#hypnotic-dirge-records — Public Fediverse posts

Black metal’s wide-ranging milieu encompasses many sub-genres—1st wave, 2nd wave, raw, symphonic, atmospheric, post—the list goes on. One niche of the black metalsphere, with neither a large sample size nor a large following, is black metal smashed hip-hop. Sure, some artists come to mind: Ghostemane, for one; then there’s what Zeal & Ardor is doing, as well as Déhà’s project NADDDIR, which melds flashes of black metal with trap beats and cloud rap.1 Tossing his spliff in the ashtray as it were is the mysterious Berliner, Foghazer, with his Hypnotic Dirge debut, He Left the Temple, an album comprised of nine, singularly titled tracks that cumulatively read “‘He’ ‘Left’ ‘The’ ‘Temple’ ‘And’ ‘Fog’ ‘Followed’ ‘Him’ ‘Out,”‘ and described by the artist as “low-visibility sound: slow beats, distorted memory and fog as both space and emotion.” Will Foghazer open the floodgates to a new sub-sub-sub-genre, or be just another basement-dwelling one-man band exiting his parents’ lowest-level ‘temple’ in a haze of pot smoke and lo-fi tuneage in search of munchies.

If Moderator2 and Portishead got down and “black metal” dirty with Burzum in some hole in the wall no-tell motel, the offspring of that union would sound like Foghazer. Eschewing nearly all vocals, He Left the Temple employs trip-hoppy drum beats with occasional blasts and jazz fills, moody-smooth bass lines, and eerily plucked or Filosofem-level reverb-drenched guitars to armor the majority of its aural palette.3 Toss in some scratchy, Portishead-style turntablism, operatic female soprano warblings, Master Boot Record-type bleepity-bloops (“He,” “Followed”) amidst other random sounds, and you’ve got the gist of what’s happening here. He Left the Temple strikes a decent cinematic chord, evoking a lo-res film noir experience that, at least in my mind’s movie, follows Foghazer and his gang of corpse-painted black metal beatniks as they roam the harsh streets of an “every-city” looking for trouble.

He Left The Temple by Foghazer

Laid-back and gloomy, Foghazer does a good job of setting a mood; He Left the Temple would serve equally well as a lounge-lizard soundtrack looping endlessly in an edgy, urban underground cigar-and-whiskey bar as it would a score for some Werner Herzog black metal remake of the movie Kids. “Left” has a slow, eerie build that transitions from creepy, singular guitar plucks to a double-bass rolling foundation that supports some nice, melodic riff patterns. “Fog” is another standout; its trippy bass line and trap beats trade punches with passages of doomy tremolos and double bass rolls, and had me thinking, ‘this is what Darkthrone might sound like if they took a stab at this kind of thing.’ There were many moments where I found myself slipping comfortably into the groove that Foghazer was laying down, my rollin’-through-Oslo-in-my-tricked-out-hearse head bob in full effect. Unfortunately, not all of the fog in the temple envelops completely.

There is a dark thread of similitude running through nearly all of He Left the Temple that impacted my overall experience. Foghazer rinses and repeats his compositional formula such that, if you were to cycle through the first five seconds of every track from “He” to “Fog,” each begins in much the same way, which cumulatively has a hypnotizing effect that takes you out of what’s happening more than it draws you in. I kept checking the track number every so often to see if I’d mistakenly played the same song over again. The other demerit I must levy against He Left the Temple occurs when Foghazer leans heaviest into his black metal. “Temple” is the most glaring example of this as it begins pensively, with some brooding bass tones and spindly guitar plucks before settling into its trip-hop beat section, which gets rudely interrupted at the 1:25 mark by an obnoxious blast beat that continuously pulses under those creepy guitars. This track also contains Foghazer’s only vocals, which, for us, is a blessing in disguise since I find his particular brand of shriek rather grating.

There’s some cool stuff going on in He Left the Temple, but this is nothing that’s going to put Foghazer on the map. I appreciate the groove and mood he’s able to create at times, but as a mostly instrumental album, the lack of any additional engaging dynamics left me wanting more from Foghazer. As it stands, He Left the Temple makes for some entertaining background music, but not much more.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 192kbps mp3
Label: Hypnotic Dirge Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Metal Fatigue is not a moral failing: it is a physiological phenomenon, befalling even the most honorable of headbangers. Though traditional metal can tire in its own way, Metal Fatigue mostly lurks on the severe side of the genre. Too often, extreme metal exhausts by coupling sonic monotony with album lengths more appropriate for episodes of prestige television. Given my own struggles with Metal Fatigue, I was intrigued to see Let Water Flow—a 28-minute black metal record from Moon Wisdom—sitting in the sump. The solid advance singles convinced me to cover this Italian trio’s debut. Moon Wisdom describe theirs as second-wave style black metal, with notes of depressive gaze and punk. As a short Long Play, Let Water Flow sets itself up to leave black metal fans wanting more.

