently draws out a bestial bass sound that permeates the entirety of Altar of Brutality with low-end menace. Chalo’s (Chemicide) drum performance warrants particular note, as, from the opening tom roll of “Mortuary Rites,” he proceeds to bash skulls throughout Altar of Brutality’s swift thirty-five-minute runtime with a brutal blitz of double-kicking and blast-beating kit abuse. Embodying a DIY work ethic that imbues these tracks with youthful energy and a wealth of death metal character, Mortual aren’t looking to reinvent the wheel as much as they’d like to crush you under its meaty treads, over and over again.

Stomach // Low Demon [July 18th, 2025 – Self-Release]

Droney, doomy, sweaty, and sludgy as fuck, Stomach’s blast furnace second album, Low Demon, is the antithesis of summer-fun metal. Hailing from Geneva, Illinois, Stomach is drummer/vocalist John Hoffman (Weekend Nachos) and guitarist Adam Tomlinson (Sick/Tired, Sea of Shit), who capably carry out their cacophonous work in such a way as to defy the fact that they’re only a duo.2 At volume, and believe me, you’ll want to crank this fucker to eleven, Low Demon will have you retching up all that light beer you drank by the pool and crying for yer mom, as “Dredged” oozes, rib-rattling from the speakers, a continuous, four-and-a-half-minute chord-layered exercise in exponentially applied tonal pressure. With five tracks spanning just over forty-three minutes, there’s not a lot on Low Demon that’s in a hurry, and aside from sections of up-tempo doom riffs (“Get Through Winter”) and some downright grindery (“Oscillate”) offering respite from the otherwise crushing wall of sound, listening to Stomach is akin to being waterboarded with molasses. Heavy influences from Earth, Sunn O))), Crossed Out, and Grief—whose Come to Grief stands as a sludge staple—form the basis for much of Stomach’s sound, and while Primitive Man and Hell draw apt comparisons as well, I’m guessing you know what you’re getting into by now. Maniacally cinematic and far from light-hearted, Stomach’s Low Demon was everything I didn’t think I needed during this hot and humid-as-an-armpit-in-hell summer.

Killjoy’s Flutes of Fancy

Braia // Vertentes de lá e cá [July 10th, 2025 – Self-Release]

Bruno Maia is one of the most inventive and hardworking musicians that I know of. Best known for the whimsical Celtic folk metal of Tuatha de Danann, he also has his own folk rock side project, Braia. Vertentes de lá e cá explores the rich history and culture of the Minas Gerais state in his native country, Brazil.3 Bursting with more sweetness than a ripe mango, Vertentes de lá e cá sports a huge diversity of musical styles and instruments. A combination of flute, viola, and acoustic guitar forms the backbone of most of the songs, like the Irish jigs in “Vertentes” or the flitting melodies of “Princesa do Sul.” My ears also detect accordion (“O Cururu do Ingaí”), saxophone (“Serra das Letras”), harmonica (“Hipólita”), banjo (“Carrancas”), and spacey synth effects (“Pagode Mouro”). That last one might sound out of place, but it makes more sense after learning of the local tales of extraterrestrial encounters. Maia sings in only two of the twelve tracks (“Emboabas” and “Rei do Campo Grande”), but all 41 minutes should be engaging enough for listeners who are typically unmoved by instrumental music. Though thematically focused on one specific location, Vertentes de lá e cá deserves to be heard by the entire world.

Storchi // By Far Away [July 25th, 2025 – Self-Release]

I would guess that the “experimental” tag causes some degree of trepidation within most listeners. However, occasionally an artist executes a fresh new vision so confidently that I can’t help but wonder if it’s secretly been around for a long time. Storchi, an instrumental prog group from Kabri, Israel, utilizes a flute in creative ways. Its bright, jazzy demeanor almost functions as a substitute for a vocalist in terms of expressiveness and personality. The Middle Eastern flair combined with modest electronic elements reminds me of Hugo Kant’s flute-heavy multicultural trip-hop. The chunky palm-muted guitar and bass borrow the best aspects of djent alongside eccentrically dynamic drum tempos. There is premeditation amidst the chaos, though. The triplet tracks “Far,” “Further,” and “Furthest” scattered throughout By Far Away each offer a unique rendition of the same core flute tune. “Lagoona” and “Smoky” make good use of melodic reprisals at the very end to neatly close the loop on what might have otherwise felt like more disjointed songs. Despite frequent and abrupt stylistic shifts, Storchi manages to make the 31-minute runtime of By Far Away feel more enjoyable than jolting. Flute fanatics should take note.

ClarkKent’s Addictive Addition

Daron Malakian and Scars on Broadway // Addicted to the Violence [July 19th, 2025 – Scarred for Life]

Since System of a Down disbanded, guitarist Daron Malakian has gone on to release 3 full-length albums under the moniker Scars on Broadway between 2008 and 2025. This spinoff project has proven Malakian to be the oddball of the group, and this goofiness hasn’t mellowed since SOAD’s debut released 27 years ago. The energetic set of tunes on Addicted to the Violence mixes nu-metal, groove rock, and pop with plenty of synths to create some fun and catchy beats. Sure, you have to delve through some baffling lyrics,4 such as when Malakian sings that there’s “a tiger that’s riding on your back / And it’s singing out ‘Rawr! Rawr!'” (“Killing Spree”). Malakian also turns to the familiar theme of drug addiction that he and Serj have explored from “Sugar” to “Heroine” to “Chemicals.”5 This time around, it’s “Satan Hussein,” where he mixes Quaaludes and Vicodin with Jesus Christ. To offset the repetition within songs, Malakian has the sense to mix things up. There’s the nu-metal cuts of “Satan Hussein” and “Destroy the Power,” featuring energetic vocalizations and grooves, but there’s also a lot of pop (“You Destroy You”). The riffs may not be as wild or creative as times past, but Addicted to the Violence makes use of a variety of instruments that keep things fresh, from an organ (“Done Me Wrong”) to a mandolin (“You Destroy You”) to some sweet synth solos. There’s even a brief saxophone appearance to conclude the album. Yes, I know exactly what you’re thinking: “This sounds awesome!”

