#folkmetal — Public Fediverse posts

Wake up!! its weekend ... wacken make some noise! 🤘🏽

🎵 Eluveitie - Deathwalker - Live at Wacken Open Air 2019 🎵

:youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7WJdkdkwso

#music #livemusic #wacken #metal #eluveitie #FolkMetal #CelticMetal #MelodicDeathMetal #CelticFolk #CelticMusic #DeathMetal #PaganMetal #Metal #FolkMusic #EuropeanMetal #MetalMusic #Celtic #Gaulish #FolkDeathMetal

Wake up!! its weekend ... wacken make some noise! 🤘🏽

🎵 Eluveitie - Deathwalker - Live at Wacken Open Air 2019 🎵

:youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7WJdkdkwso

#music #livemusic #wacken #metal #eluveitie #FolkMetal #CelticMetal #MelodicDeathMetal #CelticFolk #CelticMusic #DeathMetal #PaganMetal #Metal #FolkMusic #EuropeanMetal #MetalMusic #Celtic #Gaulish #FolkDeathMetal

Wake up!! its weekend ... wacken make some noise! 🤘🏽

🎵 Eluveitie - Deathwalker - Live at Wacken Open Air 2019 🎵

:youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7WJdkdkwso

#music #livemusic #wacken #metal #eluveitie #FolkMetal #CelticMetal #MelodicDeathMetal #CelticFolk #CelticMusic #DeathMetal #PaganMetal #Metal #FolkMusic #EuropeanMetal #MetalMusic #Celtic #Gaulish #FolkDeathMetal

Wake up!! its weekend ... wacken make some noise! 🤘🏽

🎵 Eluveitie - Deathwalker - Live at Wacken Open Air 2019 🎵

:youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7WJdkdkwso

#music #livemusic #wacken #metal #eluveitie #FolkMetal #CelticMetal #MelodicDeathMetal #CelticFolk #CelticMusic #DeathMetal #PaganMetal #Metal #FolkMusic #EuropeanMetal #MetalMusic #Celtic #Gaulish #FolkDeathMetal

Wake up!! its weekend ... wacken make some noise! 🤘🏽

🎵 Eluveitie - Deathwalker - Live at Wacken Open Air 2019 🎵

:youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7WJdkdkwso

#music #livemusic #wacken #metal #eluveitie #FolkMetal #CelticMetal #MelodicDeathMetal #CelticFolk #CelticMusic #DeathMetal #PaganMetal #Metal #FolkMusic #EuropeanMetal #MetalMusic #Celtic #Gaulish #FolkDeathMetal

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

One of the things I enjoy most about folk metal is that I never know exactly what I’m going to hear until I press play. This is, of course, due to the fact that folk music in general varies so widely depending on the region from which it originates. Hyver, who runs the label Antiq Records in France, has been crafting medieval-style folk/black metal under various musical projects for some time now. Twelve found plenty to praise in 2021’s Au Fleuve de Loire, notwithstanding its patchwork nature. The latest collection of Hanternoz songs is each about a different type of devil from Breton folklore. From what I can gather, A Hed an Noz, a Noz, a Noz loosely translates as “At Night, At Night, At Night” in Breton. Does this album go bump in the night or does it fall with a flat thud?

A Hed an Noz should sound familiar to those who have heard Hyver’s other work. The bread and butter is still the heroic trem-picked guitars and gallant drumming that one can also hear from Véhémence or (to a lesser extent) Grylle. Hyver’s vocals are as chameleonic as ever, adopting many different shades of demonic rasps, growls, and groans that embody the album’s theme. This diversity in vocal styles is fortunate because the diversity of instrumentation has greatly diminished. This time, Hanternoz mostly takes the Cnoc An Tursa approach of examining folk music through a metal lens without much in the way of actual folk instruments, which are sequestered to the lone instrumental interlude “Pe trouz War an Douar.”

The fact that the bag of tricks from which Hanternoz draws is much smaller ends up holding back A Hed an Noz. It’s a sizable step backward from Au Fleuve de Loire, where the folk music and synths were woven directly into the black metal in a more energetic and dynamic fashion. Hanternoz may have taken to heart Twelve’s prior observation of the compositions feeling stitched together because A Hed an Noz is certainly more cohesive, but at the cost of much of its zeal. To be fair, this is not an issue across the board. Most notably, “La Lessive des Trépassés” is punchy and to the point, with Joanna Maeyens’1 guest vocals overlapping enchantingly with the predominant growls. The production of A Hed an Noz is nice and crisp, especially with regard to the bass mixing, which greatly enriches the guitar lines (“La Peste à Limoges,” “Quand j’ai tué le Roi de la Forêt”).

Yet, these promising core elements of A Hed an Noz are undermined by an overreliance on repetition. Opener “Sur le Chemin des fées” is somehow galloping and plodding at the same time, the triumphant guitars becoming muted as they build up again and again towards a payoff that never comes after nearly 12 minutes. Closing track “Quand j’ai tué le Roi de la Forêt” gets stuck in a mid-paced rut, resulting in a more lethargic sensation than should be warranted given the valiant guitar leads. The long-form songwriting in “La Peste à Limoges” fares better, centered around an infectious, bouncy groove which gets my head bobbing, though the midsection is a tad protracted and disjointed. The charismatic vocal delivery helps but isn’t enough to overcome the fact that no song on A Hed an Noz is justified in being over 6 minutes long, yet most of them are.

Ultimately, A Hed an Noz left less and less of an impression on me the more time I spent with it. The delightful unpredictability from Au Fleuve de Loire is simply not present here. I am left puzzled as to why Hanternoz decided to discard the majority of the toolkit that served them well in the past. There is a fair amount of decent material here that would have done better without as much padding, and it’s worth a listen by anyone who enjoys Hyver’s take on medieval black metal. Just expect less medieval and more monotony this time around.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Antiq Records
Websites: antiqofficial.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/people/Hanternoz-Pagan-de-Bretagne
Releases Worldwide: August 3rd, 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

https://www.europesays.com/ie/640576/ Dymna Lotva – Vyraj Review #2026 #35 #Aug26 #BelarusianMetal #BlackMetal #DymnaLotva #Éire #Entertainment #FolkMetal #IE #Ireland #Music #PostBlackMetal #PostMetal #ProphecyProductions #Review #Reviews #Vyraj

The power of storytelling is well-known to Belarusian post-black outcasts Dymna Lotva. Their previous album, The Land Under the Black Wings: Blood, progressed that series through tragic true and folkloric tales, its overt tragedy in this sense bringing the real devastation wracking their native and settled home countries.1 Vyraj sees Dymna Lotva continue to communicate with stories. Taking its name from the Slavic mythological realm to which both migrating birds and the souls of the dead travel, there’s an explicit parallel with the members’ own emigration as well as themes of personal journey, life, and death. But there’s always been more to Dymna Lotva’s music than their symbolically powerful concepts, and Vyraj makes no exception.

Dymna Lotva already had somewhat of a winning formula in a uniquely executed blend of black, folk, and post-metal. They evolve anyway, bringing in and emphasising further an electronic side that ranges from shimmering, chimelike keys to soft symphonics. It’s never enough to overshadow the metallic and, at its best, amplifies the (melo)drama of the climaxes and adds more layers to the band’s nuanced and emotional sound. This new direction brings with it something of the anthemic, with songs reprising uplifting melodies, stepping into steady sways, and being narrated more often by a duet, if not a chorus of voices.2 Leading those voices is the force of nature Katsiaryna Mankevich, who once again absolutely kills it with her wrenching screams and solemn classical cleans. The music is more direct, due to all the above as well as a comparatively shorter runtime, with fewer tracks, each of which references the others through recurring motifs.

Vyraj condenses and concentrates Dymna Lotva’s characteristic potency and poignancy, which this time are tinged a touch more with the blush of hope than the blackness of rage. The urgent, cascading melodies ring with a thrilling solidarity (“Zory,” “Viedźmieragina,” “Ustań Za Mianie”) and the mournful soaring solos with bittersweet sadness (“Niama Darohi,” “Return my Coffin Home”). The highlight here, and also the crowning jewel of the album, is the centrepiece “Niama Darohi,” which practically hums with longing for freedom. It’s in these places that the new electronic elements work the most magic, spinning glittering counter-melodies or supporting the climax with subtle strings and fluttering keys. The atmosphere they bring is deepened by the way Dymna Lotva use the dynamics of rhythm and intensity to deepen their compositions and make them still more compelling. Variously whispered, spoken, rasped, screamed lines circulate spells amidst shifting tempos (“Veha,” “Viedźmieragina,” “Niama Darohi”); sung and screamed male and female voices call and respond and join together (“The Boat of Despair,” “Ustań Za Mianie,” “Return my Coffin Home”); and both the graceful lull of cleans and the vicious snarls of harsh vocals move in synchronisation with those of the lead guitars. This also serves to bring the fierceness into sharper focus, through emphasis and contrast alone, or the dramatic turn from this graceful tension into a building explosion of passion and electricity (“Zory,” “Veha,” “Viedźmieragina”).

All of Vyraj has a somewhat magical aura, thanks to the use of (children’s) group vocals and xylophone-esque chimes and ambience amidst the savage or sombre. At its most vibrant, it sings with so much feeling that I long desperately for a lyric sheet and the ability to speak the language(s) these songs are written in.3 The brightness of these highs also obscures the comparative dimness of the lows, where that fire seems to be missing, and mellowness and ambience win out (“The Boat of Despair,” “Bu Samoje”). This is some feat considering the fact that the overall production seems tailored to the increased electronic emphasis, which presses the beautiful layers together, and so the very aspects that lend Vyraj some new magic also weaken that magic’s power. Just a bit more space would do wonders.

But Dymna Lotva are not ones to fade into the background. They care about their stories and delivering them in a way that forces you to listen. Despite any unevenness, Vyraj has an intangible specialness to it that irresistibly pulls the listener back. This is a lovely, sad, empowering piece of art that deserves more than the length of its runtime to weave its world around you.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: August 7th, 2026

The power of storytelling is well-known to Belarusian post-black outcasts Dymna Lotva. Their previous album, The Land Under the Black Wings: Blood, progressed that series through tragic true and folkloric tales, its overt tragedy in this sense bringing the real devastation wracking their native and settled home countries.1 Vyraj sees Dymna Lotva continue to communicate with stories. Taking its name from the Slavic mythological realm to which both migrating birds and the souls of the dead travel, there’s an explicit parallel with the members’ own emigration as well as themes of personal journey, life, and death. But there’s always been more to Dymna Lotva’s music than their symbolically powerful concepts, and Vyraj makes no exception.

Dymna Lotva already had somewhat of a winning formula in a uniquely executed blend of black, folk, and post-metal. They evolve anyway, bringing in and emphasising further an electronic side that ranges from shimmering, chimelike keys to soft symphonics. It’s never enough to overshadow the metallic and, at its best, amplifies the (melo)drama of the climaxes and adds more layers to the band’s nuanced and emotional sound. This new direction brings with it something of the anthemic, with songs reprising uplifting melodies, stepping into steady sways, and being narrated more often by a duet, if not a chorus of voices.2 Leading those voices is the force of nature Katsiaryna Mankevich, who once again absolutely kills it with her wrenching screams and solemn classical cleans. The music is more direct, due to all the above as well as a comparatively shorter runtime, with fewer tracks, each of which references the others through recurring motifs.

Vyraj condenses and concentrates Dymna Lotva’s characteristic potency and poignancy, which this time are tinged a touch more with the blush of hope than the blackness of rage. The urgent, cascading melodies ring with a thrilling solidarity (“Zory,” “Viedźmieragina,” “Ustań Za Mianie”) and the mournful soaring solos with bittersweet sadness (“Niama Darohi,” “Return my Coffin Home”). The highlight here, and also the crowning jewel of the album, is the centrepiece “Niama Darohi,” which practically hums with longing for freedom. It’s in these places that the new electronic elements work the most magic, spinning glittering counter-melodies or supporting the climax with subtle strings and fluttering keys. The atmosphere they bring is deepened by the way Dymna Lotva use the dynamics of rhythm and intensity to deepen their compositions and make them still more compelling. Variously whispered, spoken, rasped, screamed lines circulate spells amidst shifting tempos (“Veha,” “Viedźmieragina,” “Niama Darohi”); sung and screamed male and female voices call and respond and join together (“The Boat of Despair,” “Ustań Za Mianie,” “Return my Coffin Home”); and both the graceful lull of cleans and the vicious snarls of harsh vocals move in synchronisation with those of the lead guitars. This also serves to bring the fierceness into sharper focus, through emphasis and contrast alone, or the dramatic turn from this graceful tension into a building explosion of passion and electricity (“Zory,” “Veha,” “Viedźmieragina”).

All of Vyraj has a somewhat magical aura, thanks to the use of (children’s) group vocals and xylophone-esque chimes and ambience amidst the savage or sombre. At its most vibrant, it sings with so much feeling that I long desperately for a lyric sheet and the ability to speak the language(s) these songs are written in.3 The brightness of these highs also obscures the comparative dimness of the lows, where that fire seems to be missing, and mellowness and ambience win out (“The Boat of Despair,” “Bu Samoje”). This is some feat considering the fact that the overall production seems tailored to the increased electronic emphasis, which presses the beautiful layers together, and so the very aspects that lend Vyraj some new magic also weaken that magic’s power. Just a bit more space would do wonders.

But Dymna Lotva are not ones to fade into the background. They care about their stories and delivering them in a way that forces you to listen. Despite any unevenness, Vyraj has an intangible specialness to it that irresistibly pulls the listener back. This is a lovely, sad, empowering piece of art that deserves more than the length of its runtime to weave its world around you.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: August 7th, 2026

The power of storytelling is well-known to Belarusian post-black outcasts Dymna Lotva. Their previous album, The Land Under the Black Wings: Blood, progressed that series through tragic true and folkloric tales, its overt tragedy in this sense bringing the real devastation wracking their native and settled home countries.1 Vyraj sees Dymna Lotva continue to communicate with stories. Taking its name from the Slavic mythological realm to which both migrating birds and the souls of the dead travel, there’s an explicit parallel with the members’ own emigration as well as themes of personal journey, life, and death. But there’s always been more to Dymna Lotva’s music than their symbolically powerful concepts, and Vyraj makes no exception.

Dymna Lotva already had somewhat of a winning formula in a uniquely executed blend of black, folk, and post-metal. They evolve anyway, bringing in and emphasising further an electronic side that ranges from shimmering, chimelike keys to soft symphonics. It’s never enough to overshadow the metallic and, at its best, amplifies the (melo)drama of the climaxes and adds more layers to the band’s nuanced and emotional sound. This new direction brings with it something of the anthemic, with songs reprising uplifting melodies, stepping into steady sways, and being narrated more often by a duet, if not a chorus of voices.2 Leading those voices is the force of nature Katsiaryna Mankevich, who once again absolutely kills it with her wrenching screams and solemn classical cleans. The music is more direct, due to all the above as well as a comparatively shorter runtime, with fewer tracks, each of which references the others through recurring motifs.

