#insomnium — Public Fediverse posts

I was initially surprised that Galvanist hailed from Bozeman, Montana, but I really have no right to feel that way. Based on its proximity to major outdoor destinations, I thought Bozeman would be like Jackson, Wyoming, where I briefly lived, but Google quickly disabused me of that notion. Suffice it to say, I have no idea what Bozeman’s music scene is like. But I’ll tell you what I do know. I know that Galvanist released debut Connection in 2022 and split Hollowtop with Ulm in 2024. I know they’re returning now with sophomore effort The Silence Between Stars. And after spinning this album every day for weeks, I know that all my expectations, like so much dust beneath the heel of an eldritch god, have been casually and utterly annihilated.

The promo material describes Galvanist as “blackened doom metal, progressive death metal, and experimental textures.” That may outline the canvas upon which Galvanist paints, but it does them little justice. Throughout The Silence Between Stars, I hear Animals as Leaders drowning in sludge (“Atrophy”) and Huntsmen channeling Thou (“Dreich,”1 “Spiorad”2). Woven into the fiber of their sound, I hear the swirling chaos of Ulcerate (“Hauntology”), creating a shifting maelstrom that denies me any safe or solid ground. Synths and keys, courtesy of lead guitarist Micah Tippit, lend Galvanist a threatening, extraterrestrial edge. Over it all, vocalist Tanner Erhart bellows with the raw intensity of acts like Ragana. Galvanist takes these ingredients and filters them through a clear and singular identity to create something entirely their own. Orders of magnitude greater than its descriptors, The Silence Between Stars is a journey by turns and at once deeply rooted in the homestead and violently flung to the darkest reaches of space.3

With every track but the 63-second intro4 clocking in at roughly 8–11 minutes, I worried The Silence Between Stars would suffer from bloat or overly aggressive proggery. My fears were unfounded. The Silence Between Stars demands my attention front to back, and at an easily digestible 40 minutes, I frequently find myself looping back for another spin. This isn’t so singular a work as Winter’s Gate or Mirror Reaper—there’s little need for gapless playback here—but each track flows so naturally into the next that I struggle to start anywhere but the beginning or stop anywhere but the end. I don’t know if this is a concept album, but it’s heady, interconnected subject matter5 demands more than just lyrical exposition. Galvanist is plenty capable, wielding mystifying time signature shifts (“Atrophy,” “Hauntology”), abrupt—but never jarring—compositional transitions, and mid-melody key changes (“Spiorad”) with aplomb. Galvanist adeptly handles such progressive elements to bake their storytelling directly into the music itself.

Even beyond its total disregard for my expectations, The Silence Between Stars continues to awe. Galvanist uses the soundstage to further cultivate that sense of being both grounded and in freefall. Bassist Kevin George’s mix leaves room for each instrument to breathe, but in a good way, only just. With a little added reverb, the result fosters that contradictory atmosphere even more, like suffocating in open air. Erhart’s rhythm guitars hang out on the wings, where microtonal variances between left and right ears create an incredible dissonance, a feeling of infinite liminality. Elements float in and out of the spotlight—like George’s bass at the midpoint of “Atrophy,” Chris Navarro’s drums at the end of “Hauntology,” or Tippit’s astounding leads on the back half of “Spiorad”—constantly redirecting my attention and driving me further into Galvanist’s labyrinth.

It is not often I have no complaints about an album, and rarer still, I have more praise than I can fit on the page. Had I time and space enough, I would still be raving about The Silence Between Stars long after the final keys of “Spiorad” fade to silence. From the cosmic violence of “Atrophy” to the striking bookends of “Dreich,” and from the spine-tingling keys of “Hauntology” to the magnificent, delirious climax of “Spiorad,” Galvanist has created something truly special. Like a will-o’-wisp or a foxfire trail coaxing you into the dark, The Silence Between Stars is disquieting yet tempting, unnerving yet comforting. I didn’t know what I was in for when I picked up Galvanist, but to shamelessly adapt my favorite line from the album,6 I crossed the threshold, and I found myself amidst worlds strange and wonderful.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Aeternitas Tenebrarum Musicae Fundamentum
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 27th, 2026

I was initially surprised that Galvanist hailed from Bozeman, Montana, but I really have no right to feel that way. Based on its proximity to major outdoor destinations, I thought Bozeman would be like Jackson, Wyoming, where I briefly lived, but Google quickly disabused me of that notion. Suffice it to say, I have no idea what Bozeman’s music scene is like. But I’ll tell you what I do know. I know that Galvanist released debut Connection in 2022 and split Hollowtop with Ulm in 2024. I know they’re returning now with sophomore effort The Silence Between Stars. And after spinning this album every day for weeks, I know that all my expectations, like so much dust beneath the heel of an eldritch god, have been casually and utterly annihilated.