#2025 #7DegreesRecords #AddictedToTheViolence #AliceInChains #AltarsOfBrutality #AmericanMetal #AteSAlchemist #AtmosphericBlackMetal #AustralianMetal #BlackMetal #BlackenedDeathMetal #Braia #BrazilianMetal #ByFarAway #Chemicide #CostaRicanMetal #CrossedOut #CurtaNWall #Dance #Darkthrone #DaronMalakianAndScarsOnBroadway #Darude #DeathMetal #Deathgrind #Deicide #Dephosphorus #Doom #DoomMetal #Drone #Earth #EchoesOfGloom #EDM #ExperimentalMetal #FolkMetal #FolkRock #GermanMetal #Gindcore #GreekMetal #Grief #GrooveMetal #Hardcore #Hell #HugoKant #InstrumentalMetal #IsraeliMetal #JethroTull #Jul25 #LowDemon #Mastodon #MelodicBlackMetal #Monstrosity #Mortual #Muse #Nasum #NerveAltar #NuMetal #NuclearWinterRecords #OldNick #Planetoktonos #PopMetal #PrimitiveMan #ProgressiveMetal #RawBlackMetal #Review #Reviews #RippleMusic #ScarredForLife #SeaOfShit #SelfRelease #SelfmadegodRecords #Sheev #SickTired #Sludge #SludgeMetal #Stomach #StonerDoom #StonerMetal #Storchi #StuckInTheFilter #StuckInTheFilter2025 #SunnO_ #SystemOfADown #TheMindSEternalStorm #Tool #TuathaDeDanann #VertentesDeLáECá #WeekendNachos #WitchyForestDanceContest #Witchyre #Yes

Terra Atlantica – Oceans Review

By Kenstrosity

I had almost forgotten about German four-banger Terra Atlantica since I last covered them five years ago. Once my memory refreshed, I recalled what compelled me to snag Age of Steam in the first place: my love for steampunk. Far from the most dedicated—and perhaps even farther away from the best—piece of media based on that universe, Terra Atlantica nonetheless did sound appropriately grounded in a world propelled by superheated water. But their songwriting was too inconsistent to make a big splash with this sponge. With follow-up Oceans in tow, is their hope that Terra Atlantica will hoist my sails properly this time?

With a new lead guitarist, Terra Atlantica finds themselves armed with a more folk-driven base that sends their sea-faring stories even further into open water than ever before. Veering into jaunty pirate metal territory, Oceans boasts a wide variety of baubles and decorative deviations scattered around their cookie-cutter power metal foundation. Terra Atlantica’s unusually reedy vocals carry over from the last record, evoking a certain Muppet-y personality that I don’t hate, but which many could. Canned strings and horns make a resurgence as well, pushing Oceans deeper into symphonic territory. In short, Oceans is as cheesy a power metal record as can be without being Fellowship, only without even half the songwriting acumen.

In fact, songwriting is Oceans’ greatest downfall. Numbers that could’ve been great on their own merit find themselves stranded by downright infuriating choices. The greatest offenders are “Hoist the Sail,” ruined almost immediately once Terra Atlantica cribs the legendary “The Rake Hornpipe” for an overlong bridge and solo; and overblown closer “Oceans of Eternity,” which once again copies and pastes more than one segment from a piece of well-known classical music1 to pad its runtime without doing anything meaningful with them. Outside of those rage-inducing moments, though, there’s still very little substance to Oceans. Due to its dogged reliance on basic genre building blocks and banal lyrics, Oceans is effectively wall-to-wall tropes and fairytale pirate stereotypes (“Back to the Sea,” “Where My Brothers Await,” “Land of Submarines”).

Indeed, Oceans reminds me of a metallized The Muppet Treasure Island soundtrack, minus that masterpiece’s compositional excellence. Nonetheless, flashes of brilliance give me some hope that Terra Atlantica have the potential to write showstoppers worthy of positive comparisons to that iconic OST. “Raven in the Dark,” for example, might be the album’s strongest whole song, pumping a stadium-ready melody and boasting a sticky chorus and fun hair-metal solo. “Caribbean Shores,” too, maximizes its fun factor with a novel bit of tropical songwriting not often heard in power metal, unless you are Twilight Force. Additionally, I do appreciate the injection of real heft and a vaguely thrashy personality in “Turn of the Tide.” If these novelties and convincing attributes were integrated more successfully into a greater portion of Ocean’s runtime, the record would feel quite a bit different than what metal fans have been taught to expect from the symphonic power scene.

Unfortunately, Terra Atlantica only reinforce what metal fans learned to dread. To wit, a dearth of musical creativity in relation to material density, an overt abuse of classical standbys in the place of what should be original material (or at least a creative use of reference), and clear and present stereotyping in writing, theme, and lyrical content. What little hints of potential Terra Atlantica leave for listeners across Oceans’ relatively tight 49 minutes do not make up for the burden of uninspiring, sometimes outright annoying, material offered. Steer clear of this if you know what’s good for you, lads!