Vyraj condenses and concentrates Dymna Lotva’s characteristic potency and poignancy, which this time are tinged a touch more with the blush of hope than the blackness of rage. The urgent, cascading melodies ring with a thrilling solidarity (“Zory,” “Viedźmieragina,” “Ustań Za Mianie”) and the mournful soaring solos with bittersweet sadness (“Niama Darohi,” “Return my Coffin Home”). The highlight here, and also the crowning jewel of the album, is the centrepiece “Niama Darohi,” which practically hums with longing for freedom. It’s in these places that the new electronic elements work the most magic, spinning glittering counter-melodies or supporting the climax with subtle strings and fluttering keys. The atmosphere they bring is deepened by the way Dymna Lotva use the dynamics of rhythm and intensity to deepen their compositions and make them still more compelling. Variously whispered, spoken, rasped, screamed lines circulate spells amidst shifting tempos (“Veha,” “Viedźmieragina,” “Niama Darohi”); sung and screamed male and female voices call and respond and join together (“The Boat of Despair,” “Ustań Za Mianie,” “Return my Coffin Home”); and both the graceful lull of cleans and the vicious snarls of harsh vocals move in synchronisation with those of the lead guitars. This also serves to bring the fierceness into sharper focus, through emphasis and contrast alone, or the dramatic turn from this graceful tension into a building explosion of passion and electricity (“Zory,” “Veha,” “Viedźmieragina”).

All of Vyraj has a somewhat magical aura, thanks to the use of (children’s) group vocals and xylophone-esque chimes and ambience amidst the savage or sombre. At its most vibrant, it sings with so much feeling that I long desperately for a lyric sheet and the ability to speak the language(s) these songs are written in.3 The brightness of these highs also obscures the comparative dimness of the lows, where that fire seems to be missing, and mellowness and ambience win out (“The Boat of Despair,” “Bu Samoje”). This is some feat considering the fact that the overall production seems tailored to the increased electronic emphasis, which presses the beautiful layers together, and so the very aspects that lend Vyraj some new magic also weaken that magic’s power. Just a bit more space would do wonders.

But Dymna Lotva are not ones to fade into the background. They care about their stories and delivering them in a way that forces you to listen. Despite any unevenness, Vyraj has an intangible specialness to it that irresistibly pulls the listener back. This is a lovely, sad, empowering piece of art that deserves more than the length of its runtime to weave its world around you.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: August 7th, 2026

The power of storytelling is well-known to Belarusian post-black outcasts Dymna Lotva. Their previous album, The Land Under the Black Wings: Blood, progressed that series through tragic true and folkloric tales, its overt tragedy in this sense bringing the real devastation wracking their native and settled home countries.1 Vyraj sees Dymna Lotva continue to communicate with stories. Taking its name from the Slavic mythological realm to which both migrating birds and the souls of the dead travel, there’s an explicit parallel with the members’ own emigration as well as themes of personal journey, life, and death. But there’s always been more to Dymna Lotva’s music than their symbolically powerful concepts, and Vyraj makes no exception.

Dymna Lotva already had somewhat of a winning formula in a uniquely executed blend of black, folk, and post-metal. They evolve anyway, bringing in and emphasising further an electronic side that ranges from shimmering, chimelike keys to soft symphonics. It’s never enough to overshadow the metallic and, at its best, amplifies the (melo)drama of the climaxes and adds more layers to the band’s nuanced and emotional sound. This new direction brings with it something of the anthemic, with songs reprising uplifting melodies, stepping into steady sways, and being narrated more often by a duet, if not a chorus of voices.2 Leading those voices is the force of nature Katsiaryna Mankevich, who once again absolutely kills it with her wrenching screams and solemn classical cleans. The music is more direct, due to all the above as well as a comparatively shorter runtime, with fewer tracks, each of which references the others through recurring motifs.

Vyraj condenses and concentrates Dymna Lotva’s characteristic potency and poignancy, which this time are tinged a touch more with the blush of hope than the blackness of rage. The urgent, cascading melodies ring with a thrilling solidarity (“Zory,” “Viedźmieragina,” “Ustań Za Mianie”) and the mournful soaring solos with bittersweet sadness (“Niama Darohi,” “Return my Coffin Home”). The highlight here, and also the crowning jewel of the album, is the centrepiece “Niama Darohi,” which practically hums with longing for freedom. It’s in these places that the new electronic elements work the most magic, spinning glittering counter-melodies or supporting the climax with subtle strings and fluttering keys. The atmosphere they bring is deepened by the way Dymna Lotva use the dynamics of rhythm and intensity to deepen their compositions and make them still more compelling. Variously whispered, spoken, rasped, screamed lines circulate spells amidst shifting tempos (“Veha,” “Viedźmieragina,” “Niama Darohi”); sung and screamed male and female voices call and respond and join together (“The Boat of Despair,” “Ustań Za Mianie,” “Return my Coffin Home”); and both the graceful lull of cleans and the vicious snarls of harsh vocals move in synchronisation with those of the lead guitars. This also serves to bring the fierceness into sharper focus, through emphasis and contrast alone, or the dramatic turn from this graceful tension into a building explosion of passion and electricity (“Zory,” “Veha,” “Viedźmieragina”).

All of Vyraj has a somewhat magical aura, thanks to the use of (children’s) group vocals and xylophone-esque chimes and ambience amidst the savage or sombre. At its most vibrant, it sings with so much feeling that I long desperately for a lyric sheet and the ability to speak the language(s) these songs are written in.3 The brightness of these highs also obscures the comparative dimness of the lows, where that fire seems to be missing, and mellowness and ambience win out (“The Boat of Despair,” “Bu Samoje”). This is some feat considering the fact that the overall production seems tailored to the increased electronic emphasis, which presses the beautiful layers together, and so the very aspects that lend Vyraj some new magic also weaken that magic’s power. Just a bit more space would do wonders.

But Dymna Lotva are not ones to fade into the background. They care about their stories and delivering them in a way that forces you to listen. Despite any unevenness, Vyraj has an intangible specialness to it that irresistibly pulls the listener back. This is a lovely, sad, empowering piece of art that deserves more than the length of its runtime to weave its world around you.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: August 7th, 2026

The power of storytelling is well-known to Belarusian post-black outcasts Dymna Lotva. Their previous album, The Land Under the Black Wings: Blood, progressed that series through tragic true and folkloric tales, its overt tragedy in this sense bringing the real devastation wracking their native and settled home countries.1 Vyraj sees Dymna Lotva continue to communicate with stories. Taking its name from the Slavic mythological realm to which both migrating birds and the souls of the dead travel, there’s an explicit parallel with the members’ own emigration as well as themes of personal journey, life, and death. But there’s always been more to Dymna Lotva’s music than their symbolically powerful concepts, and Vyraj makes no exception.

Dymna Lotva already had somewhat of a winning formula in a uniquely executed blend of black, folk, and post-metal. They evolve anyway, bringing in and emphasising further an electronic side that ranges from shimmering, chimelike keys to soft symphonics. It’s never enough to overshadow the metallic and, at its best, amplifies the (melo)drama of the climaxes and adds more layers to the band’s nuanced and emotional sound. This new direction brings with it something of the anthemic, with songs reprising uplifting melodies, stepping into steady sways, and being narrated more often by a duet, if not a chorus of voices.2 Leading those voices is the force of nature Katsiaryna Mankevich, who once again absolutely kills it with her wrenching screams and solemn classical cleans. The music is more direct, due to all the above as well as a comparatively shorter runtime, with fewer tracks, each of which references the others through recurring motifs.

Vyraj condenses and concentrates Dymna Lotva’s characteristic potency and poignancy, which this time are tinged a touch more with the blush of hope than the blackness of rage. The urgent, cascading melodies ring with a thrilling solidarity (“Zory,” “Viedźmieragina,” “Ustań Za Mianie”) and the mournful soaring solos with bittersweet sadness (“Niama Darohi,” “Return my Coffin Home”). The highlight here, and also the crowning jewel of the album, is the centrepiece “Niama Darohi,” which practically hums with longing for freedom. It’s in these places that the new electronic elements work the most magic, spinning glittering counter-melodies or supporting the climax with subtle strings and fluttering keys. The atmosphere they bring is deepened by the way Dymna Lotva use the dynamics of rhythm and intensity to deepen their compositions and make them still more compelling. Variously whispered, spoken, rasped, screamed lines circulate spells amidst shifting tempos (“Veha,” “Viedźmieragina,” “Niama Darohi”); sung and screamed male and female voices call and respond and join together (“The Boat of Despair,” “Ustań Za Mianie,” “Return my Coffin Home”); and both the graceful lull of cleans and the vicious snarls of harsh vocals move in synchronisation with those of the lead guitars. This also serves to bring the fierceness into sharper focus, through emphasis and contrast alone, or the dramatic turn from this graceful tension into a building explosion of passion and electricity (“Zory,” “Veha,” “Viedźmieragina”).

All of Vyraj has a somewhat magical aura, thanks to the use of (children’s) group vocals and xylophone-esque chimes and ambience amidst the savage or sombre. At its most vibrant, it sings with so much feeling that I long desperately for a lyric sheet and the ability to speak the language(s) these songs are written in.3 The brightness of these highs also obscures the comparative dimness of the lows, where that fire seems to be missing, and mellowness and ambience win out (“The Boat of Despair,” “Bu Samoje”). This is some feat considering the fact that the overall production seems tailored to the increased electronic emphasis, which presses the beautiful layers together, and so the very aspects that lend Vyraj some new magic also weaken that magic’s power. Just a bit more space would do wonders.

But Dymna Lotva are not ones to fade into the background. They care about their stories and delivering them in a way that forces you to listen. Despite any unevenness, Vyraj has an intangible specialness to it that irresistibly pulls the listener back. This is a lovely, sad, empowering piece of art that deserves more than the length of its runtime to weave its world around you.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: August 7th, 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

Four-and-a-half years after releasing debut T.S.N.R.I. – Impermanenza, Italian atmospheric folk/black outfit Duir returns with sophomore full-length Catarsi. Drawing similarities to Saor, Autrest, and Mossgiver, Duir plays a blend of black and folk metal rooted in evocative instrumentation—specifically the Irish flute, hurdy-gurdy, and bagpipes. Italian for ‘Catharsis,’ Catarsi tells the story of a World War I soldier caught at a crossroads of emotional turmoil and relays the narrative through six tracks totaling forty-seven minutes. Without a lyrics sheet or story details, I can’t comment on the tale itself, yet I admit it establishes a poignant backdrop for atmospheric metal. It’s evident that Duir possesses the skills and imagination to pull it off, but does Catarsi succeed in doing so.

What I enjoy best about Catarsi is Duir’s ability to construct rich layers of music overflowing with vivid textures. Their soundstage feels inhabited and natural, with folk instruments complementing the traditional juncture of guitars and drums. The resulting fusion entices with an understated beauty I heavily associate with folk-informed metal, allowing Duir to forge a path parallel to black metal while developing distinct aural tones besides. Compared to Impermanenza, Catarsi experiments with fewer components, focusing on a narrower scope of sounds and tempos. This allows Duir to fully explore their chosen milieu for the story they’re telling, though it also limits the paths Catarsi can take.

While the instrumentation skews Gaelic and Duir hails from Italy, Catarsi predominantly sounds regionally agnostic,1 imparting an ambiguous rustic charm to the music. Catarsi swells with sumptuous folds as TZ supplies Irish flute and hurdy-gurdy, instilling wonderfully welcome supplements to the tremolos and mournful keening (“Della notte”) of guitarists MK and Skryer. Ever propelling the action forward, drummer P wields a deft touch as he unleashes fierce rolls (“Di nessuno”) and restrained timekeeping (“Manifesto”) in equal measure. Vocalist Vox in Umbra delivers a vicious performance as well, scouring eardrums with his heart-rending rasps (“Manifesto,” “Oltre l’alba”). And though I’m a sucker for punchy bass performances, Duir neither has nor needs any on Catarsi.2 In all, the folk instruments supply ample counterpoints that engender the variety and depth that well-written bass lines typically apply to augment guitars and drums, begetting a well-balanced sonic spread on Catarsi.

I can’t deny that Duir’s performances here are genuinely stunning, yet as a whole, it leaves little impression once concluded. Most of this I attribute to the pervasive homogeneity across the album. Songs are winsome from moment to moment, but leave me with few anchor points to differentiate them. The guitars mostly trem-pick in steady rhythms or drop into passive, melancholic refrains, limiting Duir to only a couple modes of play. And although the flute and hurdy-gurdy bring an extra dimension to proceedings, making them more of a melodic centerpiece would have gone further than utilizing them as accents and flourishes. To be fair, I suspect I’m missing a key component by knowing there’s a story to Catarsi while being ignorant of the details, yet I wish Duir employed more obvious contrasts between the tracks. T.S.N.R.I. – Impermanenza better separated themes and motifs, and while Catarsi’s compositions are more mature, stronger song identities could have reduced the perception of uniformity. Still, Duir prevails on other fronts. The DR score of 8 strongly supports the complexity of their arrangements, and L.G.’s3 guest vocals on “Impeto” yield a clever change-of-pace midway through the album.

Though some flaws hold Catarsi back, Duir can clearly craft absorbing metal. It’s impossible to deny the allure of their music, and any song in isolation sells the vision of Duir’s niche in black metal. All told, though, I struggle to discern the nuances within Catarsi’s design, and without mile markers to segregate passages, its songs can easily slip into the background rather than demanding attention. Even so, Catarsi offers plenty of redeeming moments, and I expect other fans of this style may find more to love than I did.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: AOP Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 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.

Skyclad’s album “Folkemon” is (even) better than I remembered it as. Clever, witty and angry - it is fairly typical of how I think of the the band.

#Skyclad #Folkemon #FolkMetal #Metal #Music

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

If these Danes had their way, the entrance to Valhalla would greet the deceased with the sounds of bagpipes, tin whistles, violins, and, of course, your standard heavy metal instruments. Vansind has been marrying Viking metal with folk instruments since 2019. While it took them four years to release their debut, Mørket, they released singles and an EP in trickles while showing off their stuff live. Now, 2026 sees them return with a vengeance on Hævnen. I mean that semantically rather than literally—hævnen is the Danish word for revenge, and Vansind seeks to explore “themes of revenge, betrayal, freedom, and sacrifice.”1 So put on your best Viking garb and pour yourself a heaping cup of mead as we check out what these Danes have to offer.

Take the melodic death metal of Amon Amarth and mix it with the energetic folk of Finntroll, and you’ve got a good base for Vansind. Despite the darker subject matter at hand, Hævnen is a much more upbeat sort of Viking metal than the likes of Bathory or Thyrfing—in fact, it’s much closer in style to symphonic power metal. Songs follow formulaic structures with catchy choruses and tons of hooks. Vansind has a little Coronatus in them, and their blend of beauty and beast style vocalists bears comparisons to Epica. J. Asgaard takes on the role of the beast, with death growls reminiscent of Amon Amarth’s Johann Hegg, and he allows enough melody to permeate his performance to create a compelling presence. Line Burglin, as Asgaard’s foil, has an uplifting, folky lilt and practically steals the show. Just listening to her part on the showstopping opener “Det Største Offer,” as she accompanies an inspired tin whistle, is pure bliss. Then on “Alvild,” while Asgaard’s growls portend darkness, Burglin’s catchy chorus transports you to a happier place. When Hævnen ends on the lower energy “Skæbnens Tunge Vej,” it’s thanks to her that the track doesn’t feel out of place.

Due to their adherence to unique folk instruments, Vansind has a distinct sound. And boy do they have hooks: guitar hooks, bagpipe hooks, tin whistle hooks, vocal hooks, right hooks, left—whoops! Wrong sport. The promo credits Rikke Klint Johansen with the bulk of the folk stuff, namely bagpipes, tin whistles, and keyboards. She does a commendable job of making those instruments some of the most memorable parts on Hævnen. The whistle in particular, plays a surprisingly prominent role. Along with the opening song, Johansen performs some catchy whistle parts on “Blodhævn” and “Det Sidste Nådeskys.” She’s also excellent on the bagpipes, with some great moments on “Alvild,” “I Yggdrasils Skygge,” and the finale.2 And, of course, the heavy metal parts are no slouch either. Danni Jelsgaard’s work on the kit provides a huge boost of energy that never wavers until the final tune. Kirk Backarach and Nikolaj Madsen both play some enjoyable melodic leads (“Det Største Offer,” “Blodhævn,” “Truslen Fra Dybet”) and a nice solo on “Alvild.” Instrumentally, there’s no weak link.

