#icelandic-metal — Public Fediverse posts

Sometimes a band name can be on the nose in the best way, and Power Paladin makes no effort to disguise their preferred music class. The mission of these Icelanders is no different than that of many power metal groups—to explore fantasy realms, vanquish foes, and have a blast while doing so. They already acquitted themselves with their debut album, With the Magic of Windfyre Steel, which Eldritch Elitist lauded with praise in the January 2022 filter. While I found it enjoyable at the time, it didn’t stick with me for very long. But now, on sophomore record Beyond the Reach of Enchantment, Power Paladin returns with sharper blades and brighter divine light to safeguard the ears of the innocent.

If you elect to ride with Power Paladin, the first rule of the road is to leave all self-seriousness at home. As with most Europower, Beyond the Reach of Enchantment requires a love (or at least a tolerance) of flamboyant frivolity and imaginative play. Expect big verses, bigger choruses, and lots of guitar shredding. While its predecessor was more devoted to the sleekness of Twilight Force or Rhapsody of Fire, Power Paladin now divides their allegiance more evenly with heavy metal and hard rock in Helloween fashion. This makes Beyond the Reach of Enchantment sound brawnier, further aided by a meaty bass tone that adds welcome crunch to this glorious charcuterie board. These Paladins occasionally succumb to their darker urges, embodied by Óskar Rúnarsson’s1 death growls (“Glade Lords of Athel Loren,” “Valediction”), making them more endearing and relatable.

Beyond the Reach of Enchantment may be a bit derivative, but what sets Power Paladin apart is their sheer energy and charisma. Their music challenges one’s ability to sit still; not even my distracted five-year-old daughter could resist the urge to headbang the first time she heard the opening notes of “Glade Lords of Athel Loren.” No member of the body can remain limp or listless upon hearing the heavy metal anthem “Sword Vigor” or the stomping and romping of “The Royal Road.” Vocalist Atli Guðlaugsson frequently steals the show, his powerful falsettos weeding out the unsanctified eardrums. That said, it’s impressive how Power Paladin can write songs in such a way that such a commanding frontman doesn’t completely dominate the listener’s attention. Einar Karl Júlíusson is constantly changing up his double bass rhythms, and there are plenty of rapid-fire guitar and keyboard sections to keep the momentum going.

Yet, all this energy on Beyond the Reach of Enchantment can become slightly wearisome. The album art might feature a respite around a campfire, but the music is much closer to a battle scene. Rests tend to be momentary and sometimes sound out of character, like when “The Arcane Tower” abruptly dies down to a whisper midway through. I find myself missing the naturally occurring downtime in “Creatures of the Night” and “There Can Be Only One” from With the Magic of Windfyre Steel. It’s not until the 10-minute conclusion, “Valediction,” that Power Paladin takes a proper breather in the form of soft guitar plucks. The extra time also allows for more compositional experimentation, with smooth keyboard transitions during the extended bridge section, as well as a brief but lively duet with Sara Rut Fannarsdóttir2 (more of her next time, please!). Everything is solidly written and performed, but still somewhat blends together until the end.

If you’re questing for fun with a hefty side of merriment, Power Paladin will happily serve as your guide. They sound even more confident and earnest than before, once again striking a great balance between silliness and substance. Beyond the Reach of Enchantment somehow overclocked the power of its predecessor, the gallant and galloping tunes courageously smiting the unholy. I do wish for a bit more dynamic pacing, but this may just be a “me” problem, and only when listening front to back. Gather your party and grab your dice—the next campaign awaits!



Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Reigning Phoenix Music
Websites: powerpaladin.is | facebook.com/powerpaladinice
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

“Sleeping Giant” was always a standout song for me on Mastodon’s Blood Mountain. After two thrashy, pummeling tracks, “Sleeping Giant” slows the pace and ups the atmosphere, doling out chunky riffs and creepy leads. Its name aptly captures its role on Blood Mountain, feeling like the stirrings of an album (and a band) with gigantic aspirations. Speaking of slow risers, Iceland’s Sleeping Giant has finally roused for their first LP after forming in 2006.1 It’s eminently plausible that this sludgy stoner-doom sextet derives their moniker from the Blood Mountain song, seeing as they cite early Mastodon as a sonic touchstone. Though it would be unfair to expect The Beauty of Obliteration to make as big a first impression as Remission, it’s more than fair to expect a debut with punishing riffs, gnarly vocals, and some curveballs.