Rating: Bad
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Scarlet Records
Websites: terra-atlantica.de | facebook.com/terraatlantica
Releases Worldwide: September 26th, 2025

Show 1 footnote

1. We all know each of these melodies well, and I am almost completely sure they’re Mozart, but I cannot for the life of me find the name of the composition they’re from. ↩

#15 #2025 #Fellowship #FolkMetal #GermanMetal #Mozart #Oceans #PirateMetal #PowerMetal #Review #Reviews #ScarletRecords #Sep25 #SymphonicMetal #TerraAtlantica #TwilightForce

Æl-Fierlen – All Is Far Away Review

By Killjoy

Like a specter emerging from the mist, Æl-Fierlen is a brand new post-black metal act that materialized in Southern England in 2024. Their name comes from an Anglo-Saxon phrase meaning “all is far away,” making their debut something of an eponymous record. This phrase resonates with me because, despite living so close to many wonderful outdoor locations, I don’t make nearly as much time as I ought to experience them. As if beckoning to me, Æl-Fierlen sums up their sound with the simple declaration, “We are what the woods sounds like.” If you long to become lost in mystic marvels, come take a walk through the metaphorical trees.

Just as a forest has both light and dark spots, so does the music of Æl-Fierlen. In this way, they sound very much like a sister group of Helga, weaving elegant post-rock together with strands of black metal. There is also a discernible folk tinge akin to cousin groups Kalandra and Suldusk. Æl-Fierlen mainly sticks to the brighter style of Kalandra, like a well-lit clearing near the outskirts. But sometimes the compositions dare to venture into darker Suldusk territory with ominous whispers and guitar strumming that erupt into blast beats and shrieks without warning. What these three related groups have in common is a captivating female lead vocalist, and Æl-Fierlen is similarly rooted in Stephanie Moffatt’s enchanting voice.

A lot hinges on Moffatt’s vocals and she comes through in a big way. Her singing has an otherworldly, spectral quality, yet is also warm and inviting. Then, in the final verse of “To Sleep Eternal,” she shifts to a higher octave which heightens the drama for a flourishing finish. However, much like Sylvaine, she is not confined to ethereal tones, adopting a piercing bite when the occasion calls for it. “Eðe”1 is the prime example of her masterful mixture of chilling rasps and guttural growls, and it also happens to be the song with the most black metal influence. Her coarse whispers cast a menacing shadow over “Pulrose,” just enough for an underscoring effect without being overused. All in all, Moffatt’s versatility is one of Æl-Fierlen’s most important assets.

Examined holistically, though, All Is Far Away seems a little thin in both sound and content. This is partly because the instrumental side often takes a stripped-back form, likely to accommodate the vocals. The other band members do have their moments to shine; I particularly enjoy it when Rob Melville’s guitar tremolos intertwine with drummer Ginger’s knotted double bass drum rhythms in the back half of “Ællmiht.” It’s just that these moments aren’t as pronounced or developed as I’d prefer. This might not have been much of an issue if there were a bit more to chew on. Clocking in at 33 minutes across only four tracks, All Is Far Away is barely longer than an EP. To Æl-Fierlen’s credit, even though most of the songs are in the 8-11 minute range, they flow silkily and hardly feel their length. One more such song would have been perfect.

Æl-Fierlen has a keen sense of grace and beauty. If, like me, you find it hard to set aside time to be physically present in nature, All Is Far Away offers a charming aural jaunt through the woods. Stephanie Moffatt’s delightful and multifaceted voice perfectly suits the evocative atmosphere. Each of the four tracks has its own distinct character, one leading into the next like a gently flowing brook. All Is Far Away is a cohesive and convincing first effort from a nascent group, albeit a tad on the lean side. While this may be more of a foundational work, I look forward to hearing what Æl-Fierlen builds atop it in the future.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: ael-fierlen.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/AElFierlen
Releases Worldwide: September 19th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AllIsFarAway #ÆlFierlen #BlackMetal #BritishMetal #FolkMetal #Helga #Kalandra #PostRock #Review #Reviews #SelfRelease #Sep25 #Suldusk #Sylvaine

Stuck in the Filter: June 2025’s Angry Misses

By Kenstrosity

Sweat pours out of our pores. Heat blisters metal and scorches dirt. Power bills rise relentlessly, without mercy. These are the signs of summer in the brutal ductwork that is our hallowed Filter. But we continue onward in search of those metallic scraps that provide such unbridled joy to our masses. The only variable: who of my trusted team will survive this season, and who will perish in the service of this sacred duty?

We won’t know the answer until this article gets published. And when it is, the statistics will be fabricated and obfuscated accordingly. So ignore the death toll and instead peep the haul!

Kenstrosity’s Meanest Meanies

Shadow of Intent // Imperium Delirium [June 12th, 2025 – Self-Release]

For over a decade, Connecticut/Rhode Island melodic deathcore independents Shadow of Intent challenged the standards of the genre by offering album after album of ripping tracks filled with drama, clever songwriting, and demolishing vocal talent. In their catalog, Elegy was the one record of theirs that didn’t stick with me. However, Imperium Delirium rapidly righted the ship with 55 minutes of opulent, evil, and crushing melodic destruction. Raging through its first half without a single misstep, Imperium Delirium is a focused effort chock full of devastating heft, buttery smooth songwriting, and a favorable riffs-to-breakdowns ratio. The back half focuses on drama and orchestration just a touch more, but songs like “Feeding the Meatgrinder,” “Vehement Draconian Vengeance,” and “No Matter the Cost” still bring the violence required to annihilate entire planets. Championing this unending assault of killer tunes, Ben Duerr’s vocal performance is intimidating to say the least, easily reinforcing his rightful place as one of the very best extreme vocalists in the scene today. Of course, the record is still too long by about 10 minutes, and a fair amount of that bloat comes from the slightly overblown self-titled closer. Additionally, while I appreciate the reverent nod to the instrumental talent on “Apocalypse Canvas,” I don’t believe it adds enough to the story of this record. Nonetheless, Imperium Delirium might be one of my favorite Shadows of Intent, and I look forward to where it leads me next.