Though tons of fun, Hævnen lacks the edge and daring to really push it into great territory. One issue is Asgaard’s vocals. While overall an enjoyable performance, they feel too polished, monotonous, and lacking in power. Some extra volume and depth from his growls would have helped the tracks carry more weight, but either Asgaard or the mixing falls short. While the formulaic nature of the music serves to highlight the hooks, it also means Vansind plays things a little too safe. Some might also take issue with the song lengths, which mostly run at 5+ minutes. “Det Største Offer,” for example, is the longest at nine minutes, but I personally never felt bothered by this. When the hooks are as great as they are here, it’s tough to complain about repetitive formulas or songs running a little longer than usual.

Vansind have put out an incredibly fun piece of folk metal. “Det Største Offer” currently sits atop my song o’ the year list, and it’s going to be a tough one to top. While the rest of Hævnen doesn’t quite reach the lofty heights of that opener, there are plenty of other bangers throughout. This fun sophomore outing instills lots of hope for what Vansind can offer in the future. While the halls of Valhalla promise plenty of ecstasies for warriors slain in battle, Hævnen serves as an adequate substitute for the rest of us, especially alongside a generous helping of mead.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Mighty Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 1st, 2026

Somehow, Këkht Aräkh is one of the most popular black metal artists in the game right now. Since the release of sophomore album Pale Swordsman in 2021, the solo project of one Crying Orc (Dimitry Marchenko) has garnered serious momentum outside of the typical metal fandom with its melody-forward, “romantic” black metal sound. That record showcased a solid and surprisingly listenable, DSBM-informed, almost folksy take on classic ’90s blackened tropes, but more importantly, it felt emotionally honest without being cheesy. With album art like that, heartfelt, sadboy lyrics about love and isolation, and a raw, tape-inspired sonic landscape, it was an impressive achievement that the earnest pathos of Pale Swordsman managed to eclipse the potential corpse-paint cringe. Five years later, with a memetic cover referencing an infamous, dorky Varg photo and a string of singles that seem equally indebted to modern cloud rap and black metal, one can’t help but wonder whether Morning Star has tipped the delicate balance between sincerity and self-parody. As a cloud rap enjoyer and black metal nerd, I might be the only staff member not to laugh this latest Këkht Aräkh out of the schoolyard. Is this long-anticipated follow-up actually worth the wait?

On Morning Star, Crying Orc hasn’t lost his ear for blackened melody that made earlier Këkht Aräkh material engaging; he’s just found new ways to package it. Tracks like opener “Wänderer” take the familiar black metal elements, but re-purpose them to mimic the patterns of hazy SoundCloud beats. The central bedroom guitar motif operates on a two-bar loop, with layers of distorted tremolos added and stripped back across verses and hooks like a hip-hop producer might use synths. A warm, syncopated bass supplies rhythmic variation as the drums blastbeat away. Crying Orc shifts between shrieks and whispers, both delivered in a clipped, almost percussive flow, peppered with ad-libs. This formula is surprisingly effective and allows the layers of haunting melodies to shine alongside more straightforward 2nd-wave riffing (“Castle,” “Land av evig natt II”) or with a greater emphasis on sung vocal lines (“Mörker över mörker,” “Gates”). Bladee himself even appears on “Eternal Martyr” to lend his signature autotuned anti-charisma to an earworm hook, resulting in a genuine blackened banger. The cloud rap influence pans out better than I could’ve expected and leads to several highlights across the tracklist.

Of course, this is only one side of the Këkht Aräkh coin, as many of the songs on Morning Star forgo black metal altogether in favor of indie-tinged folk ballads. “Genom sorgen,” “Drömsång” and “Trollsång” are composed of minimalistic clean guitars, subtle synth layers, and softly sung vocals. These tracks are serviceable and understandable in the context of a longer album, but they lack the sense of progression and movement that makes the black metal material enjoyable. Crying Orc’s singing has an amateur charm that conveys a sorrowful gravitas when deployed, and it’s often pleasant in short bursts, but many of the softer moments fail to capitalize on it for maximum effect—and they make up a significant portion of the album. Even outside of the dedicated slower tracks, songs like “Lament,” “Raven King” and “Vigil” bookend their runtimes with extended minimalism that does little to further the greater piece. The title track “Morning Star” is an exception to this rule: led by a mournful string melody, it expands and contrasts brilliantly, whereas the others remain static.

One area where Këkht Aräkh should have diverged from his rap peers is in Morning Star’s bloated tracklist of 17 songs. With each track firmly in the 2-3 minute range, many feel like half-finished ideas that end abruptly before anything interesting happens. As a result, the more engaging black metal tracks lose some of their power when they’re buried next to underwhelming ballads. This ends up emphasizing an ephemeral “vibe” as the record’s strongest trait rather than any individual track. A combination of the lo-fi, tape-inspired soundscape and the persistent melancholic melodies makes Morning Star a very easy album to throw on and just bathe in its atmosphere. The whole thing exudes a pervasive sense of emotional honesty that’s enticing. It’s a record that sounds amazing on a car ride or in the background, when conjuring a certain mood, but falls a bit short upon closer inspection.

Morning Star is a difficult record to evaluate. There’s a lot here to like, from the shockingly adept integration of cloud rap elements to the enticing layered melodies and lo-fi production, but these strengths are ultimately undercut by an overstuffed tracklist and songs that fail to develop. In a certain light, this could be a strength for listeners who prioritize musical “vibes” over substance, but to this metalhead, it comes across as underbaked.



Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Sacred Bones
Websites: kekhtarakh.bandcamp.com | Instagram.com/kekht_arakh
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

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Brutal cold envelops the building as my minions scrape through ice and filthy slush to find even the smallest shard of metallic glimmer. With extensive budget cuts demanded by my exorbitant bonus schedule—as is my right as CEO of this filtration service—there was no room to purchase adequate gear and equipment for these harsher weathers. However, I did take up crocheting recently so each of my “employees” received a nice soft hat.

Hopefully, that will be enough to tide them over until the inclement weather passes and we return to normal temps. Until then, they have these rare finds to keep them warm, and so do you! REJOICE!

Kenstrosity’s Knightly Nightmare

AngelMaker // This Used to Be Heaven [November 20th, 2025 – Self Released]

I’ve been a fan of AngelMaker’s since their 2015 debut Dissentient. The grossly underrated and underappreciated Vancouver septet are a highly specialized deathcore infantry, with their lineup expanding steadily over their career in concert with their ever-increasing songwriting sophistication. Unlike the brutish and belligerent debut and follow-up AngelMaker, 2022’s Sanctum and new outing This Used to Be Heaven indulge in rich layering, near-neoclassical melodies, and dramatic atmosphere to complement AngelMaker’s trademark sense of swaggering groove. With early entries “Rich in Anguish” and “Haunter” establishing the strength of both sides of their sound, it always surprises me how AngelMaker successfully twist and gnarl their sound into shapes—whether it be hardcore, blackened, or melodic—I wasn’t anticipating (“Silken Hands,” “Relinquished,” “Nothing Left”). A rock-solid back half launched by the epic “The Omen” two-part suite brings these deviations from the expected into unity with the deathcore foundation I know AngelMaker so well for (“Malevolence Reigns,” “Altare Mortis”), and in doing so secure their status as one of the most reliably creative deathcore acts in the scene. Nothing here is going to change the minds of the fiercer deathcore detractors, but if your heart is open even just a crack, there’s a good chance This Used to Be Heaven will force themselves into it, if not entirely rip the whole thing asunder. My advice is simply to let it.

This Used To Be Heaven by AngelMaker

ClarkKent’s Sonic Symphonics

Brainblast // Colossus Suprema [November 11th, 2025 – Vmbrella]

A debut album five years in the making from a band formed in 2015, Colossus Suprema is the brainchild of Bogotá, Colombia’s Edd Jiménez. Jiménez turned his passion for and training in classical composition towards his symphonic progressive act, Brainblast. With Bach as an inspiration, Brainblast’s brand of technical death metal has the grandeur of Fleshgod Apocalypse, the speed of Archspire, and the virtuosity of concert musicians. Jiménez’s classical training shows — the compositions have an orchestral feel, only played at insane energy levels. The speed, the depth, and the breadth of the instrumentation are sure to leave you breathless. Nicholas Le Fou Wells (First Fragment) lays down relentless kitwork with jaw-dropping velocity, while Eetu Hernesmaa provides technical fretwork that’ll similarly leave you awestruck. He delivers sublime riffs on “Relentless Rise” and a surprising melodic lead that steals the show on “Unchain Your Soul.” Perhaps most prominent is the virtuoso play of the bass from Rich Gray (Annihilator) and Dominic Forest Lapointe (First Fragment) that is omnipresent and funky on each and every song. To top it all off is the piano (perhaps from Jiménez), giving the music some gravitas with the technical, concert-style playing. This record is just plain bonkers and tons of fun. Given this is the debut from a young musician, the idea that Brainblast has room to grow is plenty exciting.

COLOSSUS SUPREMA by BRAINBLAST

Gods of Gaia // Escape the Wonderland [November 28th, 2025 – Self Released]

If you’ve been eagerly awaiting the next SepticFlesh release, Germany’s Gods of Gaia have got you covered. Founded in 2023 by Kevin Sierra Eifert, Gods of Gaia is made up of an anonymous collective from around the world, contributing to a dark, heavy, and aggressive form of symphonic metal. Their sophomore album, Escape the Wonderland, features a collection of death metal songs with plenty of orchestral arrangements that add a dramatic flair. Along with crushing riffs and thunderous blast beats, you’ll hear choral chants (“Escape the Wonderland,” “Burn for Me”), bits of piano (“What It Takes”), and plenty of cinematic symphonics. SepticFlesh is the obvious influence, but the grandiosity of Fleshgod Apocalypse flares up on cuts like the dramatic “Rise Up.” The front half is largely aggressive, with “What It Takes” taking the energy to thrash levels. The back half dials down the energy, even creeping to near doom on “Krieg in Mir,” but never pulls back on the heaviness. Cool as the symphonic elements are, the riffs, blast beats, and brutal vocal delivery are just as impressive. Make no mistake, this is melodic death metal above all else, with symphonic seasonings that elevate it a notch. Just the opposite of what the record title suggests, this is one wonderland you won’t want to escape.

Escape the Wonderland by Gods of Gaia

Grin Reaper’s Frozen Feast

Hounds of Bayanay // КЭМ [November 15, 2025 – Self Released]

Two-and-a-half years after dropping debut Legends of the North, Hounds of Bayanay returns with КЭМ to sate your eternal lust for folk metal.1 Blending heavy metal with folk instrumentation, specifically kyrympa2 and khomus,3 as well as throat singing, Hounds of Bayanay might sound like a Tengger Cavalry or The Hu knockoff, but you’ll do yourself a disservice by writing them off. Boldly enunciated, clarion cleans belt out in confident proclamations while grittier refrains and overtones resonate beneath, proffering assorted and engaging vocal stylings. Rather than dwelling overlong in strings and tribal chanting, the deft fusion of folk instruments with traditional metal defines Hounds’ sound and feels cohesively integrated on КЭМ, providing an intimate yet heavy backdrop to a hook-laden and alluringly replayable thirty-nine minutes. In addition to the eclectic folk influence, there’s a satisfying variety of songwriting from track to track, with “Ardaq,” “Cɯsqa:n,” and “Dɔʃɔrum” exemplifying the enticing synthesis of styles. More than anything else, Hounds of Bayanay embodies heart and fun, warming my chilly days with a well-executed platter of Eastern-influenced folk metal. Don’t skip this one, or the decision could hound you.

KEM by Hounds Of Bayanay

Blood Red Throne // Siltskin [December 05, 2025 – Soulseller Records]

I’m shoving up against the deadline to wedge this one in, but Blood Red Throne’s latest deserves a mention, and bulldozing is just the sort of thing you should do while listening to BRT’s brand of bludgeoning, pit-stomping romp. Back in December, the venerable Norwegian death metal act dropped twelfth album Siltskin, maintaining their prolific and consistent release schedule. In addition to their dependable output, BRT stays the course with pummeling, brutish pomp. In his coverage of Nonagon and Imperial Congregation, Doc Grier drums up comparisons to Old Man’s Child, Panzerchrist, and Hypocrisy, and while I’m not inclined to disagree on those points, I’ll add that Siltskin also harkens to Kill-era Cannibal Corpse in its slick coalition of mid-paced slammers, warp-speed blitzes, and fat ‘n’ frolicking bass. Add to that the sly, sticky melody from the likes of Sentenced’s North from Here (“Vestigial Remnants”), and you’ve got a recipe for a righteous forty-five-minute smash-a-thon. Blood Red Throne’s last few records have been among their best, which is an incredible feat for a band this far into their career. While Siltskin doesn’t surpass BRT’s high-water mark, it keeps up, and if you’re hungry for an aural beatdown, then Blood Red Throne would like to throw their crown into the ring for consideration.

Siltskin by Blood Red Throne

Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu // Immortality [December 17, 2025 – Bang the Head Records]

I am woefully late to the charms of Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu, a Japanese death metal outfit prominently featuring slap ‘n’ pop bass. Had it not been for our trusty Flippered Friend, I might have continued this grievous injustice of ignorance, but thankfully, this is not the timeline to which I’m doomed. Immortality is Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu’s seventh album, and those who enjoy the band’s previous work should remain satisfied. For new acolytes, Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu grasps the rabid intensity of Vader and Krisiun and imbues it with a funky edge. Meaty bass rumbles and sprightly slapped accents, provided by bassist/vocalist Haruhisa Takahata, merge with Kouki Akita’s kit obliteration to establish a thunderous, unrelenting rhythm section. Atop the lower end’s heft, Keiichi Enjouji shreds and squeals with thrashy vigor and a keen understanding of melody. First proper track “Anima Immortalis” even includes gang intonations that work so well, I wish they were more prevalent across the album. The sum total of Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu’s atmosphere is one of plucky exuberance that strikes with the force of a roundhouse kick to the dome. Had I discovered it sooner, Immortality would have qualified for a 2025 year-end honorable mention, as I haven’t been able to stop spinning it or the band’s prior releases.4 Though I’m still in the honeymoon phase, I expect this platter to live on in my listening, and recommend you not miss this GTK killer like I almost did.

Thus Spoke’s Random Revelations

The Algorithm // Recursive Infinity [November 21st, 2025 – Self Released]

I’ve been a fan of The Algorithm since the early days, back when their electronica-djent was almost twee in its experimental joy, spliced with light-hearted samples. Over the years, Rémi Gallego has tuned his flair for mesmeric, playful compositions to develop a richer, more streamlined sound. Recursive Infinity continues the recent upward trend Data Renaissance began. With riffs and rhythms the slickest since Brute Force, and melodies the brightest and most colourful since equally-prettily adorned Polymorphic Code, it’s a cyberpunk tour-de-force. The wildness is trained, chunky heaviness grounding magnetic melodies (“Race Condition,” “Mutex,” “By Design”), dense chugging transitioning seamlessly into techno (“Advanced Iteration Technique,” “Hollowing,” “Graceful Degradation), and adding bite to bubbly, candy-coloured soundscapes (“Rainbow Table,”). The skittering of breakbeats tempers synthwave (“Endless Iteration), and bright pulses wrap cascading electro-core (“Race Condition,” “Mutex”) and orchestral melodrama (“Recursive Infinity”). It’s often strongly reminiscent of some point in The Algorithm’s history, but everything is upgraded from charming to entrancing. This provides a new way to interpret Recursive Infinity: not just a reference to an endless loop in general, but to Boucle Infinie (Infinite Loop)—Remi’s other musical project—and by extension, The Algorithm themselves. Yet he is still experimenting, including vocoder vocals (“Endless Iteration,” “By Design”) for a surprisingly successful dark-Daft Punk vibe in slower, moodier moments. With nostalgic throwbacks transformed so beautifully, and the continued evolution, there’s simply no way I can ignore The Algorithm now. And neither should you.