The promo material describes Galvanist as “blackened doom metal, progressive death metal, and experimental textures.” That may outline the canvas upon which Galvanist paints, but it does them little justice. Throughout The Silence Between Stars, I hear Animals as Leaders drowning in sludge (“Atrophy”) and Huntsmen channeling Thou (“Dreich,”1 “Spiorad”2). Woven into the fiber of their sound, I hear the swirling chaos of Ulcerate (“Hauntology”), creating a shifting maelstrom that denies me any safe or solid ground. Synths and keys, courtesy of lead guitarist Micah Tippit, lend Galvanist a threatening, extraterrestrial edge. Over it all, vocalist Tanner Erhart bellows with the raw intensity of acts like Ragana. Galvanist takes these ingredients and filters them through a clear and singular identity to create something entirely their own. Orders of magnitude greater than its descriptors, The Silence Between Stars is a journey by turns and at once deeply rooted in the homestead and violently flung to the darkest reaches of space.3

With every track but the 63-second intro4 clocking in at roughly 8–11 minutes, I worried The Silence Between Stars would suffer from bloat or overly aggressive proggery. My fears were unfounded. The Silence Between Stars demands my attention front to back, and at an easily digestible 40 minutes, I frequently find myself looping back for another spin. This isn’t so singular a work as Winter’s Gate or Mirror Reaper—there’s little need for gapless playback here—but each track flows so naturally into the next that I struggle to start anywhere but the beginning or stop anywhere but the end. I don’t know if this is a concept album, but it’s heady, interconnected subject matter5 demands more than just lyrical exposition. Galvanist is plenty capable, wielding mystifying time signature shifts (“Atrophy,” “Hauntology”), abrupt—but never jarring—compositional transitions, and mid-melody key changes (“Spiorad”) with aplomb. Galvanist adeptly handles such progressive elements to bake their storytelling directly into the music itself.

Even beyond its total disregard for my expectations, The Silence Between Stars continues to awe. Galvanist uses the soundstage to further cultivate that sense of being both grounded and in freefall. Bassist Kevin George’s mix leaves room for each instrument to breathe, but in a good way, only just. With a little added reverb, the result fosters that contradictory atmosphere even more, like suffocating in open air. Erhart’s rhythm guitars hang out on the wings, where microtonal variances between left and right ears create an incredible dissonance, a feeling of infinite liminality. Elements float in and out of the spotlight—like George’s bass at the midpoint of “Atrophy,” Chris Navarro’s drums at the end of “Hauntology,” or Tippit’s astounding leads on the back half of “Spiorad”—constantly redirecting my attention and driving me further into Galvanist’s labyrinth.

It is not often I have no complaints about an album, and rarer still, I have more praise than I can fit on the page. Had I time and space enough, I would still be raving about The Silence Between Stars long after the final keys of “Spiorad” fade to silence. From the cosmic violence of “Atrophy” to the striking bookends of “Dreich,” and from the spine-tingling keys of “Hauntology” to the magnificent, delirious climax of “Spiorad,” Galvanist has created something truly special. Like a will-o’-wisp or a foxfire trail coaxing you into the dark, The Silence Between Stars is disquieting yet tempting, unnerving yet comforting. I didn’t know what I was in for when I picked up Galvanist, but to shamelessly adapt my favorite line from the album,6 I crossed the threshold, and I found myself amidst worlds strange and wonderful.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Aeternitas Tenebrarum Musicae Fundamentum
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 27th, 2026

I was initially surprised that Galvanist hailed from Bozeman, Montana, but I really have no right to feel that way. Based on its proximity to major outdoor destinations, I thought Bozeman would be like Jackson, Wyoming, where I briefly lived, but Google quickly disabused me of that notion. Suffice it to say, I have no idea what Bozeman’s music scene is like. But I’ll tell you what I do know. I know that Galvanist released debut Connection in 2022 and split Hollowtop with Ulm in 2024. I know they’re returning now with sophomore effort The Silence Between Stars. And after spinning this album every day for weeks, I know that all my expectations, like so much dust beneath the heel of an eldritch god, have been casually and utterly annihilated.

The promo material describes Galvanist as “blackened doom metal, progressive death metal, and experimental textures.” That may outline the canvas upon which Galvanist paints, but it does them little justice. Throughout The Silence Between Stars, I hear Animals as Leaders drowning in sludge (“Atrophy”) and Huntsmen channeling Thou (“Dreich,”1 “Spiorad”2). Woven into the fiber of their sound, I hear the swirling chaos of Ulcerate (“Hauntology”), creating a shifting maelstrom that denies me any safe or solid ground. Synths and keys, courtesy of lead guitarist Micah Tippit, lend Galvanist a threatening, extraterrestrial edge. Over it all, vocalist Tanner Erhart bellows with the raw intensity of acts like Ragana. Galvanist takes these ingredients and filters them through a clear and singular identity to create something entirely their own. Orders of magnitude greater than its descriptors, The Silence Between Stars is a journey by turns and at once deeply rooted in the homestead and violently flung to the darkest reaches of space.3

With every track but the 63-second intro4 clocking in at roughly 8–11 minutes, I worried The Silence Between Stars would suffer from bloat or overly aggressive proggery. My fears were unfounded. The Silence Between Stars demands my attention front to back, and at an easily digestible 40 minutes, I frequently find myself looping back for another spin. This isn’t so singular a work as Winter’s Gate or Mirror Reaper—there’s little need for gapless playback here—but each track flows so naturally into the next that I struggle to start anywhere but the beginning or stop anywhere but the end. I don’t know if this is a concept album, but it’s heady, interconnected subject matter5 demands more than just lyrical exposition. Galvanist is plenty capable, wielding mystifying time signature shifts (“Atrophy,” “Hauntology”), abrupt—but never jarring—compositional transitions, and mid-melody key changes (“Spiorad”) with aplomb. Galvanist adeptly handles such progressive elements to bake their storytelling directly into the music itself.