ClarkKent’s Literary Listen

Nightbearer // Defiance [June 13, 2025 – Testimony Records]

Anyone looking for a mashup of Phillip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy and Gothenburg melodeath, look no further than the latest album from Germany’s Nightbearer. Defiance marks album number three in the band’s repertoire, and a continuation of their worship of fantasy epics.1 Right off the bat, the catchy harmonic guitar lead of “His Dark Materials” summons Dark Tranquillity and At the Gates. The guitar work by Dominik Hellmuth and Tristan Schubert is fantastic throughout–their creative melodies bring to mind lively outfits like Brymir. Michael Torka’s beastly growls and Manuel Lüke’s thunderous drumming add some brutality and weight to the harmonious riffs. A few songs even go full brutal death metal (“One Church Over All”, “Dying Knows No Bounds”). Perhaps the standout track comes from the 9-minute epic, “Ascension.” It starts with an eerie synth intro before breaking out into some of the best riffs on Defiance. Then, just as things settle down, the song builds back up and explodes into something straight from Blackwater Park-era Opeth. Overall, this is an impressive collection of songs that’s sure to scratch that HM-2 itch.

Tyme’s Juxtaposed Jotting

Lipoma // No Cure for the Sick [June 13th, 2025 – Gurgling Gore]

Melodic gore-grind. Yeah, it’s a thing. And California-based Lipoma’s new album, No Cure for the Sick, proves it’s a pretty fucking cool thing at that—the brainchild of one Max Pierce (aka Dr. Lipoma).2 Since going live in 2021, Lipoma has been insanely active, releasing a slew of splits and EPs along with two full-length albums: 2022’s Horrors of Pathology and 2023’s Odes to Suffering. And while Lipoma has steadily worked to make comparisons with fellow purveyors like Carcass, Lymphatic Phlegm, and Pharmacist less relevant, No Cure for the Sick moves things to a different ballpark, one full of Gothenburgian melodicism (“Cult of the Firehealers,” “Glory to the Blade”), post-metallic pop-punk optimism (“Cardiac Scars Forever,” “Psalms of Psoriasis”), indecipherable gurgles, and organ, which is what sets Lipoma’s No Cure for the Sick apart not only from previous efforts, but the pack in general. From the circus-like atmosphere shrouding opener “The Sea Surgeon,” Pierce’s use of organ permeates much of No Cure for the Sick’s forty minutes, buoying the melodic heaviness and excellent solo work with jig-like danceability (“Remedies of Pagan Medicine,” “Last Anatomy of Johan Ziegler,” “No Cure for the Sick”). Pierce’s melodically charged instrumentation, when juxtaposed against his gore-ground gurglings—a combo that works in a way it has no right to—sees Lipoma doing something I find wholly unique, a rarity in today’s digital age. I have had a ton of fun with No Cure for the Sick, and if you’ve not checked it out yet, do so post haste.

Iceberg’s Frosty Forget-Me-Nots

Puppe Magnetik // Laudans Deum [June 6th, 2025 – The Circle Music]

Laudans Deum is not for the faint of heart, if that album cover didn’t quite convince you. The debut compilation of Puppe Magnetik, the record dives deep into the recesses of the human psyche. Aina Virtanen weaponizes industrial metal, ambient, and drone, wrapped up in the stylings of the Weimar Republic. An accomplished classically-trained musician, Virtanen uses her clean vocals sparingly (“Who Will Sing This Sorrow,” “Labyrinth”) but to great effect, reminiscent of Diablo Swing Orchestra. But the accessibility stops there; Laudans Deum’s thirteen tracks are comprised of ambient meditations (“Moritat”), ear-splitting electronic barrages (“Suspendium, Rosarium et Crucifixu”), and mood music fit for a throwback horror movie (“The Pregnant Nun,” “Patient AV”). But within the graveyard are scattered moments of respite; the gorgeously rendered classical guitar of “Timeless Serenade” and the haunting vocals of “Laments From The Desert.” While the album is unforgivingly through-composed, making for an exceptionally difficult first listen, there’s something darkly endearing about it. I’m reminded of Sergei Prokofiev, the Russian composer whose music was often described as both grotesque and starkly beautiful. Puppe Magnetik have produced a challenging record, but it’s worth a listen for those who enjoy avant-garde music and the stranger, more terrifying corners of the aural arts.

All Men Unto Me // Requiem [June 27th, 2025 – The Larvarium]

A little more metal, but a lot more challenging, All Men Unto Me’s Requiem brings to bear the full weight of spiritual suffering. Requiem is a direct interpretation of the Latin Mass for the Dead, it’s eight tracks playing all the hits. Fuzzed out, half-time doom takes a supporting role in a record that heavily features pipe organ, acoustic guitar, and string leads. Rylan Greaves takes a unique approach here, subverting the natural tension and release of the rite by injecting clanging noise into passages normally reverent. Their vocal performance is the unrepentant star of the show, at times crystalline (“Introit”) at others sobbing (“Kyrie”) straining (“Agnus Dei”) and howling (“Sequentia”). The album takes its time to sink its claws into you, with long track lengths and extended droning chords requiring patience. But pay close attention to Greaves’ lyrics and you can’t help but be pulled into the raw, emotional drama of Requiem. The rising, ethereal sunset of “In Paradisum,” the falsetto whisper speaking “God knows what I’d be without you” against an impossibly high, ever so slightly off-key bell-tone. One’s left wondering the true meaning of that line as the track ends, and the dead remain silent. A powerful statement indeed.