Recursive Infinity by The Algorithm

Owlswald’s Holiday Scraps

Sun of the Suns // Entanglement [December 12th, 2025 – Scarlet Records]

Bands and labels take heed—We reserve December for two things: Listurnalia and celebrating another trip around the sun. It is not for releasing new music. Yet this blunder persists, ensuring we inevitably miss gems like Sun of the Suns’ sophomore effort, Entanglement.5 The record dropped just as the world was tuning out for the year, and it deserves much better. Building on the foundation of their 2021 debut, TIIT, the Italian trio has significantly beefed up their progressive death formula. Mixing tech-death articulation with deathcore brutality, Entanglement ensures fans of Fallujah will feel right at home with its effervescent clean melodies and crystalline textures. Francesca Paoli (Fleshgod Apocalypse) returns to provide another masterclass behind the kit with rapid-fire double-bass, blasts, and tom fills, while guitarists Marco Righetti and Ludovico Cioffi deliver cosmic shredding and radiant solos that are both technical and deliberate. While the early tracks lean into Fallujahian songcraft and Tesseract-style arpeggios, the album shines brightest late when the group largely sheds its stylistic orbit. “Please, Blackout My Eyes” pivots toward a majestic Aeternam vibe with ethereal tech-death incisiveness, while “One With the Sun” and “The Void Where Sound Ends Its Path” hit like a sledgehammer with Xenobiotic’s deathcore grooves. Though Luca Dave Scarlatti’s vocals lack differentiation, the sheer quality of the compositions carries the weight, proving Sun of the Suns are much more than mere clones.

Entanglement by Sun Of The Suns

Equilibrium – Equinox Review

By Samguineous Maximus

More than almost any other metal niche, folk metal has to walk a treacherously thin line between “actually good music” and “full-body cringe.” For every band that can fuse arena-sized melodies with genuine folk charm, there are three more tumbling headfirst into the Neckbeard Abyss™, condemned to soundtrack the Nordic-themed house parties of Reddit mods everywhere. Equilibrium has stood proudly on both sides of that divide. Their early triumphs of Turis Frayter and Sagas were mead-soaked romps packed with syrupy pagan hooks and enough triumphant Bjoriffs to level a longhouse, but ever since, the spark has dimmed, and each new release has brought diminishing returns. Armageddon (2016) was passable, and Renegades (2019) marked a true low point, trading their Viking swagger for a baffling electro-trance-metal makeover that landed with all the grace of a drunken troll. Now, six years later, Equilibrium returns with Equinox, a tightened lineup and a new vocalist in tow, promising a glorious reclamation of their folk-metal throne. Have they forged another worthy slab of epic, mead-raising metal? Or are they destined to spend eternity staring wistfully at the echoes of their own past conquests?

Equinox marks a clear return to form for Equilibrium after the detour of Renegades. The electronic and metalcore elements from their last record still linger, occasionally poking their neon-tinted heads out, but the heart of the band’s sound is back in full force: that boisterous blend of Finntroll and Ensiferum filtered through the Europower cheese of Rhapsody of Fire, now with a touch of Avatar added. The songs are built on a familiar mix of traditional woodwinds, thick distorted guitars, and gaudy synth lines, with newcomer Fabi’s fearsome growl leading the charge through straightforward verses and repeated choruses. When these ingredients click, and the newer sonic flourishes collide with the band’s classic, folk-driven sense of epic grandeur, the result can be exhilarating. Tracks like “Gnosis,” “Awakening” and “Bloodwood” move easily between core-tinged riffs and massive, sing-along Viking choruses, delivered with the bombast Equilibrium is known for. Unfortunately, the rest of the album doesn’t reach the same heights.

According to the band, Equinox was originally intended as an EP rather than a full-length release, and the pacing issues and filler make that easy to believe. Large sections of several songs feel like padding before the actual track begins. Both “Borrowed Waters” and “Legends” open with long, drawn-out “atmospheric” intros that sap the impact of what follows, and the album includes no fewer than three interludes (“Archivist,” “Rituals of Sun and Moon” and “Tides of Time”). These moments don’t do the record any favors. They’re often delivered through a jarring mix of electronic trap drums, over-the-top synth lines and the band’s more traditional woodwind flourishes, creating a stylistic mishmash that feels pulled straight from a fantasy-themed Fortnite event. At times, these elements collide with simplistic, “tribal,” repetition-heavy vocals (“Earth Tongue”), resulting in something that sounds closer to a hyper-dramatic Nordaboo YouTube montage than classic Equilibrium. Even though the album does contain plenty of fully formed songs, these detours make the overall experience feel uneven and lopsided.

There are moments on Equinox where Equilibrium’s updated approach works despite its flaws. “I’ll Be Thunder” is a concise, effective track that blends electronic and orchestral elements into a tightly written folk-metal package. Even the seemingly toxic trance-metal/rap/metalcore hybrid verse in “One Hundred Hands” is intriguing, though the autotuned chorus and generic breakdown drag the song down. To the band’s credit, the mixing is solid across the album. It’s polished without being crushed by excessive loudness for a Nuclear Blast release, and producer Daniel McCook does an admirable job balancing the electronic, orchestral, and metal components. The result is a surprisingly even production that rewards multiple listens. I just wish there were more aspects of Equinox I could praise without reservations.

Equinox is a difficult album to recommend despite its strengths. Equilibrium have mostly abandoned the divisive sound of their previous record, while adapting its electronic elements in a return to form. The singles here do capture the bombast of their earlier work and are fun enough on their own, but the record around them is inconsistent and, at time,s baffling in its execution. Equilibrium could certainly do a lot worse, but this is far from the re-conquest of the folk metal throne it could’ve been.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 256 kb/s mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: equilibrium-metal.net | facebook.com/equilibrium
Releases Worldwide: November 28th, 2025

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Änterbila – Avart Review

By Grin Reaper

Billed as blackened folk metal and boasting a sound that will remind listeners of the aughts-era Darkthrone, Änterbila1 returns with sophomore album Avart. Three years removed from their self-titled debut, the foursome from Gävleborg County, Sweden, retains the core sonic principles of Änterbila and dunks them into the muck, invoking a darker, grimier aura. Where the plight of peasantry informed Änterbila’s sensibilities, Avart looks to national folklore for inspiration. Rather than interpreting that folklore through the eyes of those who passed the stories on, though, Avart revisits lore from the perspective of the other side, the witch to Grimms’ Hansel und Gretel, imparting a sinister edge to the music. Is Änterbila’s latest platter sharp enough to brandish, or does it need more time with the honing rod?

The marriage of black and folk metal can take different forms, with folk infusions coming from instrumentation, melodies, and/or folk and pagan themes. Änterbila offers all of them, but presented disparately as stark components rather than fused together as an interconnected whole. Bookend instrumentals “Låt till Far” and “Eklnundapolskan” feature strings, a bagpipe, and choral harmonies between them, not unlike Saor or Summoning. These tracks conjure rustic firesides with an air of excitement as strange tales are told around them. Avart’s other six tracks are categorically different, hovering between pagan-leaning, late-eighties Bathory (“Kniven”) and the punky pluck of early Vreid (“Jordfäst”). I even catch a whiff of Bizarrekult (“Årsgång”) in the midst. None of the flavors are bad on their own, but without more cohesion, they’re a bit confusing on the same plate.

Avart is a lively affair, with snappy licks, punky riffs, and burbling kick rolls that whisk listeners through half an hour of sprightly black metal. Bandleader and founder Jerff wields axe and vocal duties, with Raamt abetting in six-string antics. The guitars trem pick their way through Avart, embracing an unadorned style that takes a few simple melodies, interchanges them every now and then, and rides through four or five minutes. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this stripped-down approach, but without more distinctive hooks or emotive vocals, the songs bleed together. Drop me in the middle of any of the songs, and I’ll have a tough time naming which one it is unless Jerff repeats the title several times (“Kniven,” “Jordfäst”). Another issue Änterbila grapples with throughout Avart is repetition. Even with such a compact runtime, there’s not always enough substance to justify track lengths. “Jordfäst” could explore its ideas in two-thirds the time, for example, but instead pushes them past optimal duration. As it currently stands, there’s enough material for a solid EP, but relentless refrains without variations make shallow wells, and drawing from them too often becomes tedious.

Änterbila’s strengths lie in creating a dangerously charming atmosphere and not overstaying their welcome. Avart’s old school production underscores its low-fi mood, perfect for settings of yore where things lurking within shadows go bump in the night. Even though the mix isn’t polished, it ably captures Svaltunga’s punchy bass and drummer Monstrum’s quadrupedal onslaught. There flows an energy in the music that crackles with roguish vigor, and it’s here that Änterbila excels. It’s a shame lyrics weren’t included as part of the press kit since dark folklore provides such fertile ground for music. Understanding what the (presumed) native Swedish translates to could have heightened my appreciation for what secrets Avart holds. Still, the runtime is trim and helps deflect some of the monotony of simpler song structures, keeping the overall package easily digestible.

Änterbila possesses all the ingredients for a rollocking good time, but fumbles with the recipe. The folk metal tag is a bit misleading, and given that the folk elements are so well-executed in the intro and outro, it’s disappointing that Änterbila didn’t incorporate them throughout the entire album. Doing so could have thwarted the uniformity across the remaining songs, adding dynamism and a through-line that brings everything together with reinforced congruity. Every time I spin Avart, I hope to find something I’d missed previously, because I want to like it more than I do. Avart seethes with potential, and while I don’t regret any of the time I spent with the album, I don’t expect to return to it, either. Hopefully, the next iteration delivers on the promise Änterbila has established here.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nordvis Produktion
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#20 #2025 #anterbila #avart #bathory #bizarrekult #blackFolkMetal #blackMetal #darkthrone #folkMetal #metal #nordvisProduktion #nov25 #review #reviews #saor #summoning #swedish #vreid

ÄNTERBILA (Suècia) presenta nou àlbum: "Avart" #Änterbila #BlackMetal #FolkMetal #Novembre2025 #Suècia #NouÀlbum #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

Waldgeflüster – Knochengesänge I and Knochengesänge II Review

By Killjoy

Waldgeflüster has been around for a while. Based in Bavaria, Germany and led by Winterherz, they’ve been weaving nature-themed atmospheric black metal since 2009. Waldgeflüster has passed through the hands of several atmoblack aficionados before me. El Cuervo enjoyed the Panopticon/Waldgeflüster split in 2016 but was less impressed by Ruinen later that year. Doom_et_Al found 2021’s Dahoam to be disappointing and unmemorable. Waldgeflüster used the four years since then to create double albums Knochengesänge I and Knochengesänge II. I is a more traditional atmoblack record, while II is a reconstruction of the same melodies from the standpoint of various non-metal musical genres. An intriguing idea, to be sure. Is Knochengesänge so nice you’ll want to listen to it twice?

That may not be entirely accurate because, despite being born from the same place, Knochengesänge I and II grew into very different beasts. I will sound much more familiar to those who know Waldgeflüster’s prior work. It shares a deep kinship with the folksy trem-picking of Panopticon, not to mention that both groups put out double albums this year. Austin and Bekah Lunn even directly contributed their musical and photographic talents to Knochengesänge. II is a patchwork of different musical styles. It ranges from acoustic folk (“Das Klagelied der Krähen”) to overcast post-rock (“Frankfurt, 19. März,” “The Little King and His Architect”) to semi-upbeat alt-rock (“A Crusade in the Dark”). Both records conclude with different renditions of the traditional Scottish song “The Parting Glass.”

Knochengesänge I sees Waldgeflüster attempting to escape the shadow of similar, more influential atmospheric black metal groups. It’s telling that, despite the band’s longevity, no AMG writer to date has ever tagged Waldgeflüster in another band’s review as a reference point. Indeed, much of I passes uneventfully in a Harakiri for the Sky haze, but I tend to like it best when Waldgeflüster adds their own folksy flavor. The melodies of “Der kleinste König und sein Architekt” are especially crisp, and the song really comes into its own at the end when it transitions to a warm folk section with hearty clean singing and subtle violin strings. Charlie Anderson’s violin appears frequently, adding a great deal of poignancy. “Knochengesang” and “Bamberg, 20. Juni” are other notable examples of Waldgeflüster using strings to elevate their sound.

Since this is a double album, you already know what the primary flaw of Knochengesänge is—bloat. However, the problem runs deeper than mere minute count. Even if each track were halved in length, many would still have an uphill battle maintaining my attention. This is the case with both parts but particularly true of II, most of which seemed to drag on for an eternity. The greatest exception is “Singing of Bones” almost at the very end of II, a pleasant folk number with acoustic guitar and violin working in tandem. Even though II is all over the place stylistically, most of it isn’t so wildly different from I that it couldn’t have conceivably been integrated. I even tried reordering the tracks into each album’s corresponding pairs and found that many covered each other’s weaknesses decently well (again, except for bloat), which supports my suspicion that these two mediocre albums could have been distilled into one really good album.

Knochengesänge began with an interesting double album premise that, sadly, yielded little of note during its 109-minute combined runtime. I and II may be highly symmetrical but they are only mildly codependent. I can’t recommend listening to them back to back and, in fact, II can be safely disregarded by most listeners. Fans of the Panopticon aesthetic should find enough to enjoy in I, but it may fall a bit flat for everyone else, especially given that newcomers like Autrest are offering a much more potent take on this type of atmoblack. A frustrating refusal to self-edit is what holds both records back the most; nearly every track is 8 minutes or longer, and few fully justify their length. I respect Waldgeflüster’s desire to explore new musical avenues and I’ll keep an eye on them in the future, but I don’t expect to return much to Knochengesänge.

Rating: I: 2.5/5.0 | II: 2.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: AOP Records
Websites: blackmetalwaldgefluester.bandcamp.com | waldgefluester.com | facebook.com/blackmetalwaldgefluester
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#20 #25 #2025 #AOPRecords #AtmosphericBlackMetal #Autrest #FolkMetal #GermanMetal #HarakiriForTheSky #KnochengesängeI #KnochengesängeII #NotMetal #Nov25 #Panopticon #Review #Reviews #Waldgeflüster

SAUROM (Espanya) presenta nova col·laboració: "Act II - Reflections" #Saurom #HeavyMetal #FolkMetal #Novembre2025 #Espanya #NovaCol·laboració #Metall #Metal #MúsicaMetal #MetalMusic

Metal Blade Video 🤘 The mighty Ensiferum throwing it down at Summer Breeze 2025 with "Fatherland"! #ensiferum #folkmetal: Ensiferum's latest record, 'Winter Storm' is out now.
Grab your copy/listen HERE: https://www.metalblade.com/ensiferum/ http://dlvr.it/TP44V3 LinkInBio for More 🤘 #MetalBladeRecords #HeavyMetal #Metal

Cemican – U k’u’uk’ankil Mayakaaj Review

By Kenstrosity

Hailing from Guadalajara, Mexico, folk-death septet Cemican caught my attention way back in 2019 with their third record, In Ohtli Teoyohtica In Miquiztli. Boasting strong riffcraft and a penchant for chimeric songwriting, Cemican’s unique style and compelling subject matter challenged what I expected from the death metal scene at the time. Focused on bringing to the fore the sounds, rhythms, and even the language of pre-Mexican indigenous peoples (specifically, Mayan), Cemican’s mission serves a cultural spirit lost to time colonialism. Depicting tales of ancient Mayan gods and legends, and based on the mysticism and ideology of Mayan culture, upcoming fourth outing, U k’u’uk’ankil Mayakaaj, quickly earned my undivided attention.