Even beyond its total disregard for my expectations, The Silence Between Stars continues to awe. Galvanist uses the soundstage to further cultivate that sense of being both grounded and in freefall. Bassist Kevin George’s mix leaves room for each instrument to breathe, but in a good way, only just. With a little added reverb, the result fosters that contradictory atmosphere even more, like suffocating in open air. Erhart’s rhythm guitars hang out on the wings, where microtonal variances between left and right ears create an incredible dissonance, a feeling of infinite liminality. Elements float in and out of the spotlight—like George’s bass at the midpoint of “Atrophy,” Chris Navarro’s drums at the end of “Hauntology,” or Tippit’s astounding leads on the back half of “Spiorad”—constantly redirecting my attention and driving me further into Galvanist’s labyrinth.

It is not often I have no complaints about an album, and rarer still, I have more praise than I can fit on the page. Had I time and space enough, I would still be raving about The Silence Between Stars long after the final keys of “Spiorad” fade to silence. From the cosmic violence of “Atrophy” to the striking bookends of “Dreich,” and from the spine-tingling keys of “Hauntology” to the magnificent, delirious climax of “Spiorad,” Galvanist has created something truly special. Like a will-o’-wisp or a foxfire trail coaxing you into the dark, The Silence Between Stars is disquieting yet tempting, unnerving yet comforting. I didn’t know what I was in for when I picked up Galvanist, but to shamelessly adapt my favorite line from the album,6 I crossed the threshold, and I found myself amidst worlds strange and wonderful.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Aeternitas Tenebrarum Musicae Fundamentum
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 27th, 2026

I was initially surprised that Galvanist hailed from Bozeman, Montana, but I really have no right to feel that way. Based on its proximity to major outdoor destinations, I thought Bozeman would be like Jackson, Wyoming, where I briefly lived, but Google quickly disabused me of that notion. Suffice it to say, I have no idea what Bozeman’s music scene is like. But I’ll tell you what I do know. I know that Galvanist released debut Connection in 2022 and split Hollowtop with Ulm in 2024. I know they’re returning now with sophomore effort The Silence Between Stars. And after spinning this album every day for weeks, I know that all my expectations, like so much dust beneath the heel of an eldritch god, have been casually and utterly annihilated.

The promo material describes Galvanist as “blackened doom metal, progressive death metal, and experimental textures.” That may outline the canvas upon which Galvanist paints, but it does them little justice. Throughout The Silence Between Stars, I hear Animals as Leaders drowning in sludge (“Atrophy”) and Huntsmen channeling Thou (“Dreich,”1 “Spiorad”2). Woven into the fiber of their sound, I hear the swirling chaos of Ulcerate (“Hauntology”), creating a shifting maelstrom that denies me any safe or solid ground. Synths and keys, courtesy of lead guitarist Micah Tippit, lend Galvanist a threatening, extraterrestrial edge. Over it all, vocalist Tanner Erhart bellows with the raw intensity of acts like Ragana. Galvanist takes these ingredients and filters them through a clear and singular identity to create something entirely their own. Orders of magnitude greater than its descriptors, The Silence Between Stars is a journey by turns and at once deeply rooted in the homestead and violently flung to the darkest reaches of space.3

With every track but the 63-second intro4 clocking in at roughly 8–11 minutes, I worried The Silence Between Stars would suffer from bloat or overly aggressive proggery. My fears were unfounded. The Silence Between Stars demands my attention front to back, and at an easily digestible 40 minutes, I frequently find myself looping back for another spin. This isn’t so singular a work as Winter’s Gate or Mirror Reaper—there’s little need for gapless playback here—but each track flows so naturally into the next that I struggle to start anywhere but the beginning or stop anywhere but the end. I don’t know if this is a concept album, but it’s heady, interconnected subject matter5 demands more than just lyrical exposition. Galvanist is plenty capable, wielding mystifying time signature shifts (“Atrophy,” “Hauntology”), abrupt—but never jarring—compositional transitions, and mid-melody key changes (“Spiorad”) with aplomb. Galvanist adeptly handles such progressive elements to bake their storytelling directly into the music itself.

Even beyond its total disregard for my expectations, The Silence Between Stars continues to awe. Galvanist uses the soundstage to further cultivate that sense of being both grounded and in freefall. Bassist Kevin George’s mix leaves room for each instrument to breathe, but in a good way, only just. With a little added reverb, the result fosters that contradictory atmosphere even more, like suffocating in open air. Erhart’s rhythm guitars hang out on the wings, where microtonal variances between left and right ears create an incredible dissonance, a feeling of infinite liminality. Elements float in and out of the spotlight—like George’s bass at the midpoint of “Atrophy,” Chris Navarro’s drums at the end of “Hauntology,” or Tippit’s astounding leads on the back half of “Spiorad”—constantly redirecting my attention and driving me further into Galvanist’s labyrinth.

