#frenchmetal — Public Fediverse posts

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

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

Kenstrosity’s Burning Bastion

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

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

Owlswald’s Sunlit Secret

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

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

Spicie Forrest’s Mathy Morsel

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

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

ClarkKent’s Energetic Inputs

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

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

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

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

Grin Reaper’s Nocturnal Nuggets

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

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

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

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

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

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

Creeping Ivy’s Classic Catch

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

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

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

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

Kenstrosity’s Burning Bastion

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

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

Owlswald’s Sunlit Secret

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

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

Spicie Forrest’s Mathy Morsel

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

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

ClarkKent’s Energetic Inputs

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

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

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

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

Grin Reaper’s Nocturnal Nuggets

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

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

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

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

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

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

Creeping Ivy’s Classic Catch

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

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

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

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

Kenstrosity’s Burning Bastion

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

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

Owlswald’s Sunlit Secret

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

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

Spicie Forrest’s Mathy Morsel

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

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

ClarkKent’s Energetic Inputs

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

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

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

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

Grin Reaper’s Nocturnal Nuggets

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

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

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

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

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

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

Creeping Ivy’s Classic Catch

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

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

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

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

Kenstrosity’s Burning Bastion

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

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

Owlswald’s Sunlit Secret

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

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

Spicie Forrest’s Mathy Morsel

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

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

ClarkKent’s Energetic Inputs

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

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

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

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

Grin Reaper’s Nocturnal Nuggets

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

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

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

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

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

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

Creeping Ivy’s Classic Catch

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

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

Hanternoz – A Hed an Noz, a Noz, a Noz Review

One of the things I enjoy most about folk metal is that I never know exactly what I’m…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2.5 #2026 #AHedanNozaNozaNoz #AntiqRecords #Aug26 #BlackMetal #CnocAnTursa #Entertainment #FolkMetal #FrenchMetal #Grylle #Hanternoz #MedievalBlackMetal #review #Reviews #UK #UnitedKingdom #Vehemence
https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/759062/

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

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

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

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

Though Gorod began as a more conventional technical death metal outfit, progressive songwriting seeps deeper into their bones with each release. The 2010 additions of vocalist Julien Deyres and Nicolas Alberny augured this shift, as 2011’s Transcendence EP and 2012’s A Perfect Absolution encouraged unconventional song structures to complement the band’s knife-edged precision. In this way, I consider Gorod to be the stylistic antithesis of Archspire within technical death metal. Rather than going bigger and faster like the speed-freak Canucks, Gorod takes a more measured approach that, while brisk and exciting, tempers their dispatches with nuance and poise. Both bands succeed down their chosen paths, and the exercise of comparison isn’t about pitting them against one another as much as demonstrating the differences in how the genre can diverge. Given Gorod’s penchant for intricately crafted drama, can eighth album, The Ember Gone, rekindle their elegant allure?

Pivoting from Gorod’s recent theses of celestial bodies and the mythologies they inspire,1 The Ember Gone finds the French quintet examining more recent and pressing matters surrounding man’s role in ecological disasters. This theme carries an especially stark timeliness given the wildfires that broke out in southern France after the band began promoting The Ember Gone. Despite the change in prevailing inspiration, though, Gorod’s musical approach remains intact. Flurries of snaking riffs and clever bass countermelodies propel the album forward, this time adopting slinky grooves (“Regret,” “Ignite”) and reverb-saturated textures (“Forgiveness”) in addition to their expected acrobatics (“Remains”). Rest assured Gorod still reminds of Psycroptic, Augury, and Obscura, although this time around subdued undercurrents lighten The Ember Gone’s grandeur in favor of more intimate compositions.

On the surface, The Ember Gone doesn’t stray too far from the music of Æthra or The Orb. Guitar duo Mathieu Pascal and Nicolas Alberny unleash sidewinding flutters of perpetual riffs (“Signs,” “Remains”), occasionally relinquishing the fretboard gymnastics to build momentum with staccato chord bursts (“Devise”) or to instill emotion via delicate sustains (“Forgiveness,” “Ember”). Benoit Claus also commands attention with a sprightly bass performance, rarely content to play under what Pascal and Alberny construct. Instead, he pursues sinuous grooves that embolden Gorod’s stringed attack (“Devise,” “Ignite”). Deyres delivers an effective performance as well, especially on “Forgiveness” and “Regret,” as he unfurls stirring cleans that accompany his abrasive growls. Drummer Karol Diers likewise submits a solid outing, although he often falls into the background compared to his immediate and off-kilter patterns that made all-out brawlers “The Sentry,” “We Are the Sun Gods,” and “Breeding Silence” so explosive on prior albums.

Given how the same essential building blocks undergird Gorod’s recent releases, something feels like it’s missing from The Ember Gone. Æthra and The Orb dedicated runtimes to exploring various themes related to the moon and sun, and the music felt appropriately epic. With The Ember Gone’s thematic lens zooming in on humanity’s environmental negligence, the music too often dwells in melancholic lament. In fairness, this is an appropriate reaction, yet I yearn for some biblically righteous indignation that fans Ember’s flames into a raging inferno. Regardless, the music is unerringly gorgeous and feels richer than the DR 6 suggests, and every instrument sounds sinewy and potent while Deyres’s mix of clean and harsh vox cuts through. I’m also shocked at the number of plays I’ve accumulated over just a few days, and while part of that was born from necessity, I find myself drawn back to Gorod again and again.

Although The Ember Gone doesn’t reach the same heights as their other recent output, Gorod nonetheless delivers an invigorating dose of proggy tech death that should satisfy fans. In turns introspective and ferocious, The Ember Gone smolders with an understated confidence that stokes my appreciation higher with each listen. Evaluating it has presented an agonized challenge, as Gorod resolutely exemplifies what I love about both progressive and technical metal, yet I can’t escape the feeling that too much of The Ember Gone’s urgency is siphoned by restraint. Still, this review required a quick turnaround and even the little time I’ve spent with Gorod’s latest proves it’s a potent grower. Perhaps by the end of the year I’ll realize that The Ember Gone’s eminence was just a very slow burn.

Rating: Very Good!!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Base Productions
Websites: Official | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: August 28th, 2026

Though Gorod began as a more conventional technical death metal outfit, progressive songwriting seeps deeper into their bones with each release. The 2010 additions of vocalist Julien Deyres and Nicolas Alberny augured this shift, as 2011’s Transcendence EP and 2012’s A Perfect Absolution encouraged unconventional song structures to complement the band’s knife-edged precision. In this way, I consider Gorod to be the stylistic antithesis of Archspire within technical death metal. Rather than going bigger and faster like the speed-freak Canucks, Gorod takes a more measured approach that, while brisk and exciting, tempers their dispatches with nuance and poise. Both bands succeed down their chosen paths, and the exercise of comparison isn’t about pitting them against one another as much as demonstrating the differences in how the genre can diverge. Given Gorod’s penchant for intricately crafted drama, can eighth album, The Ember Gone, rekindle their elegant allure?

Pivoting from Gorod’s recent theses of celestial bodies and the mythologies they inspire,1 The Ember Gone finds the French quintet examining more recent and pressing matters surrounding man’s role in ecological disasters. This theme carries an especially stark timeliness given the wildfires that broke out in southern France after the band began promoting The Ember Gone. Despite the change in prevailing inspiration, though, Gorod’s musical approach remains intact. Flurries of snaking riffs and clever bass countermelodies propel the album forward, this time adopting slinky grooves (“Regret,” “Ignite”) and reverb-saturated textures (“Forgiveness”) in addition to their expected acrobatics (“Remains”). Rest assured Gorod still reminds of Psycroptic, Augury, and Obscura, although this time around subdued undercurrents lighten The Ember Gone’s grandeur in favor of more intimate compositions.

On the surface, The Ember Gone doesn’t stray too far from the music of Æthra or The Orb. Guitar duo Mathieu Pascal and Nicolas Alberny unleash sidewinding flutters of perpetual riffs (“Signs,” “Remains”), occasionally relinquishing the fretboard gymnastics to build momentum with staccato chord bursts (“Devise”) or to instill emotion via delicate sustains (“Forgiveness,” “Ember”). Benoit Claus also commands attention with a sprightly bass performance, rarely content to play under what Pascal and Alberny construct. Instead, he pursues sinuous grooves that embolden Gorod’s stringed attack (“Devise,” “Ignite”). Deyres delivers an effective performance as well, especially on “Forgiveness” and “Regret,” as he unfurls stirring cleans that accompany his abrasive growls. Drummer Karol Diers likewise submits a solid outing, although he often falls into the background compared to his immediate and off-kilter patterns that made all-out brawlers “The Sentry,” “We Are the Sun Gods,” and “Breeding Silence” so explosive on prior albums.

Given how the same essential building blocks undergird Gorod’s recent releases, something feels like it’s missing from The Ember Gone. Æthra and The Orb dedicated runtimes to exploring various themes related to the moon and sun, and the music felt appropriately epic. With The Ember Gone’s thematic lens zooming in on humanity’s environmental negligence, the music too often dwells in melancholic lament. In fairness, this is an appropriate reaction, yet I yearn for some biblically righteous indignation that fans Ember’s flames into a raging inferno. Regardless, the music is unerringly gorgeous and feels richer than the DR 6 suggests, and every instrument sounds sinewy and potent while Deyres’s mix of clean and harsh vox cuts through. I’m also shocked at the number of plays I’ve accumulated over just a few days, and while part of that was born from necessity, I find myself drawn back to Gorod again and again.

Although The Ember Gone doesn’t reach the same heights as their other recent output, Gorod nonetheless delivers an invigorating dose of proggy tech death that should satisfy fans. In turns introspective and ferocious, The Ember Gone smolders with an understated confidence that stokes my appreciation higher with each listen. Evaluating it has presented an agonized challenge, as Gorod resolutely exemplifies what I love about both progressive and technical metal, yet I can’t escape the feeling that too much of The Ember Gone’s urgency is siphoned by restraint. Still, this review required a quick turnaround and even the little time I’ve spent with Gorod’s latest proves it’s a potent grower. Perhaps by the end of the year I’ll realize that The Ember Gone’s eminence was just a very slow burn.

Rating: Very Good!!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Base Productions
Websites: Official | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: August 28th, 2026

Though Gorod began as a more conventional technical death metal outfit, progressive songwriting seeps deeper into their bones with each release. The 2010 additions of vocalist Julien Deyres and Nicolas Alberny augured this shift, as 2011’s Transcendence EP and 2012’s A Perfect Absolution encouraged unconventional song structures to complement the band’s knife-edged precision. In this way, I consider Gorod to be the stylistic antithesis of Archspire within technical death metal. Rather than going bigger and faster like the speed-freak Canucks, Gorod takes a more measured approach that, while brisk and exciting, tempers their dispatches with nuance and poise. Both bands succeed down their chosen paths, and the exercise of comparison isn’t about pitting them against one another as much as demonstrating the differences in how the genre can diverge. Given Gorod’s penchant for intricately crafted drama, can eighth album, The Ember Gone, rekindle their elegant allure?

Pivoting from Gorod’s recent theses of celestial bodies and the mythologies they inspire,1 The Ember Gone finds the French quintet examining more recent and pressing matters surrounding man’s role in ecological disasters. This theme carries an especially stark timeliness given the wildfires that broke out in southern France after the band began promoting The Ember Gone. Despite the change in prevailing inspiration, though, Gorod’s musical approach remains intact. Flurries of snaking riffs and clever bass countermelodies propel the album forward, this time adopting slinky grooves (“Regret,” “Ignite”) and reverb-saturated textures (“Forgiveness”) in addition to their expected acrobatics (“Remains”). Rest assured Gorod still reminds of Psycroptic, Augury, and Obscura, although this time around subdued undercurrents lighten The Ember Gone’s grandeur in favor of more intimate compositions.

On the surface, The Ember Gone doesn’t stray too far from the music of Æthra or The Orb. Guitar duo Mathieu Pascal and Nicolas Alberny unleash sidewinding flutters of perpetual riffs (“Signs,” “Remains”), occasionally relinquishing the fretboard gymnastics to build momentum with staccato chord bursts (“Devise”) or to instill emotion via delicate sustains (“Forgiveness,” “Ember”). Benoit Claus also commands attention with a sprightly bass performance, rarely content to play under what Pascal and Alberny construct. Instead, he pursues sinuous grooves that embolden Gorod’s stringed attack (“Devise,” “Ignite”). Deyres delivers an effective performance as well, especially on “Forgiveness” and “Regret,” as he unfurls stirring cleans that accompany his abrasive growls. Drummer Karol Diers likewise submits a solid outing, although he often falls into the background compared to his immediate and off-kilter patterns that made all-out brawlers “The Sentry,” “We Are the Sun Gods,” and “Breeding Silence” so explosive on prior albums.

Given how the same essential building blocks undergird Gorod’s recent releases, something feels like it’s missing from The Ember Gone. Æthra and The Orb dedicated runtimes to exploring various themes related to the moon and sun, and the music felt appropriately epic. With The Ember Gone’s thematic lens zooming in on humanity’s environmental negligence, the music too often dwells in melancholic lament. In fairness, this is an appropriate reaction, yet I yearn for some biblically righteous indignation that fans Ember’s flames into a raging inferno. Regardless, the music is unerringly gorgeous and feels richer than the DR 6 suggests, and every instrument sounds sinewy and potent while Deyres’s mix of clean and harsh vox cuts through. I’m also shocked at the number of plays I’ve accumulated over just a few days, and while part of that was born from necessity, I find myself drawn back to Gorod again and again.

Although The Ember Gone doesn’t reach the same heights as their other recent output, Gorod nonetheless delivers an invigorating dose of proggy tech death that should satisfy fans. In turns introspective and ferocious, The Ember Gone smolders with an understated confidence that stokes my appreciation higher with each listen. Evaluating it has presented an agonized challenge, as Gorod resolutely exemplifies what I love about both progressive and technical metal, yet I can’t escape the feeling that too much of The Ember Gone’s urgency is siphoned by restraint. Still, this review required a quick turnaround and even the little time I’ve spent with Gorod’s latest proves it’s a potent grower. Perhaps by the end of the year I’ll realize that The Ember Gone’s eminence was just a very slow burn.

Rating: Very Good!!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Base Productions
Websites: Official | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: August 28th, 2026

Though Gorod began as a more conventional technical death metal outfit, progressive songwriting seeps deeper into their bones with each release. The 2010 additions of vocalist Julien Deyres and Nicolas Alberny augured this shift, as 2011’s Transcendence EP and 2012’s A Perfect Absolution encouraged unconventional song structures to complement the band’s knife-edged precision. In this way, I consider Gorod to be the stylistic antithesis of Archspire within technical death metal. Rather than going bigger and faster like the speed-freak Canucks, Gorod takes a more measured approach that, while brisk and exciting, tempers their dispatches with nuance and poise. Both bands succeed down their chosen paths, and the exercise of comparison isn’t about pitting them against one another as much as demonstrating the differences in how the genre can diverge. Given Gorod’s penchant for intricately crafted drama, can eighth album, The Ember Gone, rekindle their elegant allure?

Pivoting from Gorod’s recent theses of celestial bodies and the mythologies they inspire,1 The Ember Gone finds the French quintet examining more recent and pressing matters surrounding man’s role in ecological disasters. This theme carries an especially stark timeliness given the wildfires that broke out in southern France after the band began promoting The Ember Gone. Despite the change in prevailing inspiration, though, Gorod’s musical approach remains intact. Flurries of snaking riffs and clever bass countermelodies propel the album forward, this time adopting slinky grooves (“Regret,” “Ignite”) and reverb-saturated textures (“Forgiveness”) in addition to their expected acrobatics (“Remains”). Rest assured Gorod still reminds of Psycroptic, Augury, and Obscura, although this time around subdued undercurrents lighten The Ember Gone’s grandeur in favor of more intimate compositions.

On the surface, The Ember Gone doesn’t stray too far from the music of Æthra or The Orb. Guitar duo Mathieu Pascal and Nicolas Alberny unleash sidewinding flutters of perpetual riffs (“Signs,” “Remains”), occasionally relinquishing the fretboard gymnastics to build momentum with staccato chord bursts (“Devise”) or to instill emotion via delicate sustains (“Forgiveness,” “Ember”). Benoit Claus also commands attention with a sprightly bass performance, rarely content to play under what Pascal and Alberny construct. Instead, he pursues sinuous grooves that embolden Gorod’s stringed attack (“Devise,” “Ignite”). Deyres delivers an effective performance as well, especially on “Forgiveness” and “Regret,” as he unfurls stirring cleans that accompany his abrasive growls. Drummer Karol Diers likewise submits a solid outing, although he often falls into the background compared to his immediate and off-kilter patterns that made all-out brawlers “The Sentry,” “We Are the Sun Gods,” and “Breeding Silence” so explosive on prior albums.

Given how the same essential building blocks undergird Gorod’s recent releases, something feels like it’s missing from The Ember Gone. Æthra and The Orb dedicated runtimes to exploring various themes related to the moon and sun, and the music felt appropriately epic. With The Ember Gone’s thematic lens zooming in on humanity’s environmental negligence, the music too often dwells in melancholic lament. In fairness, this is an appropriate reaction, yet I yearn for some biblically righteous indignation that fans Ember’s flames into a raging inferno. Regardless, the music is unerringly gorgeous and feels richer than the DR 6 suggests, and every instrument sounds sinewy and potent while Deyres’s mix of clean and harsh vox cuts through. I’m also shocked at the number of plays I’ve accumulated over just a few days, and while part of that was born from necessity, I find myself drawn back to Gorod again and again.

Although The Ember Gone doesn’t reach the same heights as their other recent output, Gorod nonetheless delivers an invigorating dose of proggy tech death that should satisfy fans. In turns introspective and ferocious, The Ember Gone smolders with an understated confidence that stokes my appreciation higher with each listen. Evaluating it has presented an agonized challenge, as Gorod resolutely exemplifies what I love about both progressive and technical metal, yet I can’t escape the feeling that too much of The Ember Gone’s urgency is siphoned by restraint. Still, this review required a quick turnaround and even the little time I’ve spent with Gorod’s latest proves it’s a potent grower. Perhaps by the end of the year I’ll realize that The Ember Gone’s eminence was just a very slow burn.

Rating: Very Good!!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Base Productions
Websites: Official | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: August 28th, 2026

Viande – Monument aux morts Review

As I snatch their sophomore, Monument aux morts from the jaws of the dormant Shark, the irony of…
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https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/722365/

As I snatch their sophomore, Monument aux morts from the jaws of the dormant Shark, the irony of reviewing an act called Viande1 as a vegan is not lost on me. Fortunately, the meat they’re serving is of the metaphorical kind—brutal, nasty, chewy. After L’Abime dévore les âmes saw all souls eaten, a Monument to the dead comes in comiseration castigation for the misstep into that abyss. At first blush, Monument aux morts seems to follow also in its predecessor’s grimy doom-death-black stylistic tracks; but there’s more to the descent this time. Coming four years since Viande first crawled out of the earth, can it strike the death blow its predecessor narrowly missed?

Monument aux morts changes little about Viande’s culinary style, continuing to draw heavily from the Incantation school of death metal, though now with more prominent disorienting flourishes that vividly recall Thantifaxath (“Sacrifice Ardent,” “L’homme Brasier”). The atmospheric side leans closer to that of Praise the Plague—grand and menacing—on the slower end (“Linceul Immense,” “Une cage d’os”), and Ultha on the faster—vocals excepted—(“Germes de mort”). Together, these create a darker and more dissonant offering which in turn makes the omnipresent echo and whines of feedback that bleed tracks together feel even more smothering. Dense and heavy at fast as well as moderated tempos, Monument aux morts succeeds in creating a persistent aura of horror even as it wavers before the threshold of total envelopment.

Viande’s ability to unsettle has improved, thanks to deeper, more nuanced compositions. Guitars snake ominously and twist themselves into ever more gut-wrenching patterns (“Sacrifice ardent,” “Germes de mort,” “L’homme brasier”), whilst tremolos also slip more often into an eerie shiver (“Linceul immense”). The pervasive atmosphere uses reverb intelligently, without detracting from each song’s momentum, and often pulls in the horrifying sounds of screams (“Sacrifice ardent”) and strange synthetic whines (“L’esprit cachot”). Malevolent minor melody bleeds in as a short-lived, swaying foothold in the mire (“Une cage d’os”) of churning scales or feedback. Amidst the chaos, oddly compelling grooves take hold (“Linceul Immense,” “Cercueil de vase”). The culmination of these aspects is a consistently frightening texture, which peaks when it all combines to form thrilling, even darkly beautiful, shapes that step outside of a clear (sub-)genre boundary. At these times, Monument aux morts ceases to be merely a punishing, dirt-choked slab of blackened death-doom,2, but a consuming miasma of discordant scales and impossible drums (“Sacrifice ardent,” “L’homme brasier”), or a rippling, oddly mesmerising chasm driven deeper through layers of rhythm and almost-melody (“Monolithe de chagrin,” “L’esprit cachot”).

And yet, Monument aux morts fails to maintain the vice grip on the listener it periodically holds. This is partly down to production that’s fittingly crushing and filth-encrusted for the album’s brutal death leanings, but thereby flattens the more prominent atmospheric side. Aside from above-noted highlights, and the odd sharp turns into the unusual, the majority of Monument aux morts’ eight movements progress along the same lines. The shared components—lurching from resonant tremolos into gallops, retreats to minimalistic whining and half-present drums, recurrent sludgy stomping—are effective in themselves. The issue comes with their repetition across a runtime that approaches an hour, where overlapping song transitions cause things to blur still further into an indistinct mass.

Viande are getting closer to the masterwork of horror they suggest they’re capable of. Despite being longer, Monument aux morts holds a more commanding presence than their debut and the germs of dark brilliance have grown to larger aspects that are truly gripping when they take over. All that remains is for Viande to stitch them together and give them the richer master their depths deserve.

Rating: Good
DR: 63 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: July 31st, 2026

As I snatch their sophomore, Monument aux morts from the jaws of the dormant Shark, the irony of reviewing an act called Viande1 as a vegan is not lost on me. Fortunately, the meat they’re serving is of the metaphorical kind—brutal, nasty, chewy. After L’Abime dévore les âmes saw all souls eaten, a Monument to the dead comes in comiseration castigation for the misstep into that abyss. At first blush, Monument aux morts seems to follow also in its predecessor’s grimy doom-death-black stylistic tracks; but there’s more to the descent this time. Coming four years since Viande first crawled out of the earth, can it strike the death blow its predecessor narrowly missed?

Monument aux morts changes little about Viande’s culinary style, continuing to draw heavily from the Incantation school of death metal, though now with more prominent disorienting flourishes that vividly recall Thantifaxath (“Sacrifice Ardent,” “L’homme Brasier”). The atmospheric side leans closer to that of Praise the Plague—grand and menacing—on the slower end (“Linceul Immense,” “Une cage d’os”), and Ultha on the faster—vocals excepted—(“Germes de mort”). Together, these create a darker and more dissonant offering which in turn makes the omnipresent echo and whines of feedback that bleed tracks together feel even more smothering. Dense and heavy at fast as well as moderated tempos, Monument aux morts succeeds in creating a persistent aura of horror even as it wavers before the threshold of total envelopment.

Viande’s ability to unsettle has improved, thanks to deeper, more nuanced compositions. Guitars snake ominously and twist themselves into ever more gut-wrenching patterns (“Sacrifice ardent,” “Germes de mort,” “L’homme brasier”), whilst tremolos also slip more often into an eerie shiver (“Linceul immense”). The pervasive atmosphere uses reverb intelligently, without detracting from each song’s momentum, and often pulls in the horrifying sounds of screams (“Sacrifice ardent”) and strange synthetic whines (“L’esprit cachot”). Malevolent minor melody bleeds in as a short-lived, swaying foothold in the mire (“Une cage d’os”) of churning scales or feedback. Amidst the chaos, oddly compelling grooves take hold (“Linceul Immense,” “Cercueil de vase”). The culmination of these aspects is a consistently frightening texture, which peaks when it all combines to form thrilling, even darkly beautiful, shapes that step outside of a clear (sub-)genre boundary. At these times, Monument aux morts ceases to be merely a punishing, dirt-choked slab of blackened death-doom,2, but a consuming miasma of discordant scales and impossible drums (“Sacrifice ardent,” “L’homme brasier”), or a rippling, oddly mesmerising chasm driven deeper through layers of rhythm and almost-melody (“Monolithe de chagrin,” “L’esprit cachot”).