U k’u’uk’ankil Mayakaaj sees Cemican at their heaviest and most adventurous yet. Pounding drums of various disciplines hit with the impact of a titan’s fist on sacred ground, as roaring growls and ethereal chants swirl amongst stomping riffs and tempestuous tremolos. Soaring atop these storming pyrotechnics, an assortment of flutes (played by no fewer than five of Cemican’s seven musicians) sing ancestral melodies, sometimes in lockstep with the modern metallics, other times as an uplifting counterpoint. A rebellious heavy metal spirit influences a fair portion of Cemican’s songwriting this time around, going so far as to step boldly into the spotlight and overwrite the record’s death metal core entirely, twice (“El Niño que Contemplaba a las Estrellas,” “¿Dónde estás?”). Regardless of what corporeal form it takes, though, Cemican’s sound is epic, ancient, and massive.

At an hour and seven minutes, U k’u’uk’ankil Mayakaaj sounds like a bloated mass desperate for self-editing on paper. Yet, six years of careful attention to detail result in 12 songs that all have something interesting and memorable to take home, and a wealth of ideas that support and even elevate those takeaways. Killer riffs in “Yóok ‘ol kaab Maya” work in tandem with wild flutes, squealing solos, and a somewhat unsteady chorus that feels natural in context with the composition, where it would feel clumsy elsewhere. Brutal speed intensifies “Los Guardianes de la Tierra” as blackened winds chill companion piece “Hun-Came” to the bone, creating a thrilling but well-timed shift from the chunky grooves of earlier bangers like “Tán tí le Xibalba” and powerful opener “Kukulkán Wakah Chan.” Even Cemican’s long-form excursions, which build sturdy bridges between tribal instrumentals, deadly heft, and ethereal melodicism, boast a compelling multitude of ideas, buttery-smooth transitions, and rich textures that easily justify their protracted runtimes (“Viaje Astral del Quetzal de Fuego,” “Horizonte de Almas”).

Of course, with so many ideas stuffed into one work, there are bound to be some kinks. For Cemican, those hiccups largely surface when they shift styles with no telegraphing. Such outliers as “El Niño que Contemplaba a las Estrellas” and “¿Dónde estás?” are good songs on their own. In particular, it’s surprising how successful “El Niño que Contemplaba a las Estrellas” is as a heavy/power epic. However, there’s very little connective tissue—right down to the lighter and cleaner guitar tone—that explains its existence in the album context, other than subject matter. “¿Dónde estás?” damages album cohesion in much the same way, and with somewhat less success than its album-mate due to less memorable writing and ballad-like wistfulness. Without these tracks, not only would U k’u’uk’ankil Mayakaaj clock in at a more reasonable 56 minutes total, but it would feel more consistent and smooth. That said, “El Niño que Contemplaba a las Estrellas” would’ve made an excellent bonus track or even just a separate single that I’d happily recruit for playlist duty.

In sum, Cemican solidify their status as one of the more interesting acts in the death metal universe. Their adoption of indigenous music as part of their formula goes a long way towards setting them apart from their peers sonically, but it’s their fearless songwriting and meticulous detailing that seals the deal. U k’u’uk’ankil Mayakaaj represents their most refined and compelling work to date, and while it has its missteps, even those would find purchase on another record better built to support them. It just goes to show how talented and skilled Cemican are. With this in mind, I look forward to spending more time enjoying U k’u’uk’ankil Mayakaaj, a qualified, but unique triumph.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: M-Theory Audio
Websites: cemican1.bandcamp.com/album/u-kuukankil-mayakaaj | facebook.com/pages/CEMICAN/320421353267
Releases Worldwide: October 31st, 2025

#2025 #35 #Cemican #DeathMetal #FolkMetal #HeavyMetal #MTheoryAudio #MelodicDeathMetal #MexicanMetal #Oct25 #Review #Reviews #UKUUkAnkilMayakaaj

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

Völur & Cares – Breathless Spirit Review

By Twelve

“Avant-garde doom metal from Canada. Do I really need to say more to pique your interest?” So said I a little under five years ago, closing out my Things You Might Have Missed feature for Völur’s Death Cult. The Toronto-based project launched itself to the top of my end-of-year list in 2020, owing to their expert fusion of an impressive blend of sounds and genres primarily rooted in doom metal. Wielding the violin like a sledgehammer, Death Cult featured intelligent, clever compositions that really impressed me in 2020. Now, at last, they’re back for their fourth full-length, Breathless Spirit, with one key change: a collaboration with Cares—UK/Canadian producer James Beardmore—whose influence aims to transcend an already-impressive trio to Valhallan heights. However do they fare?

But first, a correction: in reviewing Death Cult, I noted that “the guitars do not dominate, nor do they crush the listener; instead, they unsettle, distort, and act as anchor for the vocals and electric violins that make up the true meat of the music.” Völur has no guitarist—only Lucas Gadke (Blood Ceremony), who plays bass (in addition to vocals and piano). The electric violins are indeed the “true meat of the music;” Völur create their uniquely haunting sound through intense distortion on Laura Bates’s violin and viola,1 giving them a surprisingly heavy metal basis to work with—certainly I’d never have thought there’s no guitar in the blackened doom mania that is “Windbourne Sorcery II,” and I’m still not 100% sure I believe it. Previously, I compared the group to a gloomy “Apocapyse Orchestra meets King Goat” project, but, in hindsight, Apocalyptica might have been a better base point to use.

Realistically, though, none of that matters because Völur is unique in too many ways to build adequate comparisons, and Cares has only strengthened that position. Where Death Cult emphasized the heavier, doom metal basis of Völur’s material, Breathless Spirit leans more classical, a change that highlights the incredible range of the music, passing also through doom metal, black metal, folk, jazz, and drone along the way—and all of it done with “just” a violinist, bassist, and drummer (Justin Ruppel). What’s extra interesting (on an already very interesting record) is that Cares contributes piano, synthesizers, theremin, and textures. His production adds layer upon layer of grimy, modern darkness that contributes heavily to the metal feel of Breathless Spirit. It is, put simply, extremely experimental. It also works magnificently.

From the classically-inspired2 “Hearth,” Breathless Spirit’s instrumental intro whose motifs just keep reappearing, to the towering doom metal conclusion of “Death in Solitude,” Völur are as engaging as they are unpredictable. I mentioned that “Windbourne Sorcery II” has the album’s blackened highlight, with Bates’s utterly unhinged shrieks atop a steady alarm of urgency from her violin. That same song has an almost funeral buildup, a chilling passage I compare favorably with Bell Witch’s Mirror Reaper3. The title track is the highlight for me; Gadke’s roars are front and center, and all of his vocals have depth and command to them, recalling Barren Earth’s On Lonely Towers.4 Guest vocals from Amy Bowles (ex-Hollow Earth) are a fantastic counter to his baritone cleans, and the brief improvizations a third of the way in is chaotic and delightful. You can dance to the haunting middle section, but it ends on a sense of heavy, epic urgency. Whatever style they try, Völur & Cares can’t help but create something beautiful. Much credit also belongs to Ruppel, whose measured drumming keeps Breathless Spirit grounded in a steady, doom-laden theme that serves it well.

I’ve run out of words, but there’s so much more to say. Breathless Spirit is a hard album to describe with any level of brevity. It explores worlds I’ve only hinted at here, and is much stronger than the sum of its parts. It’s not perfect—”On Drangey” is perhaps a touch too long for my preferences—but it hardly has to be. Breathless Spirit should enshrine Völur and Cares as experts in the experimental. Equal parts beautiful, haunting, and dark, Breathless Spirit defies my vocabulary—you simply must listen for yourself.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Blackthrone Productions
Websites: volur.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/VolurDoom
Releases Worldwide: August 8th, 2025

#2025 #40 #ApocalypseOrchestra #Apocalyptica #Aug25 #BarrenEarth #BellWitch #BlackthroneProductions #BloodCeremony #BreathlessSpirit #CanadianMetal #Cares #DoomMetal #Drone #FolkMetal #HollowEarth #Jazz #KingGoat #Review #Reviews #Volur #VölurCares

Flummox – Southern Progress Review

By Kenstrosity

Originally slated to be my main Thing You Might Have Missed feature, Tennessee avant-garde metal quintet Flummox’s fifth LP Southern Progress caught me completely off guard. Attracted to the prompt “their most obnoxious album yet,” I wasn’t sure what to expect from my first exposure to Flummox’s work. I figured it might be weird, but it’s also distinctive, fun, and infectious. Fearlessly creative, deeply detailed, lyrically cutting, and stupidly intelligent, Southern Progress rapidly became my favorite record released so far this year. It doesn’t seem likely now that anything out of the metalverse this year will surpass it.

Southern Progress embodies a rhizomic system of inspirations and influences that, when harnessed by Flummox’s wacky brains, emerges from the soil as something wholly unique in style, sound, and intent. My best attempt to contextualize this material would involve names from the progsphere like Fair to Midland, Native Construct, Pink Floyd, early Queen, and Mike Patton; purveyors of the extreme such as Strapping Young Lad and Slugdge; avant-garde touchstones like Mr. Bungle, Igorrr, and Diablo Swing Orchestra; genre-jumpers such as King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard; and even cinematic composers like Danny Elfman and Hans Zimmer.1 Ultimately, though, there is no comfortable comparison. Flummox are a singular entity of weird, wild, theatrical metal capable of nailing every bizarre idea they throw at me, such that in less than a week, I had a majority portion of Southern Progress’ 57-minute runtime pinned to my psyche. All the while, its candid exposition of the queer and genderfluid experience in the Bible Belt (“Southern Progress”) struck a chord so rarely plucked by music on this sphere, and its inspired exploration of the neurodivergent experience as one of its parallel plot lines (“Executive Dysfunction”) gave me an easy avenue to resonate even more deeply with its voice.

The tricky reality of Southern Progress is that 750 words is woefully insufficient to encompass all that Flummox achieves, but its primary triumph is in universal songwriting excellence. Music like this marks a once-in-a-blue-moon occasion—and an ambitious undertaking—but Flummox makes it look effortless as they balance the beauty of melodious, theatrical compositions with the livid, frothing rabidity of searing, off-kilter riffs, thunderous rhythms, and revolutionary attitude (“Southern Progress,” “Femto’s Theme,” “Long Pork,” “Executive Dysfunction”). While these elements are familiar to anyone with experience in the metalverse, their twisted forms instead leave a vivid impression of something altogether more eccentric and uncanny (“Southern Progress,” “Nesting Doll,” “Locust Eater,” “Coyote Gospel”). Well-defined structures and concrete themes play their part in making sure these warped representations stick. Presenting every unhinged idea, cynical line, and explosive outburst inside a digestible package makes Southern Progress somehow even stranger and more enthralling for its deceiving accessibility (“What We’re In For…,” “Always Something Going Down,” “Siren Shock,” “Flumlindalë”).

In spite of its unquestionable adoption of metallic methods, Southern Progress is an intensely theatrical affair unfit for the genrephobic, but is nonetheless something everyone should experience at least once. Challenging in a different way than Imperial Triumphant or other known creators of what certain pundits call “not music,” Flummox is similarly fearless in their exploration of style and technique, and equally meticulous in application and execution. To that end, Southern Progress’ music is mutated and maniacal, but grounded through several root elements: emotional depth, societal awareness, thoughtful critiques, and artistic integrity. More than just a vehicle for that cogent societal commentary, the potent passion that each member of Flummox hemorrhaged into Southern Progress is unmatched by all except the unfuckwithable technical quality of their writing and performances. The fact that this intangible factor boasts such strong presence inside of, and coalesces so harmoniously with, the tangible product proves that Flummox’s dedication, attention to detail, and intentional artistry contributes meaningful substance and significance not just to Southern Progress on its own, but also to the greater body of metal as we know it today.

It is for this reason that Flummox’s Southern Progress isn’t just an excellent album, but also an important one. Aside from its high artistic merit, Southern Progress is a timely and fierce challenge against the dehumanization of queer, gender-nonconforming, and even neurodivergent communities across the American South—and, by extension, the country—especially by organized religious (read: Christian) entities. But it’s also a celebration, a triumphant expression of pride and love and resilience that only comes from openly and unashamedly discovering, struggling with, and ultimately embodying all that you are in spirit, body, and mind. Everyone deserves to know this feeling without fear of stigmatization, fetishization, violence, or isolation. Southern Progress is an unorthodox and fun, but wildly effective, advocate for that cause.

Rating: Excellent!2
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Needlejuice Records
Websites: flummoxed.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/flummoxband
Releases Worldwide: April 11th, 2025

Show 2 footnotes

1. Specifically, Zimmer’s work for Rango’s OST. ↩
2. You should expect to see me within a year or so, Contrite and ashamed that I didn’t award this the coveted Iconic score! ↩

#2025 #45 #AmericanMetal #Apr25 #AvantGarde #BlackMetal #DannyElfman #DeathMetal #DiabloSwingOrchestra #ExperimentalMetal #FairToMidland #Flummox #FolkMetal #Gospel #HansZimmer #Igorrr #ImperialTriumphant #KingGizzardAndTheLizardWizard #MelodicMetal #MikePatton #MrBungle #NativeConstruct #NeedlejuiceRecords #PinkFloyd #ProgressiveMetal #Queen #Review #Reviews #Slugdge #SouthernProgress #StrappingYoungLad

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

It's still #BlackMetalMonday at @HailsandAles, so

#Saor: Amidst the Ruins

https://song.link/t7kbsfftjpdcb

#AtmosphericBlackMetal #FolkMetal

FFO #CânBardd #Eldamar #Winterfylleth

Árstíðir lífsins – Aldrlok Review

By Twelve

Árstíðir lífsins seem to not believe much in fanfare. Since I discovered the Icelandic/German group via their very good fourth full-length Saga á tveim tungum I: Vápn ok viðr, I never learn about their releases until AFTER they show up. The followup to Saga I never reached the Angry Metal Promo Sump, and their most recent release, the enjoyable Hermalausaz, arrived quietly at the end of last year. Now they’re back with Aldrlok (“Death [of an age]”), their sixth full-length release, which follows the band’s familiar vein of mountainous black metal adorned with gorgeous folk passages and lyrics sung in Old Norse-Icelandic. It’s a super-potent combo, and these guys have the smarts to back up their premise, so how does that translate into eighty-three minutes of music?

Compared with recent releases, Aldrlok is familiar territory. This time around, the riffs feel heavier (“Stormr, hvítundit grand gundar gjálfrs”) and the orchestrations are more elaborate (“Er faðir kulda ok myrkrs hopar fyrir endalausum vegi Ránar”), creating a strong melodic black metal feel for the album. Of course, it’s as folky as ever, in that Old Norse sort of way that Árstíðir lífsins excel at. Marsél, credited as ever as the band’s storyteller, provides deep, intoning singing, guttural narrations (to superb effect on “Nú er lengstu miskunndir dalreyðar ná hátindi”), and vicious black metal rasps, while frequent acoustic and orchestral passages break up the black metal assaults provided by Stefán (guitars and bass) and Árni (percussion and string instruments) (both of whom also provide vocals). The sound is elaborate, dense, and well done. Aldrlok is the sound of a band that knows exactly what they are doing.