It is not often I have no complaints about an album, and rarer still, I have more praise than I can fit on the page. Had I time and space enough, I would still be raving about The Silence Between Stars long after the final keys of “Spiorad” fade to silence. From the cosmic violence of “Atrophy” to the striking bookends of “Dreich,” and from the spine-tingling keys of “Hauntology” to the magnificent, delirious climax of “Spiorad,” Galvanist has created something truly special. Like a will-o’-wisp or a foxfire trail coaxing you into the dark, The Silence Between Stars is disquieting yet tempting, unnerving yet comforting. I didn’t know what I was in for when I picked up Galvanist, but to shamelessly adapt my favorite line from the album,6 I crossed the threshold, and I found myself amidst worlds strange and wonderful.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Aeternitas Tenebrarum Musicae Fundamentum
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 27th, 2026

I was initially surprised that Galvanist hailed from Bozeman, Montana, but I really have no right to feel that way. Based on its proximity to major outdoor destinations, I thought Bozeman would be like Jackson, Wyoming, where I briefly lived, but Google quickly disabused me of that notion. Suffice it to say, I have no idea what Bozeman’s music scene is like. But I’ll tell you what I do know. I know that Galvanist released debut Connection in 2022 and split Hollowtop with Ulm in 2024. I know they’re returning now with sophomore effort The Silence Between Stars. And after spinning this album every day for weeks, I know that all my expectations, like so much dust beneath the heel of an eldritch god, have been casually and utterly annihilated.

The promo material describes Galvanist as “blackened doom metal, progressive death metal, and experimental textures.” That may outline the canvas upon which Galvanist paints, but it does them little justice. Throughout The Silence Between Stars, I hear Animals as Leaders drowning in sludge (“Atrophy”) and Huntsmen channeling Thou (“Dreich,”1 “Spiorad”2). Woven into the fiber of their sound, I hear the swirling chaos of Ulcerate (“Hauntology”), creating a shifting maelstrom that denies me any safe or solid ground. Synths and keys, courtesy of lead guitarist Micah Tippit, lend Galvanist a threatening, extraterrestrial edge. Over it all, vocalist Tanner Erhart bellows with the raw intensity of acts like Ragana. Galvanist takes these ingredients and filters them through a clear and singular identity to create something entirely their own. Orders of magnitude greater than its descriptors, The Silence Between Stars is a journey by turns and at once deeply rooted in the homestead and violently flung to the darkest reaches of space.3

With every track but the 63-second intro4 clocking in at roughly 8–11 minutes, I worried The Silence Between Stars would suffer from bloat or overly aggressive proggery. My fears were unfounded. The Silence Between Stars demands my attention front to back, and at an easily digestible 40 minutes, I frequently find myself looping back for another spin. This isn’t so singular a work as Winter’s Gate or Mirror Reaper—there’s little need for gapless playback here—but each track flows so naturally into the next that I struggle to start anywhere but the beginning or stop anywhere but the end. I don’t know if this is a concept album, but it’s heady, interconnected subject matter5 demands more than just lyrical exposition. Galvanist is plenty capable, wielding mystifying time signature shifts (“Atrophy,” “Hauntology”), abrupt—but never jarring—compositional transitions, and mid-melody key changes (“Spiorad”) with aplomb. Galvanist adeptly handles such progressive elements to bake their storytelling directly into the music itself.

Even beyond its total disregard for my expectations, The Silence Between Stars continues to awe. Galvanist uses the soundstage to further cultivate that sense of being both grounded and in freefall. Bassist Kevin George’s mix leaves room for each instrument to breathe, but in a good way, only just. With a little added reverb, the result fosters that contradictory atmosphere even more, like suffocating in open air. Erhart’s rhythm guitars hang out on the wings, where microtonal variances between left and right ears create an incredible dissonance, a feeling of infinite liminality. Elements float in and out of the spotlight—like George’s bass at the midpoint of “Atrophy,” Chris Navarro’s drums at the end of “Hauntology,” or Tippit’s astounding leads on the back half of “Spiorad”—constantly redirecting my attention and driving me further into Galvanist’s labyrinth.

It is not often I have no complaints about an album, and rarer still, I have more praise than I can fit on the page. Had I time and space enough, I would still be raving about The Silence Between Stars long after the final keys of “Spiorad” fade to silence. From the cosmic violence of “Atrophy” to the striking bookends of “Dreich,” and from the spine-tingling keys of “Hauntology” to the magnificent, delirious climax of “Spiorad,” Galvanist has created something truly special. Like a will-o’-wisp or a foxfire trail coaxing you into the dark, The Silence Between Stars is disquieting yet tempting, unnerving yet comforting. I didn’t know what I was in for when I picked up Galvanist, but to shamelessly adapt my favorite line from the album,6 I crossed the threshold, and I found myself amidst worlds strange and wonderful.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Aeternitas Tenebrarum Musicae Fundamentum
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 27th, 2026

Seems like the Filtration system is overburdened once again. Normally, my minions have to scavenge much longer to pick things up this early in the year, but 2026 is proving to be rich in moderately precious metallic ore. That just means I gotta push my team even harder to pull greater loads of filth from the ducts!

As I send them in for yet another round, please enjoy the spoils thus far exploited. BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Tattered Tome

Overtoun // Death Drive Anthropology [February 13th, 2026 – Time to Kill Records]

Chilean progressive death thrash outfit Overtoun is what you get when you mix old school Death and Atheist with the proggier side of Pestilence, then amp the thrash up by a half turn. At a lofty 50 minutes, you’d expect third release Death Drive Anthropology to drag on, but to make that assumption is to criminally underestimate Overtoun’s creativity and versatility. Opening up the throttle in fine form, the one-two punch of “What Unites All (ft. Max Phelps) and “The Final Beat” manages to encompass many of these Chileans’ songwriting and performance skills in a scant 10 minutes. More introspective, nuanced songwriting takes center stage throughout Anthropology’s midsection, balancing smart melodies and minimalist atmosphere with complex guitar layering, proggy structures, and shreddy wizardry (“Dur Khrod,” “Jade, Gold, Obsidian,” “Yurei,” “Weeping”). The three-part “The Waves Suite” suite adds a mystical character to the affair that blends remarkably well with Overtoun’s more overt political messaging and emotional textures, which helps carry the record through its lengthy runtime without causing fatigue. It’s a neat record that’s modestly blemished by a bass presence that begs for more weight and wildness, especially considering the raw talent on hand. Nonetheless, if you’re looking for a creative, thoughtful, and sophisticated entry into the death/thrash progosphere, Death Drive Anthropology makes a strong case.