And yet, Monument aux morts fails to maintain the vice grip on the listener it periodically holds. This is partly down to production that’s fittingly crushing and filth-encrusted for the album’s brutal death leanings, but thereby flattens the more prominent atmospheric side. Aside from above-noted highlights, and the odd sharp turns into the unusual, the majority of Monument aux morts’ eight movements progress along the same lines. The shared components—lurching from resonant tremolos into gallops, retreats to minimalistic whining and half-present drums, recurrent sludgy stomping—are effective in themselves. The issue comes with their repetition across a runtime that approaches an hour, where overlapping song transitions cause things to blur still further into an indistinct mass.

Viande are getting closer to the masterwork of horror they suggest they’re capable of. Despite being longer, Monument aux morts holds a more commanding presence than their debut and the germs of dark brilliance have grown to larger aspects that are truly gripping when they take over. All that remains is for Viande to stitch them together and give them the richer master their depths deserve.

Rating: Good
DR: 63 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: July 31st, 2026

As I snatch their sophomore, Monument aux morts from the jaws of the dormant Shark, the irony of reviewing an act called Viande1 as a vegan is not lost on me. Fortunately, the meat they’re serving is of the metaphorical kind—brutal, nasty, chewy. After L’Abime dévore les âmes saw all souls eaten, a Monument to the dead comes in comiseration castigation for the misstep into that abyss. At first blush, Monument aux morts seems to follow also in its predecessor’s grimy doom-death-black stylistic tracks; but there’s more to the descent this time. Coming four years since Viande first crawled out of the earth, can it strike the death blow its predecessor narrowly missed?

Monument aux morts changes little about Viande’s culinary style, continuing to draw heavily from the Incantation school of death metal, though now with more prominent disorienting flourishes that vividly recall Thantifaxath (“Sacrifice Ardent,” “L’homme Brasier”). The atmospheric side leans closer to that of Praise the Plague—grand and menacing—on the slower end (“Linceul Immense,” “Une cage d’os”), and Ultha on the faster—vocals excepted—(“Germes de mort”). Together, these create a darker and more dissonant offering which in turn makes the omnipresent echo and whines of feedback that bleed tracks together feel even more smothering. Dense and heavy at fast as well as moderated tempos, Monument aux morts succeeds in creating a persistent aura of horror even as it wavers before the threshold of total envelopment.

Viande’s ability to unsettle has improved, thanks to deeper, more nuanced compositions. Guitars snake ominously and twist themselves into ever more gut-wrenching patterns (“Sacrifice ardent,” “Germes de mort,” “L’homme brasier”), whilst tremolos also slip more often into an eerie shiver (“Linceul immense”). The pervasive atmosphere uses reverb intelligently, without detracting from each song’s momentum, and often pulls in the horrifying sounds of screams (“Sacrifice ardent”) and strange synthetic whines (“L’esprit cachot”). Malevolent minor melody bleeds in as a short-lived, swaying foothold in the mire (“Une cage d’os”) of churning scales or feedback. Amidst the chaos, oddly compelling grooves take hold (“Linceul Immense,” “Cercueil de vase”). The culmination of these aspects is a consistently frightening texture, which peaks when it all combines to form thrilling, even darkly beautiful, shapes that step outside of a clear (sub-)genre boundary. At these times, Monument aux morts ceases to be merely a punishing, dirt-choked slab of blackened death-doom,2, but a consuming miasma of discordant scales and impossible drums (“Sacrifice ardent,” “L’homme brasier”), or a rippling, oddly mesmerising chasm driven deeper through layers of rhythm and almost-melody (“Monolithe de chagrin,” “L’esprit cachot”).

And yet, Monument aux morts fails to maintain the vice grip on the listener it periodically holds. This is partly down to production that’s fittingly crushing and filth-encrusted for the album’s brutal death leanings, but thereby flattens the more prominent atmospheric side. Aside from above-noted highlights, and the odd sharp turns into the unusual, the majority of Monument aux morts’ eight movements progress along the same lines. The shared components—lurching from resonant tremolos into gallops, retreats to minimalistic whining and half-present drums, recurrent sludgy stomping—are effective in themselves. The issue comes with their repetition across a runtime that approaches an hour, where overlapping song transitions cause things to blur still further into an indistinct mass.

Viande are getting closer to the masterwork of horror they suggest they’re capable of. Despite being longer, Monument aux morts holds a more commanding presence than their debut and the germs of dark brilliance have grown to larger aspects that are truly gripping when they take over. All that remains is for Viande to stitch them together and give them the richer master their depths deserve.

Rating: Good
DR: 63 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: July 31st, 2026

As I snatch their sophomore, Monument aux morts from the jaws of the dormant Shark, the irony of reviewing an act called Viande1 as a vegan is not lost on me. Fortunately, the meat they’re serving is of the metaphorical kind—brutal, nasty, chewy. After L’Abime dévore les âmes saw all souls eaten, a Monument to the dead comes in comiseration castigation for the misstep into that abyss. At first blush, Monument aux morts seems to follow also in its predecessor’s grimy doom-death-black stylistic tracks; but there’s more to the descent this time. Coming four years since Viande first crawled out of the earth, can it strike the death blow its predecessor narrowly missed?

Monument aux morts changes little about Viande’s culinary style, continuing to draw heavily from the Incantation school of death metal, though now with more prominent disorienting flourishes that vividly recall Thantifaxath (“Sacrifice Ardent,” “L’homme Brasier”). The atmospheric side leans closer to that of Praise the Plague—grand and menacing—on the slower end (“Linceul Immense,” “Une cage d’os”), and Ultha on the faster—vocals excepted—(“Germes de mort”). Together, these create a darker and more dissonant offering which in turn makes the omnipresent echo and whines of feedback that bleed tracks together feel even more smothering. Dense and heavy at fast as well as moderated tempos, Monument aux morts succeeds in creating a persistent aura of horror even as it wavers before the threshold of total envelopment.

Viande’s ability to unsettle has improved, thanks to deeper, more nuanced compositions. Guitars snake ominously and twist themselves into ever more gut-wrenching patterns (“Sacrifice ardent,” “Germes de mort,” “L’homme brasier”), whilst tremolos also slip more often into an eerie shiver (“Linceul immense”). The pervasive atmosphere uses reverb intelligently, without detracting from each song’s momentum, and often pulls in the horrifying sounds of screams (“Sacrifice ardent”) and strange synthetic whines (“L’esprit cachot”). Malevolent minor melody bleeds in as a short-lived, swaying foothold in the mire (“Une cage d’os”) of churning scales or feedback. Amidst the chaos, oddly compelling grooves take hold (“Linceul Immense,” “Cercueil de vase”). The culmination of these aspects is a consistently frightening texture, which peaks when it all combines to form thrilling, even darkly beautiful, shapes that step outside of a clear (sub-)genre boundary. At these times, Monument aux morts ceases to be merely a punishing, dirt-choked slab of blackened death-doom,2, but a consuming miasma of discordant scales and impossible drums (“Sacrifice ardent,” “L’homme brasier”), or a rippling, oddly mesmerising chasm driven deeper through layers of rhythm and almost-melody (“Monolithe de chagrin,” “L’esprit cachot”).

And yet, Monument aux morts fails to maintain the vice grip on the listener it periodically holds. This is partly down to production that’s fittingly crushing and filth-encrusted for the album’s brutal death leanings, but thereby flattens the more prominent atmospheric side. Aside from above-noted highlights, and the odd sharp turns into the unusual, the majority of Monument aux morts’ eight movements progress along the same lines. The shared components—lurching from resonant tremolos into gallops, retreats to minimalistic whining and half-present drums, recurrent sludgy stomping—are effective in themselves. The issue comes with their repetition across a runtime that approaches an hour, where overlapping song transitions cause things to blur still further into an indistinct mass.

Viande are getting closer to the masterwork of horror they suggest they’re capable of. Despite being longer, Monument aux morts holds a more commanding presence than their debut and the germs of dark brilliance have grown to larger aspects that are truly gripping when they take over. All that remains is for Viande to stitch them together and give them the richer master their depths deserve.

Rating: Good
DR: 63 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: July 31st, 2026

#BlackMetalMonday is perfect to kick yourself in gear for the rest of the week. Today I’d like to share French metal act Mourir with their new record. Delivering a cuastix of black and sludge metal with that underlaying malice only the French can add to their black metal.

👥 Mourir
💿/🎶 Nous, le venin
🔗 https://musiccloud.io/ih16s

#BlackMetal #SludgeMetal #Metal #FrenchMetal

#BlackMetalMonday is perfect to kick yourself in gear for the rest of the week. Today I’d like to share French metal act Mourir with their new record. Delivering a cuastix of black and sludge metal with that underlaying malice only the French can add to their black metal.

👥 Mourir
💿/🎶 Nous, le venin
🔗 https://musiccloud.io/ih16s

#BlackMetal #SludgeMetal #Metal #FrenchMetal

#BlackMetalMonday is perfect to kick yourself in gear for the rest of the week. Today I’d like to share French metal act Mourir with their new record. Delivering a cuastix of black and sludge metal with that underlaying malice only the French can add to their black metal.

👥 Mourir
💿/🎶 Nous, le venin
🔗 https://musiccloud.io/ih16s

#BlackMetal #SludgeMetal #Metal #FrenchMetal

#BlackMetalMonday is perfect to kick yourself in gear for the rest of the week. Today I’d like to share French metal act Mourir with their new record. Delivering a cuastix of black and sludge metal with that underlaying malice only the French can add to their black metal.

👥 Mourir
💿/🎶 Nous, le venin
🔗 https://musiccloud.io/ih16s

#BlackMetal #SludgeMetal #Metal #FrenchMetal

Let me start by saying that the nom de jure adopted by this French heavy/speed metal act gives me a minor case of major league OCD. Was Iron Onslaught unavailable? How about Iron Slaughter? Iron SlaughterER?1 Anywho, the duo behind Iron Slaught started life in 2015 with their Crusading Metal Mercenaries debut,2 and it’s taken them 11 long years to get back in the black with sophomore outing, Metallic Torments. Exactly what kind of metallic torments await the listener, you ask? Well, the formula here is a potent merger of 80s Germanic thrash like Deathrow, Vendetta, and Iron Angel with classic heavy metal and touches of black and death included for extra spice. Does that sound a touch overly ambitious? Mayhaps, but the gruesome twosome behind this project brings a lot of energy and verve to the war hall, and damn if they don’t deliver pure tundra thunder at times. That’s enough to get Steel slaughting3

After a lengthy but interesting instrumental intro, the real fire gets to spreading on “Ghastly Obsession.” This is fast, aggressive 80s speed excess with a premium on catchy, melodic leads that remind me of Running Wild or their blackened descendant, Forefather. In fact, some of the rollicking, rocking riffs are so Running Wild, I almost donned an eye patch and bought meself a parrot. This means the song is plenty of wild, lawless fun, and it will bring the privateers to the YARRRRd. “The Executioner” is another rip ride, brimming with blackened thrash energy and 80s heavy metal bravado. Some of the guitar work is straight up 80s Mercyful Fate, but these moments eventually give way to German-flavored speed assaults with mucho machismo. “Soldier of Fortune” is pure 80s gold with a joyously anthemic, fist-pumping energy and wild guitar pyrotechnics. The clean vocals are interesting and not always great, but they work well enough to sell the product.

Several tracks are sung entirely in French, including the very Bütcher-esque “Condamné Pour L’Éternité” and the large-and-in-charge power ballad “Charme Funeste.” Both work despite being the language barrier for uncouth clods like myself, though the latter feels a touch too portly at 7 minutes. Many of my favorite moments arrive during the equally stout 8-plus minutes of closer “Fatal Retaliations,” where the level of blackened thrash reaches Desaster levels of berserk lunacy. There’s also a competing Grave Digger vibe that rudely and Germanically injects itself, thereby making the whole construct feel loony and amusingly over-the-top as the time passes by quickly. There’s more than enough sheer chaos in this one to keep you entertained as the duo stretches itself to the utmost compositionally. At a trim 44 minutes with no tracks tanking and only minor issues with bloatage, there’s enough unbridled enthusiasm on Metallic Torments to keep you locked in and thrashing along.

Iron Jérémy4 handles guitars and vocals, and his fretboard surfing is quite impressive. The dude can noodle up a storm, but he also has a firm grasp on how to craft memorable, ear-snagging riffs that stick the landing. Whether he’s borrowing from various heroes of 80s classic metal or veering into the extremes of thrash and black metal, there’s a keen sense of purpose and craftsmanship to what he does. His rough, raw thrash bellows and harsher blackened rasps are solid and effective, and even when he ventures into clean singing, he manages to pull it off more often than not, and at times he really brings it. Partner-in-grime Nikrass mans the bass, and though he isn’t all that audible amid the mayhem, he provides a solid foundational rumble upon which they build a temple to batshit craziness. The drums were apparently programmed, but I didn’t detect that on my review spins, so they did a good job there.

Metallic Toments is one of those unsung little albums you happen upon that ends up punching way above its weight, and there’s no way to blast this and not get your metal mood elevated. It’s easy to digest, high-octane, and ambitious enough to throw some surprises at the listener. Iron Slaught may not be a household name, or even have a name worthy of entry into most houses, but they know how to bring the metal to the filthy masses, and bring it they do here. Bless this poorly monikered mess.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Gates of Hell
Websites: ironslaught.bandcamp.com |facebook.com/profile.php
Releases Worldwide: July 10th, 2026

Let me start by saying that the nom de jure adopted by this French heavy/speed metal act gives me a minor case of major league OCD. Was Iron Onslaught unavailable? How about Iron Slaughter? Iron SlaughterER?1 Anywho, the duo behind Iron Slaught started life in 2015 with their Crusading Metal Mercenaries debut,2 and it’s taken them 11 long years to get back in the black with sophomore outing, Metallic Torments. Exactly what kind of metallic torments await the listener, you ask? Well, the formula here is a potent merger of 80s Germanic thrash like Deathrow, Vendetta, and Iron Angel with classic heavy metal and touches of black and death included for extra spice. Does that sound a touch overly ambitious? Mayhaps, but the gruesome twosome behind this project brings a lot of energy and verve to the war hall, and damn if they don’t deliver pure tundra thunder at times. That’s enough to get Steel slaughting3

After a lengthy but interesting instrumental intro, the real fire gets to spreading on “Ghastly Obsession.” This is fast, aggressive 80s speed excess with a premium on catchy, melodic leads that remind me of Running Wild or their blackened descendant, Forefather. In fact, some of the rollicking, rocking riffs are so Running Wild, I almost donned an eye patch and bought meself a parrot. This means the song is plenty of wild, lawless fun, and it will bring the privateers to the YARRRRd. “The Executioner” is another rip ride, brimming with blackened thrash energy and 80s heavy metal bravado. Some of the guitar work is straight up 80s Mercyful Fate, but these moments eventually give way to German-flavored speed assaults with mucho machismo. “Soldier of Fortune” is pure 80s gold with a joyously anthemic, fist-pumping energy and wild guitar pyrotechnics. The clean vocals are interesting and not always great, but they work well enough to sell the product.

Several tracks are sung entirely in French, including the very Bütcher-esque “Condamné Pour L’Éternité” and the large-and-in-charge power ballad “Charme Funeste.” Both work despite being the language barrier for uncouth clods like myself, though the latter feels a touch too portly at 7 minutes. Many of my favorite moments arrive during the equally stout 8-plus minutes of closer “Fatal Retaliations,” where the level of blackened thrash reaches Desaster levels of berserk lunacy. There’s also a competing Grave Digger vibe that rudely and Germanically injects itself, thereby making the whole construct feel loony and amusingly over-the-top as the time passes by quickly. There’s more than enough sheer chaos in this one to keep you entertained as the duo stretches itself to the utmost compositionally. At a trim 44 minutes with no tracks tanking and only minor issues with bloatage, there’s enough unbridled enthusiasm on Metallic Torments to keep you locked in and thrashing along.

Iron Jérémy4 handles guitars and vocals, and his fretboard surfing is quite impressive. The dude can noodle up a storm, but he also has a firm grasp on how to craft memorable, ear-snagging riffs that stick the landing. Whether he’s borrowing from various heroes of 80s classic metal or veering into the extremes of thrash and black metal, there’s a keen sense of purpose and craftsmanship to what he does. His rough, raw thrash bellows and harsher blackened rasps are solid and effective, and even when he ventures into clean singing, he manages to pull it off more often than not, and at times he really brings it. Partner-in-grime Nikrass mans the bass, and though he isn’t all that audible amid the mayhem, he provides a solid foundational rumble upon which they build a temple to batshit craziness. The drums were apparently programmed, but I didn’t detect that on my review spins, so they did a good job there.

Metallic Toments is one of those unsung little albums you happen upon that ends up punching way above its weight, and there’s no way to blast this and not get your metal mood elevated. It’s easy to digest, high-octane, and ambitious enough to throw some surprises at the listener. Iron Slaught may not be a household name, or even have a name worthy of entry into most houses, but they know how to bring the metal to the filthy masses, and bring it they do here. Bless this poorly monikered mess.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Gates of Hell
Websites: ironslaught.bandcamp.com |facebook.com/profile.php
Releases Worldwide: July 10th, 2026

Let me start by saying that the nom de jure adopted by this French heavy/speed metal act gives me a minor case of major league OCD. Was Iron Onslaught unavailable? How about Iron Slaughter? Iron SlaughterER?1 Anywho, the duo behind Iron Slaught started life in 2015 with their Crusading Metal Mercenaries debut,2 and it’s taken them 11 long years to get back in the black with sophomore outing, Metallic Torments. Exactly what kind of metallic torments await the listener, you ask? Well, the formula here is a potent merger of 80s Germanic thrash like Deathrow, Vendetta, and Iron Angel with classic heavy metal and touches of black and death included for extra spice. Does that sound a touch overly ambitious? Mayhaps, but the gruesome twosome behind this project brings a lot of energy and verve to the war hall, and damn if they don’t deliver pure tundra thunder at times. That’s enough to get Steel slaughting3

After a lengthy but interesting instrumental intro, the real fire gets to spreading on “Ghastly Obsession.” This is fast, aggressive 80s speed excess with a premium on catchy, melodic leads that remind me of Running Wild or their blackened descendant, Forefather. In fact, some of the rollicking, rocking riffs are so Running Wild, I almost donned an eye patch and bought meself a parrot. This means the song is plenty of wild, lawless fun, and it will bring the privateers to the YARRRRd. “The Executioner” is another rip ride, brimming with blackened thrash energy and 80s heavy metal bravado. Some of the guitar work is straight up 80s Mercyful Fate, but these moments eventually give way to German-flavored speed assaults with mucho machismo. “Soldier of Fortune” is pure 80s gold with a joyously anthemic, fist-pumping energy and wild guitar pyrotechnics. The clean vocals are interesting and not always great, but they work well enough to sell the product.

Several tracks are sung entirely in French, including the very Bütcher-esque “Condamné Pour L’Éternité” and the large-and-in-charge power ballad “Charme Funeste.” Both work despite being the language barrier for uncouth clods like myself, though the latter feels a touch too portly at 7 minutes. Many of my favorite moments arrive during the equally stout 8-plus minutes of closer “Fatal Retaliations,” where the level of blackened thrash reaches Desaster levels of berserk lunacy. There’s also a competing Grave Digger vibe that rudely and Germanically injects itself, thereby making the whole construct feel loony and amusingly over-the-top as the time passes by quickly. There’s more than enough sheer chaos in this one to keep you entertained as the duo stretches itself to the utmost compositionally. At a trim 44 minutes with no tracks tanking and only minor issues with bloatage, there’s enough unbridled enthusiasm on Metallic Torments to keep you locked in and thrashing along.

Iron Jérémy4 handles guitars and vocals, and his fretboard surfing is quite impressive. The dude can noodle up a storm, but he also has a firm grasp on how to craft memorable, ear-snagging riffs that stick the landing. Whether he’s borrowing from various heroes of 80s classic metal or veering into the extremes of thrash and black metal, there’s a keen sense of purpose and craftsmanship to what he does. His rough, raw thrash bellows and harsher blackened rasps are solid and effective, and even when he ventures into clean singing, he manages to pull it off more often than not, and at times he really brings it. Partner-in-grime Nikrass mans the bass, and though he isn’t all that audible amid the mayhem, he provides a solid foundational rumble upon which they build a temple to batshit craziness. The drums were apparently programmed, but I didn’t detect that on my review spins, so they did a good job there.

Metallic Toments is one of those unsung little albums you happen upon that ends up punching way above its weight, and there’s no way to blast this and not get your metal mood elevated. It’s easy to digest, high-octane, and ambitious enough to throw some surprises at the listener. Iron Slaught may not be a household name, or even have a name worthy of entry into most houses, but they know how to bring the metal to the filthy masses, and bring it they do here. Bless this poorly monikered mess.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Gates of Hell
Websites: ironslaught.bandcamp.com |facebook.com/profile.php
Releases Worldwide: July 10th, 2026

Let me start by saying that the nom de jure adopted by this French heavy/speed metal act gives me a minor case of major league OCD. Was Iron Onslaught unavailable? How about Iron Slaughter? Iron SlaughterER?1 Anywho, the duo behind Iron Slaught started life in 2015 with their Crusading Metal Mercenaries debut,2 and it’s taken them 11 long years to get back in the black with sophomore outing, Metallic Torments. Exactly what kind of metallic torments await the listener, you ask? Well, the formula here is a potent merger of 80s Germanic thrash like Deathrow, Vendetta, and Iron Angel with classic heavy metal and touches of black and death included for extra spice. Does that sound a touch overly ambitious? Mayhaps, but the gruesome twosome behind this project brings a lot of energy and verve to the war hall, and damn if they don’t deliver pure tundra thunder at times. That’s enough to get Steel slaughting3

After a lengthy but interesting instrumental intro, the real fire gets to spreading on “Ghastly Obsession.” This is fast, aggressive 80s speed excess with a premium on catchy, melodic leads that remind me of Running Wild or their blackened descendant, Forefather. In fact, some of the rollicking, rocking riffs are so Running Wild, I almost donned an eye patch and bought meself a parrot. This means the song is plenty of wild, lawless fun, and it will bring the privateers to the YARRRRd. “The Executioner” is another rip ride, brimming with blackened thrash energy and 80s heavy metal bravado. Some of the guitar work is straight up 80s Mercyful Fate, but these moments eventually give way to German-flavored speed assaults with mucho machismo. “Soldier of Fortune” is pure 80s gold with a joyously anthemic, fist-pumping energy and wild guitar pyrotechnics. The clean vocals are interesting and not always great, but they work well enough to sell the product.

Several tracks are sung entirely in French, including the very Bütcher-esque “Condamné Pour L’Éternité” and the large-and-in-charge power ballad “Charme Funeste.” Both work despite being the language barrier for uncouth clods like myself, though the latter feels a touch too portly at 7 minutes. Many of my favorite moments arrive during the equally stout 8-plus minutes of closer “Fatal Retaliations,” where the level of blackened thrash reaches Desaster levels of berserk lunacy. There’s also a competing Grave Digger vibe that rudely and Germanically injects itself, thereby making the whole construct feel loony and amusingly over-the-top as the time passes by quickly. There’s more than enough sheer chaos in this one to keep you entertained as the duo stretches itself to the utmost compositionally. At a trim 44 minutes with no tracks tanking and only minor issues with bloatage, there’s enough unbridled enthusiasm on Metallic Torments to keep you locked in and thrashing along.