This also means that the strongest and coolest element of Aldrlok is the storytelling. The album tells a tale semi-mythological fiction, taking place in Iceland around 1040, during a period of societal upheaval, and borrows material from Skaldic and Eddic poetry. Through their music, Árstíðir lífsins transport the listener back in time. The album opener, “Hvítir hjǫrvar Heimdalls aldraðra fjallgylða,” takes the listener on a journey, opening slowly with deep chants that make way for passages of solemn vocal melody that evoke a great tale about to begin. When the black metal arrives, it does so climactically, being built up to grandiosity by a band that is more than happy to take its time. From here, the song—and indeed, the album—does a great job of balancing black metal, melody, and folk. “Nauð greyprs élreka” does the best job of striking this balance. A band with a keyboardist could certainly mimic the style, but Aldrlok asks: “why do with a keyboard what you could do with your own voices?” Suitably, the close of the song, where massive black metal riffing gives way to solemn, near-reverent chanting, is one of the best moments, not only on this album but on any Árstíðir lífsins release to date.

Of course, some will be put off by the lengths of both the individual songs on Aldrlok and the length of the whole. Nine songs covering eighty-three minutes is a lot of music. I do wish the mix and production favored the metal elements more, as they tend to be muted. I’m sure it’s a stylistic choice, but it’s hard not to think that more prominence for the drumming and a touch less distortion on the guitars could net a really heavy album in the vein of a contemporary like Mistur. On the other hand, the grand length of the album contributes to its “Norse epic” feel, emulating the poetry it’s based on. The long songs that often flow into one another create the feeling of a mythology told in two parts (“Nú er lengstu miskunndir dalreyðar ná hátindi” breaks up the album expertly, and is a terrific dark folk song), and while it is a lot to take in all at once, there aren’t any actual weak spots on Aldrlok.

Árstíðir lífsins are consistently releasing interesting, well-researched, and very good black metal. I would argue that Aldrlok is their strongest yet, but it will be very familiar to you if you’re a fan of their recent work. It takes you back into the past in a way that most art struggles to do, and continues to fill a unique space in the world of metal. It demands a certain mood, but if you’re in it, this album will bring you back in time.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Ván Records
Websites: arstidirlifsins.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/arstidirlifsins
Releases Worldwide: May 31st, 2024

#2024 #35 #Aldrlok #ArstidirLifsins #BlackMetal #FolkMetal #GermanMetal #IcelandicMetal #May24 #Mistur #Review #Reviews #VanRecords

Árstíðir lífsins – Aldrlok Review

By Twelve

Árstíðir lífsins seem to not believe much in fanfare. Since I discovered the Icelandic/German group via their very good fourth full-length Saga á tveim tungum I: Vápn ok viðr, I never learn about their releases until AFTER they show up. The followup to Saga I never reached the Angry Metal Promo Sump, and their most recent release, the enjoyable Hermalausaz, arrived quietly at the end of last year. Now they’re back with Aldrlok (“Death [of an age]”), their sixth full-length release, which follows the band’s familiar vein of mountainous black metal adorned with gorgeous folk passages and lyrics sung in Old Norse-Icelandic. It’s a super-potent combo, and these guys have the smarts to back up their premise, so how does that translate into eighty-three minutes of music?

Compared with recent releases, Aldrlok is familiar territory. This time around, the riffs feel heavier (“Stormr, hvítundit grand gundar gjálfrs”) and the orchestrations are more elaborate (“Er faðir kulda ok myrkrs hopar fyrir endalausum vegi Ránar”), creating a strong melodic black metal feel for the album. Of course, it’s as folky as ever, in that Old Norse sort of way that Árstíðir lífsins excel at. Marsél, credited as ever as the band’s storyteller, provides deep, intoning singing, guttural narrations (to superb effect on “Nú er lengstu miskunndir dalreyðar ná hátindi”), and vicious black metal rasps, while frequent acoustic and orchestral passages break up the black metal assaults provided by Stefán (guitars and bass) and Árni (percussion and string instruments) (both of whom also provide vocals). The sound is elaborate, dense, and well done. Aldrlok is the sound of a band that knows exactly what they are doing.

This also means that the strongest and coolest element of Aldrlok is the storytelling. The album tells a tale semi-mythological fiction, taking place in Iceland around 1040, during a period of societal upheaval, and borrows material from Skaldic and Eddic poetry. Through their music, Árstíðir lífsins transport the listener back in time. The album opener, “Hvítir hjǫrvar Heimdalls aldraðra fjallgylða,” takes the listener on a journey, opening slowly with deep chants that make way for passages of solemn vocal melody that evoke a great tale about to begin. When the black metal arrives, it does so climactically, being built up to grandiosity by a band that is more than happy to take its time. From here, the song—and indeed, the album—does a great job of balancing black metal, melody, and folk. “Nauð greyprs élreka” does the best job of striking this balance. A band with a keyboardist could certainly mimic the style, but Aldrlok asks: “why do with a keyboard what you could do with your own voices?” Suitably, the close of the song, where massive black metal riffing gives way to solemn, near-reverent chanting, is one of the best moments, not only on this album but on any Árstíðir lífsins release to date.

Of course, some will be put off by the lengths of both the individual songs on Aldrlok and the length of the whole. Nine songs covering eighty-three minutes is a lot of music. I do wish the mix and production favored the metal elements more, as they tend to be muted. I’m sure it’s a stylistic choice, but it’s hard not to think that more prominence for the drumming and a touch less distortion on the guitars could net a really heavy album in the vein of a contemporary like Mistur. On the other hand, the grand length of the album contributes to its “Norse epic” feel, emulating the poetry it’s based on. The long songs that often flow into one another create the feeling of a mythology told in two parts (“Nú er lengstu miskunndir dalreyðar ná hátindi” breaks up the album expertly, and is a terrific dark folk song), and while it is a lot to take in all at once, there aren’t any actual weak spots on Aldrlok.

Árstíðir lífsins are consistently releasing interesting, well-researched, and very good black metal. I would argue that Aldrlok is their strongest yet, but it will be very familiar to you if you’re a fan of their recent work. It takes you back into the past in a way that most art struggles to do, and continues to fill a unique space in the world of metal. It demands a certain mood, but if you’re in it, this album will bring you back in time.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Ván Records
Websites: arstidirlifsins.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/arstidirlifsins
Releases Worldwide: May 31st, 2024

#2024 #35 #Aldrlok #ArstidirLifsins #BlackMetal #FolkMetal #GermanMetal #IcelandicMetal #May24 #Mistur #Review #Reviews #VanRecords

Karna - Party na Prykarpatti / #FolkMetal

https://soundcloud.com/hutsulmetal/party-na-prikarpatt-video-edit

#Karna #rock #metal #HutsulMetal #music #ukrainian #fediradio #soundcloud

Stuck in the Filter: January’s Angry Misses

By Kenstrosity

March is but a few days away (at the time of writing), so, naturally, we at AMG and Sons feel it’s finally time to leave 2023 behind. Entering 2024 with a fresh vat of anger juice to fuel our findings, we trudge through the thin metal walls of our ever-taxed filtration system. And boy howdy did we get lucky this month!

January’s Filter is stuffed to the gills with great options, sure to find a home in the arms of one of you despicable rascals lovely readers. If there was ever a Filter stocked enough to feed an entire readership in one fell swoop, it’s this one. Now, go! Feast!

Kenstrosity’s Scuzzy Slags

Dark Oath // Ages of Man [January 18th, 2024 – Self Release]

Portuguese symphonic, melodic death metal five-piece1 Dark Oath quietly dropped its sophomore effort Ages of Man to an unsuspecting public midway through January. After a whopping eight years since their debut When Fire Engulfs the Earth released, surely expectations for fans run high. As for me, this is my first foray, and this follow-up is nothing short of striking. Immediately recalling Aephanemer’s excellent Prokopton and Aether’s In Embers, riffs aren’t Ages of Man’s focus. Rather, epic guitar licks and leads command the charge with a cavalcade of orchestral layers forming an army of triumphant melodies and counterpoint just behind (“Gold I” and “Gold II”). Prominently featured and wonderfully effective, acoustic plucking from what sounds like a bouzouki evokes the magnificence and reverent tones of Gorgon’s Elegy, creating another core character for this epic journey that deepens the experience further (“Silver I,” “Bronze I,” “Bronze II”). While I occasionally pine for more engaging, groovy riffs to provide greater dynamics than the chugging gallops utilized instead, there’s no denying that Dark Oath’s infectious melodies and danceable rhythms punch far above the weight of forty-two minutes of lush, epic material (“Silver II,” “Heroic I,” “Iron”). At the end of the day, if you wanna go on cinematic adventures in the near future, queue up Ages of Man. It will be your guide.

Rhûn // Conveyance in Death [January 26th, 2024 – I.K. Productions]

Falls of Rauros’ founding member Aaron Charles, known for his emotive and vicious howls and creative guitar work, established solo act Rhûn back in 2021. Over the past year, a set of singles hinted at what debut full-length Conveyance in Death might hold for the Portland, Maine multi-instrumentalist. Now that it’s unleashed upon the world, this record proves to be a compelling amalgam of atmospheric black metal, post-black, and death metal. Opener “Morningstar” showcases all of these facets with aplomb, shifting from crushing riffs to a gorgeous trem-based ascension in the final third. Further down the line, Song o’ the Year contender “Bone Ornament” suitably shatters my bones with its awesome main riff, swaggering groove, and vicarious pacing. Other interesting forays into multifaceted modality and doom-laden marches help define the darker “Tomb of Andesite” and “Citadels in Ruins.” At a tight thirty-seven minutes of quality material, there’s little here that needs editing, although some lengthier passages in “Howl of Gleaming Swords” and closer “Night’s Glacial Passing” could stand a thirty-second trim here or there. Nonetheless, this is a strong launch for the fledgling project, and I can’t wait to hear how Aaron develops it in the future.

Niemaracz // The Tales of the Dense Forest [January 31st, 2024 – Self Release]

Hailing from Almaty, Kazakhstan, uber-obscure stoner doom black metal band Niemaracz doesn’t even have a date of establishment listed on Metallum. Pulling from fuzzy doom metal, languid stoner rock, folk-tinged heavy metal, and witchy black metal, debut record The Tales of the Dense Forest ushers in a sound I can’t say I’ve ever heard before. Icy and warm, rich and sharp, relaxed and blistering, these sprawling soundscapes challenge every preconception I held for not one, but four distinct styles. Yet, coming in at just under thirty minutes, this record marries them all as fluidly as a babbling brook glides over stone. With the immersive opener, “The Experiment,” Niemaracz’s high-fantasy fueled melodies and classic riffs impress with their uncanny synchronicity, while the fuzzy and warm production deepens the music’s cohesion. Album highlight, “The Faithful Horse,” manages to blend classic Iron Maiden gallops with the sort of furious black metal I’d sooner expect from Emperor, all wrapped up in stoned fuzz, and it’s fascinating. Sometimes, the clean baritones are far too forward in the mix, throwing that delicate balance of tones and textures way off. Thankfully, the consistently entertaining and novel songwriting makes it all worthwhile (“The Secret of Longevity”). Go check them out, and give their lone Bandcamp supporter a new friend!

Tales From the Garden

Slift // Ilion [January 19th, 2024 – Sub Pop Records]

I am going to preface this glowing recommendation by saying that this fucking behemoth is far too long. It’s nigh-on 80 minutes of dense, twisting, and very French psychedelic madness, and the brain can only contain so much of that for so long. The reason I am posting it here anyway is that it is really good dense twisting French psychedelic madness. Slift became an underground darling after 2020’s Ummon, which got them enough acclaim to be Artist in Residence at the 2022 edition of Roadburn, where I first became acquainted with the Toulouse formation. Ilion is a feverish album, a chase through winding soundscapes that always change but never end, layers of vocals and synths passing in and out of view, the hefty riffs hammering your back and Frenchmen hollering at you from behind. Slift has been getting heavier with each release and now firmly finds itself in sludge territory. The phenomenal drums are the tone, the pace, and the foundation here, a colossal presence even if their sound isn’t massive per se. They remind most of the climactic sequences Dvne so excels at, a bludgeoning dynamic shuffle that feels like getting caught in an avalanche, but retaining their old-school jam-band roots. Thankfully there’s enough variation to mitigate the bloat a bit, from left-field saxophone intermissions to more mid-paced material like the excellent atmospheric doom of “Weavers’ Weft.” Ilion is a deep, deep well, but a richly rewarding one for fans of heavy psych.

Carcharodon’s Fanged Fancies

Ὁπλίτης // Παραμαινομένη [January 12th, 2024 – Self-released]

At this point, I am almost relieved that the Chinese black metal-making machine known as Ὁπλίτης (Hoplites, for those of us not well versed in Ancient Greek) resolutely continues to not send us promo. Such is his level of productivity and, crucially, consistency, that I fear I would spend a fair chunk of my time just writing >3.0 reviews for his various projects (Vitriolic Sage being another good one). A case in point, his latest offering, Ὁπλίτης, is another absolute banger. Π​α​ρ​α​μ​α​ι​ν​ο​μ​έ​ν​η actually offers something slightly different from previous outings. While still very much playing in the almost clinically harsh black metal space, there is a more present and more vicious bass groove to this (fifth track “Συμμιαινόμεναι Διονύσῳ Ἐλευθέριῳ”), as well as, more surprisingly, a lot of freeform jazz elements. Screaming sax and trumpets are a big component, particularly in the first half of the record, giving the whole a feeling of White Ward and John Zorn having a particularly raucous threesome with Vredehammer. There is nothing tender about what’s happening though; it’s furious, pummelling, experimental… at least one of which is a thing that a threesome should be. A punishing, relentless listen, with unexpected twists, Ὁπλίτης has once again cranked out a fascinating record, and in record time.

Infant Island // Obsidian Wreath [January 12th, 2024 – Secret Voice]

Infant Island is new to me but, apparently, not to all—I’ve seen a fair bit of buzz around these guys—and Obsidian Wreath is the Virginians’ third record. Probably best tagged as blackened screamo, this record has contradictory feelings of warmth and utterly despairing rage. The band themselves cite Panopticon and Deafheaven as influences. I can hear both in their sound, the melodic complexity of the former, and the atmospheric wall-of-sound style of the latter. However, there are a few other things going on in the mix, with something of the frantic, chaotic precision of Pupil Slicer (“Fulfilled”), as well as the haunted and melodic deathgaze of Kardashev (“Amaranthine” and “Kindling”). Guitarists Alexander Rudenshiold and Winston Givler create such a dense morass of sound, that it often feels like there are more than two guitar lines in play, while Kyle Guerra’s bass adds something faintly grindcore-esque to the mix. All five members are credited with the vocals, which are throat-shredding and packed with pain, mourning, and frustration. Obsidian Wreath is a brutal, percussive listen, that feels like it’s tearing open your ears so that it can scream directly into your brain. At the same time, dark and unsettling electronica and arrangements (“Found Hand”) play a part in lulling the battered listener, preparing you for the next assault, as does the mix, which is surprisingly rich for all the pummelling. Although Infant Island is a screamo band, they reach with confidence into other genres for inspiration, making for a much more interesting proposition.