Killjoy’s Fabulous Find

Fabula Rasa // Tome II: The Beyond [June 13th, 2025 – Self-Release]

The words “fabulous” and “fable” are interconnected, both derived from the Latin word “fabulosus.” And since folk music and power metal draw heavily from fables and myths, the portmanteau Fabula Rasa is a fitting name for a group that blends both genres. Following the lead of forebears Elvenking and early Mägo de Oz, this spirited crew from Düsseldorf, Germany, infuses what would otherwise be standard—but good!—heavy/power metal with lots of violin. The violin and guitar trade off playing the lead melodies, though the former tends to have greater emphasis. But fret not, shred-heads, for the guitar solos are also exemplary in the more power metal-leaning songs, like “Dragon Rising” and “Vengeance Is Mine.” The violin often carves its own folksy space, the cheery, zippy fiddling akin to Dalriada (“At Full Moon,” “Anthem of the North”). Most songs are energetic, but “Burning Innocence” is a pleasant surprise midway through the record, with hand drums and the other band members’ vocal contributions creating an intimate group setting. Don’t miss this charismatic performance from these fabulous musicians.

Maddog’s Sludgy Selection

Dimscûa // Dust Eater [June 3rd, 2025 – Self-Release]

While sludge is a dime a dozen, few bands scratch the same itch as Amenra’s best work. The UK’s Dimscûa aims to correct this oversight. Dust Eater opens with “Elder Bairn,” whose rhythmic riffs evoke the meditative power of LLNN. After this appetizer, the album’s interplay between brawn and heart rivals Amenra. While Dimscûa’s muscular riffs drive the album forward (“Existence/Futility”), Dust Eater stands out through its hypnotic melodies. The heartache in these melodies is palpable, magnified by tortured vocals that recall Julie Christmas. Because of this ebb and flow, the album never feels bloated despite its eight-minute average track length. For instance, “Existence/Futility” abandons and then suddenly resurrects its driving main riff, adding unexpected variety and lodging into my memory. Dust Eater’s climaxes sometimes fall short, like the fizzle-out ending of “The Dusteater.” But despite its imperfections, Dimscûa’s debut is a powerful outing in a neglected style.3

Dear Hollaback’s Ain’t No B-A-N-A-N-A-S

Various Artists // KPop Demon Hunters [Original Motion Picture Soundtrack] [June 20th, 2025 – Republic Records]4

Okay, look. Look. K-Pop is not metal, I get that. But the gang over at Sony concocted what just recently earned the title of Netflix’s most watched movie of all time, and holy shit, what a soundtrack.. I’d like to use the classic “my daughter made me do it” schtick but she only likes “Takedown.”5 KPop Demon Hunters creates insanely catchy pop music that’s also focused and intentional, a commentary on the rigid and flagellant nature of K-Pop alongside feel-good messages of self-acceptance and healing (“Golden,” “What It Sounds Like”). The focal girl group HUNTR/X does most of the heavy lifting, also tossing in enough pop culture-inclined battle hymns to make the republic jealous (“How It’s Done,” “Takedown”). Their on-screen rivals Saja Boys offer entendre-layered sugary pop (the infamous “Soda Pop”) and sinister Gregorian-influenced choruses (“Your Idol”). Beyond the novelty is intentionality: clever chord progressions that feel continually transcendent rather than stagnantly by-the-numbers (“What It Sounds Like”), diminuendos of authenticity among bombasts of a glossy sheen (“Golden”), touches of dissonance paired with unsettling slant rhymes (“Your Idol”), and rhythmic complexity building to ethereal climaxes of soaring belts (“Free”). While yes, I’m telling you to give it a spin, I am also giving excuses for why my review count dropped to critical this summer. Fuck off, I’m gonna be, gonna be golden.

#2025 #AllMenUntoMe #Ambient #AmericanMetal #AtTheGates #AvantGarde #Brymir #Carcass #Dalriada #DarkTranquility #Deathcore #Defiance #DiabloSwingOrchestra #Dimscûa #Drone #DustEater #Elvenking #FabulaRasa #FinnishMetal #FolkMetal #GermanMetal #GurglingGore #HeavyMetal #HUNTRX #ImperiumDelirium #IndustrialMetal #Jun25 #KPop #KPopDemonHunters #LaudansDeum #Lipoma #LymphaticPhlegm #MägoDeOz #MelodicDeathMetal #MelodicDeathcore #Nightbearer #NoCureForTheSick #Opeth #Pharmacist #PowerMetal #PuppeMagnetik #RepublicRecords #Requiem #Review #Reviews #SajaBoys #SelfRelease #SelfReleased #ShadowOfIntent #StuckInTheFilter #TestimonyRecords #TheCircleMusic #TheLarvarium #TomeIITheBeyond #UKMetal #VariousArtists

Månegarm – Edsvuren Review

By Angry Metal Guy

Once upon a time, Månegarm was an apex predator of the blackened folk metal scene that took metal by storm (er, Storm) in the early-to-mid-2000s. For a brief moment, as Heathenfests proliferated and white guys from Wisconsin,1 fell in love with songs about Vikings and runes, the Viking metal/folk metal subgenre was the Next Big Thing, fueled by a surprisingly liquid supply of fiddles, jaw harps, gallops, and flask-swinging choruses. Yet, time wasn’t kind. Turisas ghosted us after leaving us a weird note, Finntroll got lost in the woods and returned changed, and even Thyrfing and Moonsorrow have slowed to a crawl. But Månegarm has never stopped.2 With the impending release of Edsvuren (Oathbound or Sworn), their thirteenth full-length and fifth since signing with Napalm Records, this Swedish trio stands as one of the last standard-bearers of this once-ferocious scene.