Iron Jérémy4 handles guitars and vocals, and his fretboard surfing is quite impressive. The dude can noodle up a storm, but he also has a firm grasp on how to craft memorable, ear-snagging riffs that stick the landing. Whether he’s borrowing from various heroes of 80s classic metal or veering into the extremes of thrash and black metal, there’s a keen sense of purpose and craftsmanship to what he does. His rough, raw thrash bellows and harsher blackened rasps are solid and effective, and even when he ventures into clean singing, he manages to pull it off more often than not, and at times he really brings it. Partner-in-grime Nikrass mans the bass, and though he isn’t all that audible amid the mayhem, he provides a solid foundational rumble upon which they build a temple to batshit craziness. The drums were apparently programmed, but I didn’t detect that on my review spins, so they did a good job there.

Metallic Toments is one of those unsung little albums you happen upon that ends up punching way above its weight, and there’s no way to blast this and not get your metal mood elevated. It’s easy to digest, high-octane, and ambitious enough to throw some surprises at the listener. Iron Slaught may not be a household name, or even have a name worthy of entry into most houses, but they know how to bring the metal to the filthy masses, and bring it they do here. Bless this poorly monikered mess.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Gates of Hell
Websites: ironslaught.bandcamp.com |facebook.com/profile.php
Releases Worldwide: July 10th, 2026

Arise from Worms – A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction Review

If unrepentant guitar shredding gets your juices flowi…
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https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/680502/

If unrepentant guitar shredding gets your juices flowing, be warned that Arise from Worms bursts at the seams with face-melting indulgence on A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction. Boasting legends from essential death metal bands, Arise from Worms sports a first-rate, international pedigree. The project’s genesis stems from Sonny Lombardozzi, who seeks to push past genre boundaries in his quest for technical ecstasy. Lombardozzi spent time with Incantation from 2017 to 2019, contributing guitars for Profane Nexus, and recruited Morbid Angel vocalist Steve Tucker while supporting the Tampa institution on tour.1 From there, Lombardozzi rounded out the band with first-rate musicians. Cryptopsy‘s Flo Mounier bashes skulls and skins with his signature percussive shellacking, and ex-Dream Theater, ex-Yngwie Malmsteen keyboardist Derek Sherinian lends his high-velocity runs and proggy accents. Armed with enough firepower to defend a small nation, does A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction pack enough punch to make our collective worms arise?

Based solely on the members involved, A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction may not sound like what listeners expect to hear. Though Morbid Angel embodies an apt starting place with their serpentine riffs, Arise from Worms accelerates the speed and jolts guitar tones with a candied DragonForce coating. Sherinian’s contributions occasionally skew towards Dream Theater,2 though A Bleeding Tree requires a darker degree of menace and foreboding. Overall, Arise from Worms sounds a lot like Necrophagist, but with keyboards and a penchant for wankery. And though this comparison isn’t perfect, it gives prospective listeners a point to begin shaping expectations.

Arise from Worms’ performances across A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction doubtlessly spellbind with technicality. Lombardozzi’s masterclass shredding eats up the stage at every turn as he dances up and down the fretboard with enough gusto to make Yngwie blush. From the gratuitous weedlies in “Forgotten Kings” to the Annihilator-ready precision chugging in “Laolongtou,” Lombardozzi never leaves listeners doubting his greed for speed, whether on guitars or bass (“Axes of the Viovode 2”). In fact, Arise from Worms showcases excellent bassmanship throughout A Bleeding Tree, often shadowing the guitars with rousing plucking and impossibly dextrous burbles. Meanwhile, Mounier discharges an unimpeachable onslaught behind the kit, where furious double bass rolls (“Psionic Being”), jazz-flavored snare and cymbal finesse (“Nine Walls”), and tempered beatdowns amidst metronomic grooves (“Raize Demons Breath,” “Axes of the Viovode 1”) epitomize his exacting style and capture what makes him one of my favorite metal drummers. Similarly, Sherinian embeds synth flourishes and eldritch atmospherics to give Arise from Worms ample mystique while loosing dazzling keyboard cascades every now and again (“Laolongtou”). Though not as immediately eye-popping as the instrumentation, Tucker delivers an appropriately monstrous performance on A Bleeding Tree, and if there’s one ingredient Arise from Worms could use more of, it’s Tucker’s vicious vocals.

Unfortunately, despite the wizardry dripping off Arise from Worms’ A Bleeding Tree, insufficient songwriting prevents the technicality from coalescing into fully formed songs. “Forgotten Kings” and “Axes of the Viovode 1 & 2” give Tucker just enough of a platform to build towards proper tracks, but after a few listens, A Bleeding Tree loses its allure and leaks its jaw-dropping magic—even at a reasonable thirty-six minutes. More positively, the music sounds great, with Lombardozzi commanding Arise from Worms with frictionless licks and searing speeds. Given the bad reputation technical death metal gets for poor production, I find A Bleeding Tree a step above in this department, where strings, keys, drums, and vocals crash into one another with satisfying zeal while allowing each other plenty of room within the mix.

As a fan of technical showmanship and a high tolerance for self-indulgent instrumentation, Arise from Worms’ debut leaves me impressed yet mostly unmoved. A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction sounds incredible on paper, and lead single “Forgotten Kings” had me convinced that this would be a special album. In the promo materials, Arise from Worms touts breaking new musical ground and pioneering the writing of novel harmonies and time signatures. Yet in reality, A Bleeding Tree often exhibits the technicality of a clinic or workshop while lacking the songwriting cohesion to elevate songs past the surface. In the end, A Bleeding Tree lingers between outstanding performances and an inadequate execution of fulfilling metal songcraft, and while A Bleeding Tree may be worth Hanging around for, Arise for Worms carries more promise than they deliver on their debut.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: V0 or ~260 kbps VBR mp3
Label: Church Road Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: July 10th, 2026

If unrepentant guitar shredding gets your juices flowing, be warned that Arise from Worms bursts at the seams with face-melting indulgence on A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction. Boasting legends from essential death metal bands, Arise from Worms sports a first-rate, international pedigree. The project’s genesis stems from Sonny Lombardozzi, who seeks to push past genre boundaries in his quest for technical ecstasy. Lombardozzi spent time with Incantation from 2017 to 2019, contributing guitars for Profane Nexus, and recruited Morbid Angel vocalist Steve Tucker while supporting the Tampa institution on tour.1 From there, Lombardozzi rounded out the band with first-rate musicians. Cryptopsy‘s Flo Mounier bashes skulls and skins with his signature percussive shellacking, and ex-Dream Theater, ex-Yngwie Malmsteen keyboardist Derek Sherinian lends his high-velocity runs and proggy accents. Armed with enough firepower to defend a small nation, does A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction pack enough punch to make our collective worms arise?

Based solely on the members involved, A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction may not sound like what listeners expect to hear. Though Morbid Angel embodies an apt starting place with their serpentine riffs, Arise from Worms accelerates the speed and jolts guitar tones with a candied DragonForce coating. Sherinian’s contributions occasionally skew towards Dream Theater,2 though A Bleeding Tree requires a darker degree of menace and foreboding. Overall, Arise from Worms sounds a lot like Necrophagist, but with keyboards and a penchant for wankery. And though this comparison isn’t perfect, it gives prospective listeners a point to begin shaping expectations.

Arise from Worms’ performances across A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction doubtlessly spellbind with technicality. Lombardozzi’s masterclass shredding eats up the stage at every turn as he dances up and down the fretboard with enough gusto to make Yngwie blush. From the gratuitous weedlies in “Forgotten Kings” to the Annihilator-ready precision chugging in “Laolongtou,” Lombardozzi never leaves listeners doubting his greed for speed, whether on guitars or bass (“Axes of the Viovode 2”). In fact, Arise from Worms showcases excellent bassmanship throughout A Bleeding Tree, often shadowing the guitars with rousing plucking and impossibly dextrous burbles. Meanwhile, Mounier discharges an unimpeachable onslaught behind the kit, where furious double bass rolls (“Psionic Being”), jazz-flavored snare and cymbal finesse (“Nine Walls”), and tempered beatdowns amidst metronomic grooves (“Raize Demons Breath,” “Axes of the Viovode 1”) epitomize his exacting style and capture what makes him one of my favorite metal drummers. Similarly, Sherinian embeds synth flourishes and eldritch atmospherics to give Arise from Worms ample mystique while loosing dazzling keyboard cascades every now and again (“Laolongtou”). Though not as immediately eye-popping as the instrumentation, Tucker delivers an appropriately monstrous performance on A Bleeding Tree, and if there’s one ingredient Arise from Worms could use more of, it’s Tucker’s vicious vocals.

Unfortunately, despite the wizardry dripping off Arise from Worms’ A Bleeding Tree, insufficient songwriting prevents the technicality from coalescing into fully formed songs. “Forgotten Kings” and “Axes of the Viovode 1 & 2” give Tucker just enough of a platform to build towards proper tracks, but after a few listens, A Bleeding Tree loses its allure and leaks its jaw-dropping magic—even at a reasonable thirty-six minutes. More positively, the music sounds great, with Lombardozzi commanding Arise from Worms with frictionless licks and searing speeds. Given the bad reputation technical death metal gets for poor production, I find A Bleeding Tree a step above in this department, where strings, keys, drums, and vocals crash into one another with satisfying zeal while allowing each other plenty of room within the mix.

As a fan of technical showmanship and a high tolerance for self-indulgent instrumentation, Arise from Worms’ debut leaves me impressed yet mostly unmoved. A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction sounds incredible on paper, and lead single “Forgotten Kings” had me convinced that this would be a special album. In the promo materials, Arise from Worms touts breaking new musical ground and pioneering the writing of novel harmonies and time signatures. Yet in reality, A Bleeding Tree often exhibits the technicality of a clinic or workshop while lacking the songwriting cohesion to elevate songs past the surface. In the end, A Bleeding Tree lingers between outstanding performances and an inadequate execution of fulfilling metal songcraft, and while A Bleeding Tree may be worth Hanging around for, Arise for Worms carries more promise than they deliver on their debut.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: V0 or ~260 kbps VBR mp3
Label: Church Road Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: July 10th, 2026

If unrepentant guitar shredding gets your juices flowing, be warned that Arise from Worms bursts at the seams with face-melting indulgence on A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction. Boasting legends from essential death metal bands, Arise from Worms sports a first-rate, international pedigree. The project’s genesis stems from Sonny Lombardozzi, who seeks to push past genre boundaries in his quest for technical ecstasy. Lombardozzi spent time with Incantation from 2017 to 2019, contributing guitars for Profane Nexus, and recruited Morbid Angel vocalist Steve Tucker while supporting the Tampa institution on tour.1 From there, Lombardozzi rounded out the band with first-rate musicians. Cryptopsy‘s Flo Mounier bashes skulls and skins with his signature percussive shellacking, and ex-Dream Theater, ex-Yngwie Malmsteen keyboardist Derek Sherinian lends his high-velocity runs and proggy accents. Armed with enough firepower to defend a small nation, does A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction pack enough punch to make our collective worms arise?

Based solely on the members involved, A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction may not sound like what listeners expect to hear. Though Morbid Angel embodies an apt starting place with their serpentine riffs, Arise from Worms accelerates the speed and jolts guitar tones with a candied DragonForce coating. Sherinian’s contributions occasionally skew towards Dream Theater,2 though A Bleeding Tree requires a darker degree of menace and foreboding. Overall, Arise from Worms sounds a lot like Necrophagist, but with keyboards and a penchant for wankery. And though this comparison isn’t perfect, it gives prospective listeners a point to begin shaping expectations.

Arise from Worms’ performances across A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction doubtlessly spellbind with technicality. Lombardozzi’s masterclass shredding eats up the stage at every turn as he dances up and down the fretboard with enough gusto to make Yngwie blush. From the gratuitous weedlies in “Forgotten Kings” to the Annihilator-ready precision chugging in “Laolongtou,” Lombardozzi never leaves listeners doubting his greed for speed, whether on guitars or bass (“Axes of the Viovode 2”). In fact, Arise from Worms showcases excellent bassmanship throughout A Bleeding Tree, often shadowing the guitars with rousing plucking and impossibly dextrous burbles. Meanwhile, Mounier discharges an unimpeachable onslaught behind the kit, where furious double bass rolls (“Psionic Being”), jazz-flavored snare and cymbal finesse (“Nine Walls”), and tempered beatdowns amidst metronomic grooves (“Raize Demons Breath,” “Axes of the Viovode 1”) epitomize his exacting style and capture what makes him one of my favorite metal drummers. Similarly, Sherinian embeds synth flourishes and eldritch atmospherics to give Arise from Worms ample mystique while loosing dazzling keyboard cascades every now and again (“Laolongtou”). Though not as immediately eye-popping as the instrumentation, Tucker delivers an appropriately monstrous performance on A Bleeding Tree, and if there’s one ingredient Arise from Worms could use more of, it’s Tucker’s vicious vocals.

Unfortunately, despite the wizardry dripping off Arise from Worms’ A Bleeding Tree, insufficient songwriting prevents the technicality from coalescing into fully formed songs. “Forgotten Kings” and “Axes of the Viovode 1 & 2” give Tucker just enough of a platform to build towards proper tracks, but after a few listens, A Bleeding Tree loses its allure and leaks its jaw-dropping magic—even at a reasonable thirty-six minutes. More positively, the music sounds great, with Lombardozzi commanding Arise from Worms with frictionless licks and searing speeds. Given the bad reputation technical death metal gets for poor production, I find A Bleeding Tree a step above in this department, where strings, keys, drums, and vocals crash into one another with satisfying zeal while allowing each other plenty of room within the mix.

As a fan of technical showmanship and a high tolerance for self-indulgent instrumentation, Arise from Worms’ debut leaves me impressed yet mostly unmoved. A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction sounds incredible on paper, and lead single “Forgotten Kings” had me convinced that this would be a special album. In the promo materials, Arise from Worms touts breaking new musical ground and pioneering the writing of novel harmonies and time signatures. Yet in reality, A Bleeding Tree often exhibits the technicality of a clinic or workshop while lacking the songwriting cohesion to elevate songs past the surface. In the end, A Bleeding Tree lingers between outstanding performances and an inadequate execution of fulfilling metal songcraft, and while A Bleeding Tree may be worth Hanging around for, Arise for Worms carries more promise than they deliver on their debut.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: V0 or ~260 kbps VBR mp3
Label: Church Road Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: July 10th, 2026

If unrepentant guitar shredding gets your juices flowing, be warned that Arise from Worms bursts at the seams with face-melting indulgence on A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction. Boasting legends from essential death metal bands, Arise from Worms sports a first-rate, international pedigree. The project’s genesis stems from Sonny Lombardozzi, who seeks to push past genre boundaries in his quest for technical ecstasy. Lombardozzi spent time with Incantation from 2017 to 2019, contributing guitars for Profane Nexus, and recruited Morbid Angel vocalist Steve Tucker while supporting the Tampa institution on tour.1 From there, Lombardozzi rounded out the band with first-rate musicians. Cryptopsy‘s Flo Mounier bashes skulls and skins with his signature percussive shellacking, and ex-Dream Theater, ex-Yngwie Malmsteen keyboardist Derek Sherinian lends his high-velocity runs and proggy accents. Armed with enough firepower to defend a small nation, does A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction pack enough punch to make our collective worms arise?

Based solely on the members involved, A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction may not sound like what listeners expect to hear. Though Morbid Angel embodies an apt starting place with their serpentine riffs, Arise from Worms accelerates the speed and jolts guitar tones with a candied DragonForce coating. Sherinian’s contributions occasionally skew towards Dream Theater,2 though A Bleeding Tree requires a darker degree of menace and foreboding. Overall, Arise from Worms sounds a lot like Necrophagist, but with keyboards and a penchant for wankery. And though this comparison isn’t perfect, it gives prospective listeners a point to begin shaping expectations.

Arise from Worms’ performances across A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction doubtlessly spellbind with technicality. Lombardozzi’s masterclass shredding eats up the stage at every turn as he dances up and down the fretboard with enough gusto to make Yngwie blush. From the gratuitous weedlies in “Forgotten Kings” to the Annihilator-ready precision chugging in “Laolongtou,” Lombardozzi never leaves listeners doubting his greed for speed, whether on guitars or bass (“Axes of the Viovode 2”). In fact, Arise from Worms showcases excellent bassmanship throughout A Bleeding Tree, often shadowing the guitars with rousing plucking and impossibly dextrous burbles. Meanwhile, Mounier discharges an unimpeachable onslaught behind the kit, where furious double bass rolls (“Psionic Being”), jazz-flavored snare and cymbal finesse (“Nine Walls”), and tempered beatdowns amidst metronomic grooves (“Raize Demons Breath,” “Axes of the Viovode 1”) epitomize his exacting style and capture what makes him one of my favorite metal drummers. Similarly, Sherinian embeds synth flourishes and eldritch atmospherics to give Arise from Worms ample mystique while loosing dazzling keyboard cascades every now and again (“Laolongtou”). Though not as immediately eye-popping as the instrumentation, Tucker delivers an appropriately monstrous performance on A Bleeding Tree, and if there’s one ingredient Arise from Worms could use more of, it’s Tucker’s vicious vocals.

Unfortunately, despite the wizardry dripping off Arise from Worms’ A Bleeding Tree, insufficient songwriting prevents the technicality from coalescing into fully formed songs. “Forgotten Kings” and “Axes of the Viovode 1 & 2” give Tucker just enough of a platform to build towards proper tracks, but after a few listens, A Bleeding Tree loses its allure and leaks its jaw-dropping magic—even at a reasonable thirty-six minutes. More positively, the music sounds great, with Lombardozzi commanding Arise from Worms with frictionless licks and searing speeds. Given the bad reputation technical death metal gets for poor production, I find A Bleeding Tree a step above in this department, where strings, keys, drums, and vocals crash into one another with satisfying zeal while allowing each other plenty of room within the mix.

As a fan of technical showmanship and a high tolerance for self-indulgent instrumentation, Arise from Worms’ debut leaves me impressed yet mostly unmoved. A Bleeding Tree Hanging Self Destruction sounds incredible on paper, and lead single “Forgotten Kings” had me convinced that this would be a special album. In the promo materials, Arise from Worms touts breaking new musical ground and pioneering the writing of novel harmonies and time signatures. Yet in reality, A Bleeding Tree often exhibits the technicality of a clinic or workshop while lacking the songwriting cohesion to elevate songs past the surface. In the end, A Bleeding Tree lingers between outstanding performances and an inadequate execution of fulfilling metal songcraft, and while A Bleeding Tree may be worth Hanging around for, Arise for Worms carries more promise than they deliver on their debut.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: V0 or ~260 kbps VBR mp3
Label: Church Road Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: July 10th, 2026

Each writer here in the Hall has their own ritual for fishing new promo from the sump. Some utter incantations to eldritch gods. Some engage in druidic rites under the full moon. Some offer blood sacrifices to our Ape Overlord and heed the direction of the splatters. While my own ritual is a closely guarded secret, I can tell you that Verdun’s genre tag, “blackened dissonant sludge,” bypassed all ritual requirements. I swiped the French four-piece’s third LP so fucking fast I got dizzy. Of course, the genre tags we glean from labels’ promo language have no objective connection to quality or reality. Does Abyssal Womb deliver the promised goods, or is it just another case of hollow hyperbole?

Abyssal Womb marks a substantial departure from Verdun’s earlier work. 2014 debut The Eternal Drift’s Canticles used the same crushing, long-form structures as Cough or Warhorse. In 2019, sophomore effort Astral Sabbath saw the band experiment more heavily with abrasive and blackened textures, but it would take seven years for those elements to be fully realized. On Abyssal Womb, Verdun is still fundamentally a sludge band—and has the groove to prove it—but they’ve dispensed with much of the atmospherics and psychedelia of previous releases in favor of a darker and more direct sound. Roughly 15 minutes shorter than its predecessors, Abyssal Womb gets in, delivers grit, groove, and unease in equal measures, then makes like a tree and fucking leaves.

Where blackened dissonance served as a decoration on Astral Sabbath, it suffuses nearly every second of Abyssal Womb. Whether vocalist David Sadok rasps in French (“La Lame et la Chair,”1 “Les Noces du Néant”2) or in English, he’s malevolently caustic. What surprised me most was how much more terrifying he is in French. The rhythm section often sways between exhausted, blackened plodding (“Silent Witness”), macabre processions (“Funeral of the Cosmic Knight,” “Rise of the Atomic Ghouls”), and sludgy grooves (“He Who Killed the Devil”), but Jay Pinelli’s strident leads curdle blood at every opportunity. Even when I know it’s coming, his dreadful solo in “Funeral of the Cosmic Knight” sends shivers down my spine, reminding me of the primal fear in Primitive Man’s Observance. This is one of my favorite moments on the album, along with the imperious march on the back half of “Rise of the Atomic Ghouls.” Drummer Geraud Jonquet violently punctuates Pinelli’s stomping, palm-muted chugs in a way that feels like I’m ascending the steps to the gallows.

There’s plenty to praise on Abyssal Womb. Unsettling blackened plucking opens “Silent Witness.” Florian Celdran’s bass cleverly caresses the gaps between sustained chords in “La Lame et la Chair,” and Verdun weaves a few surprisingly emotive passages through the album (“Funeral of the Cosmic Knight,” “The Man Behind My Eyes”). “Les Noces du Néant” opens on a powerful sadboi doom riff that resurfaces throughout, and the track serves as a great closer, leaving me suitably unsettled, anxious, and unsafe. There’s less to critique, but there is some. “The Man Behind My Eyes” feels like a low point, failing to coalesce as well as the rest of Abyssal Womb. There’s a bafflingly non-sequitous noir-shaded bass solo in “He Who Killed the Devil,” and several tracks shoot past ideal endings in favor of dedicated outros or reprisals (“Silent Witness,” “He Who Killed the Devil,” “The Man Behind My Eyes”). None of these are dealbreakers—or even close—but they can briefly shake me out of Abyssal Womb’s immersion.

I rolled the dice on Verdun, declining to listen to advance tracks or previous output and trusting in the genre tag alone. This strategy doesn’t normally yield the best results, but it certainly paid off here. Abyssal Womb sees Verdun venturing deep into unknown waters and dredging up something dark and grisly, something that sets the teeth on edge. Abyssal Womb isn’t without its faults, but they’re not calamitous, nor do they overly detract from the band’s exciting new direction. If Verdun’s trajectory is any indication—and I hope it is—Abyssal Womb could be the first few steps toward something buried even deeper in the lightless abyss.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Official | Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Each writer here in the Hall has their own ritual for fishing new promo from the sump. Some utter incantations to eldritch gods. Some engage in druidic rites under the full moon. Some offer blood sacrifices to our Ape Overlord and heed the direction of the splatters. While my own ritual is a closely guarded secret, I can tell you that Verdun’s genre tag, “blackened dissonant sludge,” bypassed all ritual requirements. I swiped the French four-piece’s third LP so fucking fast I got dizzy. Of course, the genre tags we glean from labels’ promo language have no objective connection to quality or reality. Does Abyssal Womb deliver the promised goods, or is it just another case of hollow hyperbole?

Abyssal Womb marks a substantial departure from Verdun’s earlier work. 2014 debut The Eternal Drift’s Canticles used the same crushing, long-form structures as Cough or Warhorse. In 2019, sophomore effort Astral Sabbath saw the band experiment more heavily with abrasive and blackened textures, but it would take seven years for those elements to be fully realized. On Abyssal Womb, Verdun is still fundamentally a sludge band—and has the groove to prove it—but they’ve dispensed with much of the atmospherics and psychedelia of previous releases in favor of a darker and more direct sound. Roughly 15 minutes shorter than its predecessors, Abyssal Womb gets in, delivers grit, groove, and unease in equal measures, then makes like a tree and fucking leaves.