Thus Spoke’s Reviled Ramblings

Cognizance // Phantazein [January 26th, 2024 – Willowtip]

As most of them are from Leeds, I would have expected Cognizance to know that the objectively correct, British spelling is Cognisance, actually.2 But what the Loiners3 might lack in grammatical precision, they more than makeup for in musical style. Finessing their brand of tech-death, which falls somewhere between The Faceless and Allegaeon, Phantazein realizes the convergence of grooviness, melodic catchiness, and technicality with panache. Stomping, neck-snapping, and irresistibly foot-tapping rhythms tumble over one another with precise eagerness (“Ceremonial Vigour,” “Futureless Horizon,” “The Towering Monument”). Punchy, satisfyingly urgent melodies lead the way in chunky, groovy guitar dances (“A Brain Dead Memoir,” “Shock Heuristics,” “Shadowgraph”). With the exception of the (unnecessary) echoing interlude “Alferov,” this thing wrestles and roils its way into and around your general head area. It’s snappy, slick, and smooth. Phantazein (I think) comes from the Greek meaning “to appear,” as in, to seem a certain way. It seems to me, at least, that Phantazein is a banger.

Resin Tomb // Cerebral Purgatory [January 19th, 2024 – Transcending Obscurity Records]

Having stolen this from Ferox‘s rightful hands due to his punishing work schedule, I find myself, not for the first, or the last time this year I’m sure, singing the praises of a Transcending Obscurity release. But Cerebral Purgatory deserves praise in its own right. Punishingly heavy, yet remarkably listenable, it sees Resin Tomb filter grindy percussive assaults and dissonant death metal through a hard/grind-core medium. Barking screams breaking across ringing, tremolo-ing descending scales and tempos from charge to crushing, headbanging groove. Clanging, twanging guitar beats aggressive and menacing patterns (“Flesh Brick,” “Scalded,” “Putrescence”). Sometimes, this makes for pleasingly slick, melancholic melodies, that play out with stalking grace (title track, “Human Confetti,” “Concrete Crypt”). Other times, relentless blastbeating or chonky bass chugging provides the background for the axe’s more dissonant angularity (“Dysphoria,” “Purge Fluid,” “Flesh Brick”). Like “a more hardcore-y Nightmarer,”4 or perhaps even an extreme metal Knocked Loose mixed with Nothingness. Seriously, just listen to it.

Mystikus Hugebeards’s Stupendous Scrolls

Albion // Lakesongs of Elbid [January 27th, 2024 – Self-Release]

I’ve been on a folk metal streak of late, yet I’ve struggled to find something that really gripped me the way I wanted. Thus did fate decree that some watery tart hangin’ about in ponds would lob a sword at me in the form of Lakesongs of Elbid, the debut album by the British folk band Albion. This album transposes Celtic folklore into lush, lightly proggy folk metal in the vein of Big Big Train, and is written like the music you hear in your head when you picture a grand quest to Camelot or the Isles of Avalon. “Arthurian Overture” begins the journey in earnest, the music cresting triumphant, orchestral hills and striding through valleys of flute passages, all to the rhythmic footsteps of the guitars. From there, Lakesongs of Elbid explores a wide array of musical locales that can range from direct, determined metal riffs (“Finding Avalon”), traces of British tavern rock (“Barret’s Privateers,” “Silvaplana Rock”), or somber, acoustic folk (“Camlann”). The quest is spearheaded by Joe Parrish-James, whose vocals effortlessly merge the buttery smooth cadence of a seasoned storyteller with a youthful yearning for adventure. That idea of adventure is the beating heart of Lakesongs of Elbid; I can think of a few bands that so easily transport the listener to a new world of vibrant color and sound. Adventurous, enchanting, tons of fun, and extraordinarily British.

Dolphin Whisperer’s Slippery Sermon

Cancer Christ // God Is Violence [January 5th, 2024 – Seeing Red Records]

HAIL CHRIST! HAIL CHRIST!! DO YOU SEE THE LIGHT? DO YOU SEE IT?? IT’S AT THE END OF A TUNNEL FILLED WITH RAPISTS, SATANISTS, PEOPLE WHO DON’T BELIEVE IN GOD’S LOVE. “SATAN IS A BITCH.” SEE THE LIGHT. SEE JESUS CHRIST. JESUS KNOWS THE WORLD CAN BE A BETTER PLACE. JESUS KNOWS THE WORLD NEEDS RIFFS. JESUS KNOWS THE WORLD DOESN’T NEED COPS. “GOD HATES COPS.” THEY STAND IN THE WAY OF GOD’S POWER. HUBRIS! JESUS KNOWS THAT WE’RE ALL BETTER DEAD THAN ALIVE. JESUS CAN KILL US ALL JUST FINE HE DOESN’T NEED COPS. DID YOU HEAR? DID YOU HEAR JESUS’ WORD?? WE NEED TO “BRING BACK THE GUILLOTINE” — WE NEED TO CIRCLE PIT AROUND THE SINNERS AND CHOP THEIR HEADS OFF. CHOP THEIR HEADS OFF!! THE ONLY WAY THEY’LL SEE GOD’S LOVE IS IF THEY’RE DEAD. DO YOU HEAR THE SCREECHING? THAT HIGH-PITCHED SQUIRMING? THAT THRASHY RHYTHMIC PULSE? THAT’S THE ONLY WAY WE’LL GET THESE SINNERS WHO HAVE BEEN “BAPTIZED IN PISS AND SHIT.” HAIL CHRIST! HAIL CHRIST!! WE HAVE SKANKS (BEATS)! WE HAVE MENTAL BREAKDOWNS! “JESUS GOT A BIG OL’ COCK” TOO! IF YOU DESIRE SALVATION YOU’LL WORSHIP CHRIST IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU. SPREAD JESUS’ LOVE LIKE HE’S SPREAD HIS SEED ACROSS THE WORLD. CANCER CHRIST HAS LAID THE PATH BEFORE YOU. DON’T LISTEN TO LESSER GOSPELS EVEN IF THEY SOUND SIMILAR. DEAD KENNEDYS ARE OLD BUT NOT AS OLD AS HIS WISDOM. CHILD BITE HAS NO CLUE OF THE PATH OF GOD. TRAP THEM DOESN’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO BUILD A CROSS LET ALONE HOW TO NAIL JESUS SINNERS TO ONE. COVER YOURSELF IN “THE BLOOD OF JESUS” TO PROTECT YOURSELF FROM THESE DIRECTIONLESS GOSPELS WHO KNOW NOTHING OF THE LOVE OF GOD. FILL YOUR LIFE WITH MEANING. FILL YOUR LIFE WITH JESUS’ CUM. “GOD BLESS THE RAPISTS.” GOD IS THRASH. GOD IS NOISE. GOD IS LOVE. GOD IS VIOLENCE. HAIL CHRIST!!! HAIL!!!! CHRIST!!!!!5

Dear Hollow’s Magnanimous Muddle

Her Last Sight // Picture Perfect [January 19th, 2024 – Liron Avital Productions / Self-Released]

You see metalcore, you run? Well run, bitch, run. Cuz Her Last Sight is bringing back the 2000s metalcore that made Hot Topic-obsessed millennials go absolutely bananas. Being that this was my well-trod path to the harsher realities of metal’s more textured offerings, I was all for giving Picture Perfect after seeing the Israelis’ incredibly accomplished guitarist Ofek Asulin’s insane licks on TikTok. While completely acknowledging that this bad boy is not going to change your mind on metalcore, Picture Perfect is core nostalgia through and through. Parkway Drive’s fist-pumping brutality collides with As I Lay Dying’s wild technicality, fed through the riff-happy arpeggio machines of Killswitch Engage or Trivium with clean choruses and heart-wrenching melodies straight outta In Hearts Wake or The Amity Affliction. Breakdowns and wild riffs dominate tracks like “In Dying Light,” “Horizons,” and “R.I.P.”, while the soaring choruses of “Paralyzed,” “Careless,” and “Heart // Mind” remain seared in the mind. While the too-loud and frail clean vocals are too often a weak link, the album is overlong, and the sparse electronic trip-hop influence feels largely unnecessary, the formidable technicality and solid songwriting grant Her Last Sight a relatively guilt-free nostalgia trip with Picture Perfect.

Hyloxalus // Make Me the Heart of the Black Hole [January 26th, 2024 – Self-Release]

For those of you who have read my reviews before, you know how much I am not a power metal guy. I reviewed Moonlight Haze twice to make myself more marketable when I first joined these halls, but it is far and away not my cup of tea. Thus, I was cautiously intrigued by the “dark power metal” tag of the Edmonton trio Hyloxalus. How this translates is that we are graced with the powerful operatic vocals of Nina Laderoute while instrumentalists Danial “AniMal” Devost and Mike Bell offer a noisy and relentless thrash riff-forwardness that feels both kickass and cold. Channeling Nightwish’s weirder and heavier moments, the trio rockets its sound to the cosmos, where we’re granted sounds expansive, exploratory, and epic (“Undead in Ward 6,” “Sailors Underneath the Waves”), while unforgiving coldness and isolation are constant reminders of the darkness (“He Dies in the Swamp,” “Severed from the Reborn Sun”). Don’t get me wrong, Hyloxalus is far from perfect in a tinny production and wonky mixing, while slower tracks like “Dream Chasm” and “Beyond the Soil” get bogged down by sluggish tempos. However, Make Me the Heart of the Black Hole is a ton of fun from a young band with a unique and weirdass sound that may just capture your heart.

#Aephanemer #Aether #AgesOfMan #Albion #AmericanMetal #AsILayDying #AustralianMetal #BigBigTrain #CancerChrist #CerebralPurgatory #ChildBite #ChineseMetal #Cognizance #ConveyanceInDeath #DarkOath #DeadKennedys #Deafheaven #DeathMetal #DissonantBlackMetal #DoomMetal #Dvne #Emperor #FallsOfRauros #FolkMetal #FrenchMetal #GodIsViolence #Gorgon #Grindcore #Hardcore #HeavyMetal #HerLastSight #Hoplites #Hyolaxus #IKProductions #Ilion #InHeartsWake #InfantIsland #IronMaiden #JohnZorn #Kardashev #KazakhstaniMetal #KillswitchEngage #KnockedLoose #LakesongsOfElbid #LironAvitalProductions #MakeMeTheHeartOfTheBlackHole #MelodicBlackMetal #MelodicDeathMetal #Metalcore #MoonlightHaze #Niemaracz #Nightmarer #Nightwish #Nothingness #ObsidianWreath #Panopticon #ParkwayDrive #Phantazein #PicturePerfect #PortugueseMetal #PowerMetal #ProgressiveBlackMetal #ProgressiveMetal #PsychedelicMetal #PupilSlicer #ResinTomb #Review #Reviews #Rhûn #Screamo #SecretVoids #SeeingRedRecords #SelfRelease #Slift #Sludge #StonerDoom #StonerMetal #StuckInTheFilter #SubPopRecords #SymphonicMetal #SymphonicPowerMetal #TechnicalDeathMetal #TheAmityAffliction #TheTalesOfTheDeepForest #TranscendingObscurityRecords #TrapThem #Trivium #UKMetal #VitriolicSage #Vredehammer #WhiteWard #WillowtipRecords #Ὁπλίτης #Παραμαινομένη

Stuck in the Filter: January’s Angry Misses

By Kenstrosity

March is but a few days away (at the time of writing), so, naturally, we at AMG and Sons feel it’s finally time to leave 2023 behind. Entering 2024 with a fresh vat of anger juice to fuel our findings, we trudge through the thin metal walls of our ever-taxed filtration system. And boy howdy did we get lucky this month!

January’s Filter is stuffed to the gills with great options, sure to find a home in the arms of one of you despicable rascals lovely readers. If there was ever a Filter stocked enough to feed an entire readership in one fell swoop, it’s this one. Now, go! Feast!

Kenstrosity’s Scuzzy Slags

Dark Oath // Ages of Man [January 18th, 2024 – Self Release]

Portuguese symphonic, melodic death metal five-piece1 Dark Oath quietly dropped its sophomore effort Ages of Man to an unsuspecting public midway through January. After a whopping eight years since their debut When Fire Engulfs the Earth released, surely expectations for fans run high. As for me, this is my first foray, and this follow-up is nothing short of striking. Immediately recalling Aephanemer’s excellent Prokopton and Aether’s In Embers, riffs aren’t Ages of Man’s focus. Rather, epic guitar licks and leads command the charge with a cavalcade of orchestral layers forming an army of triumphant melodies and counterpoint just behind (“Gold I” and “Gold II”). Prominently featured and wonderfully effective, acoustic plucking from what sounds like a bouzouki evokes the magnificence and reverent tones of Gorgon’s Elegy, creating another core character for this epic journey that deepens the experience further (“Silver I,” “Bronze I,” “Bronze II”). While I occasionally pine for more engaging, groovy riffs to provide greater dynamics than the chugging gallops utilized instead, there’s no denying that Dark Oath’s infectious melodies and danceable rhythms punch far above the weight of forty-two minutes of lush, epic material (“Silver II,” “Heroic I,” “Iron”). At the end of the day, if you wanna go on cinematic adventures in the near future, queue up Ages of Man. It will be your guide.

Rhûn // Conveyance in Death [January 26th, 2024 – I.K. Productions]

Falls of Rauros’ founding member Aaron Charles, known for his emotive and vicious howls and creative guitar work, established solo act Rhûn back in 2021. Over the past year, a set of singles hinted at what debut full-length Conveyance in Death might hold for the Portland, Maine multi-instrumentalist. Now that it’s unleashed upon the world, this record proves to be a compelling amalgam of atmospheric black metal, post-black, and death metal. Opener “Morningstar” showcases all of these facets with aplomb, shifting from crushing riffs to a gorgeous trem-based ascension in the final third. Further down the line, Song o’ the Year contender “Bone Ornament” suitably shatters my bones with its awesome main riff, swaggering groove, and vicarious pacing. Other interesting forays into multifaceted modality and doom-laden marches help define the darker “Tomb of Andesite” and “Citadels in Ruins.” At a tight thirty-seven minutes of quality material, there’s little here that needs editing, although some lengthier passages in “Howl of Gleaming Swords” and closer “Night’s Glacial Passing” could stand a thirty-second trim here or there. Nonetheless, this is a strong launch for the fledgling project, and I can’t wait to hear how Aaron develops it in the future.

Niemaracz // The Tales of the Dense Forest [January 31st, 2024 – Self Release]

Hailing from Almaty, Kazakhstan, uber-obscure stoner doom black metal band Niemaracz doesn’t even have a date of establishment listed on Metallum. Pulling from fuzzy doom metal, languid stoner rock, folk-tinged heavy metal, and witchy black metal, debut record The Tales of the Dense Forest ushers in a sound I can’t say I’ve ever heard before. Icy and warm, rich and sharp, relaxed and blistering, these sprawling soundscapes challenge every preconception I held for not one, but four distinct styles. Yet, coming in at just under thirty minutes, this record marries them all as fluidly as a babbling brook glides over stone. With the immersive opener, “The Experiment,” Niemaracz’s high-fantasy fueled melodies and classic riffs impress with their uncanny synchronicity, while the fuzzy and warm production deepens the music’s cohesion. Album highlight, “The Faithful Horse,” manages to blend classic Iron Maiden gallops with the sort of furious black metal I’d sooner expect from Emperor, all wrapped up in stoned fuzz, and it’s fascinating. Sometimes, the clean baritones are far too forward in the mix, throwing that delicate balance of tones and textures way off. Thankfully, the consistently entertaining and novel songwriting makes it all worthwhile (“The Secret of Longevity”). Go check them out, and give their lone Bandcamp supporter a new friend!