The Beauty of Obliteration demonstrates some mighty fine riff-smithing. This may be because Sleeping Giant—expanding upon the maxim that ‘two heads are better than one’—is working with three heads. The guitar Cerberus of Finnbogi Jökull, Árni Björn Björnsson, and Guðmundur Eiríksson wield an arsenal of doomy dirges (“Conqueror”), stonery shuffles (“Abysmal Flame”), and thrashy assaults (“Venom Ripper, Gorgon Blaster”). Some of these riffs even go straight to the source, boasting a Sabbathy swagger (“The Monk”). Early Mastodon certainly resonates throughout, but the guitarwork makes it clear that these Icelanders also get High on Fire. Indeed, the recurring shifts between stoner-doom and thrash, coupled with the beefy guitar tones, summon the presence of latter-day Matt Pike. But Sleeping Giant aren’t just their three-headed guitar monster; drummer Ásmundur Jóhannsson and bassist Einar Darri Einarsson hold down the low end. Einarsson in particular shines, tastefully filling up negative space with bluesy runs (“Conqueror”).

Mobilizer of Evil by Sleeping Giant

Rounding out Sleeping Giant’s lineup is vocalist Oddur Freyr Þorsteinsson, who gives The Beauty of Obliteration a death metal edge. Thusly calling the band death-doom, though, wouldn’t be accurate—’necrotic stoner-doom’ is my best attempt at describing the band’s layering of an extreme aesthetic over a mostly traditional riffing style. Þorsteinsson possesses a powerful guttural, reminding me of the low registers of Travis Ryan and Randy Blythe. He even dips into some slimy gurgling on “The Monk” as it shifts into a faster, more melodic gear. Though these gurgles provide contrast, it’s a contrast that doesn’t necessarily add to or accentuate the part. This gurgling is a microcosm of how I feel about the vocals on The Beauty of Obliteration as a whole. They are performed well and don’t overtly clash with the instrumentation, and yet I’m not sure if they are doing anything other than marking Sleeping Giant as ‘extreme.’

As a unit, Sleeping Giant have molded a debut that roves between riff styles, for better or worse. “Conqueror” and “Mobilizer of Evil” map out the terrain the rest of the album explores, showing a band comfortable with both low and high BPMs. “The Monk” gets closest to the kind of unhinged glory of early Mastodon, though its shift from doom to thrash feels a bit redundant, even at this early juncture in the album. The biggest curveball on The Beauty of Obliteration is its penultimate track, “Venom Rippers, Gorgon Blaster.” A thrash ripper under three minutes, it’s an enlivening change of pace from tracks that otherwise hover between four and nine minutes. It’s also an effective transition between the orgiastic riff-fest of “Slay the King of Hell” (my favorite track) and the closer. “Abysmal Flame” starts strong with a chunky monkey that morphs into an almost melodeath-style earworm. The sparse, feedbacky ending, however, is an underwhelming sendoff.

Their namesake may create unrealistic expectations, but Sleeping Giant has delivered the goods with their long-awaited debut. At 6 tracks in 35 minutes, The Beauty of Obliteration is a tight, well-produced package with tons of hummable riffs. Though the songwriting is by no means bad, the riffs themselves feel more noteworthy than the songs they populate. The gutturals give Sleeping Giant a different vibe than typical stoner-doom, but I hope that future outings see the vocals actively serving the songs more. If you dig giant riffs, you won’t want to sleep on these Icelanders.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: V4 OR ~316 kb/s VBR mp3
Label: Octopus Rising (sub-label of Argonauta Records)
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

Nexion – Sundrung Review

By Kenstrosity

I was late to the Nexion train when debut masterpiece Seven Oracles dropped five years ago. Peddling blackened death metal of the Icelandic persuasion, the occult quintet floored me with their writhing, twisted take on the genre, fronted by possibly the best vocalist in black metal right now.1 It’s 2025, and a new Nexionic invocation approaches, looming over this world with a heart full of chaos and a mind consumed in shadow. Is it too much to ask this latest summoning, entitled Sundrung, to match the imposing, irresistible presence of its predecessor?

Likely so, but Sundrung stands tall on its own regardless. In sound, scale, and style, Nexion’s concoction carries over to 2025 unadulterated. Every ingredient that made Seven Oracles the unmistakable omen that it was persists here with equal potency. Pummeling drums propel shimmering black metal riffs and deathly marches, while Nexion’s infernal siren screeches, roars, wails, and rumbles as only the most powerful spirits of unknown realms can. With a stronger emphasis on throat singing, baritone chanting, and ascendant melodies than before, Nexion doubles down on their occult theme and aesthetic while also recalling Sulphur Aeon‘s eldritch touch (“Visions of the Seventh Fire”). Sundrung also retains the gnarled, deceptively hooky metamorphoses that characterized Nexion’s previous work. However, a greater reliance on repetition and more linear structures drives deeper those key phrases and memorable moments that form the backbone of Sundrung’s 8 realms.