Andy-War-Hall’s Primordial Pick-Up

The Grand Myth // Of Vultures and Dragons [February 26th, 2026 – Suncrusher Recordings]

I have a grossly limited capacity for seriousness. Yeah, I like my death metal progressive, technical, and thoughtful, much the way Brandon Bordman’s The Grand Myth deliver it on their latest record, Of Vultures and Dragons, but sometimes I just want fun, too. Of Vultures and Dragons, an adaptation of Ethan Pettus’ novel series Primitive War1 in which a rescue team searches a Vietnamese jungle for a missing platoon of Green Berets and fights for their lives against dinosaurs, has fun in spades. Utilizing a many-layered guitar attack (“Symbiotic Death”), shifting and propulsive rhythms (“Through the River Styx”), a wide cast of voice actors for brief narrative bits2 and surprisingly bright tones (“Agony”), The Grand Myth’s approach to progressive death metal isn’t revolutionary, but it’s deeply refreshing and engaging regardless. Though an absolute blast, The Grand Myth doesn’t spew embarrassingly stupid levels of campiness with their sci-fi dinosaur theming like Victorius. Rather, Of Vultures and Dragons can be fairly emotionally effective at times thanks to Bordman’s emotive clean/harsh vocals and elaborate soloing (“Pyre,” “Agony”). Nobody asks about your favorite dinosaur anymore,3 so feed your inner kid with The Grand Myth’s Of Vultures and Dragons now!

Saunders’ Sunken Shards

Puscifer// Normal Isn’t [February 6th, 2026 – Alchemy Recordings]

After losing track of recent offerings, I reacquainted myself with the latest LP from Puscifer, leaving me pleasantly surprised in the aftermath. The project featuring Tool/A Perfect Circle frontman Maynard James Keenan returned for their first hit out since 2020’s Existential Reckoning. Normal Isn’t finds the shape-shifting project embracing its quirky, gothy industrial rock and electronic elements through an angsty filter of guitar-driven arty rock, post-punk, and infectious songcraft. Age should not weary Maynard, as he still sounds angry, cynical, and on point vocally through a mostly engaging, catchy bag of tunes. The dueling vocal melodies with collaborator Carina Round’s ghostly singing work a treat amidst jittery beats, angular riffs and strong electronic overtones. Rhythmically, it is an interesting ride, drummer Gunnar Olsen putting in a top-notch performance, while there is a vaguely progressive edge underlying the hook-centric songwriting. Opener “Thrust” sets the album in motion with sticky hooks, a darkly humorous, unhinged Maynard performance, and a dose of spite. Other key highlights include “Bad Wolf,” “Self Evident,” “A Public Stoning,” and “ImpetuoUs.” Puscifer made a fine return with Normal Isn’t.

Jack Harlon & The Dead Crows // Inexorable Opposites [February 6th, 2026 – Magnetic Eye Records]

You’ve gotta love a sneaky name drop from our trusty commentariat. It has led to many great discoveries over the years. On this occasion, one of our dear commenters enlightened me to Melbourne psych-blues-doomers Jack Harlon & the Dead Crows with fourth LP, Inexorable Opposites. And it didn’t take long absorbing this latest slab of rustic Aussie coolness to be struck by the album’s slow-burning, addictive power, and gritty tones. Boasting an expansive, rugged sound built on layers of distortion and a weighty blend of psych-drenched blues and doom heaviness. Jack Harlon & the Dead Crows features old school, outlaw-driven lyrical content from mastermind and vocalist/guitarist Tim Coutts-Smith, meshing fictional tales of woe and adventure of character Jack Harlon, with relatable real-life struggles. Through the fuzz, thick jammy vibes, and Coutts-Smith distorted, menacing Aussie drawl, catchy songcraft shines through the muck and psych haze. From the tense, stoner-infected grit and catchy hooks of opener “Moss,” through to the stormy outback balladry of closer “To Die,” Inexorable Opposites is a hard-hitting, riffy delight, further evidenced through scorched earth, infectious cuts like “Venomous,” “Seer,” and the trippy, drug-addled “Mt. Macedon.”

Grin Reaper’s Reaped Recluse

Cold Communion // Monuments to Ruin [February 13th, 2026 – Self Released]

Melodic death/doom isn’t a genre I dabble in often, but every now and again, one of its bands thwarts my defenses and wraps their tendrils around my precious listening time. Durham, North Carolina’s Cold Communion is one such band, featuring Barre Gambling (Daylight Dies) on guitar and Tim Rowland (Alchemy of Flesh, Silent Vigil) on everything else. If that sounds like an unfair split, take a spin and reassess, because Gambling’s performance defines Cold Communion’s melancholic character as much as Rowland’s emotive growl. Forgoing any long-form doom epics, Monuments to Ruin’s longest song comes in at five-and-a-half minutes, with the entire album clocking just forty-five. It’s a tidy platter, and both in song composition and mood shares ample common ground with Finnish sadbois Insomnium. Besides Monuments’ superior production, songs like “A Stillness Survival” and “When the Light Breaks” wouldn’t feel out of place on Across the Dark or One for Sorrow. And despite the somber trappings one might expect from doom-adjacency, there’s plenty of lively riffing and solos to find across Monuments to Ruin, adding a touch of boom to the gloom. In the end, Cold Communion doesn’t reinvent the genre or break new ground, but Monuments to Ruin offers a comfy chair by the fireside on a freezing cold day, and I’m perfectly content with that.