Tales From the Garden

Slift // Ilion [January 19th, 2024 – Sub Pop Records]

I am going to preface this glowing recommendation by saying that this fucking behemoth is far too long. It’s nigh-on 80 minutes of dense, twisting, and very French psychedelic madness, and the brain can only contain so much of that for so long. The reason I am posting it here anyway is that it is really good dense twisting French psychedelic madness. Slift became an underground darling after 2020’s Ummon, which got them enough acclaim to be Artist in Residence at the 2022 edition of Roadburn, where I first became acquainted with the Toulouse formation. Ilion is a feverish album, a chase through winding soundscapes that always change but never end, layers of vocals and synths passing in and out of view, the hefty riffs hammering your back and Frenchmen hollering at you from behind. Slift has been getting heavier with each release and now firmly finds itself in sludge territory. The phenomenal drums are the tone, the pace, and the foundation here, a colossal presence even if their sound isn’t massive per se. They remind most of the climactic sequences Dvne so excels at, a bludgeoning dynamic shuffle that feels like getting caught in an avalanche, but retaining their old-school jam-band roots. Thankfully there’s enough variation to mitigate the bloat a bit, from left-field saxophone intermissions to more mid-paced material like the excellent atmospheric doom of “Weavers’ Weft.” Ilion is a deep, deep well, but a richly rewarding one for fans of heavy psych.

Carcharodon’s Fanged Fancies

Ὁπλίτης // Παραμαινομένη [January 12th, 2024 – Self-released]

At this point, I am almost relieved that the Chinese black metal-making machine known as Ὁπλίτης (Hoplites, for those of us not well versed in Ancient Greek) resolutely continues to not send us promo. Such is his level of productivity and, crucially, consistency, that I fear I would spend a fair chunk of my time just writing >3.0 reviews for his various projects (Vitriolic Sage being another good one). A case in point, his latest offering, Ὁπλίτης, is another absolute banger. Π​α​ρ​α​μ​α​ι​ν​ο​μ​έ​ν​η actually offers something slightly different from previous outings. While still very much playing in the almost clinically harsh black metal space, there is a more present and more vicious bass groove to this (fifth track “Συμμιαινόμεναι Διονύσῳ Ἐλευθέριῳ”), as well as, more surprisingly, a lot of freeform jazz elements. Screaming sax and trumpets are a big component, particularly in the first half of the record, giving the whole a feeling of White Ward and John Zorn having a particularly raucous threesome with Vredehammer. There is nothing tender about what’s happening though; it’s furious, pummelling, experimental… at least one of which is a thing that a threesome should be. A punishing, relentless listen, with unexpected twists, Ὁπλίτης has once again cranked out a fascinating record, and in record time.

Infant Island // Obsidian Wreath [January 12th, 2024 – Secret Voice]

Infant Island is new to me but, apparently, not to all—I’ve seen a fair bit of buzz around these guys—and Obsidian Wreath is the Virginians’ third record. Probably best tagged as blackened screamo, this record has contradictory feelings of warmth and utterly despairing rage. The band themselves cite Panopticon and Deafheaven as influences. I can hear both in their sound, the melodic complexity of the former, and the atmospheric wall-of-sound style of the latter. However, there are a few other things going on in the mix, with something of the frantic, chaotic precision of Pupil Slicer (“Fulfilled”), as well as the haunted and melodic deathgaze of Kardashev (“Amaranthine” and “Kindling”). Guitarists Alexander Rudenshiold and Winston Givler create such a dense morass of sound, that it often feels like there are more than two guitar lines in play, while Kyle Guerra’s bass adds something faintly grindcore-esque to the mix. All five members are credited with the vocals, which are throat-shredding and packed with pain, mourning, and frustration. Obsidian Wreath is a brutal, percussive listen, that feels like it’s tearing open your ears so that it can scream directly into your brain. At the same time, dark and unsettling electronica and arrangements (“Found Hand”) play a part in lulling the battered listener, preparing you for the next assault, as does the mix, which is surprisingly rich for all the pummelling. Although Infant Island is a screamo band, they reach with confidence into other genres for inspiration, making for a much more interesting proposition.

Thus Spoke’s Reviled Ramblings

Cognizance // Phantazein [January 26th, 2024 – Willowtip]

As most of them are from Leeds, I would have expected Cognizance to know that the objectively correct, British spelling is Cognisance, actually.2 But what the Loiners3 might lack in grammatical precision, they more than makeup for in musical style. Finessing their brand of tech-death, which falls somewhere between The Faceless and Allegaeon, Phantazein realizes the convergence of grooviness, melodic catchiness, and technicality with panache. Stomping, neck-snapping, and irresistibly foot-tapping rhythms tumble over one another with precise eagerness (“Ceremonial Vigour,” “Futureless Horizon,” “The Towering Monument”). Punchy, satisfyingly urgent melodies lead the way in chunky, groovy guitar dances (“A Brain Dead Memoir,” “Shock Heuristics,” “Shadowgraph”). With the exception of the (unnecessary) echoing interlude “Alferov,” this thing wrestles and roils its way into and around your general head area. It’s snappy, slick, and smooth. Phantazein (I think) comes from the Greek meaning “to appear,” as in, to seem a certain way. It seems to me, at least, that Phantazein is a banger.

Resin Tomb // Cerebral Purgatory [January 19th, 2024 – Transcending Obscurity Records]

Having stolen this from Ferox‘s rightful hands due to his punishing work schedule, I find myself, not for the first, or the last time this year I’m sure, singing the praises of a Transcending Obscurity release. But Cerebral Purgatory deserves praise in its own right. Punishingly heavy, yet remarkably listenable, it sees Resin Tomb filter grindy percussive assaults and dissonant death metal through a hard/grind-core medium. Barking screams breaking across ringing, tremolo-ing descending scales and tempos from charge to crushing, headbanging groove. Clanging, twanging guitar beats aggressive and menacing patterns (“Flesh Brick,” “Scalded,” “Putrescence”). Sometimes, this makes for pleasingly slick, melancholic melodies, that play out with stalking grace (title track, “Human Confetti,” “Concrete Crypt”). Other times, relentless blastbeating or chonky bass chugging provides the background for the axe’s more dissonant angularity (“Dysphoria,” “Purge Fluid,” “Flesh Brick”). Like “a more hardcore-y Nightmarer,”4 or perhaps even an extreme metal Knocked Loose mixed with Nothingness. Seriously, just listen to it.

Mystikus Hugebeards’s Stupendous Scrolls

Albion // Lakesongs of Elbid [January 27th, 2024 – Self-Release]

I’ve been on a folk metal streak of late, yet I’ve struggled to find something that really gripped me the way I wanted. Thus did fate decree that some watery tart hangin’ about in ponds would lob a sword at me in the form of Lakesongs of Elbid, the debut album by the British folk band Albion. This album transposes Celtic folklore into lush, lightly proggy folk metal in the vein of Big Big Train, and is written like the music you hear in your head when you picture a grand quest to Camelot or the Isles of Avalon. “Arthurian Overture” begins the journey in earnest, the music cresting triumphant, orchestral hills and striding through valleys of flute passages, all to the rhythmic footsteps of the guitars. From there, Lakesongs of Elbid explores a wide array of musical locales that can range from direct, determined metal riffs (“Finding Avalon”), traces of British tavern rock (“Barret’s Privateers,” “Silvaplana Rock”), or somber, acoustic folk (“Camlann”). The quest is spearheaded by Joe Parrish-James, whose vocals effortlessly merge the buttery smooth cadence of a seasoned storyteller with a youthful yearning for adventure. That idea of adventure is the beating heart of Lakesongs of Elbid; I can think of a few bands that so easily transport the listener to a new world of vibrant color and sound. Adventurous, enchanting, tons of fun, and extraordinarily British.

Dolphin Whisperer’s Slippery Sermon

Cancer Christ // God Is Violence [January 5th, 2024 – Seeing Red Records]

HAIL CHRIST! HAIL CHRIST!! DO YOU SEE THE LIGHT? DO YOU SEE IT?? IT’S AT THE END OF A TUNNEL FILLED WITH RAPISTS, SATANISTS, PEOPLE WHO DON’T BELIEVE IN GOD’S LOVE. “SATAN IS A BITCH.” SEE THE LIGHT. SEE JESUS CHRIST. JESUS KNOWS THE WORLD CAN BE A BETTER PLACE. JESUS KNOWS THE WORLD NEEDS RIFFS. JESUS KNOWS THE WORLD DOESN’T NEED COPS. “GOD HATES COPS.” THEY STAND IN THE WAY OF GOD’S POWER. HUBRIS! JESUS KNOWS THAT WE’RE ALL BETTER DEAD THAN ALIVE. JESUS CAN KILL US ALL JUST FINE HE DOESN’T NEED COPS. DID YOU HEAR? DID YOU HEAR JESUS’ WORD?? WE NEED TO “BRING BACK THE GUILLOTINE” — WE NEED TO CIRCLE PIT AROUND THE SINNERS AND CHOP THEIR HEADS OFF. CHOP THEIR HEADS OFF!! THE ONLY WAY THEY’LL SEE GOD’S LOVE IS IF THEY’RE DEAD. DO YOU HEAR THE SCREECHING? THAT HIGH-PITCHED SQUIRMING? THAT THRASHY RHYTHMIC PULSE? THAT’S THE ONLY WAY WE’LL GET THESE SINNERS WHO HAVE BEEN “BAPTIZED IN PISS AND SHIT.” HAIL CHRIST! HAIL CHRIST!! WE HAVE SKANKS (BEATS)! WE HAVE MENTAL BREAKDOWNS! “JESUS GOT A BIG OL’ COCK” TOO! IF YOU DESIRE SALVATION YOU’LL WORSHIP CHRIST IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU. SPREAD JESUS’ LOVE LIKE HE’S SPREAD HIS SEED ACROSS THE WORLD. CANCER CHRIST HAS LAID THE PATH BEFORE YOU. DON’T LISTEN TO LESSER GOSPELS EVEN IF THEY SOUND SIMILAR. DEAD KENNEDYS ARE OLD BUT NOT AS OLD AS HIS WISDOM. CHILD BITE HAS NO CLUE OF THE PATH OF GOD. TRAP THEM DOESN’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO BUILD A CROSS LET ALONE HOW TO NAIL JESUS SINNERS TO ONE. COVER YOURSELF IN “THE BLOOD OF JESUS” TO PROTECT YOURSELF FROM THESE DIRECTIONLESS GOSPELS WHO KNOW NOTHING OF THE LOVE OF GOD. FILL YOUR LIFE WITH MEANING. FILL YOUR LIFE WITH JESUS’ CUM. “GOD BLESS THE RAPISTS.” GOD IS THRASH. GOD IS NOISE. GOD IS LOVE. GOD IS VIOLENCE. HAIL CHRIST!!! HAIL!!!! CHRIST!!!!!5

Dear Hollow’s Magnanimous Muddle

Her Last Sight // Picture Perfect [January 19th, 2024 – Liron Avital Productions / Self-Released]

You see metalcore, you run? Well run, bitch, run. Cuz Her Last Sight is bringing back the 2000s metalcore that made Hot Topic-obsessed millennials go absolutely bananas. Being that this was my well-trod path to the harsher realities of metal’s more textured offerings, I was all for giving Picture Perfect after seeing the Israelis’ incredibly accomplished guitarist Ofek Asulin’s insane licks on TikTok. While completely acknowledging that this bad boy is not going to change your mind on metalcore, Picture Perfect is core nostalgia through and through. Parkway Drive’s fist-pumping brutality collides with As I Lay Dying’s wild technicality, fed through the riff-happy arpeggio machines of Killswitch Engage or Trivium with clean choruses and heart-wrenching melodies straight outta In Hearts Wake or The Amity Affliction. Breakdowns and wild riffs dominate tracks like “In Dying Light,” “Horizons,” and “R.I.P.”, while the soaring choruses of “Paralyzed,” “Careless,” and “Heart // Mind” remain seared in the mind. While the too-loud and frail clean vocals are too often a weak link, the album is overlong, and the sparse electronic trip-hop influence feels largely unnecessary, the formidable technicality and solid songwriting grant Her Last Sight a relatively guilt-free nostalgia trip with Picture Perfect.

Hyloxalus // Make Me the Heart of the Black Hole [January 26th, 2024 – Self-Release]

For those of you who have read my reviews before, you know how much I am not a power metal guy. I reviewed Moonlight Haze twice to make myself more marketable when I first joined these halls, but it is far and away not my cup of tea. Thus, I was cautiously intrigued by the “dark power metal” tag of the Edmonton trio Hyloxalus. How this translates is that we are graced with the powerful operatic vocals of Nina Laderoute while instrumentalists Danial “AniMal” Devost and Mike Bell offer a noisy and relentless thrash riff-forwardness that feels both kickass and cold. Channeling Nightwish’s weirder and heavier moments, the trio rockets its sound to the cosmos, where we’re granted sounds expansive, exploratory, and epic (“Undead in Ward 6,” “Sailors Underneath the Waves”), while unforgiving coldness and isolation are constant reminders of the darkness (“He Dies in the Swamp,” “Severed from the Reborn Sun”). Don’t get me wrong, Hyloxalus is far from perfect in a tinny production and wonky mixing, while slower tracks like “Dream Chasm” and “Beyond the Soil” get bogged down by sluggish tempos. However, Make Me the Heart of the Black Hole is a ton of fun from a young band with a unique and weirdass sound that may just capture your heart.

#Aephanemer #Aether #AgesOfMan #Albion #AmericanMetal #AsILayDying #AustralianMetal #BigBigTrain #CancerChrist #CerebralPurgatory #ChildBite #ChineseMetal #Cognizance #ConveyanceInDeath #DarkOath #DeadKennedys #Deafheaven #DeathMetal #DissonantBlackMetal #DoomMetal #Dvne #Emperor #FallsOfRauros #FolkMetal #FrenchMetal #GodIsViolence #Gorgon #Grindcore #Hardcore #HeavyMetal #HerLastSight #Hoplites #Hyolaxus #IKProductions #Ilion #InHeartsWake #InfantIsland #IronMaiden #JohnZorn #Kardashev #KazakhstaniMetal #KillswitchEngage #KnockedLoose #LakesongsOfElbid #LironAvitalProductions #MakeMeTheHeartOfTheBlackHole #MelodicBlackMetal #MelodicDeathMetal #Metalcore #MoonlightHaze #Niemaracz #Nightmarer #Nightwish #Nothingness #ObsidianWreath #Panopticon #ParkwayDrive #Phantazein #PicturePerfect #PortugueseMetal #PowerMetal #ProgressiveBlackMetal #ProgressiveMetal #PsychedelicMetal #PupilSlicer #ResinTomb #Review #Reviews #Rhûn #Screamo #SecretVoids #SeeingRedRecords #SelfRelease #Slift #Sludge #StonerDoom #StonerMetal #StuckInTheFilter #SubPopRecords #SymphonicMetal #SymphonicPowerMetal #TechnicalDeathMetal #TheAmityAffliction #TheTalesOfTheDeepForest #TranscendingObscurityRecords #TrapThem #Trivium #UKMetal #VitriolicSage #Vredehammer #WhiteWard #WillowtipRecords #Ὁπλίτης #Παραμαινομένη

#np #Ruadh - The Rock of the Clyde album teaser

https://ruadh.bandcamp.com/album/the-rock-of-the-clyde

#atmospheric #folkmetal |#blackmetal from #scotland

Yes, the association with #Saor is unavoidable. The music is really good too. Excited for the full record.