Månegarm’s arc explains how we got here. From Havets vargar (2000) to Nattväsen (2009), Månegarm was among the hardest-hitting of the folk metal vanguard. They blended black metal’s blasting intensity with violin counterpoint (and solos), and Erik Grawsiö’s gravel-throated roar. But following Nattväsen, Månegarm underwent a serious change. With the departure of their violinist and bassist, Grawsiö moved to bass, but more importantly, they emerged with a retooled sound. By 2013’s Legions of the North, Månegarm had begun shaping themselves towards something more akin to Amon Amarth’s mid-paced crunch than the blastful abandon of their black metal roots. Edsvuren continues the same trajectory, letting the flames burn low rather than trying to rekindle the blaze; content to let the embers glow.

When the wind blows right, however, Månegarm’s fire burns bright. When these Swedes go heavy, the results are still vital—some of the best metal they’ve released in years. The opening trifecta demonstrates this: “I skogfruns famn” brims with trem-picked harmonies, fiddle, and melodies and pacing that evoke Isengard or Lumsk. “Lögrinns värn” picks up the pace and builds on Amon Amarthian heft, while “En Blodvittneskrans”—one of the album’s standout tracks—crackles with surprisingly punk-inflected drumming and tremelos that transport me to Bjoergvin. On the album’s back half, we again find heavy tracks that brim with harmonic minor riffing, fantastic vocal harmonies, and creative songwriting. “Skild från hugen” stretches into a seven-minute epic, weaving gallops, fiddle, and a doomy interlude where Elinor Videfors’ smoky alto helps to elevate the song. While “Likgökens fest” follows with another blast of urgency. In these moments, Månegarm is vibrant and confident, with a powerful sound and presence.

Much of Edsvuren, however, lives in the embers. Acoustic folk tracks like “Rodhins hav,” “Till gudars följe,” and “I runor ristades orden” aren’t filler; they’re beautiful. The production places each acoustic strum and hand drum with care, and Videfors’ voice adds a crystalline, haunting quality. Ancient and evocative, these songs are built on droning harmonies and modal folk melodies. And they sound great. In listening to these, I’m reminded of Panopticon’s Laurentian Blue, folk music with fiddle and a deep melancholy.3 The problem is proportion. Nearly half the record lives in this slower, acoustic, or mid-paced heavy space. And when stacked back-to-back (“Rodhins hav” through “Hör mitt kall,” and then again in the closing pair of songs), the album sputters. At 51 minutes, Edsvuren isn’t overlong, but there are moments when the pacing lengthens the album.

The vocals provide the oxygen that keeps Edsvuren burning, showcasing some of the finest arrangements Månegarm has ever recorded. Grawsiö’s extreme vocals remain commanding, but it’s his cleans—gravelly and full,4 at times evoking throat singing—that unite Edsvuren. The interplay with the guest vocalists—Elinor Videfors, Grawsiö’s daughter Lea on “I skogfruns famn”—is well balanced. And at its best, the record gives the impression that you’re sitting around the campfire and listening to them sing. Choruses bloom into layers of voices that feel almost ritualistic—but at least communal—and are balanced expertly in the mix (“Till gudars följe”). There’s an almost Finntrollian playfulness in the vocal arrangements at times (again, “Till gudars följe”), while at other times the harmonies are clinically tight like harmonic minor Bad Religion or early Soen. Even when the riffs tread familiar ground—or the album feels like it’s slowing down too much—the vocals continually elevate compositions and keep me hooked.

Edsvuren is an album that’s easy to like, but tricky to love. But I can say with confidence that it’s my favorite Månegarm since the Napalm run began in 2013. The heavy material is vital, energetic, and it reminds me of why I fell in love with these Swedish wolves to begin with. The folk songs and feel are brittle and beautiful, and give the album character and variety. Unfortunately, the overall balance of the record leans a little too hard into mid-tempo riffs, rock feels rather than blastbeats, and acoustic folk music—resulting in pacing that makes it feel less than the sum of its Very-Good!-to-Great! parts. I enjoy the songs, I admire the craft, but taken as a whole, they leave Edsvuren a little low on bite. Edsvuren may not spark anew Månegarm’s flames, but it tends the embers—keeping them warm enough for fellowship, beer, and song.

Rating: Good!
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream5
Label: Napalm Records
Websites: linktr.ee/manegarmofficial | manegarm.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: August 29th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AmonAmarth #Aug25 #BadReligion #Edsvuren #Finntroll #FolkMetal #HavetsVargar #Isengard #LaurentianBlue #Lumsk #Månegarm #MelodicBlackMetal #MelodicDeathMetal #Moonsorrow #NapalmRecords #Nattväsen #Panopticon #Review #Reviews #Soen #Storm #Thyrfing #Turisas #VikingMetal

AMG’s Unsigned Band Rodeö: Kalaveraztekah – Nikan Axkan

By Dolphin Whisperer

“AMG’s Unsigned Band Rodeö” is a time-honored tradition to showcase the most underground of the underground—the unsigned and unpromoted. This collective review treatment continues to exist to unite our writers in boot or bolster of the bands who remind us that, for better or worse, the metal underground exists as an important part of the global metal scene. The Rodeö rides on.”