Mossgiver // Renewer [February 6th, 2026 – Sij MusicArt]

Atmospheric black metal often contrasts the beautiful with the bestial, typically prioritizing moods over hooks. ‘Twas a delight, then, to unearth Mossgiver’s Renewal, which deftly combines the two. Weaving together hypnotic passages flooded with strings, piano, flute, synths, double bass rolls, and the requisite blackened tremolos,4 Mossgiver’s mastermind Tilen Šimon (Ueldes) delivers the band’s best record to date. Above all, Renewer sounds like a celebration of nature in the vein of Autrest and Cân Bardd, evoking a whispering wind whipping at leaves or sunlight dappling a brook shaded by oaks and maples. Beyond the well-crafted soundtrack for a walk through the woods, Mossgiver etches emotion into the nooks and crannies of Renewer’s five tracks. From rousing string orchestrations (“I Bring the Spring with Me”) to soft-and-heavy tradeoffs pitting clean guitar and pan pipes against distorted guitar and blast beats (“Renewer”), Mossgiver shimmers with a lush backdrop of instrumentation rife with playfulness and pensiveness. The trio of primary songs5 revolve around powerful melodies that evolve over each track’s duration, with assorted instruments coming in and out to push refrains along. Renewer’s brisk thirty-four minutes showcase Mossgiver’s sticky compositions and leave me whistling its melodies for days at a time. Now throw on your hiking boots and get lost in the Moss.

Ossomancer // Banebdjed’s Path [February 28th, 2026 – Esoteric Evocations]

Six-and-a-half years removed from Ossomancer’s debut Artes Magickae, lone wolf and mastermind Kamose returns to tread Banebjed’s Path. Bursting with references to mythology and mysticism, Banebjed’s Path rumbles and shakes with arcane thunder. Although the backdrop and track names might recall the frenzied onslaught of Nile, Ossomancer instead conceives a realm recalling Aeternam, Iotunn, and Naglfar. Despite the scant thirty-four-minute runtime, Banebjed’s Path sprawls across diverse landscapes and textures. Opener “The Ogdoad Arrangement and the Osirian Creation” oscillates between In Flames melodies and a slinky crawl that could pass for a 90s Geddy Lee bass line played over synth injections from Rush’s 80s era. Follow-up track “Sobek – Cosmic Vibrations Devoured” features Kreator-bred riffing, while closing duo “A Sea of Sand, a Silver Star” and “Retraction into Kether” synthesize the ethereal atmospheres of Iotunn with the blackened assault of Naglfar. Through it all, Ossomancer sounds fabulous, as Banebjed’s Path flaunts an enviable DR 8 and a bodacious mix that spotlights its burly bass performance. Ossomancer’s sophomore outing is crammed with meloblack goodies, and though it’s not a long trek, the journey down Banebjed’s Path far transcends its distance.

Tyme’s Danish Dalliance

Ædel Fetich // Ædel Fetich [February 20th, 2026 – Deadbanger Productions]

That blinged-out pink dish-glove-clad hand is what first drew me to Denmark outfit Ædel Fetich’s self-titled debut. Then I clicked play and was taken on one of the more compelling “black” metal rides in recent memory. With roots primarily buried in the soil of the traditional second-wave, Ædel Fetich is rife with moments of rifferous tremolodic speed (“Ridderlig Lider,” “Madras”) and absolutely berserk guitar chaos (“Sort Magi”). There’s a Trhä-like sense of experimentation, and the rawness of the production enhances the oft-changing compositions, which, like weather in the Midwest, often shift on a dime without warning. Luckily, Ædel Fetich’s adept songwriting organically smooths these transitions, which could have easily come off stilted and jarring, but makes drawing direct comparisons to the Ædel Fetich sound difficult, as there’s a spectrum of other influences at play. There are tracks packed with punky punch (“Et Liv Fuld af Fejl,” “Ildtang”) or imbued with folky reverence (“Mit Billede af Dig”) and even some 80s pop—fans of the movie Flashdance shouldn’t have a problem finding the poppy easter egg hiding near the end of “Sort Magi.”6 Far and away the star of the show, however, is singer Skvat, whose performance is filled with as much black metal bravado as it is theatrical exuberance, his arsenal of shrieks, growls, hoots, howls, and operatic baritonations a refreshing treat, akin to if Mike Patton woke up one day deciding to record a Danish black metal album. Bottom line is, I really dig Ædel Fetich and think you will too.