Where blackened dissonance served as a decoration on Astral Sabbath, it suffuses nearly every second of Abyssal Womb. Whether vocalist David Sadok rasps in French (“La Lame et la Chair,”1 “Les Noces du Néant”2) or in English, he’s malevolently caustic. What surprised me most was how much more terrifying he is in French. The rhythm section often sways between exhausted, blackened plodding (“Silent Witness”), macabre processions (“Funeral of the Cosmic Knight,” “Rise of the Atomic Ghouls”), and sludgy grooves (“He Who Killed the Devil”), but Jay Pinelli’s strident leads curdle blood at every opportunity. Even when I know it’s coming, his dreadful solo in “Funeral of the Cosmic Knight” sends shivers down my spine, reminding me of the primal fear in Primitive Man’s Observance. This is one of my favorite moments on the album, along with the imperious march on the back half of “Rise of the Atomic Ghouls.” Drummer Geraud Jonquet violently punctuates Pinelli’s stomping, palm-muted chugs in a way that feels like I’m ascending the steps to the gallows.

There’s plenty to praise on Abyssal Womb. Unsettling blackened plucking opens “Silent Witness.” Florian Celdran’s bass cleverly caresses the gaps between sustained chords in “La Lame et la Chair,” and Verdun weaves a few surprisingly emotive passages through the album (“Funeral of the Cosmic Knight,” “The Man Behind My Eyes”). “Les Noces du Néant” opens on a powerful sadboi doom riff that resurfaces throughout, and the track serves as a great closer, leaving me suitably unsettled, anxious, and unsafe. There’s less to critique, but there is some. “The Man Behind My Eyes” feels like a low point, failing to coalesce as well as the rest of Abyssal Womb. There’s a bafflingly non-sequitous noir-shaded bass solo in “He Who Killed the Devil,” and several tracks shoot past ideal endings in favor of dedicated outros or reprisals (“Silent Witness,” “He Who Killed the Devil,” “The Man Behind My Eyes”). None of these are dealbreakers—or even close—but they can briefly shake me out of Abyssal Womb’s immersion.

I rolled the dice on Verdun, declining to listen to advance tracks or previous output and trusting in the genre tag alone. This strategy doesn’t normally yield the best results, but it certainly paid off here. Abyssal Womb sees Verdun venturing deep into unknown waters and dredging up something dark and grisly, something that sets the teeth on edge. Abyssal Womb isn’t without its faults, but they’re not calamitous, nor do they overly detract from the band’s exciting new direction. If Verdun’s trajectory is any indication—and I hope it is—Abyssal Womb could be the first few steps toward something buried even deeper in the lightless abyss.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Official | Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Each writer here in the Hall has their own ritual for fishing new promo from the sump. Some utter incantations to eldritch gods. Some engage in druidic rites under the full moon. Some offer blood sacrifices to our Ape Overlord and heed the direction of the splatters. While my own ritual is a closely guarded secret, I can tell you that Verdun’s genre tag, “blackened dissonant sludge,” bypassed all ritual requirements. I swiped the French four-piece’s third LP so fucking fast I got dizzy. Of course, the genre tags we glean from labels’ promo language have no objective connection to quality or reality. Does Abyssal Womb deliver the promised goods, or is it just another case of hollow hyperbole?

Abyssal Womb marks a substantial departure from Verdun’s earlier work. 2014 debut The Eternal Drift’s Canticles used the same crushing, long-form structures as Cough or Warhorse. In 2019, sophomore effort Astral Sabbath saw the band experiment more heavily with abrasive and blackened textures, but it would take seven years for those elements to be fully realized. On Abyssal Womb, Verdun is still fundamentally a sludge band—and has the groove to prove it—but they’ve dispensed with much of the atmospherics and psychedelia of previous releases in favor of a darker and more direct sound. Roughly 15 minutes shorter than its predecessors, Abyssal Womb gets in, delivers grit, groove, and unease in equal measures, then makes like a tree and fucking leaves.

Where blackened dissonance served as a decoration on Astral Sabbath, it suffuses nearly every second of Abyssal Womb. Whether vocalist David Sadok rasps in French (“La Lame et la Chair,”1 “Les Noces du Néant”2) or in English, he’s malevolently caustic. What surprised me most was how much more terrifying he is in French. The rhythm section often sways between exhausted, blackened plodding (“Silent Witness”), macabre processions (“Funeral of the Cosmic Knight,” “Rise of the Atomic Ghouls”), and sludgy grooves (“He Who Killed the Devil”), but Jay Pinelli’s strident leads curdle blood at every opportunity. Even when I know it’s coming, his dreadful solo in “Funeral of the Cosmic Knight” sends shivers down my spine, reminding me of the primal fear in Primitive Man’s Observance. This is one of my favorite moments on the album, along with the imperious march on the back half of “Rise of the Atomic Ghouls.” Drummer Geraud Jonquet violently punctuates Pinelli’s stomping, palm-muted chugs in a way that feels like I’m ascending the steps to the gallows.

There’s plenty to praise on Abyssal Womb. Unsettling blackened plucking opens “Silent Witness.” Florian Celdran’s bass cleverly caresses the gaps between sustained chords in “La Lame et la Chair,” and Verdun weaves a few surprisingly emotive passages through the album (“Funeral of the Cosmic Knight,” “The Man Behind My Eyes”). “Les Noces du Néant” opens on a powerful sadboi doom riff that resurfaces throughout, and the track serves as a great closer, leaving me suitably unsettled, anxious, and unsafe. There’s less to critique, but there is some. “The Man Behind My Eyes” feels like a low point, failing to coalesce as well as the rest of Abyssal Womb. There’s a bafflingly non-sequitous noir-shaded bass solo in “He Who Killed the Devil,” and several tracks shoot past ideal endings in favor of dedicated outros or reprisals (“Silent Witness,” “He Who Killed the Devil,” “The Man Behind My Eyes”). None of these are dealbreakers—or even close—but they can briefly shake me out of Abyssal Womb’s immersion.

I rolled the dice on Verdun, declining to listen to advance tracks or previous output and trusting in the genre tag alone. This strategy doesn’t normally yield the best results, but it certainly paid off here. Abyssal Womb sees Verdun venturing deep into unknown waters and dredging up something dark and grisly, something that sets the teeth on edge. Abyssal Womb isn’t without its faults, but they’re not calamitous, nor do they overly detract from the band’s exciting new direction. If Verdun’s trajectory is any indication—and I hope it is—Abyssal Womb could be the first few steps toward something buried even deeper in the lightless abyss.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Official | Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Each writer here in the Hall has their own ritual for fishing new promo from the sump. Some utter incantations to eldritch gods. Some engage in druidic rites under the full moon. Some offer blood sacrifices to our Ape Overlord and heed the direction of the splatters. While my own ritual is a closely guarded secret, I can tell you that Verdun’s genre tag, “blackened dissonant sludge,” bypassed all ritual requirements. I swiped the French four-piece’s third LP so fucking fast I got dizzy. Of course, the genre tags we glean from labels’ promo language have no objective connection to quality or reality. Does Abyssal Womb deliver the promised goods, or is it just another case of hollow hyperbole?

Abyssal Womb marks a substantial departure from Verdun’s earlier work. 2014 debut The Eternal Drift’s Canticles used the same crushing, long-form structures as Cough or Warhorse. In 2019, sophomore effort Astral Sabbath saw the band experiment more heavily with abrasive and blackened textures, but it would take seven years for those elements to be fully realized. On Abyssal Womb, Verdun is still fundamentally a sludge band—and has the groove to prove it—but they’ve dispensed with much of the atmospherics and psychedelia of previous releases in favor of a darker and more direct sound. Roughly 15 minutes shorter than its predecessors, Abyssal Womb gets in, delivers grit, groove, and unease in equal measures, then makes like a tree and fucking leaves.

Where blackened dissonance served as a decoration on Astral Sabbath, it suffuses nearly every second of Abyssal Womb. Whether vocalist David Sadok rasps in French (“La Lame et la Chair,”1 “Les Noces du Néant”2) or in English, he’s malevolently caustic. What surprised me most was how much more terrifying he is in French. The rhythm section often sways between exhausted, blackened plodding (“Silent Witness”), macabre processions (“Funeral of the Cosmic Knight,” “Rise of the Atomic Ghouls”), and sludgy grooves (“He Who Killed the Devil”), but Jay Pinelli’s strident leads curdle blood at every opportunity. Even when I know it’s coming, his dreadful solo in “Funeral of the Cosmic Knight” sends shivers down my spine, reminding me of the primal fear in Primitive Man’s Observance. This is one of my favorite moments on the album, along with the imperious march on the back half of “Rise of the Atomic Ghouls.” Drummer Geraud Jonquet violently punctuates Pinelli’s stomping, palm-muted chugs in a way that feels like I’m ascending the steps to the gallows.

There’s plenty to praise on Abyssal Womb. Unsettling blackened plucking opens “Silent Witness.” Florian Celdran’s bass cleverly caresses the gaps between sustained chords in “La Lame et la Chair,” and Verdun weaves a few surprisingly emotive passages through the album (“Funeral of the Cosmic Knight,” “The Man Behind My Eyes”). “Les Noces du Néant” opens on a powerful sadboi doom riff that resurfaces throughout, and the track serves as a great closer, leaving me suitably unsettled, anxious, and unsafe. There’s less to critique, but there is some. “The Man Behind My Eyes” feels like a low point, failing to coalesce as well as the rest of Abyssal Womb. There’s a bafflingly non-sequitous noir-shaded bass solo in “He Who Killed the Devil,” and several tracks shoot past ideal endings in favor of dedicated outros or reprisals (“Silent Witness,” “He Who Killed the Devil,” “The Man Behind My Eyes”). None of these are dealbreakers—or even close—but they can briefly shake me out of Abyssal Womb’s immersion.

I rolled the dice on Verdun, declining to listen to advance tracks or previous output and trusting in the genre tag alone. This strategy doesn’t normally yield the best results, but it certainly paid off here. Abyssal Womb sees Verdun venturing deep into unknown waters and dredging up something dark and grisly, something that sets the teeth on edge. Abyssal Womb isn’t without its faults, but they’re not calamitous, nor do they overly detract from the band’s exciting new direction. If Verdun’s trajectory is any indication—and I hope it is—Abyssal Womb could be the first few steps toward something buried even deeper in the lightless abyss.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Official | Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Earlier in June, a post-rock album delightfully surprised this middle-aged metalhead. I tend to approach post-anything with caution these days, but And the Dead Tree Gives No Shelter from Sweden’s Oh Hiroshima proved a cohesive, moving experience under scrutiny. Hence, I figured I’d try my luck with another post-rock album on the same label from a band named after a beleaguered city it doesn’t call home. Thus, I approach We’re All Going to Be Fine—on Pelagic Records—by Lost in Kyiv1—from Paris—with cautious enthusiasm. Unlike their labelmates, Lost in Kyiv specialize in a (mostly) instrumental version of post-rock, occasionally adding voices that narrate, soliloquize, live inside sound clips, and even sing. Hopefully, losing myself in this Parisian quartet’s fifth album won’t have me uttering wistful interjections.

Post-rock remains an apt descriptor for Lost in Kyiv, but the band shares heritage with its heavier cousin. As with any (mostly) instrumental post-rockers influenced by Mogwai, electronics play a crucial role in crafting a cinematic experience. On We’re All Going to Be Fine, synths supply melodic hooks (“Burst,” “Euphoria”), set pulsating tones (“Eclipse”), and create mid-song drama (“Mantra”). But when the baritone guitars of Dimitri Denat and Maxime Ingrand lock into a heavy groove with bassist Jean-Christophe Condette and drummer Jérémie Legrand,2 a band like Russian Circles comes to mind. Animals as Leaders also prowl (if they were less technical), on account of Denat and Ingrand’s djent-adjacent tones and playing. For much of its 41-minute runtime, We’re All Going to Be Fine reads like a post-metal album, and a particularly lush, well-produced one at that. While the heavy riffs do lean towards the generic, I can’t deny that they frequently slap.

As a (mostly) instrumental album, We’re All Going to Be Fine mostly slips due to its ‘non-instrumental’ feature: vocals.3 One recurring way Lost in Kyiv adds voices is by threading narrations/soliloquies throughout Fine. Sometimes, these voiceovers work; “Enlightened” segues into the propulsive groove of “Burst” by echoing its title, setting up the song’s rumination on ‘masks’ as a metaphor for social alienation/performativity. But other times, the voiceovers are frustratingly inaudible (“Mantra”), or awkwardly akin to guided meditations (“Euphoria”). As for singing, it makes one and only one appearance. “Becoming” is a perfectly lovely song, powered by the gorgeous melodies and harmonies of Rebecca Need-Menear, but its verse-chorus traditionalism strays far from home on this otherwise impressionistic album. Vocals seem central to the themes Lost in Kyiv claim to explore on We’re All Going to Be Fine: ‘the tension between hope and inner collapse,’ how ‘modern life can disconnect us from ourselves and each other,’ ‘the fragility of mental health and the human psyche.’ As a lecture by Carl Jung closes out the album (“Liminality”), however, I’m left feeling that Fine becomes less coherent when reading its voices closely.

Fortunately, these vocals don’t prohibitively hamper the overall experience. Whether listened to passively or semi-actively, We’re All Going to Be Fine (mostly) progresses as a seamless display of haunting beauty. The first half plays more like post-metal, containing the heaviest riffing on offer. “Eclipse” is a highlight, setting a somber mood that’s popped by an infectious single-string figure and a robust brass section: trumpet, trombone, tuba. From here, Fine mixes things up, exploring multi-layered electronica (“Euphoria”) and hammer-on heroism with d-beat sprinklings (“Liminality”). “Becoming” is always the curveball. Again, it’s not a bad song by any means, but it’s unclear why Lost in Kyiv dropped one singular radio-rock song in the middle of the album. It doesn’t feel like the work of a different band per se, but it definitely feels like a work on a different kind of album.

Oh, Lost in Kyiv, how I wanted to rate your fifth outing just a bit higher. We’re All Going to Be Fine allures with its cinematic soundscapes and hits with its bouncy riffs. Alas, your vocals of various sorts make me think I’m missing the point towards which you drive. But when I play down the voices, letting its luxuriousness wash over me, Fine becomes more than fine—it becomes a (mostly) absorbing arrangement of metallic post-rock.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Pelagic Records
Websites: Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

Earlier in June, a post-rock album delightfully surprised this middle-aged metalhead. I tend to approach post-anything with caution these days, but And the Dead Tree Gives No Shelter from Sweden’s Oh Hiroshima proved a cohesive, moving experience under scrutiny. Hence, I figured I’d try my luck with another post-rock album on the same label from a band named after a beleaguered city it doesn’t call home. Thus, I approach We’re All Going to Be Fine—on Pelagic Records—by Lost in Kyiv1—from Paris—with cautious enthusiasm. Unlike their labelmates, Lost in Kyiv specialize in a (mostly) instrumental version of post-rock, occasionally adding voices that narrate, soliloquize, live inside sound clips, and even sing. Hopefully, losing myself in this Parisian quartet’s fifth album won’t have me uttering wistful interjections.

Post-rock remains an apt descriptor for Lost in Kyiv, but the band shares heritage with its heavier cousin. As with any (mostly) instrumental post-rockers influenced by Mogwai, electronics play a crucial role in crafting a cinematic experience. On We’re All Going to Be Fine, synths supply melodic hooks (“Burst,” “Euphoria”), set pulsating tones (“Eclipse”), and create mid-song drama (“Mantra”). But when the baritone guitars of Dimitri Denat and Maxime Ingrand lock into a heavy groove with bassist Jean-Christophe Condette and drummer Jérémie Legrand,2 a band like Russian Circles comes to mind. Animals as Leaders also prowl (if they were less technical), on account of Denat and Ingrand’s djent-adjacent tones and playing. For much of its 41-minute runtime, We’re All Going to Be Fine reads like a post-metal album, and a particularly lush, well-produced one at that. While the heavy riffs do lean towards the generic, I can’t deny that they frequently slap.

As a (mostly) instrumental album, We’re All Going to Be Fine mostly slips due to its ‘non-instrumental’ feature: vocals.3 One recurring way Lost in Kyiv adds voices is by threading narrations/soliloquies throughout Fine. Sometimes, these voiceovers work; “Enlightened” segues into the propulsive groove of “Burst” by echoing its title, setting up the song’s rumination on ‘masks’ as a metaphor for social alienation/performativity. But other times, the voiceovers are frustratingly inaudible (“Mantra”), or awkwardly akin to guided meditations (“Euphoria”). As for singing, it makes one and only one appearance. “Becoming” is a perfectly lovely song, powered by the gorgeous melodies and harmonies of Rebecca Need-Menear, but its verse-chorus traditionalism strays far from home on this otherwise impressionistic album. Vocals seem central to the themes Lost in Kyiv claim to explore on We’re All Going to Be Fine: ‘the tension between hope and inner collapse,’ how ‘modern life can disconnect us from ourselves and each other,’ ‘the fragility of mental health and the human psyche.’ As a lecture by Carl Jung closes out the album (“Liminality”), however, I’m left feeling that Fine becomes less coherent when reading its voices closely.

Fortunately, these vocals don’t prohibitively hamper the overall experience. Whether listened to passively or semi-actively, We’re All Going to Be Fine (mostly) progresses as a seamless display of haunting beauty. The first half plays more like post-metal, containing the heaviest riffing on offer. “Eclipse” is a highlight, setting a somber mood that’s popped by an infectious single-string figure and a robust brass section: trumpet, trombone, tuba. From here, Fine mixes things up, exploring multi-layered electronica (“Euphoria”) and hammer-on heroism with d-beat sprinklings (“Liminality”). “Becoming” is always the curveball. Again, it’s not a bad song by any means, but it’s unclear why Lost in Kyiv dropped one singular radio-rock song in the middle of the album. It doesn’t feel like the work of a different band per se, but it definitely feels like a work on a different kind of album.

Oh, Lost in Kyiv, how I wanted to rate your fifth outing just a bit higher. We’re All Going to Be Fine allures with its cinematic soundscapes and hits with its bouncy riffs. Alas, your vocals of various sorts make me think I’m missing the point towards which you drive. But when I play down the voices, letting its luxuriousness wash over me, Fine becomes more than fine—it becomes a (mostly) absorbing arrangement of metallic post-rock.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Pelagic Records
Websites: Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

Show 3 footnotes

1. The band used to be stylized as Lost in Kiev but changed the spelling of its titular city this year, for semi-obvious reasons. ↩
2. We’re All Going to Be Fine is Legrand’s first album with Lost in Kyiv. ↩
3. It feels weird implying that a voice is not an instrument, hence the scare quotes. ↩

Earlier in June, a post-rock album delightfully surprised this middle-aged metalhead. I tend to approach post-anything with caution these days, but And the Dead Tree Gives No Shelter from Sweden’s Oh Hiroshima proved a cohesive, moving experience under scrutiny. Hence, I figured I’d try my luck with another post-rock album on the same label from a band named after a beleaguered city it doesn’t call home. Thus, I approach We’re All Going to Be Fine—on Pelagic Records—by Lost in Kyiv1—from Paris—with cautious enthusiasm. Unlike their labelmates, Lost in Kyiv specialize in a (mostly) instrumental version of post-rock, occasionally adding voices that narrate, soliloquize, live inside sound clips, and even sing. Hopefully, losing myself in this Parisian quartet’s fifth album won’t have me uttering wistful interjections.

Post-rock remains an apt descriptor for Lost in Kyiv, but the band shares heritage with its heavier cousin. As with any (mostly) instrumental post-rockers influenced by Mogwai, electronics play a crucial role in crafting a cinematic experience. On We’re All Going to Be Fine, synths supply melodic hooks (“Burst,” “Euphoria”), set pulsating tones (“Eclipse”), and create mid-song drama (“Mantra”). But when the baritone guitars of Dimitri Denat and Maxime Ingrand lock into a heavy groove with bassist Jean-Christophe Condette and drummer Jérémie Legrand,2 a band like Russian Circles comes to mind. Animals as Leaders also prowl (if they were less technical), on account of Denat and Ingrand’s djent-adjacent tones and playing. For much of its 41-minute runtime, We’re All Going to Be Fine reads like a post-metal album, and a particularly lush, well-produced one at that. While the heavy riffs do lean towards the generic, I can’t deny that they frequently slap.

As a (mostly) instrumental album, We’re All Going to Be Fine mostly slips due to its ‘non-instrumental’ feature: vocals.3 One recurring way Lost in Kyiv adds voices is by threading narrations/soliloquies throughout Fine. Sometimes, these voiceovers work; “Enlightened” segues into the propulsive groove of “Burst” by echoing its title, setting up the song’s rumination on ‘masks’ as a metaphor for social alienation/performativity. But other times, the voiceovers are frustratingly inaudible (“Mantra”), or awkwardly akin to guided meditations (“Euphoria”). As for singing, it makes one and only one appearance. “Becoming” is a perfectly lovely song, powered by the gorgeous melodies and harmonies of Rebecca Need-Menear, but its verse-chorus traditionalism strays far from home on this otherwise impressionistic album. Vocals seem central to the themes Lost in Kyiv claim to explore on We’re All Going to Be Fine: ‘the tension between hope and inner collapse,’ how ‘modern life can disconnect us from ourselves and each other,’ ‘the fragility of mental health and the human psyche.’ As a lecture by Carl Jung closes out the album (“Liminality”), however, I’m left feeling that Fine becomes less coherent when reading its voices closely.

Fortunately, these vocals don’t prohibitively hamper the overall experience. Whether listened to passively or semi-actively, We’re All Going to Be Fine (mostly) progresses as a seamless display of haunting beauty. The first half plays more like post-metal, containing the heaviest riffing on offer. “Eclipse” is a highlight, setting a somber mood that’s popped by an infectious single-string figure and a robust brass section: trumpet, trombone, tuba. From here, Fine mixes things up, exploring multi-layered electronica (“Euphoria”) and hammer-on heroism with d-beat sprinklings (“Liminality”). “Becoming” is always the curveball. Again, it’s not a bad song by any means, but it’s unclear why Lost in Kyiv dropped one singular radio-rock song in the middle of the album. It doesn’t feel like the work of a different band per se, but it definitely feels like a work on a different kind of album.

Oh, Lost in Kyiv, how I wanted to rate your fifth outing just a bit higher. We’re All Going to Be Fine allures with its cinematic soundscapes and hits with its bouncy riffs. Alas, your vocals of various sorts make me think I’m missing the point towards which you drive. But when I play down the voices, letting its luxuriousness wash over me, Fine becomes more than fine—it becomes a (mostly) absorbing arrangement of metallic post-rock.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Pelagic Records
Websites: Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

Earlier in June, a post-rock album delightfully surprised this middle-aged metalhead. I tend to approach post-anything with caution these days, but And the Dead Tree Gives No Shelter from Sweden’s Oh Hiroshima proved a cohesive, moving experience under scrutiny. Hence, I figured I’d try my luck with another post-rock album on the same label from a band named after a beleaguered city it doesn’t call home. Thus, I approach We’re All Going to Be Fine—on Pelagic Records—by Lost in Kyiv1—from Paris—with cautious enthusiasm. Unlike their labelmates, Lost in Kyiv specialize in a (mostly) instrumental version of post-rock, occasionally adding voices that narrate, soliloquize, live inside sound clips, and even sing. Hopefully, losing myself in this Parisian quartet’s fifth album won’t have me uttering wistful interjections.

Post-rock remains an apt descriptor for Lost in Kyiv, but the band shares heritage with its heavier cousin. As with any (mostly) instrumental post-rockers influenced by Mogwai, electronics play a crucial role in crafting a cinematic experience. On We’re All Going to Be Fine, synths supply melodic hooks (“Burst,” “Euphoria”), set pulsating tones (“Eclipse”), and create mid-song drama (“Mantra”). But when the baritone guitars of Dimitri Denat and Maxime Ingrand lock into a heavy groove with bassist Jean-Christophe Condette and drummer Jérémie Legrand,2 a band like Russian Circles comes to mind. Animals as Leaders also prowl (if they were less technical), on account of Denat and Ingrand’s djent-adjacent tones and playing. For much of its 41-minute runtime, We’re All Going to Be Fine reads like a post-metal album, and a particularly lush, well-produced one at that. While the heavy riffs do lean towards the generic, I can’t deny that they frequently slap.