Sundrung may be more straightforward than Seven Oracles in most respects, but it requires quality time to bloom. At first, I was concerned that the repetitive nature of “Gandr” sacrificed too much focus from the whole, and created a lull in momentum. However, in remarkably short order I found myself hypnotized by its compelling chorus chants and oscillating riffs. A surprise to be sure, but it’s not the only one. “When Raven Steals the Sun” and “Rending the Black Earth” at first left me wanting for more creativity, something that elevated these pieces beyond that of what I already expect from Icelandic black metal. Once again, repeat spins revealed subtleties. In “When Raven Steals the Sun,” for example, intricately detailed and intentionally placed background melodies—often burgeoning through the fiery tremolos, bending riffs, and charred rasps—simultaneously fortify connections and ease transitions between distinct passages. Meanwhile, “Rending the Black Earth” intensified the more often I returned, blazing with an unearthly vitality and an unhinged spirit that invigorates its epic trem-picked refrains and double-bass pummels. Consequently, these numbers slowly became some of my favorites over time.

On the other side of the same coin, those cuts that attack with immediacy and power always ensure memorability, but compromise a small measure of depth and nuance in exchange. Opener “Uflarpaspa” and album highlight “Hymn of the Valkyrjur” are the most successful in navigating this tricky balance. The former makes a magnificent opener, showcasing everything that Nexion does well, with a little extra aggression to keep things interesting. The latter, a momentous march with a face-twisting riffset built for the stage, “Hymn of the Valkyrjur” offers instant hooks without disposing those unfolding deviations from repetition that set Nexion’s material apart from the pool. However, they still lack the same surprising level of detail that makes “When Raven Steals the Sun,” “Gandr,” and even epic closer “Visions of the Seventh Fire” such a joy to spend extra time with.

In sum, Sundrung has the potential to challenge listeners as often as it will delight them. Certainly one of the more interesting records to come from the Icelandic scene, it offers a varied combination of immediacy and nuance. But it takes patience and focus to perceive those attributes. Some listeners—especially those who are not duty bound to spin records a dozen times before settling on a score—might not want to put that effort in. I argue that you ought to anyway. It may not be flawless, nor is it quite as universally successful as Seven Oracles, but Sundrung is nonetheless worthy of enthusiastic recommendation.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: V0 mp3
Label: Avantgarde Music
Websites: nexion.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Nexionband
Releases Worldwide: September 19th, 2025

#2025 #35 #AvantgardeMusic #BlackMetal #BlackenedDeathMetal #DeathMetal #IcelandicMetal #Nexion #Review #Reviews #Sep25 #SulphurAeon #Sundrung

Sólstafir – Hin helga kvöl Review

By Carcharodon

The review game is a funny business. I genuinely don’t recall liking Endless Twilight of Co-Dependent Love, the last outing by Iceland’s post-metal legends Sólstafir, as much as I apparently did. It was a 2.5/5.0. Surely. But, as I prepared to tackle their eighth album, Hin helga kvöl (The Holy Suffering), I was shocked to learn that I’d 3.5ed Endless Twilight. And, wouldn’t you know, I was right! Yes, Endless Twilight was far too long. No, the production wasn’t good. And yes, Aðalbjörn Tryggvason’s vocals were more love-em-or-hate-em than ever. But, somehow, it held together as a very good album, something I re-discovered afresh delving back in after a four-year break. Speaking about Hin helga kvöl, Tryggvason said that one thing Sólstafir tried was to make the songs shorter but it’s “somewhat harder to write good short songs, so that was a real challenge.” Was it one the Icelanders were up to?

While Hin helga kvöl is shorter than Sólstafir’s last outing, at 50 minutes, with six of nine tracks comfortably clearing the five-minute mark, it’s not exactly an EP. But it’s not all about the length, as they (allegedly) say. And it would be fair to say that several of these short(er) songs are good, a few fantastic. The title track could easily have come off Sólstafir’s debut, Í blóði og anda. Harsh, bleak black metal, a big bass groove and Tryggvason’s emotive voice at its least objectionable, all serve to conjure the Icelandic majesty that made the band its name in the first place. This vitality and intensity, much missed on recent Sólstafir records, is matched, in starkly contrasting ways, by the album’s closing duo, “Nú mun ljósið deyja” and “Kuml (forspil, sálmur, kveðja).” The former leans into that Icelandic black metal fury of the title track, building up melodic textures to create layers of stark beauty. Highlight “Kuml” is an altogether different beast, slow, atmospheric doom, building in gorgeous sax and huge, sepulchral, clean vocals, which border on a monastic chant.