The Rodeö is full of surprises. Today’s potential riff trap hails from the arid lands of Aguascalientes, Mexico, known most famously for its array of hot springs and National Museum of Death. Yes, in death Kalaveraztekah revels, and not just in a death metal groove indebted to the jagged scrawl of Morbid Angel or the destructive howl of early Behemoth. With a healthy inclusion of pre-Hispanic, indigenous instrumentation alongside their chunky and pinch-addled drive, Nikan Axkan churns and tumbles through chants and thunderous drum roll to shine a light on the Mexica culture and history of sacrifice and spirit world. To excavate the wonders that the adventurous Kalaveraztekah holds hidden in the underground, we’ve assembled a crack Rodeö crew, including an appearance from The Man, The Myth, The AMG Himself. Surely that means that everyone followed the word count, right? – Dolphin Whisperer

Kalaveraztekah // Nikan Axkan [May 2nd, 2025]

AMG Himself: Kalaveraztekah’s Nikan Axkan represents hopes and dreams that I have harbored for years. When will we finally get the seminal piece of Aztec-influenced extreme metal that will whet my appetite for both death metal and Mesoamerican history?1 With aplomb, these astonishingly unsigned Aguascalientes-ites2 do the fine job of balancing two equally vital parts of a single sound. Kalaveraztekah hits like a ton of bricks, dealing in death metal that’s neither old nor school, it’s just brutal and grindy, tempered only by peyote-fueled excursions into the netherworld. The core of their sound is brutal Mexican death metal replete with blasts and machine gun kicks, neck-damaging riffing, pig-squealing guitars, brutal growls (and occasionally less-brutal screamies) synced with the snare, and an intensity that I associate with writing reviews of bands like Vomitory or Crypta. It’s got the riffs and intensity with just a touch of melody, and I bask in its brutality and shreddy, squealy solos. Kalaveraztekah’s particular innovation in this sphere is the successful inclusion of traditional folk elements from the indigenous people located throughout Mexico, but which is today used almost exclusively for the Mexica people of Tenochtitlan (which is modern-day Mexico City).3 Kalaveraztekah’s focus on “Aztec Cosmogony” lends itself perfectly to the second part of their unique sound: dreamy folk soundscapes that they adapt seamlessly—and convincingly—when they shift gear. Driven by reverb-soaked soundscapes, Spanish guitars,4 and what I assume is a tlapitzalli (flute), the band lends atmosphere and dynamics that are necessary to offset a style of death metal that at times can risk monotony. And when they meet, these two sounds crash into each other like storm fronts, creating something beautiful and terrible to behold, simultaneously brutal and thoughtful, grindy and melodic, atmospheric and immediate. I fuckin’ love this shit.

Next up on my befolkened death metal bucketlist: the Olmecs! 4.0/5.0

Dear Hollow: What’s great about Kalaveraztekah is their ability to channel their heritage into an homage to the Mexica that sounds ancient, cosmic, and brutal. Featuring a blend not unlike the formidable shaman-themed Hell:on, the lethal fusion of cutthroat death metal and folk instruments offers balance: wild guitar solos, haunting flutes, terrifying death whistles, and ritualistic drums shine amid the no-frills Sulphur Aeon-esque riffs. While similarities to other Mexico-based Aztec- or Mayan-themed groups are unavoidable, Pre-Hispanic folk instrumentation is not mere novelty like it is for Ocelotl or Eunoë, nor is it an atmospheric saturation of bloody sacrifice in the manner of Aztlan or Cemican – rather, Kalaveraztekah uses ritualistic and ceremonial elements to amplify the cyclical cosmic grandiosity of the Five Suns in an album of both creation and devastation. Nikan Axkan offers riffs galore (“Tlazolteotl,” “Xiuhtekuhtli Weweteotl”), haunting overtures with spoken word that recall sacrificial ecstasy and the vast rotting realms of the gods (“Yowaltecuhtli,” “Illwikatl Meztli”), and just enough techy flavors of soaring intensity and dissonant menace to warrant diversity and complexity (“Xolotl Axolotl,” “Xiuhmolpili”). While the album is a tad overlong at nearly fifty minutes, Kalaveraztekah’s approach straddles the line between violently visceral and gloriously colossal – truly “el amanecer del nuevo sol” indeed. 4.0/5.0

Iceberg: I love it when an album requires me to do some research to unwrap its mysteries. Before I came across Nikan Axlan I had precious little knowledge of Aztec mythology. But now, thanks to Aguascalientes natives Kalaveraztekah, I can confidently tell my Xolotls from my Axolotls. Kalaveraztekah’s sonic template skews more groove than death metal, but the inclusion of a host of traditional instruments keeps the music refreshing and thoroughly unnerving. The tribal drums and wind instruments maintain a constant otherworldly atmosphere, and the extraneous vocal additions are excellent (the frantic spoken word of “Yowaltekuhtli” and the Wilhelm screams of “Xolotl Axolotl”). Kalaveraztekah aren’t content to sit in any one corner with their instruments either. The trebly blues tone of “Yowaltekuhtli” feels ripped from a Los Lonely Boys album, and the sweeping neoclassical riff that forms the backbone of “Xiuhmolpilli” screams symphodeath BOMBAST.5 The biggest drawback for me here is that in leaning so far into the groove metal style, the BPM goes stale in its mid-paced swagger. Given everything else that Kalaveraztekah unleashes on Nikan Axkan, I’m left wondering what this band would sound like if they really stepped on the gas and hit that NOS button (although the opening riff of “Wewekyotl” gets pretty damn close). That quibble aside, Nikan Axkan is a compelling and replayable record, and a great trip into the dark, bizarre world of Aztec mythology. I highly recommend this album for those looking for some tasty groove metal with a bit of strange on the side. 3.5/5.0