As a (mostly) instrumental album, We’re All Going to Be Fine mostly slips due to its ‘non-instrumental’ feature: vocals.3 One recurring way Lost in Kyiv adds voices is by threading narrations/soliloquies throughout Fine. Sometimes, these voiceovers work; “Enlightened” segues into the propulsive groove of “Burst” by echoing its title, setting up the song’s rumination on ‘masks’ as a metaphor for social alienation/performativity. But other times, the voiceovers are frustratingly inaudible (“Mantra”), or awkwardly akin to guided meditations (“Euphoria”). As for singing, it makes one and only one appearance. “Becoming” is a perfectly lovely song, powered by the gorgeous melodies and harmonies of Rebecca Need-Menear, but its verse-chorus traditionalism strays far from home on this otherwise impressionistic album. Vocals seem central to the themes Lost in Kyiv claim to explore on We’re All Going to Be Fine: ‘the tension between hope and inner collapse,’ how ‘modern life can disconnect us from ourselves and each other,’ ‘the fragility of mental health and the human psyche.’ As a lecture by Carl Jung closes out the album (“Liminality”), however, I’m left feeling that Fine becomes less coherent when reading its voices closely.

Fortunately, these vocals don’t prohibitively hamper the overall experience. Whether listened to passively or semi-actively, We’re All Going to Be Fine (mostly) progresses as a seamless display of haunting beauty. The first half plays more like post-metal, containing the heaviest riffing on offer. “Eclipse” is a highlight, setting a somber mood that’s popped by an infectious single-string figure and a robust brass section: trumpet, trombone, tuba. From here, Fine mixes things up, exploring multi-layered electronica (“Euphoria”) and hammer-on heroism with d-beat sprinklings (“Liminality”). “Becoming” is always the curveball. Again, it’s not a bad song by any means, but it’s unclear why Lost in Kyiv dropped one singular radio-rock song in the middle of the album. It doesn’t feel like the work of a different band per se, but it definitely feels like a work on a different kind of album.

Oh, Lost in Kyiv, how I wanted to rate your fifth outing just a bit higher. We’re All Going to Be Fine allures with its cinematic soundscapes and hits with its bouncy riffs. Alas, your vocals of various sorts make me think I’m missing the point towards which you drive. But when I play down the voices, letting its luxuriousness wash over me, Fine becomes more than fine—it becomes a (mostly) absorbing arrangement of metallic post-rock.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Pelagic Records
Websites: Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

Rain has started to leak into the ducts as Spring gets wetter and wetter. While I’m away, vacationing in a nice, dry, cloudy place, my minions are drenched and miserable. As it should be! But I’m still keeping tabs on their progress. Just because I’m having a great time somewhere else doesn’t mean these louts don’t have a quota to meet!

And meet their quota they shall, if only barely… BEHOLD!

ClarkKent’s Sci-Fi Soundbites

Epigram // Obsolescent [March 6th, 2026 – Self Released]

Combining the melodic black metal of Thulcandra and Dissection with the symphonics of Fleshgod Apocalypse and SepticFlesh, Epigram dropped a tasty little morsel with their debut, Obsolescent. The trio from Los Angeles puts on a spirited performance that borders on thrash. Tim Cauley’s display on the kit is a dominant force as he furiously blast beats his way from one song to the next. He turns “Wrath of Betrayed” into a piece of blackened thrash and proves tireless across Obsolescent’s 27-minute runtime. The lively vocal performance of Luis Echevarria adds further to Epigram’s charm. His low growls may seem underpowered, but his delivery is energetic and fun. He’s also the source of the symphonic instrumentation, via synths, though this aspect is secondary. Sure, there’s some choral chants (“Myrmidon,” “The Usurper’s Throne”), strings (“Hour of Gods”), and other vaguely symphonic sounds, but Epigram is most focused on the blackened melodic stuff. Shadi Absi throws together some great riffs, particularly on “Empires,” a work of pure black ‘n roll. The showstopper is “Hour of Gods,” with some sweet riffs and terrific energy. This song alone makes Obsolescent a worthy spin. Rounding out the musicians is Sanjay Kumar (Inferi, Wormhole), who plays solos on “Wrath of Betrayed” and “No Sin.” This is a promising debut for an eager new band.

Kal-El // Astral Voyager Vol. 2 [March 20th, 2026 – Blues Funeral Recordings]

Sporting the greatest band name of all time, Kal-El have been blasting listeners with stoner doom since 2012. Astral Voyager Vol. 2 is the follow-up to last year’s Vol. 1, and these pyschedelians’s seventh album overall. It’s been seven years since Witches of Mars was unfairly pummeled by a Kryptonian frog, and now I’d like to do the band justice by rescuing them from our filter. On this astral voyage, you get the pleasure of listening to six songs and 42 minutes of laid-back stoner tunes with plenty of fuzzy riffs—perfect for cruising around the cosmos. Their riff-centric approach puts them in the Black Sabbath camp, and the riffs on the likes of “Juno” and “The Prophecy,” which has a “Children of the Grave” vibe, are tons of fun. Further cementing the Sabbath comp is the vocal performance of Ståle Rodvelt, who carries a resemblance to Ozzy in his delivery. Longer cuts take more exploratory routes, akin to Sleep, yet still feature plenty to get your head bobbin’. “Asteroid” opens up with some sweet riffs that sustain its near eight-minute frame, while “The Nine” will still have you singing along in the final of its ten minutes. 1 So if you are in the mood for something chill that won’t put you to sleep, something that has the riffs without the risk of elevating your blood pressure, you should spend some time with Kal-El.

Thus Spoke’s Tectonic Treat

Bong-Ra // Esoterik [March 20th, 2026 – Debemur Morti Productions]

Not having received promo, it was only upon visiting DM’s Bandcamp page while writing up Aversio Humanitatis that I realised Bong-Ra had released another album. Asked whether Esoterik would be leaning more into enigmatic doom or spiky industrial electronica, the shapeshifting Bong-Ra said “yes”. The music is built on layers of dense, gritty atmosphere undulating with bass, breakbeats, and distorted riffs. Vocals are maintained from Black Noise—half-spoken snarls blurred by noise, shifting between blunt tunefulness (“Serpentine Helix”) and gargling venom (“Machine Halo”)—but at least half of the space is devoted to the purely instrumental psychosis. The saxophone is back, adding bizarre elegance and chilling eeriness in equal measure. Sometimes, Esoterik seems to be pitting its sultry and acerbic natures against one another; that chamber jazz side can take one by surprise (“Pleasures of the Flesh,” “Duality of One”), sandwiched as it is between a more punishing industrialism, but Bong-Ra just about gets away with it. This could be down to Esoterik’s efficiency in establishing (new) grooves—rhythmic and stylistic. Opener “Harmony Cloak” dispels misgivings on its skittering electronic oddity with a chorus that strikes a stylish balance between melody and dissonance; “Machine Halo” later follows in its stride. It’s an album that earns its moniker, right down to the particular spelling, and is worth the dark diversion it requires.

Grin Reaper’s Kooky Curios

Surturian // II – Hessian Spears [March 13th, 2026 – Crawling Chaos]

A German thrash band named after the legendary fire giant and guardian of Muspelheim? And on their debut LP, they launch an unrelenting, venomous assault filled with sticky riffs and bopping bass grooves in under forty-five minutes? Sign me up! Surturian plays thrash that smacks of early Testament and Metallica fused with the epic melodies of latter-day Kreator—hell, vocalist Tim Krogull reeks of Mille’s rancorous vocals, even though his name hews closer to a Voivodian disposition. In addition to thrash influences, Surturian calls upon Maiden’s signature gallops (“Cimmerians Wrath”) and anthemic melodies (“⁠Night Stalker,” “Do What Thou Wilt”), inculcating a lofty grandeur throughout II – Hessian Spears. Further fanning Surturian’s flames, the outfit navigates a varied landscape that imbues each track with its own character while never straying too far from their core sound. Hard-hitting offensives (“Blood Witchery”), slinky licks (“Night Stalker”), and oddball songwriting (“Beneath a Dying Sky”2) unite into an album I’ve regularly returned to since discovering it. If you’re feeling unSurtain, take it from me—it’s always a good time for some Hessian aggression!

Barn // Crucibles [March 24th, 2026 – Self Released]

Thanks to a certain dude/guy in the comments section, Crucibles didn’t slip past me undetected. Despite their dubious band name, Barn dropped a humdinger slab of tech death back in March that oozes with references to Unquestionable Presence (Atheist), Focus (Cynic), and, to a lesser extent, Decrepit Birth.3 There are even moments that echo more subdued moments from recent Sallow Moth releases (“The Serpent’s Perpetual Shed”). Staccato bursts of guitar, pinch harmonics, and buttery, fretless bass glissandos epitomize what Barn offers, and they spread it thick and chunky all over Crucibles’ sixty-five-minute runtime. Rustic name notwithstanding, Barn’s latest sounds like a sci-fi adventure, supported by track names like “Black Hole Lens” and “Cymatics.” The fretless bass especially helps with the futuristic aesthetic, frictionlessly gliding through gusts of abrupt, otherworldly guitars that buffet tracks from all angles. Barn rarely offers reprieve during their unconventional onslaught, but tracks like “Forbidden Fruits,” “Cymatics,” and “The Defeater” achieve such heights that I don’t find myself needing one. In short, these Boise boys warp listeners to a different dimension on Crucibles, and though it runs a tad long, I haven’t been deterred yet from lighting up this Barnburner.

Dionysiaque // La Tourbe des Rêves [March 27th, 2026 – I, Voidhanger Records]

Dionysiaque dispenses a bizarre derivative of doom on La Tourbe des Rêves that’s sure to be equal parts captivating and divisive. Reaching into the bag of tricks defined by Cathedral, Black Sabbath, and Candlemass, Dionysiaque’s sophomore album lumbers and chugs with classic rock-inspired leads and firecracker songcraft that I find utterly enthralling. Songs like “Aaron,” “Hate Fruit,” and “The Two Headed Boy” spotlight Dionysiaque’s plaintive guitar wails, contributed by L.B. and Bruno Penserini, along with their savvy balance of somber atmospheres and rousing melodies. Buoying the guitar tandem, bassist Lethal lays down frolicking, fabulous thunder via absorbing countermelodies while drummer T.H. looses potent fills and rolls throughout. Soaring atop the instrumentation are N.C.’s unorthodox vocals, which will almost certainly be the sole determining factor in listeners’ ability to engage with La Tourbe des Rêves. His delivery recalls that of Mayhem’s Attila Csihar at his most operatically deranged, never lacking conviction yet occasionally overpowering and ostentatious. Still, I appreciate and enjoy the commitment to the unhinged performance, and although dialing it back a little would make Dionysiaque’s latest more accessible, I’ve come to love La Tourbe des Rêves without apology. So don’t be afraid to let a little love into your heart—go get debauched with Dionysiaque’s aphrodisiac.

Creeping Ivy’s Pandemonic Pleasure

Mammon’s Throne // My Body to the Worms [March 13th, 2026 – Hammerheart Records]

In advising his fellow fallen angels—recently expelled from Heaven—to turn Hell into a competing kingdom, Mammon projects that All Demons will ‘work ease out of pain / Through labor and endurance.’4 Satan doesn’t heed this advice, but the third LP from Mammon’s Throne arguably does. On My Body to the Worms, this Australian five-piece inflicts pleasurable pain upon metaldom via five filthy slabs of sludgy death-doom (plus two instrumental reprieves). Mammon’s Throne conjure Hooded Menace, Temple of Void, and (old) Worm in their proclivity for plodding tempos, swampy riffs, and gravely howls (“Elixir”). The album is also a labor of love for classic (death-) doom à la Paradise Lost and My Dying Bride, mixing gothy croons, ascendant melodicism, and haunting piano into the band’s sinister stew (“Every Day More Sickened,” “At the Threshold of Eternity”). Though the listener does need some endurance, as three of the five non-instrumentals hover in the 8–9 minute range, the record flows fluidly across an easy 42 minutes. If you ever wondered what metal in league with Mammon might sound like, give My Body to the Worms a spin.

Rain has started to leak into the ducts as Spring gets wetter and wetter. While I’m away, vacationing in a nice, dry, cloudy place, my minions are drenched and miserable. As it should be! But I’m still keeping tabs on their progress. Just because I’m having a great time somewhere else doesn’t mean these louts don’t have a quota to meet!

And meet their quota they shall, if only barely… BEHOLD!

ClarkKent’s Sci-Fi Soundbites

Epigram // Obsolescent [March 6th, 2026 – Self Released]

Combining the melodic black metal of Thulcandra and Dissection with the symphonics of Fleshgod Apocalypse and SepticFlesh, Epigram dropped a tasty little morsel with their debut, Obsolescent. The trio from Los Angeles puts on a spirited performance that borders on thrash. Tim Cauley’s display on the kit is a dominant force as he furiously blast beats his way from one song to the next. He turns “Wrath of Betrayed” into a piece of blackened thrash and proves tireless across Obsolescent’s 27-minute runtime. The lively vocal performance of Luis Echevarria adds further to Epigram’s charm. His low growls may seem underpowered, but his delivery is energetic and fun. He’s also the source of the symphonic instrumentation, via synths, though this aspect is secondary. Sure, there’s some choral chants (“Myrmidon,” “The Usurper’s Throne”), strings (“Hour of Gods”), and other vaguely symphonic sounds, but Epigram is most focused on the blackened melodic stuff. Shadi Absi throws together some great riffs, particularly on “Empires,” a work of pure black ‘n roll. The showstopper is “Hour of Gods,” with some sweet riffs and terrific energy. This song alone makes Obsolescent a worthy spin. Rounding out the musicians is Sanjay Kumar (Inferi, Wormhole), who plays solos on “Wrath of Betrayed” and “No Sin.” This is a promising debut for an eager new band.

Kal-El // Astral Voyager Vol. 2 [March 20th, 2026 – Blues Funeral Recordings]

Sporting the greatest band name of all time, Kal-El have been blasting listeners with stoner doom since 2012. Astral Voyager Vol. 2 is the follow-up to last year’s Vol. 1, and these pyschedelians’s seventh album overall. It’s been seven years since Witches of Mars was unfairly pummeled by a Kryptonian frog, and now I’d like to do the band justice by rescuing them from our filter. On this astral voyage, you get the pleasure of listening to six songs and 42 minutes of laid-back stoner tunes with plenty of fuzzy riffs—perfect for cruising around the cosmos. Their riff-centric approach puts them in the Black Sabbath camp, and the riffs on the likes of “Juno” and “The Prophecy,” which has a “Children of the Grave” vibe, are tons of fun. Further cementing the Sabbath comp is the vocal performance of Ståle Rodvelt, who carries a resemblance to Ozzy in his delivery. Longer cuts take more exploratory routes, akin to Sleep, yet still feature plenty to get your head bobbin’. “Asteroid” opens up with some sweet riffs that sustain its near eight-minute frame, while “The Nine” will still have you singing along in the final of its ten minutes. 1 So if you are in the mood for something chill that won’t put you to sleep, something that has the riffs without the risk of elevating your blood pressure, you should spend some time with Kal-El.

Thus Spoke’s Tectonic Treat

Bong-Ra // Esoterik [March 20th, 2026 – Debemur Morti Productions]

Not having received promo, it was only upon visiting DM’s Bandcamp page while writing up Aversio Humanitatis that I realised Bong-Ra had released another album. Asked whether Esoterik would be leaning more into enigmatic doom or spiky industrial electronica, the shapeshifting Bong-Ra said “yes”. The music is built on layers of dense, gritty atmosphere undulating with bass, breakbeats, and distorted riffs. Vocals are maintained from Black Noise—half-spoken snarls blurred by noise, shifting between blunt tunefulness (“Serpentine Helix”) and gargling venom (“Machine Halo”)—but at least half of the space is devoted to the purely instrumental psychosis. The saxophone is back, adding bizarre elegance and chilling eeriness in equal measure. Sometimes, Esoterik seems to be pitting its sultry and acerbic natures against one another; that chamber jazz side can take one by surprise (“Pleasures of the Flesh,” “Duality of One”), sandwiched as it is between a more punishing industrialism, but Bong-Ra just about gets away with it. This could be down to Esoterik’s efficiency in establishing (new) grooves—rhythmic and stylistic. Opener “Harmony Cloak” dispels misgivings on its skittering electronic oddity with a chorus that strikes a stylish balance between melody and dissonance; “Machine Halo” later follows in its stride. It’s an album that earns its moniker, right down to the particular spelling, and is worth the dark diversion it requires.

Grin Reaper’s Kooky Curios

Surturian // II – Hessian Spears [March 13th, 2026 – Crawling Chaos]

A German thrash band named after the legendary fire giant and guardian of Muspelheim? And on their debut LP, they launch an unrelenting, venomous assault filled with sticky riffs and bopping bass grooves in under forty-five minutes? Sign me up! Surturian plays thrash that smacks of early Testament and Metallica fused with the epic melodies of latter-day Kreator—hell, vocalist Tim Krogull reeks of Mille’s rancorous vocals, even though his name hews closer to a Voivodian disposition. In addition to thrash influences, Surturian calls upon Maiden’s signature gallops (“Cimmerians Wrath”) and anthemic melodies (“⁠Night Stalker,” “Do What Thou Wilt”), inculcating a lofty grandeur throughout II – Hessian Spears. Further fanning Surturian’s flames, the outfit navigates a varied landscape that imbues each track with its own character while never straying too far from their core sound. Hard-hitting offensives (“Blood Witchery”), slinky licks (“Night Stalker”), and oddball songwriting (“Beneath a Dying Sky”2) unite into an album I’ve regularly returned to since discovering it. If you’re feeling unSurtain, take it from me—it’s always a good time for some Hessian aggression!

Barn // Crucibles [March 24th, 2026 – Self Released]

Thanks to a certain dude/guy in the comments section, Crucibles didn’t slip past me undetected. Despite their dubious band name, Barn dropped a humdinger slab of tech death back in March that oozes with references to Unquestionable Presence (Atheist), Focus (Cynic), and, to a lesser extent, Decrepit Birth.3 There are even moments that echo more subdued moments from recent Sallow Moth releases (“The Serpent’s Perpetual Shed”). Staccato bursts of guitar, pinch harmonics, and buttery, fretless bass glissandos epitomize what Barn offers, and they spread it thick and chunky all over Crucibles’ sixty-five-minute runtime. Rustic name notwithstanding, Barn’s latest sounds like a sci-fi adventure, supported by track names like “Black Hole Lens” and “Cymatics.” The fretless bass especially helps with the futuristic aesthetic, frictionlessly gliding through gusts of abrupt, otherworldly guitars that buffet tracks from all angles. Barn rarely offers reprieve during their unconventional onslaught, but tracks like “Forbidden Fruits,” “Cymatics,” and “The Defeater” achieve such heights that I don’t find myself needing one. In short, these Boise boys warp listeners to a different dimension on Crucibles, and though it runs a tad long, I haven’t been deterred yet from lighting up this Barnburner.

Dionysiaque // La Tourbe des Rêves [March 27th, 2026 – I, Voidhanger Records]

Dionysiaque dispenses a bizarre derivative of doom on La Tourbe des Rêves that’s sure to be equal parts captivating and divisive. Reaching into the bag of tricks defined by Cathedral, Black Sabbath, and Candlemass, Dionysiaque’s sophomore album lumbers and chugs with classic rock-inspired leads and firecracker songcraft that I find utterly enthralling. Songs like “Aaron,” “Hate Fruit,” and “The Two Headed Boy” spotlight Dionysiaque’s plaintive guitar wails, contributed by L.B. and Bruno Penserini, along with their savvy balance of somber atmospheres and rousing melodies. Buoying the guitar tandem, bassist Lethal lays down frolicking, fabulous thunder via absorbing countermelodies while drummer T.H. looses potent fills and rolls throughout. Soaring atop the instrumentation are N.C.’s unorthodox vocals, which will almost certainly be the sole determining factor in listeners’ ability to engage with La Tourbe des Rêves. His delivery recalls that of Mayhem’s Attila Csihar at his most operatically deranged, never lacking conviction yet occasionally overpowering and ostentatious. Still, I appreciate and enjoy the commitment to the unhinged performance, and although dialing it back a little would make Dionysiaque’s latest more accessible, I’ve come to love La Tourbe des Rêves without apology. So don’t be afraid to let a little love into your heart—go get debauched with Dionysiaque’s aphrodisiac.

Creeping Ivy’s Pandemonic Pleasure

Mammon’s Throne // My Body to the Worms [March 13th, 2026 – Hammerheart Records]

In advising his fellow fallen angels—recently expelled from Heaven—to turn Hell into a competing kingdom, Mammon projects that All Demons will ‘work ease out of pain / Through labor and endurance.’4 Satan doesn’t heed this advice, but the third LP from Mammon’s Throne arguably does. On My Body to the Worms, this Australian five-piece inflicts pleasurable pain upon metaldom via five filthy slabs of sludgy death-doom (plus two instrumental reprieves). Mammon’s Throne conjure Hooded Menace, Temple of Void, and (old) Worm in their proclivity for plodding tempos, swampy riffs, and gravely howls (“Elixir”). The album is also a labor of love for classic (death-) doom à la Paradise Lost and My Dying Bride, mixing gothy croons, ascendant melodicism, and haunting piano into the band’s sinister stew (“Every Day More Sickened,” “At the Threshold of Eternity”). Though the listener does need some endurance, as three of the five non-instrumentals hover in the 8–9 minute range, the record flows fluidly across an easy 42 minutes. If you ever wondered what metal in league with Mammon might sound like, give My Body to the Worms a spin.

Rain has started to leak into the ducts as Spring gets wetter and wetter. While I’m away, vacationing in a nice, dry, cloudy place, my minions are drenched and miserable. As it should be! But I’m still keeping tabs on their progress. Just because I’m having a great time somewhere else doesn’t mean these louts don’t have a quota to meet!

And meet their quota they shall, if only barely… BEHOLD!

ClarkKent’s Sci-Fi Soundbites

Epigram // Obsolescent [March 6th, 2026 – Self Released]

Combining the melodic black metal of Thulcandra and Dissection with the symphonics of Fleshgod Apocalypse and SepticFlesh, Epigram dropped a tasty little morsel with their debut, Obsolescent. The trio from Los Angeles puts on a spirited performance that borders on thrash. Tim Cauley’s display on the kit is a dominant force as he furiously blast beats his way from one song to the next. He turns “Wrath of Betrayed” into a piece of blackened thrash and proves tireless across Obsolescent’s 27-minute runtime. The lively vocal performance of Luis Echevarria adds further to Epigram’s charm. His low growls may seem underpowered, but his delivery is energetic and fun. He’s also the source of the symphonic instrumentation, via synths, though this aspect is secondary. Sure, there’s some choral chants (“Myrmidon,” “The Usurper’s Throne”), strings (“Hour of Gods”), and other vaguely symphonic sounds, but Epigram is most focused on the blackened melodic stuff. Shadi Absi throws together some great riffs, particularly on “Empires,” a work of pure black ‘n roll. The showstopper is “Hour of Gods,” with some sweet riffs and terrific energy. This song alone makes Obsolescent a worthy spin. Rounding out the musicians is Sanjay Kumar (Inferi, Wormhole), who plays solos on “Wrath of Betrayed” and “No Sin.” This is a promising debut for an eager new band.