Let Water Flow sits nicely in the second-wave black metal lane. Perhaps the best touchstone for Moon Wisdom’s sound is Immortal. Similar to Diabolical Fullmoon Mysticism, “Intro” plucks gentle, atmosphere-drenched chords as the lead-in to the first proper song. “As Rain”—one of the advance singles—dashes from Kaelos’s epic riffing to Faith’s sinister screeching and Hexis’s galloping drum work. Tasty solos are a recurring theme across the album, similar to Havukruunu draping classic shred over Immortal black metal (“Frozen Soul,” “Solitude”). “Dark Shades,” the other advance single, demonstrates a more modern version of Moon Wisdom’s second-wave worship. The song’s sparse, textural bridge transforms its evil opening into an affecting gateway for mournful modulations and a furious finale. Throughout Let Water Flow, shifts between macabre delicacy and blackened crudity bring Lamp of Murmuur to mind.

Let Water Flow by Moon Wisdom

The concise runtime of Let Water Flow cuts like a double-edged sword. It makes the album eminently relistenable but draws attention to inconsistent songwriting. “As Rain,” for instance, opens the album with dynamic concision, but its concluding solo ends abruptly, reading more like a bridge than a destination. “Ashen Winds” suffers a similar fate. It develops an engaging interplay between creepy and pummeling riffs that culminates too soon. Conversely, “Frozen Soul,” the mid-album curveball, could be trimmed. The song establishes an enchanting, melancholic vibe, but redundancy hits in its slow-building rock crescendo. “Dark Shades,” the last proper song, stands as the strongest track on Let Water Flow. It showcases Moon Wisdom’s talent for creating something epic that isn’t overlong. Unfortunately, the album (essentially) ends here; the brief “Lullaby of the Woods” puts the album to bed, but “Dark Shades” sounds like the band finally starting the day.

Let Water Flow possesses compelling qualities that, if accentuated, would cultivate Moon Wisdom’s sound. As mentioned, the band professes a depressive blackgaze influence. Sonically, this mostly unadorned record doesn’t really impart a gaze aesthetic. “Frozen Soul” comes closest to inspiring hypnotic shore-staring, especially in its enticing bass feature.1 But the song, like the album, embodies gaze less through production effects and more through compositional dynamics. I actually like that Moon Wisdom doesn’t drown their guitarwork in reverb. Still, the sparse sections could be developed to give these songs more character. Moon Wisdom also cites a punk influence, but I didn’t detect much of this across Let Water Flow. Beyond “As Rain,” which contains a d-beat, nothing struck me (musically) as punk. A pretty non-punk element on the album is the violin on closer “Lullaby of the Woods.” More of this would have worked well, especially on the “gaze” sections.2

Let Water Flow—I’m surprised to say—had me experiencing Metal Deficiency.3 I commend Moon Wisdom’s impulse towards brevity, but the album feels like an EP with a short intro/conclusion framework tacked on. The inconsistent songwriting and underexplored derivations keep this debut from feeling vital and fully realized. At only 28 minutes, however, Let Water Flow is certainly worth a spin, especially if black metal is your jam. Moon Wisdom satisfy the second-wave itch while showing potential for more. If properly harnessed, their tendency towards terseness might produce a follow-up combating the scourge of Metal Fatigue.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Hypnotic Dirge Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: January 16th, 2026

🇬🇧 What is the result when you mix 90's doom metal á la Paradise Lost (guitar sound) and Type O Negative (bass and keyboard sound) with vocals similar to Fear Factory's Burton C. Bell circa 'Demanufacture' and 'Obsolete' (with a vocal line clearly copied from one of their songs)? Well, Orphans of Dusk. Check out their single 'I'm Going to Haunt You (When I Die)' on Bandcamp!

#DoomMetal #GothicMetal #HypnoticDirgeRecords #NinetiesNostalgia

https://hypnoticdirgerecords.bandcamp.com/track/im-going-to-haunt-you-when-i-die