In fact, the more time I’ve spent with Hin helga kvöl, the more I’ve found to enjoy. Mid-album cut “Vor ás,” which adds in haunting female vocals by Erna Hrönn Ólafsdóttir, is redolent of the more up-tempo cuts (like “Draumfari”) from personal favourite, Svartir sandar. However, Sólstafir also indulge in some of their more recent, uglier vices. Awful hard rock ‘anthem’ “Blakkrakki,” relies on multi-tracked, grainy vocals, with Tryggvason repeatedly shouting the song title over bland, repetitive chords and laboured bass. This simplistic songwriting is repeated on “Grýla,” albeit with somewhat more success. However, unfairly sandwiching it between languid, bluesy lament “Freygátan” and “Nú mun ljósið deyja,” only highlights the basic songwriting. The album’s longest cut “Sálumessa” does absolutely nothing to justify it’s runtime. Attempting, I think, to hark back to the forlorn beauty of Ótta, it succeeds only in making me want to listen to that record.

Listening to Hin helga kvöl, I feel like a marionette being sharply pulled between different poles. Sólstafir has simultaneously written some of the best material I’ve heard from them since Ótta (title track and “Kuml”), and some of the worst I’ve heard from them full stop (“Blakkrakki”). They have then combined this with a few other tracks, ranging from the very good (“Freygátan” and “Nú mun ljósið deyja”) to the very mediocre (“Hún andar” and “Sálumessa”) seemingly at random. Only the transition from “Nú mun ljósið deyja” into album closer “Kuml” flows in a way that makes real sense in terms of album pacing. As well as the confused structure, the sound is bad. However, it’s hard to know how much to blame this on the production and how much on the 128 kbps(!) mp3 files that someone deigned to share with us.1 In the more stripped-back tracks (like “Kuml”), the production just about holds up, albeit the master is loud. In other places though, notably “Nú mun ljósið deyja,” it sounds crushed and a bit flat. Either way, just like on Endless Twilight, Tryggvason’s vocals are again way too far forward in the mix, offensively so on “Blakkrakki.”

Hin helga kvöl is so damn close to being the album I desperately wanted from Sólstafir. Ditch two tracks (which, incidentally, would shave almost 12 minutes off the runtime) and re-order the rest to give the album a logical flow, and you’d be looking at a record that could stand toe-to-toe with pretty much anything in Sólstafir’s catalogue. As an all-around album experience, Hin helga kvöl is fatally flawed but, I think, I maybe, kind of … love it? It’s complicated.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 102 | Format Reviewed: 128 kbps mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: solstafir.bandcamp.com | solstafir.is | facebook.com/solstafirice
Releases Worldwide: November 8th, 2024

Show 2 footnotes

1. And, given that low file quality, I don’t put much stock in the DR10 score either. ↩
2. Doubt. So. Much. Doubt. ↩

#25 #2024 #CenturyMediaRecords #HardRock #HinHelgaKvöl #IcelandicMetal #Nov24 #PostRock #PostBlackMetal #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #Solstafir

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Review: Hamferð Evoke Ancient Aquatic Horror on Men Guðs Hond Er Sterk
Epic doom and seafaring disasters.

https://www.metalsucks.net/2024/03/20/review-hamferd-evoke-ancient-aquatic-horror-on-men-guds-hond-er-sterk/

#Hamferd #IcelandicMetal #EvokeAncientHorror #AquaticAtmosphere #MenGudsHondErSterk #AlbumReview

Lors du concert à l'arrache dans la belle salle de l'Iðno des islandais Volcanova (que j'ai particulièrement apprécié) et The Vintage Caravan, 2 groupes de rock/folk/métal (ouais, on peut tout y mettre), j'ai fait la connaissance du festival Sátan qui aura lieu l'an prochain du 6 au 8 juin. Comme Clisson et le Hellfest, le lieu choisi détonne complètement : Stykkishólmur.

Je pense donc y faire un tour :hakase:

https://satan-festival.com

#iceland #icelandicmetal #music