Kal-El // Astral Voyager Vol. 2 [March 20th, 2026 – Blues Funeral Recordings]

Sporting the greatest band name of all time, Kal-El have been blasting listeners with stoner doom since 2012. Astral Voyager Vol. 2 is the follow-up to last year’s Vol. 1, and these pyschedelians’s seventh album overall. It’s been seven years since Witches of Mars was unfairly pummeled by a Kryptonian frog, and now I’d like to do the band justice by rescuing them from our filter. On this astral voyage, you get the pleasure of listening to six songs and 42 minutes of laid-back stoner tunes with plenty of fuzzy riffs—perfect for cruising around the cosmos. Their riff-centric approach puts them in the Black Sabbath camp, and the riffs on the likes of “Juno” and “The Prophecy,” which has a “Children of the Grave” vibe, are tons of fun. Further cementing the Sabbath comp is the vocal performance of Ståle Rodvelt, who carries a resemblance to Ozzy in his delivery. Longer cuts take more exploratory routes, akin to Sleep, yet still feature plenty to get your head bobbin’. “Asteroid” opens up with some sweet riffs that sustain its near eight-minute frame, while “The Nine” will still have you singing along in the final of its ten minutes. 1 So if you are in the mood for something chill that won’t put you to sleep, something that has the riffs without the risk of elevating your blood pressure, you should spend some time with Kal-El.

Thus Spoke’s Tectonic Treat

Bong-Ra // Esoterik [March 20th, 2026 – Debemur Morti Productions]

Not having received promo, it was only upon visiting DM’s Bandcamp page while writing up Aversio Humanitatis that I realised Bong-Ra had released another album. Asked whether Esoterik would be leaning more into enigmatic doom or spiky industrial electronica, the shapeshifting Bong-Ra said “yes”. The music is built on layers of dense, gritty atmosphere undulating with bass, breakbeats, and distorted riffs. Vocals are maintained from Black Noise—half-spoken snarls blurred by noise, shifting between blunt tunefulness (“Serpentine Helix”) and gargling venom (“Machine Halo”)—but at least half of the space is devoted to the purely instrumental psychosis. The saxophone is back, adding bizarre elegance and chilling eeriness in equal measure. Sometimes, Esoterik seems to be pitting its sultry and acerbic natures against one another; that chamber jazz side can take one by surprise (“Pleasures of the Flesh,” “Duality of One”), sandwiched as it is between a more punishing industrialism, but Bong-Ra just about gets away with it. This could be down to Esoterik’s efficiency in establishing (new) grooves—rhythmic and stylistic. Opener “Harmony Cloak” dispels misgivings on its skittering electronic oddity with a chorus that strikes a stylish balance between melody and dissonance; “Machine Halo” later follows in its stride. It’s an album that earns its moniker, right down to the particular spelling, and is worth the dark diversion it requires.

Grin Reaper’s Kooky Curios

Surturian // II – Hessian Spears [March 13th, 2026 – Crawling Chaos]

A German thrash band named after the legendary fire giant and guardian of Muspelheim? And on their debut LP, they launch an unrelenting, venomous assault filled with sticky riffs and bopping bass grooves in under forty-five minutes? Sign me up! Surturian plays thrash that smacks of early Testament and Metallica fused with the epic melodies of latter-day Kreator—hell, vocalist Tim Krogull reeks of Mille’s rancorous vocals, even though his name hews closer to a Voivodian disposition. In addition to thrash influences, Surturian calls upon Maiden’s signature gallops (“Cimmerians Wrath”) and anthemic melodies (“⁠Night Stalker,” “Do What Thou Wilt”), inculcating a lofty grandeur throughout II – Hessian Spears. Further fanning Surturian’s flames, the outfit navigates a varied landscape that imbues each track with its own character while never straying too far from their core sound. Hard-hitting offensives (“Blood Witchery”), slinky licks (“Night Stalker”), and oddball songwriting (“Beneath a Dying Sky”2) unite into an album I’ve regularly returned to since discovering it. If you’re feeling unSurtain, take it from me—it’s always a good time for some Hessian aggression!

Barn // Crucibles [March 24th, 2026 – Self Released]

Thanks to a certain dude/guy in the comments section, Crucibles didn’t slip past me undetected. Despite their dubious band name, Barn dropped a humdinger slab of tech death back in March that oozes with references to Unquestionable Presence (Atheist), Focus (Cynic), and, to a lesser extent, Decrepit Birth.3 There are even moments that echo more subdued moments from recent Sallow Moth releases (“The Serpent’s Perpetual Shed”). Staccato bursts of guitar, pinch harmonics, and buttery, fretless bass glissandos epitomize what Barn offers, and they spread it thick and chunky all over Crucibles’ sixty-five-minute runtime. Rustic name notwithstanding, Barn’s latest sounds like a sci-fi adventure, supported by track names like “Black Hole Lens” and “Cymatics.” The fretless bass especially helps with the futuristic aesthetic, frictionlessly gliding through gusts of abrupt, otherworldly guitars that buffet tracks from all angles. Barn rarely offers reprieve during their unconventional onslaught, but tracks like “Forbidden Fruits,” “Cymatics,” and “The Defeater” achieve such heights that I don’t find myself needing one. In short, these Boise boys warp listeners to a different dimension on Crucibles, and though it runs a tad long, I haven’t been deterred yet from lighting up this Barnburner.

Dionysiaque // La Tourbe des Rêves [March 27th, 2026 – I, Voidhanger Records]

Dionysiaque dispenses a bizarre derivative of doom on La Tourbe des Rêves that’s sure to be equal parts captivating and divisive. Reaching into the bag of tricks defined by Cathedral, Black Sabbath, and Candlemass, Dionysiaque’s sophomore album lumbers and chugs with classic rock-inspired leads and firecracker songcraft that I find utterly enthralling. Songs like “Aaron,” “Hate Fruit,” and “The Two Headed Boy” spotlight Dionysiaque’s plaintive guitar wails, contributed by L.B. and Bruno Penserini, along with their savvy balance of somber atmospheres and rousing melodies. Buoying the guitar tandem, bassist Lethal lays down frolicking, fabulous thunder via absorbing countermelodies while drummer T.H. looses potent fills and rolls throughout. Soaring atop the instrumentation are N.C.’s unorthodox vocals, which will almost certainly be the sole determining factor in listeners’ ability to engage with La Tourbe des Rêves. His delivery recalls that of Mayhem’s Attila Csihar at his most operatically deranged, never lacking conviction yet occasionally overpowering and ostentatious. Still, I appreciate and enjoy the commitment to the unhinged performance, and although dialing it back a little would make Dionysiaque’s latest more accessible, I’ve come to love La Tourbe des Rêves without apology. So don’t be afraid to let a little love into your heart—go get debauched with Dionysiaque’s aphrodisiac.

Creeping Ivy’s Pandemonic Pleasure

Mammon’s Throne // My Body to the Worms [March 13th, 2026 – Hammerheart Records]

In advising his fellow fallen angels—recently expelled from Heaven—to turn Hell into a competing kingdom, Mammon projects that All Demons will ‘work ease out of pain / Through labor and endurance.’4 Satan doesn’t heed this advice, but the third LP from Mammon’s Throne arguably does. On My Body to the Worms, this Australian five-piece inflicts pleasurable pain upon metaldom via five filthy slabs of sludgy death-doom (plus two instrumental reprieves). Mammon’s Throne conjure Hooded Menace, Temple of Void, and (old) Worm in their proclivity for plodding tempos, swampy riffs, and gravely howls (“Elixir”). The album is also a labor of love for classic (death-) doom à la Paradise Lost and My Dying Bride, mixing gothy croons, ascendant melodicism, and haunting piano into the band’s sinister stew (“Every Day More Sickened,” “At the Threshold of Eternity”). Though the listener does need some endurance, as three of the five non-instrumentals hover in the 8–9 minute range, the record flows fluidly across an easy 42 minutes. If you ever wondered what metal in league with Mammon might sound like, give My Body to the Worms a spin.

Rain has started to leak into the ducts as Spring gets wetter and wetter. While I’m away, vacationing in a nice, dry, cloudy place, my minions are drenched and miserable. As it should be! But I’m still keeping tabs on their progress. Just because I’m having a great time somewhere else doesn’t mean these louts don’t have a quota to meet!

And meet their quota they shall, if only barely… BEHOLD!

ClarkKent’s Sci-Fi Soundbites

Epigram // Obsolescent [March 6th, 2026 – Self Released]

Combining the melodic black metal of Thulcandra and Dissection with the symphonics of Fleshgod Apocalypse and SepticFlesh, Epigram dropped a tasty little morsel with their debut, Obsolescent. The trio from Los Angeles puts on a spirited performance that borders on thrash. Tim Cauley’s display on the kit is a dominant force as he furiously blast beats his way from one song to the next. He turns “Wrath of Betrayed” into a piece of blackened thrash and proves tireless across Obsolescent’s 27-minute runtime. The lively vocal performance of Luis Echevarria adds further to Epigram’s charm. His low growls may seem underpowered, but his delivery is energetic and fun. He’s also the source of the symphonic instrumentation, via synths, though this aspect is secondary. Sure, there’s some choral chants (“Myrmidon,” “The Usurper’s Throne”), strings (“Hour of Gods”), and other vaguely symphonic sounds, but Epigram is most focused on the blackened melodic stuff. Shadi Absi throws together some great riffs, particularly on “Empires,” a work of pure black ‘n roll. The showstopper is “Hour of Gods,” with some sweet riffs and terrific energy. This song alone makes Obsolescent a worthy spin. Rounding out the musicians is Sanjay Kumar (Inferi, Wormhole), who plays solos on “Wrath of Betrayed” and “No Sin.” This is a promising debut for an eager new band.

Kal-El // Astral Voyager Vol. 2 [March 20th, 2026 – Blues Funeral Recordings]

Sporting the greatest band name of all time, Kal-El have been blasting listeners with stoner doom since 2012. Astral Voyager Vol. 2 is the follow-up to last year’s Vol. 1, and these pyschedelians’s seventh album overall. It’s been seven years since Witches of Mars was unfairly pummeled by a Kryptonian frog, and now I’d like to do the band justice by rescuing them from our filter. On this astral voyage, you get the pleasure of listening to six songs and 42 minutes of laid-back stoner tunes with plenty of fuzzy riffs—perfect for cruising around the cosmos. Their riff-centric approach puts them in the Black Sabbath camp, and the riffs on the likes of “Juno” and “The Prophecy,” which has a “Children of the Grave” vibe, are tons of fun. Further cementing the Sabbath comp is the vocal performance of Ståle Rodvelt, who carries a resemblance to Ozzy in his delivery. Longer cuts take more exploratory routes, akin to Sleep, yet still feature plenty to get your head bobbin’. “Asteroid” opens up with some sweet riffs that sustain its near eight-minute frame, while “The Nine” will still have you singing along in the final of its ten minutes. 1 So if you are in the mood for something chill that won’t put you to sleep, something that has the riffs without the risk of elevating your blood pressure, you should spend some time with Kal-El.

Thus Spoke’s Tectonic Treat

Bong-Ra // Esoterik [March 20th, 2026 – Debemur Morti Productions]

Not having received promo, it was only upon visiting DM’s Bandcamp page while writing up Aversio Humanitatis that I realised Bong-Ra had released another album. Asked whether Esoterik would be leaning more into enigmatic doom or spiky industrial electronica, the shapeshifting Bong-Ra said “yes”. The music is built on layers of dense, gritty atmosphere undulating with bass, breakbeats, and distorted riffs. Vocals are maintained from Black Noise—half-spoken snarls blurred by noise, shifting between blunt tunefulness (“Serpentine Helix”) and gargling venom (“Machine Halo”)—but at least half of the space is devoted to the purely instrumental psychosis. The saxophone is back, adding bizarre elegance and chilling eeriness in equal measure. Sometimes, Esoterik seems to be pitting its sultry and acerbic natures against one another; that chamber jazz side can take one by surprise (“Pleasures of the Flesh,” “Duality of One”), sandwiched as it is between a more punishing industrialism, but Bong-Ra just about gets away with it. This could be down to Esoterik’s efficiency in establishing (new) grooves—rhythmic and stylistic. Opener “Harmony Cloak” dispels misgivings on its skittering electronic oddity with a chorus that strikes a stylish balance between melody and dissonance; “Machine Halo” later follows in its stride. It’s an album that earns its moniker, right down to the particular spelling, and is worth the dark diversion it requires.

Grin Reaper’s Kooky Curios

Surturian // II – Hessian Spears [March 13th, 2026 – Crawling Chaos]

A German thrash band named after the legendary fire giant and guardian of Muspelheim? And on their debut LP, they launch an unrelenting, venomous assault filled with sticky riffs and bopping bass grooves in under forty-five minutes? Sign me up! Surturian plays thrash that smacks of early Testament and Metallica fused with the epic melodies of latter-day Kreator—hell, vocalist Tim Krogull reeks of Mille’s rancorous vocals, even though his name hews closer to a Voivodian disposition. In addition to thrash influences, Surturian calls upon Maiden’s signature gallops (“Cimmerians Wrath”) and anthemic melodies (“⁠Night Stalker,” “Do What Thou Wilt”), inculcating a lofty grandeur throughout II – Hessian Spears. Further fanning Surturian’s flames, the outfit navigates a varied landscape that imbues each track with its own character while never straying too far from their core sound. Hard-hitting offensives (“Blood Witchery”), slinky licks (“Night Stalker”), and oddball songwriting (“Beneath a Dying Sky”2) unite into an album I’ve regularly returned to since discovering it. If you’re feeling unSurtain, take it from me—it’s always a good time for some Hessian aggression!

Barn // Crucibles [March 24th, 2026 – Self Released]

Thanks to a certain dude/guy in the comments section, Crucibles didn’t slip past me undetected. Despite their dubious band name, Barn dropped a humdinger slab of tech death back in March that oozes with references to Unquestionable Presence (Atheist), Focus (Cynic), and, to a lesser extent, Decrepit Birth.3 There are even moments that echo more subdued moments from recent Sallow Moth releases (“The Serpent’s Perpetual Shed”). Staccato bursts of guitar, pinch harmonics, and buttery, fretless bass glissandos epitomize what Barn offers, and they spread it thick and chunky all over Crucibles’ sixty-five-minute runtime. Rustic name notwithstanding, Barn’s latest sounds like a sci-fi adventure, supported by track names like “Black Hole Lens” and “Cymatics.” The fretless bass especially helps with the futuristic aesthetic, frictionlessly gliding through gusts of abrupt, otherworldly guitars that buffet tracks from all angles. Barn rarely offers reprieve during their unconventional onslaught, but tracks like “Forbidden Fruits,” “Cymatics,” and “The Defeater” achieve such heights that I don’t find myself needing one. In short, these Boise boys warp listeners to a different dimension on Crucibles, and though it runs a tad long, I haven’t been deterred yet from lighting up this Barnburner.

Dionysiaque // La Tourbe des Rêves [March 27th, 2026 – I, Voidhanger Records]

Dionysiaque dispenses a bizarre derivative of doom on La Tourbe des Rêves that’s sure to be equal parts captivating and divisive. Reaching into the bag of tricks defined by Cathedral, Black Sabbath, and Candlemass, Dionysiaque’s sophomore album lumbers and chugs with classic rock-inspired leads and firecracker songcraft that I find utterly enthralling. Songs like “Aaron,” “Hate Fruit,” and “The Two Headed Boy” spotlight Dionysiaque’s plaintive guitar wails, contributed by L.B. and Bruno Penserini, along with their savvy balance of somber atmospheres and rousing melodies. Buoying the guitar tandem, bassist Lethal lays down frolicking, fabulous thunder via absorbing countermelodies while drummer T.H. looses potent fills and rolls throughout. Soaring atop the instrumentation are N.C.’s unorthodox vocals, which will almost certainly be the sole determining factor in listeners’ ability to engage with La Tourbe des Rêves. His delivery recalls that of Mayhem’s Attila Csihar at his most operatically deranged, never lacking conviction yet occasionally overpowering and ostentatious. Still, I appreciate and enjoy the commitment to the unhinged performance, and although dialing it back a little would make Dionysiaque’s latest more accessible, I’ve come to love La Tourbe des Rêves without apology. So don’t be afraid to let a little love into your heart—go get debauched with Dionysiaque’s aphrodisiac.

Creeping Ivy’s Pandemonic Pleasure

Mammon’s Throne // My Body to the Worms [March 13th, 2026 – Hammerheart Records]

In advising his fellow fallen angels—recently expelled from Heaven—to turn Hell into a competing kingdom, Mammon projects that All Demons will ‘work ease out of pain / Through labor and endurance.’4 Satan doesn’t heed this advice, but the third LP from Mammon’s Throne arguably does. On My Body to the Worms, this Australian five-piece inflicts pleasurable pain upon metaldom via five filthy slabs of sludgy death-doom (plus two instrumental reprieves). Mammon’s Throne conjure Hooded Menace, Temple of Void, and (old) Worm in their proclivity for plodding tempos, swampy riffs, and gravely howls (“Elixir”). The album is also a labor of love for classic (death-) doom à la Paradise Lost and My Dying Bride, mixing gothy croons, ascendant melodicism, and haunting piano into the band’s sinister stew (“Every Day More Sickened,” “At the Threshold of Eternity”). Though the listener does need some endurance, as three of the five non-instrumentals hover in the 8–9 minute range, the record flows fluidly across an easy 42 minutes. If you ever wondered what metal in league with Mammon might sound like, give My Body to the Worms a spin.

https://www.europesays.com/uk/1007747/ Seven Metal Sins – Legacy of Chaos Review #2026 #30 #Accept #Entertainment #FrenchMetal #Gravedigger #HeavyMetal #Jun26 #LegacyOfChaos #music #rebellion #Review #Reviews #RockshotsRecords #SevenMetalSins #UK #UnitedKingdom

Seven Metal Sins – Legacy of Chaos Review

Seven Metal Sins are a new act from France dedicated to the classic 80s heavy metal sound made…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2026 #3.0 #Accept #Entertainment #FrenchMetal #Gravedigger #HeavyMetal #Jun26 #LegacyofChaos #Rebellion #review #reviews #RockshotsRecords #SevenMetalSins
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Seven Metal Sins – Legacy of Chaos Review

Seven Metal Sins are a new act from France dedicated to the classic 80s heavy metal sound made…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #3.0 #Accept #Entertainment #FrenchMetal #Gravedigger #HeavyMetal #Jun26 #LegacyofChaos #rebellion #review #Reviews #RockshotsRecords #SevenMetalSins #UK #UnitedKingdom
https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/623089/

Seven Metal Sins are a new act from France dedicated to the classic 80s heavy metal sound made famous by Accept and Gravedigger. On their Legacy of Chaos debut, they bring a ton of retro enthusiasm to the table, trying their level best to cobble together an album’s worth of headbanging, fist-pumping metal with loads of macho machismo and every traditional metal trope imaginable. The closest comparison is Gravedigger, as Seven Metal Sins base their sound around big, beefy riffs and warbling, semi-harsh vocals. This makes the material on Legacy of Chaos sit somewhere between Gravedigger classics like Excalibur and especially Rheingold. That’s a fine place to aim for, but unfortunately, it’s not so easy to stick the landing and come up equal to those particular platters. It also leaves those who attempt it exposed to sounding like an earnest but watered-down copy of the original. And in the worst-case scenario, a mere copy of a copy. Can Seven Metal Sins avoid these lethal pitfalls?

There’s no shortage of meatheaded metal exuberance on opening proper cut “Scars of Injustice.” It’s got everything someone who grew up in the 80s blasting Teutonic metal could want. Frontman Clovis Gay sounds a whole lot like Gravedigger’s Chris Boltendahl crossbred with Rebellion’s Michael Seifert, and he gleefully goes WAY over the top with a hoarse squeal and roar. As Clovis does his thing, Antton Iriat and Frédéric Auclerc flatten resistance with road-grading, burly riffs, and entertaining harmonies designed to bring out your inner ape. There’s a big whiff of Rheingold here, and I can’t huff enough of that Germanic wonderdust. The template thus set, Seven Metal Sins set out to build on it whilst beating your ass from chimpanz-A to pimpanzeE. Cuts like “Hypocrisy” eschew nuance in favor of head-on, full-speed collision dynamics, using riffacades and raw aggression to drive the point home, and it works for them in the same way it worked for Gravedigger on their best albums. Album highlight “Feel the Steel” takes this formula and runs with it for 4 minutes of brain-shaking classic metal fury that gets even an elder primate like me up and throwing heavy objects. It’s a warhammer of a tune, and it reminds me a lot of the better Rebellion material, including their mighty paean, “Taste of Steel.”

Legacy of Chaos is the rare album that improves as it rolls along, gathering momentum and crucial energy, and the songwriting becomes more and more memorable too. Later tracks like “Wolves of the Last Dawn” and “Sun Eaters” are old-timey heavy metal burners, high on energy, low on subtlety, and they’re great for a tough cardio session. “Rise of the Phoenix” has one of the best choruses, and even the closing power ballad “King of Sorrow” works, both as a change of pace and a suitably epic finale. At just under 47 minutes, Legacy of Chaos is a fast-moving, jacked-up spin through the glory days of heavy metal, and no song outstays its welcome or bogs down the meat parade.

Clovis Gay has the kind of voice that was made for metal. He can sing, but often opts to roar, shout, warble, and caterwaul, and that’s the golden ticket for this kind of fare. Like Chris Boltendahl, he will be a love or hate proposition for some, but I dig his rough ‘n’ ready style and his silent film era villain moustache. That said, it’s Antton Iriat and Frédéric Auclerc who really anchor the sound with their mighty riffs and the way they use them to hammer at you until you give in and enjoy the ride. This is a tried-and-true formula, and it works in 2026 as it did in 1985.

When I first started spinning Legacy of Chaos, I felt like Seven Metal Sins were like Gravedigger from Temu or a “we have Gravedigger at home” situation. Both are somewhat true, but the band is stout enough to deliver an entertaining platter of metal nonetheless. There’s nothing here you haven’t heard a million times before, and no one will put this on end-of-year lists, but it’s a fun, brainless release with enough nut wattage to warm the cockles of the 80s metal fan. Now let’s commence to metal sinning.1

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Rockshots
Websites: facebook.com/sevenmetalsins | instagram.com/seven_metal_sins.official
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

Seven Metal Sins are a new act from France dedicated to the classic 80s heavy metal sound made famous by Accept and Gravedigger. On their Legacy of Chaos debut, they bring a ton of retro enthusiasm to the table, trying their level best to cobble together an album’s worth of headbanging, fist-pumping metal with loads of macho machismo and every traditional metal trope imaginable. The closest comparison is Gravedigger, as Seven Metal Sins base their sound around big, beefy riffs and warbling, semi-harsh vocals. This makes the material on Legacy of Chaos sit somewhere between Gravedigger classics like Excalibur and especially Rheingold. That’s a fine place to aim for, but unfortunately, it’s not so easy to stick the landing and come up equal to those particular platters. It also leaves those who attempt it exposed to sounding like an earnest but watered-down copy of the original. And in the worst-case scenario, a mere copy of a copy. Can Seven Metal Sins avoid these lethal pitfalls?

There’s no shortage of meatheaded metal exuberance on opening proper cut “Scars of Injustice.” It’s got everything someone who grew up in the 80s blasting Teutonic metal could want. Frontman Clovis Gay sounds a whole lot like Gravedigger’s Chris Boltendahl crossbred with Rebellion’s Michael Seifert, and he gleefully goes WAY over the top with a hoarse squeal and roar. As Clovis does his thing, Antton Iriat and Frédéric Auclerc flatten resistance with road-grading, burly riffs, and entertaining harmonies designed to bring out your inner ape. There’s a big whiff of Rheingold here, and I can’t huff enough of that Germanic wonderdust. The template thus set, Seven Metal Sins set out to build on it whilst beating your ass from chimpanz-A to pimpanzeE. Cuts like “Hypocrisy” eschew nuance in favor of head-on, full-speed collision dynamics, using riffacades and raw aggression to drive the point home, and it works for them in the same way it worked for Gravedigger on their best albums. Album highlight “Feel the Steel” takes this formula and runs with it for 4 minutes of brain-shaking classic metal fury that gets even an elder primate like me up and throwing heavy objects. It’s a warhammer of a tune, and it reminds me a lot of the better Rebellion material, including their mighty paean, “Taste of Steel.”