Creeping Ivy’s Ashen Afterthought

Belzebong // The End is High [February 20th, 2026 – Heavy Psych Sounds]

In my humble opinion, lyrics are key to making stoner metal more than novelty music. If you’re referencing reefer in your album art, band name, and song titles, at least keep the reeferisms out of the songs themselves,7 or better yet, avoid vocals altogether. Taking this latter advice to heart is instrumental Polish four-piece Belzebong, who have been at it for almost 20 years now. On The End is High, their fourth full-length, Belzebong deal 35 minutes of fuzzed-out riffery described as “a new sermon for the final days.” While not as highbrow (huh huh) as the instrumental stoner metal of Bongripper, Belzebong are similarly ominous on opener (yes) “Bong & Chain,” which caps its ten-minute burn with creepy, haunting synths. From there, the band settle into material more akin to Bongzilla; sound clips adorn the chill grooves of “420 Horsemen,” “Hempnotized,” and “Reefer Mortis,” which closes things out with some solid Electric Wizard worship. If you instinctively (and understandably) recoil from music with marijuana aesthetics but dig the meditative repetition offered by stoner metal, consider sampling The End is High. It’s not exactly the caricature it advertises itself as.

Baguette’s Bygone Bounty

Sundecay // The Blood Lives Again [February 13th, 2026 – Self Released]

Toronto’s Sundecay has been around for a while. These Canadian doomers spawned sometime prior to 2014, quietly releasing EP material every once in a blue moon. The Blood Lives Again is their first full-length release—their first signs of life since 2018 in general—and the time and care they took to develop their sound and songwriting prowess pays off here in spades. The doom and proto-doom inspirations from Black Sabbath to Saint Vitus are obvious (“Here Comes the Wizard”), complemented by other influences from proto-metal, psychedelic, and progressive music (“Silence Spoken”). The hefty, layered guitars have a nice fuzz without fully landing in stoner territory. Ambitious long-form tracks like “Will Dusk Defy Dawn” flow like water while carrying significant emotional heft. Lastly, a moody, reverb-heavy vocal performance crowns the classic doom trance the band is aiming for. At five tracks and some 43 minutes, The Blood Lives Again is a total vibe and flies by before you’ve even noticed. Fans of the ’70s should take notes!

Temple Balls // Temple Balls [February 13th, 2026 – Frontiers Music]

One of the most authentic ways you can honor rock music tradition is via questionable naming conventions. On an unrelated note, Temple Balls is a Finnish hard rock/glam rock band, and they’re fun as hell! They’re not particularly new around the block, either: the group formed in 2009, and self-titled Temple Balls is already their fifth album since debut Traded Dreams in 2017. 2023’s Avalanche felt like a watershed moment, a welcome surprise that brought some new life and energy to a fairly dated genre of Europeisms and Hanoi Rocks rehashes. Temple Balls proves that Avalanche wasn’t a one-off, continuing their extremely authentic throwback approach. The heavy/power-metal-meets-AOR direction of songwriting (“Flashback Dynamite,” “Soul Survivor”) gives it that extra guitar oomph and energy that melodic music like this requires to be anywhere near competitive. With great all-out vocals from Arde Teronen and gigantic hooks to match, it’s just a damn good time front to back. Though it will sadly be the last time we’ll hear Niko Vuorela’s guitar work on record (R.I.P., and fuck cancer), the self-titled is certainly a worthy final milestone for him—and hopefully, another beginning for his comrades.

ClarkKent’s Enchanting Earworm

Hela // A Reign to Conquer [February 27, 2026 – Ardua Music]

Just as it put a pause on many plans and projects, the COVID pandemic slowed down the output of Spain’s Hela. A Reign to Conquer marks their first record since 2019’s Vegvìsir, which was their third release since 2013. This brief hiatus brought new blood in the form of vocalist Raquel Navarro, though, in truth, the only consistency in Hela’s lineup is the other three members—Tano Giménez on bass, Miguel Fernández (The Holeum) on drums, and Julián Velasco (The Holeum) on guitars. They have a deep bond, first forged in 2009 with The Sand Collector before forming Hela just three years later. Though they brand Hela as melodic doom, and the band does have a little in common with Katatonia, I think it’s more accurate to describe them as dreamy progressive rock. Navarro is a major reason for this, with dreamy croons that guide listeners through breezy soundscapes. She bears a passing resemblance to Maud the Moth, though the music Hela plays is decidedly more metal than our Dolphin friend’s favorite nocturnal insect. Guitarist Velasco plays a hypnotizing mix of atmospheric fuzz, crushing doom, and melodic riffs that add some heft and crunch to the ethereal sound. A Reign to Conquer has plenty of layers to probe, rewarding listeners who bear with it for repeat listens. While my initial spins left me wanting, I’ve since become spellbound. Add to that some gorgeous artwork, and this is a nice addition to anyone’s vinyl collection. Hela yeah!

Spicie Forrest’s Vicious Vittles

A Wilhelm Scream8 // Cheap Heat [February 27th, 2026 – Creator-Destructor Records]

A Wilhelm Scream9 returns after a four-year hiatus with their eighth long player, Cheap Heat. Sounding like the best combination of The Story So Far and Rise Against, A Wilhelm Scream delivers an impressive tour de force so late in their career. Vocalist Nuno Pereira10 is the highlight of Cheap Heat, driving the album with urgency and passion (“Somebody’s Gonna Die,” “Fell Off”), but no one here is a slouch. The rhythm section—bassist Brian J. Robinson, rhythm guitarist Trevor Reilly, and drummer Nicholas Pasquale Angelini—gleefully tosses gas on Pereira’s bonfire (“I Got Tunnel Vision”) and delivers solid grooves (“Poison II”) and searing ragers (“Unsolving the Mystery”) that keep the energy cranked to 11 all through Cheap Heat. Hooks are by far the most common lead duty, and Ben Murray puts on a fucking clinic. Each note that rings out from his axe sounds like it fucking owns the place (“Run,” “Visitor: Unimpressed”). Cheap Heat is a smidge front-loaded with “Midnight Ghost” and “I Got Tunnel Vision” being album highlights, but no song on here is anything short of a barn burner. At a super tight 28 minutes, Cheap Heat hits hard and fast and gets the fuck out of Dodge before you’re even sure what hit you. I didn’t expect a 26-year-old hardcore outfit to knock my teeth out when I queued it up on a whim one morning, but Cheap Heat is proving to be one of my favorite albums of the year.