Alekhines Gun: Move over Tzompantli, there’s a new band in town. Channeling the instrumental flourishes of Nechochwen filtered through something adjacent to The Zenith Passage in production,6 Kalaveraztekah have presented a slab of agave scented folky melodic death so meticulously constructed and well produced that I’m actually stunned it’s an independent release. From the triumphant flourishes dotting the leads in “Yowaltekuhtli” to the thunderous tribal percussion-laced breakdowns in “Xiuhtekuhtli Weweteotl”, Nikan Axkan never wants for a variety of gripping moments. A sense of propulsion flows through the album, rendering the occasional interludes atmospheric rather than momentum-killing. Songs like “Xolotl Axolotl” feature heaps of skronk and tawngy tech only to instantly be offset by indigenous instruments and melodic atmospherics in equal measure. True, each individual track feels a bit long in the tooth and seem as though they could benefit from some editing, and I wish the bottom end didn’t sound so artificial. Nevertheless, every time I found myself thinking such thoughts I was suddenly blown away by some excellent new riff or lovely melody from wood instruments or percussion, slotting neatly into the album’s reasonable runtime. Nikan Axhan is an album with a remarkably matured and well-executed vision, and has been a gripping, engaging listen with each spin. Support this album. 3.5/5.0

Thyme: Most bands continually seek ways to bring originality into their work. For Aguascalientes, Mexico, five-piece death metal outfit Kalaveraztekah, that originality comes in the form of heaving helpings of Mesoamerican folk instrumentation, expertly woven into the deathly fabric of their sophomore album Nikan Azkan. Right off the bat, I felt transported to the middle of a Mexican rainforest as tribal drums and folkish guitar lines cede their delicate grip to Behemoth-like death riffs and a hellish vocal attack that rivals Nergal’s (“Nikan Axkan (El Aquí y El Ahora)”). When Nikan Azkan isn’t channeling Demigod levels of viciousness, its hybrid form of folk death conjures Roots-era Sepultura with sludgily dirty riffs, primitive death chants, and a plethora of indigenous instruments ranging from ocarinas to Aztec death whistles (“Xiuhtekuhtli Weweteotl (El Fuego Ancestral),” “Wewekoyotl (El Coyote Viejo)”). Kalaveraztekah brings loads of atmosphere to Nikan Axkan, especially on “Yowaltekuhtli (Un Sueño En La Oscuridad),” with its haunting instrumentation—the guitar work is top notch here—and the desperate, breathless pleas of the narrator conjuring tons of dramatic tension. On repeated spins, the magic within Nikan Axkan continues to unravel. While the meshing of Kalaveraztekah‘s death metal—standard as it may be—with its folk-forward instrumentation tends to blur tracks together, enjoyment didn’t dissipate the more I listened. Fans of what Tzompantli are doing would be hard-pressed to miss this, and I suggest they don’t. 3.0/5.0

Show 6 footnotes

1. Tzompantli doesn’t count ’cause they’re from California and they’re only “good.” ↩
2. I believe we call them Aguascalentenses. – Dolph ↩
3. Interesting to note that the band is from Aguascalientes, because the region was, in fact, the home of the Chichimeca groups, which, according to my deep research (yup, doin’ my own research just like RFK Jr. told me to!) became a kind of archetype of “noble savages” for both the Spaniards and the Mexica (Aztecs) in the 1500s. Rather than being a single group with a shared language, the Chichimeca groups were spread throughout central Mexico, and following the discovery of silver, they were war-crimed into a decades-long conflict and eventual decline, and by the beginning of the 1600s, they “disappeared as distinguishable cultural entities” (Schmal, 2019). Seven tribes would be the basis of a mighty seven-album conceptual cycle, my dudes. I’m just sayin’. ↩
4. Is that ironic? ↩
5. It really makes you wonder how far is heaven. – Dolph ↩
6. Surely, scooped tone production existed before The Zenith Passage. – Dolph ↩

#AngryMetalGuySUnsignedBandRodeo #AngryMetalGuySUnsignedBandRodeo2025 #Aztec #Behemoth #Crypta #DeathMetal #FolkMetal #GrooveMetal #HellOn #IndependentRelease #Kalaveraztekah #LosLonelyBoys #May25 #MexicanMetal #MorbidAngel #Nechochwen #NikanAxkan #ProgressiveDeathMetal #Review #Reviews #SelfRelease #Sepultura #SulphurAeon #Tzompantli #Vomitory

CRAVING (Alemanya) presenta nou àlbum en directe: "Calling the Sirens of the Old Fortress" #Craving #MelodicDeath #BlackMetal #FolkMetal #Maig2025 #Alemanya #NouÀlbumEnDirecte #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

SKÁLD debuta en Chile: 14 de septiembre en Sala Metrónomo | vía #SonidosOcultos

https://www.sonidosocultos.com/noticia/skald-debuta-en-chile-14-de-septiembre-en-sala-metronomo/

#folkmetal #livechile #metal #metalvikingo #reseñadeconciertos #reseñadediscos #salametronomo #skald #spiderprod #vikingschant2019 #vikingsmemories2020yhuldufólk2023

ELVENKING (Itàlia) presenta nou àlbum: "Reader of the Runes - Luna" #Elvenking #MelodicPower #FolkMetal #Abril2025 #Itàlia #NouÀlbum #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

ELVENKING (Itàlia) presenta nou single: "Gone Epoch" #Elvenking #MelodicPower #FolkMetal #Febrer2025 #Itàlia #NouSingle #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

Aquí unas imágenes del #makingof
del videoclip #Epona

Vídeoclip completo: https://youtu.be/wlsBUTHdRy0

#leyendarian #leyendärian #music #celticrock #folkmetal #laforjadeunaleyenda #videoclip #musica

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

https://youtu.be/rl47P3O8ovc?si=R5oHLtRlo933Z84K

La meva #CançóDelDia per al divendres 16 d'agost és aquesta dels #Tanzwut #Berlín #FolkMetal #MètalIndustrial #Medieval 🫥!