Legacy of Chaos is the rare album that improves as it rolls along, gathering momentum and crucial energy, and the songwriting becomes more and more memorable too. Later tracks like “Wolves of the Last Dawn” and “Sun Eaters” are old-timey heavy metal burners, high on energy, low on subtlety, and they’re great for a tough cardio session. “Rise of the Phoenix” has one of the best choruses, and even the closing power ballad “King of Sorrow” works, both as a change of pace and a suitably epic finale. At just under 47 minutes, Legacy of Chaos is a fast-moving, jacked-up spin through the glory days of heavy metal, and no song outstays its welcome or bogs down the meat parade.

Clovis Gay has the kind of voice that was made for metal. He can sing, but often opts to roar, shout, warble, and caterwaul, and that’s the golden ticket for this kind of fare. Like Chris Boltendahl, he will be a love or hate proposition for some, but I dig his rough ‘n’ ready style and his silent film era villain moustache. That said, it’s Antton Iriat and Frédéric Auclerc who really anchor the sound with their mighty riffs and the way they use them to hammer at you until you give in and enjoy the ride. This is a tried-and-true formula, and it works in 2026 as it did in 1985.

When I first started spinning Legacy of Chaos, I felt like Seven Metal Sins were like Gravedigger from Temu or a “we have Gravedigger at home” situation. Both are somewhat true, but the band is stout enough to deliver an entertaining platter of metal nonetheless. There’s nothing here you haven’t heard a million times before, and no one will put this on end-of-year lists, but it’s a fun, brainless release with enough nut wattage to warm the cockles of the 80s metal fan. Now let’s commence to metal sinning.1

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Rockshots
Websites: facebook.com/sevenmetalsins | instagram.com/seven_metal_sins.official
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

Seven Metal Sins are a new act from France dedicated to the classic 80s heavy metal sound made famous by Accept and Gravedigger. On their Legacy of Chaos debut, they bring a ton of retro enthusiasm to the table, trying their level best to cobble together an album’s worth of headbanging, fist-pumping metal with loads of macho machismo and every traditional metal trope imaginable. The closest comparison is Gravedigger, as Seven Metal Sins base their sound around big, beefy riffs and warbling, semi-harsh vocals. This makes the material on Legacy of Chaos sit somewhere between Gravedigger classics like Excalibur and especially Rheingold. That’s a fine place to aim for, but unfortunately, it’s not so easy to stick the landing and come up equal to those particular platters. It also leaves those who attempt it exposed to sounding like an earnest but watered-down copy of the original. And in the worst-case scenario, a mere copy of a copy. Can Seven Metal Sins avoid these lethal pitfalls?

There’s no shortage of meatheaded metal exuberance on opening proper cut “Scars of Injustice.” It’s got everything someone who grew up in the 80s blasting Teutonic metal could want. Frontman Clovis Gay sounds a whole lot like Gravedigger’s Chris Boltendahl crossbred with Rebellion’s Michael Seifert, and he gleefully goes WAY over the top with a hoarse squeal and roar. As Clovis does his thing, Antton Iriat and Frédéric Auclerc flatten resistance with road-grading, burly riffs, and entertaining harmonies designed to bring out your inner ape. There’s a big whiff of Rheingold here, and I can’t huff enough of that Germanic wonderdust. The template thus set, Seven Metal Sins set out to build on it whilst beating your ass from chimpanz-A to pimpanzeE. Cuts like “Hypocrisy” eschew nuance in favor of head-on, full-speed collision dynamics, using riffacades and raw aggression to drive the point home, and it works for them in the same way it worked for Gravedigger on their best albums. Album highlight “Feel the Steel” takes this formula and runs with it for 4 minutes of brain-shaking classic metal fury that gets even an elder primate like me up and throwing heavy objects. It’s a warhammer of a tune, and it reminds me a lot of the better Rebellion material, including their mighty paean, “Taste of Steel.”

Legacy of Chaos is the rare album that improves as it rolls along, gathering momentum and crucial energy, and the songwriting becomes more and more memorable too. Later tracks like “Wolves of the Last Dawn” and “Sun Eaters” are old-timey heavy metal burners, high on energy, low on subtlety, and they’re great for a tough cardio session. “Rise of the Phoenix” has one of the best choruses, and even the closing power ballad “King of Sorrow” works, both as a change of pace and a suitably epic finale. At just under 47 minutes, Legacy of Chaos is a fast-moving, jacked-up spin through the glory days of heavy metal, and no song outstays its welcome or bogs down the meat parade.

Clovis Gay has the kind of voice that was made for metal. He can sing, but often opts to roar, shout, warble, and caterwaul, and that’s the golden ticket for this kind of fare. Like Chris Boltendahl, he will be a love or hate proposition for some, but I dig his rough ‘n’ ready style and his silent film era villain moustache. That said, it’s Antton Iriat and Frédéric Auclerc who really anchor the sound with their mighty riffs and the way they use them to hammer at you until you give in and enjoy the ride. This is a tried-and-true formula, and it works in 2026 as it did in 1985.

When I first started spinning Legacy of Chaos, I felt like Seven Metal Sins were like Gravedigger from Temu or a “we have Gravedigger at home” situation. Both are somewhat true, but the band is stout enough to deliver an entertaining platter of metal nonetheless. There’s nothing here you haven’t heard a million times before, and no one will put this on end-of-year lists, but it’s a fun, brainless release with enough nut wattage to warm the cockles of the 80s metal fan. Now let’s commence to metal sinning.1

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Rockshots
Websites: facebook.com/sevenmetalsins | instagram.com/seven_metal_sins.official
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

Seven Metal Sins are a new act from France dedicated to the classic 80s heavy metal sound made famous by Accept and Gravedigger. On their Legacy of Chaos debut, they bring a ton of retro enthusiasm to the table, trying their level best to cobble together an album’s worth of headbanging, fist-pumping metal with loads of macho machismo and every traditional metal trope imaginable. The closest comparison is Gravedigger, as Seven Metal Sins base their sound around big, beefy riffs and warbling, semi-harsh vocals. This makes the material on Legacy of Chaos sit somewhere between Gravedigger classics like Excalibur and especially Rheingold. That’s a fine place to aim for, but unfortunately, it’s not so easy to stick the landing and come up equal to those particular platters. It also leaves those who attempt it exposed to sounding like an earnest but watered-down copy of the original. And in the worst-case scenario, a mere copy of a copy. Can Seven Metal Sins avoid these lethal pitfalls?

There’s no shortage of meatheaded metal exuberance on opening proper cut “Scars of Injustice.” It’s got everything someone who grew up in the 80s blasting Teutonic metal could want. Frontman Clovis Gay sounds a whole lot like Gravedigger’s Chris Boltendahl crossbred with Rebellion’s Michael Seifert, and he gleefully goes WAY over the top with a hoarse squeal and roar. As Clovis does his thing, Antton Iriat and Frédéric Auclerc flatten resistance with road-grading, burly riffs, and entertaining harmonies designed to bring out your inner ape. There’s a big whiff of Rheingold here, and I can’t huff enough of that Germanic wonderdust. The template thus set, Seven Metal Sins set out to build on it whilst beating your ass from chimpanz-A to pimpanzeE. Cuts like “Hypocrisy” eschew nuance in favor of head-on, full-speed collision dynamics, using riffacades and raw aggression to drive the point home, and it works for them in the same way it worked for Gravedigger on their best albums. Album highlight “Feel the Steel” takes this formula and runs with it for 4 minutes of brain-shaking classic metal fury that gets even an elder primate like me up and throwing heavy objects. It’s a warhammer of a tune, and it reminds me a lot of the better Rebellion material, including their mighty paean, “Taste of Steel.”

Legacy of Chaos is the rare album that improves as it rolls along, gathering momentum and crucial energy, and the songwriting becomes more and more memorable too. Later tracks like “Wolves of the Last Dawn” and “Sun Eaters” are old-timey heavy metal burners, high on energy, low on subtlety, and they’re great for a tough cardio session. “Rise of the Phoenix” has one of the best choruses, and even the closing power ballad “King of Sorrow” works, both as a change of pace and a suitably epic finale. At just under 47 minutes, Legacy of Chaos is a fast-moving, jacked-up spin through the glory days of heavy metal, and no song outstays its welcome or bogs down the meat parade.

Clovis Gay has the kind of voice that was made for metal. He can sing, but often opts to roar, shout, warble, and caterwaul, and that’s the golden ticket for this kind of fare. Like Chris Boltendahl, he will be a love or hate proposition for some, but I dig his rough ‘n’ ready style and his silent film era villain moustache. That said, it’s Antton Iriat and Frédéric Auclerc who really anchor the sound with their mighty riffs and the way they use them to hammer at you until you give in and enjoy the ride. This is a tried-and-true formula, and it works in 2026 as it did in 1985.

When I first started spinning Legacy of Chaos, I felt like Seven Metal Sins were like Gravedigger from Temu or a “we have Gravedigger at home” situation. Both are somewhat true, but the band is stout enough to deliver an entertaining platter of metal nonetheless. There’s nothing here you haven’t heard a million times before, and no one will put this on end-of-year lists, but it’s a fun, brainless release with enough nut wattage to warm the cockles of the 80s metal fan. Now let’s commence to metal sinning.1

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Rockshots
Websites: facebook.com/sevenmetalsins | instagram.com/seven_metal_sins.official
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

Though my first published review here at Angry Metal Guy was back in September 2024, it was on May 30, 2025, that I officially escaped n00bdom with my review of Rivers of Nihil’s self-titled album. As I approach my one-year anniversary, it seems appropriate to grab a promo that styles itself after the progressive tech-death of Rivers of Nihil. Thus, enter The Scalar Process with their sophomore outing, Agnomysticism. Not only do they sound kind of like Rivers of Nihil, but they even borrow Andy Thomas for a guest spot on one song. The Scalar Process formed in 2016, but didn’t release any material until 2021’s Coagulative Matter. It took another five years to release the follow-up, with a new drummer, additional guitarist and bassist. Having never heard these guys before, I picked up Agnomysticism in the hope of it being closer in quality to Xenotaph than Rivers of Nihil. Have the metal gods blessed these guys with supreme musical talent?

On Agnomysticism, The Scalar Process plays a synth-heavy tech death that blends speedy precision with calm ambiance. They have much in common with Fallujah and The Zenith Passage, though not the technicality in their riffs. The riffs featured here are largely of the bland chugging Rivers of Nihil variety, though with a few neat arpeggiated segments and solos here and there. Synths are omnipresent, adding a general atmospheric quality rather than hooks. Songs frequently begin with light atmospherics such as synths, trems, or arpeggios before diving into the heavy stuff. There’s less interest in creating original, catchy riffs of the kind you hear on Xenotaph or Datalysium. When songs get speedy and loud, they just sound flat—bland blast beats with non-descript riffs and Mathieu Lefevre’s monotone growls. Honestly, if it weren’t for the tempo changes, you’d hardly notice the passage from track to track.

Agnomysticism contains a collection of songs that are clean, clinical, and cold. With tech-death you expect to feel something of the sublime—the awe and wonder of musical passages (Stortregn’s Impermanence) or something that compels your body to move (Archspire). Yet, The Scalar Process appears content to emotionally distance themselves from their musical creation. The main ingredient in this distance is an apparent allergy to hooks. Any time a promising riff starts up, such as on “A Breathing Moment,” it just as quickly dissipates. The Scalar Process take their progressive structure and turn it into a sort of improvisational free-for-all where passages just don’t have room to develop. “A Breathing Moment” perfectly encapsulates this, as it ends on a disappointing fade-out just as it appears on the verge of going somewhere interesting. The Scalar Process do play some neat riffs now and then, with a solo on “Illness” from Justin McKinney (The Zenith Passage) being the best. But other attempts at hooks don’t work, such as a 30-second guest spot from Andy Thomas, whose cleans fall flat.

Could this just be another The Flesh Prevails? The compression on Agnomysticism is so crushed that the music—riffs, synths, drums, vocals—all become an indistinguishable mishmash until the quieter ambient segments. Where many times bands use these quieter moments to help build tension before a release of intense music, here the passages largely serve to give your ears a rest. Even on the lowest possible volume on my headphones, I found the loudness unbearable. The best-sounding songs are the full-length ambient instrumental interludes, “Affluent Marea” and “Sigil.” However, though they serve as a welcome rest for the ears, they sound more at home on an elevator than on a tech-death record. A better production would make this a more tolerable listen, but it would hardly fix all the issues plaguing Agnomysticism.

It’s rare that an album leaves me feeling so cold as Agnomysticism. It flies by in 45 minutes and leaves no real impression. I’ll give credit for a few impressive technical passages here and there, but otherwise, I’m not sure what The Scalar Process accomplishes. Where’s the passion? It just feels so aloof and meandering without purpose, and the mixing ensures you can’t properly hear it anyway. In the end, it’s a record you’ll struggle to recall as soon as you finish listening to it.

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Though my first published review here at Angry Metal Guy was back in September 2024, it was on May 30, 2025, that I officially escaped n00bdom with my review of Rivers of Nihil’s self-titled album. As I approach my one-year anniversary, it seems appropriate to grab a promo that styles itself after the progressive tech-death of Rivers of Nihil. Thus, enter The Scalar Process with their sophomore outing, Agnomysticism. Not only do they sound kind of like Rivers of Nihil, but they even borrow Andy Thomas for a guest spot on one song. The Scalar Process formed in 2016, but didn’t release any material until 2021’s Coagulative Matter. It took another five years to release the follow-up, with a new drummer, additional guitarist and bassist. Having never heard these guys before, I picked up Agnomysticism in the hope of it being closer in quality to Xenotaph than Rivers of Nihil. Have the metal gods blessed these guys with supreme musical talent?

On Agnomysticism, The Scalar Process plays a synth-heavy tech death that blends speedy precision with calm ambiance. They have much in common with Fallujah and The Zenith Passage, though not the technicality in their riffs. The riffs featured here are largely of the bland chugging Rivers of Nihil variety, though with a few neat arpeggiated segments and solos here and there. Synths are omnipresent, adding a general atmospheric quality rather than hooks. Songs frequently begin with light atmospherics such as synths, trems, or arpeggios before diving into the heavy stuff. There’s less interest in creating original, catchy riffs of the kind you hear on Xenotaph or Datalysium. When songs get speedy and loud, they just sound flat—bland blast beats with non-descript riffs and Mathieu Lefevre’s monotone growls. Honestly, if it weren’t for the tempo changes, you’d hardly notice the passage from track to track.

Agnomysticism contains a collection of songs that are clean, clinical, and cold. With tech-death you expect to feel something of the sublime—the awe and wonder of musical passages (Stortregn’s Impermanence) or something that compels your body to move (Archspire). Yet, The Scalar Process appears content to emotionally distance themselves from their musical creation. The main ingredient in this distance is an apparent allergy to hooks. Any time a promising riff starts up, such as on “A Breathing Moment,” it just as quickly dissipates. The Scalar Process take their progressive structure and turn it into a sort of improvisational free-for-all where passages just don’t have room to develop. “A Breathing Moment” perfectly encapsulates this, as it ends on a disappointing fade-out just as it appears on the verge of going somewhere interesting. The Scalar Process do play some neat riffs now and then, with a solo on “Illness” from Justin McKinney (The Zenith Passage) being the best. But other attempts at hooks don’t work, such as a 30-second guest spot from Andy Thomas, whose cleans fall flat.

Could this just be another The Flesh Prevails? The compression on Agnomysticism is so crushed that the music—riffs, synths, drums, vocals—all become an indistinguishable mishmash until the quieter ambient segments. Where many times bands use these quieter moments to help build tension before a release of intense music, here the passages largely serve to give your ears a rest. Even on the lowest possible volume on my headphones, I found the loudness unbearable. The best-sounding songs are the full-length ambient instrumental interludes, “Affluent Marea” and “Sigil.” However, though they serve as a welcome rest for the ears, they sound more at home on an elevator than on a tech-death record. A better production would make this a more tolerable listen, but it would hardly fix all the issues plaguing Agnomysticism.

It’s rare that an album leaves me feeling so cold as Agnomysticism. It flies by in 45 minutes and leaves no real impression. I’ll give credit for a few impressive technical passages here and there, but otherwise, I’m not sure what The Scalar Process accomplishes. Where’s the passion? It just feels so aloof and meandering without purpose, and the mixing ensures you can’t properly hear it anyway. In the end, it’s a record you’ll struggle to recall as soon as you finish listening to it.

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Though my first published review here at Angry Metal Guy was back in September 2024, it was on May 30, 2025, that I officially escaped n00bdom with my review of Rivers of Nihil’s self-titled album. As I approach my one-year anniversary, it seems appropriate to grab a promo that styles itself after the progressive tech-death of Rivers of Nihil. Thus, enter The Scalar Process with their sophomore outing, Agnomysticism. Not only do they sound kind of like Rivers of Nihil, but they even borrow Andy Thomas for a guest spot on one song. The Scalar Process formed in 2016, but didn’t release any material until 2021’s Coagulative Matter. It took another five years to release the follow-up, with a new drummer, additional guitarist and bassist. Having never heard these guys before, I picked up Agnomysticism in the hope of it being closer in quality to Xenotaph than Rivers of Nihil. Have the metal gods blessed these guys with supreme musical talent?

On Agnomysticism, The Scalar Process plays a synth-heavy tech death that blends speedy precision with calm ambiance. They have much in common with Fallujah and The Zenith Passage, though not the technicality in their riffs. The riffs featured here are largely of the bland chugging Rivers of Nihil variety, though with a few neat arpeggiated segments and solos here and there. Synths are omnipresent, adding a general atmospheric quality rather than hooks. Songs frequently begin with light atmospherics such as synths, trems, or arpeggios before diving into the heavy stuff. There’s less interest in creating original, catchy riffs of the kind you hear on Xenotaph or Datalysium. When songs get speedy and loud, they just sound flat—bland blast beats with non-descript riffs and Mathieu Lefevre’s monotone growls. Honestly, if it weren’t for the tempo changes, you’d hardly notice the passage from track to track.

Agnomysticism contains a collection of songs that are clean, clinical, and cold. With tech-death you expect to feel something of the sublime—the awe and wonder of musical passages (Stortregn’s Impermanence) or something that compels your body to move (Archspire). Yet, The Scalar Process appears content to emotionally distance themselves from their musical creation. The main ingredient in this distance is an apparent allergy to hooks. Any time a promising riff starts up, such as on “A Breathing Moment,” it just as quickly dissipates. The Scalar Process take their progressive structure and turn it into a sort of improvisational free-for-all where passages just don’t have room to develop. “A Breathing Moment” perfectly encapsulates this, as it ends on a disappointing fade-out just as it appears on the verge of going somewhere interesting. The Scalar Process do play some neat riffs now and then, with a solo on “Illness” from Justin McKinney (The Zenith Passage) being the best. But other attempts at hooks don’t work, such as a 30-second guest spot from Andy Thomas, whose cleans fall flat.

Could this just be another The Flesh Prevails? The compression on Agnomysticism is so crushed that the music—riffs, synths, drums, vocals—all become an indistinguishable mishmash until the quieter ambient segments. Where many times bands use these quieter moments to help build tension before a release of intense music, here the passages largely serve to give your ears a rest. Even on the lowest possible volume on my headphones, I found the loudness unbearable. The best-sounding songs are the full-length ambient instrumental interludes, “Affluent Marea” and “Sigil.” However, though they serve as a welcome rest for the ears, they sound more at home on an elevator than on a tech-death record. A better production would make this a more tolerable listen, but it would hardly fix all the issues plaguing Agnomysticism.

It’s rare that an album leaves me feeling so cold as Agnomysticism. It flies by in 45 minutes and leaves no real impression. I’ll give credit for a few impressive technical passages here and there, but otherwise, I’m not sure what The Scalar Process accomplishes. Where’s the passion? It just feels so aloof and meandering without purpose, and the mixing ensures you can’t properly hear it anyway. In the end, it’s a record you’ll struggle to recall as soon as you finish listening to it.

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Though my first published review here at Angry Metal Guy was back in September 2024, it was on May 30, 2025, that I officially escaped n00bdom with my review of Rivers of Nihil’s self-titled album. As I approach my one-year anniversary, it seems appropriate to grab a promo that styles itself after the progressive tech-death of Rivers of Nihil. Thus, enter The Scalar Process with their sophomore outing, Agnomysticism. Not only do they sound kind of like Rivers of Nihil, but they even borrow Andy Thomas for a guest spot on one song. The Scalar Process formed in 2016, but didn’t release any material until 2021’s Coagulative Matter. It took another five years to release the follow-up, with a new drummer, additional guitarist and bassist. Having never heard these guys before, I picked up Agnomysticism in the hope of it being closer in quality to Xenotaph than Rivers of Nihil. Have the metal gods blessed these guys with supreme musical talent?

On Agnomysticism, The Scalar Process plays a synth-heavy tech death that blends speedy precision with calm ambiance. They have much in common with Fallujah and The Zenith Passage, though not the technicality in their riffs. The riffs featured here are largely of the bland chugging Rivers of Nihil variety, though with a few neat arpeggiated segments and solos here and there. Synths are omnipresent, adding a general atmospheric quality rather than hooks. Songs frequently begin with light atmospherics such as synths, trems, or arpeggios before diving into the heavy stuff. There’s less interest in creating original, catchy riffs of the kind you hear on Xenotaph or Datalysium. When songs get speedy and loud, they just sound flat—bland blast beats with non-descript riffs and Mathieu Lefevre’s monotone growls. Honestly, if it weren’t for the tempo changes, you’d hardly notice the passage from track to track.

Agnomysticism contains a collection of songs that are clean, clinical, and cold. With tech-death you expect to feel something of the sublime—the awe and wonder of musical passages (Stortregn’s Impermanence) or something that compels your body to move (Archspire). Yet, The Scalar Process appears content to emotionally distance themselves from their musical creation. The main ingredient in this distance is an apparent allergy to hooks. Any time a promising riff starts up, such as on “A Breathing Moment,” it just as quickly dissipates. The Scalar Process take their progressive structure and turn it into a sort of improvisational free-for-all where passages just don’t have room to develop. “A Breathing Moment” perfectly encapsulates this, as it ends on a disappointing fade-out just as it appears on the verge of going somewhere interesting. The Scalar Process do play some neat riffs now and then, with a solo on “Illness” from Justin McKinney (The Zenith Passage) being the best. But other attempts at hooks don’t work, such as a 30-second guest spot from Andy Thomas, whose cleans fall flat.

Could this just be another The Flesh Prevails? The compression on Agnomysticism is so crushed that the music—riffs, synths, drums, vocals—all become an indistinguishable mishmash until the quieter ambient segments. Where many times bands use these quieter moments to help build tension before a release of intense music, here the passages largely serve to give your ears a rest. Even on the lowest possible volume on my headphones, I found the loudness unbearable. The best-sounding songs are the full-length ambient instrumental interludes, “Affluent Marea” and “Sigil.” However, though they serve as a welcome rest for the ears, they sound more at home on an elevator than on a tech-death record. A better production would make this a more tolerable listen, but it would hardly fix all the issues plaguing Agnomysticism.

It’s rare that an album leaves me feeling so cold as Agnomysticism. It flies by in 45 minutes and leaves no real impression. I’ll give credit for a few impressive technical passages here and there, but otherwise, I’m not sure what The Scalar Process accomplishes. Where’s the passion? It just feels so aloof and meandering without purpose, and the mixing ensures you can’t properly hear it anyway. In the end, it’s a record you’ll struggle to recall as soon as you finish listening to it.

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Maybe war never changes, but Warside has. Between releasing inaugural EP The Enemy Inside, and recording their debut, three of Warside’s five members left the band. Now a quartet, the Lyon, France collective tromps into the death metal arena, brandishing Cognitive Extinction, their first long play. Down a guitarist, Warside reports Cognitive Extinction as having ‘a rawer, more direct sound.’ Though The Enemy Inside can’t be classified as polished or subtle, Cognitive Extinction embraces an even leaner, meaner aggression through twenty-eight minutes. Additionally, Warside weaves a broad theme into the album—the erosion of intelligence and critical thinking due to the proliferation of screens and dependence on technology. It’s an increasingly relevant theme in these crazy times, but is Warside’s warning enough to keep listeners’ gray matter from atrophying into pudding?

Though simply billed as ‘death metal,’ Warside skews towards the technical end of the spectrum. Dying Fetus, Misery Index, and Vomitory are cited as influences in the promo materials, and while elements of those bands exist on Cognitive Extinction,1 I also hear the frantic immediacy of Benighted and Aborted enmeshed with the tech-heavy grooves of more recent Cryptopsy and Suffocation. Technical without falling into technical death metal territory and bruising without earning a brutal death metal tag, Warside toes the line between extreme metal subgenres without fully committing to any specific one. Rather than wavering or wandering, though, Cognitive Extinction sounds confident, direct, and ready to peel your skull back to get a look at your cognition firsthand.

Despite adding some new members and shuffling guitar duties, Warside launches a savage assault that never relents. Returning from The Enemy Within, guitarist Vincent Morelle resumes six-string duties on Cognitive Extinction while former guitarist Jérôme dons the mantle of bassist. Joining them are duo Mathieu (vocals) and Thô (drums) from deathgrind project Festering Process, and together this foursome unleashes barrage after barrage of merciless death metal thunder. Tracks “Neurocide” and “Invasive Thoughts” meld Morbid Angel’s wicked melodies with Nile’s violent velocity, frequently coaxing involuntary stank-face. “Visceral” punches with Suffocation’s might, windmilling between stutter-stop leads and kick drum cannonades, while “Thirst for Rot” dive bombs into an early solo before hitting a swarthy Cryptopsy-meets-Decapitated groove. Throughout, Mathieu discharges fierce gutturals that remind me of Benighted’s Julien Truchan,2 primal and bloodthirsty without ever going full BREEE. All told, kinetic hooks, furious blast beats, and husky bass grooves carry the momentum of each track, with feverish solos offering brief detours from Warside’s otherwise unyielding onslaught.

Warside evokes death metal titans throughout Cognitive Extinction, yet clinging too tightly to these touchstones prevents them from fully realizing an identity of their own. In fairness, Cognitive Extinction works cohesively, with a consistent aural context that’s as bludgeoning as it is swift. And even though Warside sidesteps critical flaws, hooking an overcrowded niche with deathly wares can be a significant challenge. Genre greats can provide a strong template for writing compelling music, but emulation without innovation risks giving listeners an experience that drives them back to inspirations. Said simply, bands with unique sounds become reference points, while others get buried beneath the sands of time. In this regard, Cognitive Extinction feels like a half measure, where a blend of influences comes together to form a coherent album, yet lacks a wholly original voice.

Standout performances and sharp, economical songwriting distinguish Warside as an act I’ll follow closely, and help achieve a portion of the identity they need. Cognitive Extinction teems with talent and promise, and despite the abysmal dynamic range,3 the mix is well-balanced and allows listeners to appreciate what Warside does within its runtime. I’ve greatly enjoyed my time with Cognitive Extinction, and a couple of its gems have helped add some weight to my Heavy Moves Heavy ’26 playlist, but with so many killer death metal albums out this year, I’m unsure what lasting impact it’ll have. Time will tell, and in the meantime, I hope that Warside continues honing their blades to keep minds and interest sharp.

Rating: Good!
DR: 3 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Gruesome Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 17th, 2026

Maybe war never changes, but Warside has. Between releasing inaugural EP The Enemy Inside, and recording their debut, three of Warside’s five members left the band. Now a quartet, the Lyon, France collective tromps into the death metal arena, brandishing Cognitive Extinction, their first long play. Down a guitarist, Warside reports Cognitive Extinction as having ‘a rawer, more direct sound.’ Though The Enemy Inside can’t be classified as polished or subtle, Cognitive Extinction embraces an even leaner, meaner aggression through twenty-eight minutes. Additionally, Warside weaves a broad theme into the album—the erosion of intelligence and critical thinking due to the proliferation of screens and dependence on technology. It’s an increasingly relevant theme in these crazy times, but is Warside’s warning enough to keep listeners’ gray matter from atrophying into pudding?

Though simply billed as ‘death metal,’ Warside skews towards the technical end of the spectrum. Dying Fetus, Misery Index, and Vomitory are cited as influences in the promo materials, and while elements of those bands exist on Cognitive Extinction,1 I also hear the frantic immediacy of Benighted and Aborted enmeshed with the tech-heavy grooves of more recent Cryptopsy and Suffocation. Technical without falling into technical death metal territory and bruising without earning a brutal death metal tag, Warside toes the line between extreme metal subgenres without fully committing to any specific one. Rather than wavering or wandering, though, Cognitive Extinction sounds confident, direct, and ready to peel your skull back to get a look at your cognition firsthand.

Despite adding some new members and shuffling guitar duties, Warside launches a savage assault that never relents. Returning from The Enemy Within, guitarist Vincent Morelle resumes six-string duties on Cognitive Extinction while former guitarist Jérôme dons the mantle of bassist. Joining them are duo Mathieu (vocals) and Thô (drums) from deathgrind project Festering Process, and together this foursome unleashes barrage after barrage of merciless death metal thunder. Tracks “Neurocide” and “Invasive Thoughts” meld Morbid Angel’s wicked melodies with Nile’s violent velocity, frequently coaxing involuntary stank-face. “Visceral” punches with Suffocation’s might, windmilling between stutter-stop leads and kick drum cannonades, while “Thirst for Rot” dive bombs into an early solo before hitting a swarthy Cryptopsy-meets-Decapitated groove. Throughout, Mathieu discharges fierce gutturals that remind me of Benighted’s Julien Truchan,2 primal and bloodthirsty without ever going full BREEE. All told, kinetic hooks, furious blast beats, and husky bass grooves carry the momentum of each track, with feverish solos offering brief detours from Warside’s otherwise unyielding onslaught.

Warside evokes death metal titans throughout Cognitive Extinction, yet clinging too tightly to these touchstones prevents them from fully realizing an identity of their own. In fairness, Cognitive Extinction works cohesively, with a consistent aural context that’s as bludgeoning as it is swift. And even though Warside sidesteps critical flaws, hooking an overcrowded niche with deathly wares can be a significant challenge. Genre greats can provide a strong template for writing compelling music, but emulation without innovation risks giving listeners an experience that drives them back to inspirations. Said simply, bands with unique sounds become reference points, while others get buried beneath the sands of time. In this regard, Cognitive Extinction feels like a half measure, where a blend of influences comes together to form a coherent album, yet lacks a wholly original voice.

Standout performances and sharp, economical songwriting distinguish Warside as an act I’ll follow closely, and help achieve a portion of the identity they need. Cognitive Extinction teems with talent and promise, and despite the abysmal dynamic range,3 the mix is well-balanced and allows listeners to appreciate what Warside does within its runtime. I’ve greatly enjoyed my time with Cognitive Extinction, and a couple of its gems have helped add some weight to my Heavy Moves Heavy ’26 playlist, but with so many killer death metal albums out this year, I’m unsure what lasting impact it’ll have. Time will tell, and in the meantime, I hope that Warside continues honing their blades to keep minds and interest sharp.

Rating: Good!
DR: 3 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Gruesome Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 17th, 2026

Maybe war never changes, but Warside has. Between releasing inaugural EP The Enemy Inside, and recording their debut, three of Warside’s five members left the band. Now a quartet, the Lyon, France collective tromps into the death metal arena, brandishing Cognitive Extinction, their first long play. Down a guitarist, Warside reports Cognitive Extinction as having ‘a rawer, more direct sound.’ Though The Enemy Inside can’t be classified as polished or subtle, Cognitive Extinction embraces an even leaner, meaner aggression through twenty-eight minutes. Additionally, Warside weaves a broad theme into the album—the erosion of intelligence and critical thinking due to the proliferation of screens and dependence on technology. It’s an increasingly relevant theme in these crazy times, but is Warside’s warning enough to keep listeners’ gray matter from atrophying into pudding?

Though simply billed as ‘death metal,’ Warside skews towards the technical end of the spectrum. Dying Fetus, Misery Index, and Vomitory are cited as influences in the promo materials, and while elements of those bands exist on Cognitive Extinction,1 I also hear the frantic immediacy of Benighted and Aborted enmeshed with the tech-heavy grooves of more recent Cryptopsy and Suffocation. Technical without falling into technical death metal territory and bruising without earning a brutal death metal tag, Warside toes the line between extreme metal subgenres without fully committing to any specific one. Rather than wavering or wandering, though, Cognitive Extinction sounds confident, direct, and ready to peel your skull back to get a look at your cognition firsthand.

Despite adding some new members and shuffling guitar duties, Warside launches a savage assault that never relents. Returning from The Enemy Within, guitarist Vincent Morelle resumes six-string duties on Cognitive Extinction while former guitarist Jérôme dons the mantle of bassist. Joining them are duo Mathieu (vocals) and Thô (drums) from deathgrind project Festering Process, and together this foursome unleashes barrage after barrage of merciless death metal thunder. Tracks “Neurocide” and “Invasive Thoughts” meld Morbid Angel’s wicked melodies with Nile’s violent velocity, frequently coaxing involuntary stank-face. “Visceral” punches with Suffocation’s might, windmilling between stutter-stop leads and kick drum cannonades, while “Thirst for Rot” dive bombs into an early solo before hitting a swarthy Cryptopsy-meets-Decapitated groove. Throughout, Mathieu discharges fierce gutturals that remind me of Benighted’s Julien Truchan,2 primal and bloodthirsty without ever going full BREEE. All told, kinetic hooks, furious blast beats, and husky bass grooves carry the momentum of each track, with feverish solos offering brief detours from Warside’s otherwise unyielding onslaught.

Warside evokes death metal titans throughout Cognitive Extinction, yet clinging too tightly to these touchstones prevents them from fully realizing an identity of their own. In fairness, Cognitive Extinction works cohesively, with a consistent aural context that’s as bludgeoning as it is swift. And even though Warside sidesteps critical flaws, hooking an overcrowded niche with deathly wares can be a significant challenge. Genre greats can provide a strong template for writing compelling music, but emulation without innovation risks giving listeners an experience that drives them back to inspirations. Said simply, bands with unique sounds become reference points, while others get buried beneath the sands of time. In this regard, Cognitive Extinction feels like a half measure, where a blend of influences comes together to form a coherent album, yet lacks a wholly original voice.

Standout performances and sharp, economical songwriting distinguish Warside as an act I’ll follow closely, and help achieve a portion of the identity they need. Cognitive Extinction teems with talent and promise, and despite the abysmal dynamic range,3 the mix is well-balanced and allows listeners to appreciate what Warside does within its runtime. I’ve greatly enjoyed my time with Cognitive Extinction, and a couple of its gems have helped add some weight to my Heavy Moves Heavy ’26 playlist, but with so many killer death metal albums out this year, I’m unsure what lasting impact it’ll have. Time will tell, and in the meantime, I hope that Warside continues honing their blades to keep minds and interest sharp.

Rating: Good!
DR: 3 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Gruesome Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 17th, 2026

Maybe war never changes, but Warside has. Between releasing inaugural EP The Enemy Inside, and recording their debut, three of Warside’s five members left the band. Now a quartet, the Lyon, France collective tromps into the death metal arena, brandishing Cognitive Extinction, their first long play. Down a guitarist, Warside reports Cognitive Extinction as having ‘a rawer, more direct sound.’ Though The Enemy Inside can’t be classified as polished or subtle, Cognitive Extinction embraces an even leaner, meaner aggression through twenty-eight minutes. Additionally, Warside weaves a broad theme into the album—the erosion of intelligence and critical thinking due to the proliferation of screens and dependence on technology. It’s an increasingly relevant theme in these crazy times, but is Warside’s warning enough to keep listeners’ gray matter from atrophying into pudding?

Though simply billed as ‘death metal,’ Warside skews towards the technical end of the spectrum. Dying Fetus, Misery Index, and Vomitory are cited as influences in the promo materials, and while elements of those bands exist on Cognitive Extinction,1 I also hear the frantic immediacy of Benighted and Aborted enmeshed with the tech-heavy grooves of more recent Cryptopsy and Suffocation. Technical without falling into technical death metal territory and bruising without earning a brutal death metal tag, Warside toes the line between extreme metal subgenres without fully committing to any specific one. Rather than wavering or wandering, though, Cognitive Extinction sounds confident, direct, and ready to peel your skull back to get a look at your cognition firsthand.

Despite adding some new members and shuffling guitar duties, Warside launches a savage assault that never relents. Returning from The Enemy Within, guitarist Vincent Morelle resumes six-string duties on Cognitive Extinction while former guitarist Jérôme dons the mantle of bassist. Joining them are duo Mathieu (vocals) and Thô (drums) from deathgrind project Festering Process, and together this foursome unleashes barrage after barrage of merciless death metal thunder. Tracks “Neurocide” and “Invasive Thoughts” meld Morbid Angel’s wicked melodies with Nile’s violent velocity, frequently coaxing involuntary stank-face. “Visceral” punches with Suffocation’s might, windmilling between stutter-stop leads and kick drum cannonades, while “Thirst for Rot” dive bombs into an early solo before hitting a swarthy Cryptopsy-meets-Decapitated groove. Throughout, Mathieu discharges fierce gutturals that remind me of Benighted’s Julien Truchan,2 primal and bloodthirsty without ever going full BREEE. All told, kinetic hooks, furious blast beats, and husky bass grooves carry the momentum of each track, with feverish solos offering brief detours from Warside’s otherwise unyielding onslaught.

Warside evokes death metal titans throughout Cognitive Extinction, yet clinging too tightly to these touchstones prevents them from fully realizing an identity of their own. In fairness, Cognitive Extinction works cohesively, with a consistent aural context that’s as bludgeoning as it is swift. And even though Warside sidesteps critical flaws, hooking an overcrowded niche with deathly wares can be a significant challenge. Genre greats can provide a strong template for writing compelling music, but emulation without innovation risks giving listeners an experience that drives them back to inspirations. Said simply, bands with unique sounds become reference points, while others get buried beneath the sands of time. In this regard, Cognitive Extinction feels like a half measure, where a blend of influences comes together to form a coherent album, yet lacks a wholly original voice.

Standout performances and sharp, economical songwriting distinguish Warside as an act I’ll follow closely, and help achieve a portion of the identity they need. Cognitive Extinction teems with talent and promise, and despite the abysmal dynamic range,3 the mix is well-balanced and allows listeners to appreciate what Warside does within its runtime. I’ve greatly enjoyed my time with Cognitive Extinction, and a couple of its gems have helped add some weight to my Heavy Moves Heavy ’26 playlist, but with so many killer death metal albums out this year, I’m unsure what lasting impact it’ll have. Time will tell, and in the meantime, I hope that Warside continues honing their blades to keep minds and interest sharp.

Rating: Good!
DR: 3 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Gruesome Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 17th, 2026

Well two things today.
The first is happy birthday Panem x Circences, released 2 years ago.
It is therefore also the rebirthday of BWWI.
That makes 3 then, there's something else later.

Buy the album. Please. I have a dozen cds left. Collector by 2056, guaranteed.
#grind #grindcore #frenchmetal

https://bornwithwormsinside.bandcamp.com/album/panem-x-circences

Back in 2004, an album called Fallout dropped from an unheralded little band called Slumber. It was a lush, gorgeous piece of melodic doom in the vein of early Katatonia, Rapture, and Insomnium, and there was something very special about the moods created within. It remains a beloved album of Yours Steely, and I often wonder why it isn’t better known. Slumber guitarist/songwriter Jari Lindholm would go on to start Enshine, and their Origin and Singulariuty albums took the Slumber aesthetic forward to new soundscapes. Singularity was my Album o’ the Year in 2015, and I still get dragged into its glorious depths at regular intervals. It’s been a long wait for a new Enshine opus as Jari puttered with his ExGenesis and self-titled projects, but word broke in December that a new Enshine was imminent. Elevation was dropped without much fanfare or advanced promo campaigns, so we had to get our greasy mitts on it the same way the filthy masses do. As with past Enshine efforts, Elevation finds Jari Lindholm teamed with Sébastien Pierre, and their classic sound is present, still sitting somewhere between melodoom and melancholic melodeath, and naturally, it’s beautifully rendered. But can it maintain the same high level as the earlier works?

Opener “Shimmering” suggests it can as you’re greeted by the expected cavalcade of opulent trilling leads with melancholic flourishes. Everything is highly polished and bright as the sun, with guitar and keyboards rising and swelling in melodic waves. The music reminds me of modern Insomnium and the mellower moments on Omnium Gatherum’s New World Shadows. Sébastien Pierre provides effective death metal roars that suit the music, and the pieces all fit together well. It’s not the best thing Enshine’s ever done, but it’s pretty damn good. It soon becomes apparent, however, that the opener is one of the most lively tracks on offer. “Heartbliss” has harsher vocals, but they’re wrapped up in a glossy pancake of airy, ethereal melodoom without much in the way of an actual “doom” component to ground things and provide real impact. Jari’s guitar work is ephemeral, stunning, and I could listen to it for days, but the song itself doesn’t stick in my memory. I enjoy it as it floats past, but cannot recall it thereafter. “Where the Sunrise is Felt” self-corrects, providing a beefier riffing foundation, and Sébastien sounds extra spicy here. You still get a deluge of ethereal noodling to float upon, but it’s balanced by some beef, and that makes a difference.

Just as things seem to be moving in the right direction, “Distant Glow” hits with 4 minutes of bright, sugar-coated synthwave devoid of vocals or the slightest edge. It’s moody but dull, and it derails the energy Elevation was beginning to establish. Around this point, it dawned on me that the album is something they could play at a new age spa without disrupting the tranquility or displacing anyone’s chakra. I suppose there’s a place for “spa-metal,” but not on my goddamn property. The remainder of Elevation is loaded with languid, lustrous melodoom with the emphasis on the melo part. I’m reminded of Omnium Gatherum and later era Anathema, and the ravishing sounds are omnipresent, but it’s often sleepy and overly restrained. Here and there, Sébastien or Jari lapses into a whispered delivery, and that choice sums up Elevation as well as anything: it’s dialed-back music designed to avoid any emotion beyond a sullen glaze-over. It’s gorgeous but without real peaks and valleys or much in the way of dramatic impact. Without memorable individual moments, it becomes too easy to lose focus while listening, and the music very quickly slips into the background. Not only does the material tend to sit in the back row of your attention, but the songs tend to bleed together into an ornate, noodly mush. Lovely but unmemorable.

I’m a huge fan of Jari Lindholm’s guitar work, and his brilliance is on display all over Elevation. He has a unique ability to craft such gorgeous and moody guitar lines and layer them in a way that generates a fog of emotion. While his talents are in force here, the end result is less immediate and dynamic than on past works. There’s no shortage of sumptuous leads and delicate solos, but the overall effect is too often lethargy rather than emotional pangs and pulses. A lot of Elevation simply washes over and past me without activating my memory circuits. Jari and Sébastien share vocals, and though Sébastien’s death roars are good, they don’t add as much pop to the material as they could. Sébastien also handles keyboards, and at times his playing becomes a touch cloying and even cheesy. Ultimately, I spend too much time waiting for Jari and/or Sébastien to go harder and provide more oomph to the proceedings, but they rarely do.

Elevation is a gorgeous listen, but there aren’t many songs that I recall once the album ends. It’s a worthwhile listen, and I doubt Enshine could make a bad album, but this really makes me want to spin Singularity or Origin instead. That’s a big bummer for me, and I hope your melo mileage varies. Now go find that Slumber album and learn!

Rating: 3.0/5.01
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: enshine.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/enshine.band
Releases Worldwide: January 3rd, 2026

Maddog

I can’t overstate Enshine’s impact on my music taste. As a teen, I enjoyed melodic death metal, but struggled with the genre’s doomier acts. One day, I stumbled upon Enshine’s 2013 debut Origin. Having never heard of Jari Lindholm’s landmark band Slumber, I came in with few expectations. Eschewing the nondescript riffs that I had come to expect from doom, Origin captivated me with its creative melodies, gigantic climaxes, and synth-laced atmosphere. Most importantly, it brought tears to my eyes. Singularity followed suit in 2015, dragging slightly but hitting hard nonetheless. While Lindholm has released other albums via Exgenesis and his solo work in the interim, Elevation breaks a decade-long silence for Enshine. While it can’t match my first wide-eyed listen through Origin, Elevation is a worthy companion to a sorrowful night.

Enshine has always made every instrument count. Rather than fading into the background, Giannis Koskinas’ (Ocean of Grief) bass steals the show with lively lead melodies (“The Moment”). Conversely, on tracks like “Where the Sunrise Is Felt,” the rhythm section supplies a simple but hefty backbone to steer the song along. Sébastien Pierre’s keyboard is as active as ever, providing both center-stage melodies and a canvas for the other instruments. It’s remarkable how well this works; indeed, the key-heavy instrumental “Distant Glow” is one of Elevation’s most haunting cuts. Pierre and Lindholm’s vocals are unremarkable but get the job done, and the vocal lines are perfectly timed to accentuate the album’s peaks. Of course, while each of these pieces is compelling, Elevation’s guitars are a masterclass. Serving up huge Insomnium riffs, tear-jerking melodies, and minimalist interludes, Lindholm’s guitar work is varied but consistently impressive. Rounded out by a rich tone, Elevation is a full-blown sonic tapestry.

Elevation by Enshine

Enshine’s best work excels in both its climaxes and the journeys between them. Enshine’s riffs are more enormous than ever, with “The Purity of Emptiness” showcasing some pounding specimens. The rhythm section accentuates this riffwork like a thundering heartbeat. Elevation’s melodic peaks are just as lofty, and an explosive guitar solo makes the opener “Shimmering” an early contender for song of the year. As always, Enshine knows when and how to dial it back. For instance, the opening melody of “Heartbliss” serves as a serene counterpoint to the song’s beefier moments, while the closer “Reignite” relieves tension through its sparse midsection. While Elevation often flits masterfully between these extremes, it sometimes fizzles out. The aforementioned “Heartbliss” and “Reignite,” the two longest tracks, both spend their last few minutes in forgettable melodic ramblings. More generally, the album’s back half often settles into a neutral middle ground that neither excites nor calms. Elevation sometimes loses its footing, but most of its runtime is a dexterous volley between aggression and tranquility.

Accordingly, Elevation packs a powerful but inconsistent emotional punch. The most conventional source is the album’s soaring melodies, like those on “Shimmering.” But Enshine’s heart often hides in unlikely spots. “The Moment” hypnotizes the listener with a simple guitar riff, transmutes it into a tragic behemoth, and culminates in rhythmic repetition that evokes Cult of Luna. The key-driven “Distant Glow” remains the album’s most unlikely triumph. By rooting itself in one bittersweet melodic motif, “Distant Glow” evolves seamlessly from a chamomile-infused Infected Mushroom trance to punchy melodeath riffs. The result is a four-minute track that feels like a lifetime, in the best possible way. In contrast, parts of Elevation feel clinical. Songs like “The Purity of Emptiness” rely on interchangeable mid-paced riffs that fade from memory, and even stronger tracks fall into the same age-old trap (“Where the Sunrise Is Felt”). Enshine hasn’t lost their secret sauce, but they have diluted it.

But even more so than usual, I’m an unreliable narrator trapped in the tiniest of prisons. My twelve years with Enshine both paint and taint my perspective. So yes, “Reignite” is Enshine’s worst closer; but that’s because I remember the months I leaned on “Apex” and the friendship I strengthened with “Constellation.” And yes, Elevation sometimes gets lost in meandering riffs; but that sticks out because Origin is the pinnacle of concise melodeath-doom. Enshine’s former glory offers a convenient template for critiquing its follow-ups. In truth, Elevation is an enchanting release from a band that I’d feared would never return. Whether you’re an Enshine addict, a curious first-timer, or even a non-metalhead, Elevation demands and earns your attention.



Rating: 3.5/5.02