Lead Injector // Witching Attack [February 20th, 2026 – High Roller Records]

Who doesn’t like the combination of thrash’s unchained aggression and black metal’s cold hate? There’s never been a better pair. Lead Injector hit the ground running on debut LP Witching Attack. From the opening moments of “Siege Upon Heaven” to the closing moments of “Nuclear Antichrist,” Lead Injector is here to do two things: feed high-speed buckshot to God, skeletons, and anything else that gets in their way, and have a Hellripping good time. “Angel Destructor” and “Siege Upon Heaven” barrel pell-mell through searing riffs and blast beats, while groovier tracks like “Evil Executioner” and “Nuclear Antichrist” let black metal’s punk ancestry shine through. Heavy metal influences a la Judas Priest can be found injected into tracks like “Sacrifice This Bitch” and “M.C.C.I.” While nothing about Lead Injector’s sound is particularly new, I’m not sure that’s a bad thing. This debut is a unique and retro spin on a tried-and-true formula that bodes well for a young band. Witching Attack is a killer time that Ash Williams would gladly spin while boomsticking Deadites alongside Lord Arthur’s army.

Record(s) o’ the Month – August 2025

By Angry Metal Guy

I said last month (well, last week, but who’s counting) that everything had been leading to that point. That’s true, because I was so stoked to make Calva Louise the Record o’ the Month for July in a somewhat relevant fashion that I did a mad dash to get that out before they were off to their tour in the USA. And then I was left there, feeling empty. I had worked so hard. I had come so far. But in the end, I wondered if it really even mattered.1 In my malaise, I turned to August releases. And realized something: «No, Doctor Metalero Enojado», me dije, «aún no todo está perdido. Ahora puedes subir el/los Disco(s) del Mes a tiempo. Y así les cierras la boca a todos esos progres llorones de los comentarios para que sepan quién manda.»2 Said differently…

WE DID IT! WE’RE #1! WE’RE #1! USA! USA! USA! USA! BOOORTLES!!!

Angry Metal Guy didn’t yet exist when I got into In Mourning. In 2008, I got caught in the hype machine for a little record called Shrouded Divine. Following its release in 2008, the band went through a period when it felt like they were still establishing an identity, but in recent years, In Mourning has been on a low-key tear. While both 2019’s Garden of Storms and 2021’s The Bleeding Veil were very good records, In Mourning has outdone themselves on The Immortal [Bandcamp], which was released August 29th, 2025, from Supreme Chaos Records. Without mincing words, The Immortal is clearly the band’s best record since its debut, and I would submit that it’s the best melodeath record since Insomnium’s Winter’s Gate.

When faced with an exceptional record, it can sometimes be difficult to explain exactly why it’s exceptional.3 The melodies are beautiful and rich, hitting you right in the feels whether carried by voice (“Silver Crescent”) or on trem-picked guitars (“As Long as the Twilight Stays”). The riffs are punishing with a good balance of chug (“The Sojourner”) and trem (“Staghorn”), resulting in something that alternates between death and black in feel, if not in orthodoxy. These slight evolutions of sound help to keep In Mourning’s approach fresh, but it’s here that the dark matter of composition can be deduced, but not directly observed. None of this is totally novel in the band’s sound. But sometimes shit just works. There’s a lot of work that goes into writing. And no matter how good you are, not every minor key melody you write is going to be a tear-jerker, not every chunky riff is going to be quite as hooky or head-bangable as others, not every closer is going to be a Song o’ the Year candidate like “The Hounding”. But sometimes, you just keep rolling natural 20s.

The Immortal feels like one of those records blessed by the Metal Gods. Things that aren’t so different from what has gone before, but it all just hits a little harder. This makes The Immortal unquestionably one of the best records released in 2025, and everyone around here agrees with Kenstrosity’s eminently reasonable—arguably even understated—take that “with The Immortal, In Mourning further solidifies its status as an elite act in the melodeath pantheon.” The Immortal is on par with the best records in the genre,4 and “you owe it to yourself to hear it.” I think he underrated it.

Runner(s) Up:

Blackbraid // Blackbraid III [August 8th, 2025 | Self-release | Bandcamp] — Black metal is not an easy genre to make vital in the Year of Angry Metal Overlord 2025. But Blackbraid has a sound that feels vital. There’s a no bullshit intensity that Sgah’gahsowáh brings with III’s blast beats, croaks, and the trem-picked wall of sound that brings me back to falling in love with Emperor. Like the very best black metal, however, Blackbraid is not afraid of dropping into groove and synchronized-guitar-swing-friendly riffing that makes the blasts hit harder. There’s also something undeniably slick about Blackbraid. Digging through the potential standout albums from August, I kept coming back to III, because it gives me the things that I love about black metal: the intensity, the feel, the Ulveresque atmosphere without the obvious plagiarism. And it accomplishes this while avoiding the traps of so many modern black metal bands. As Doom_et_al so aptly summed it up: “Blackbraid III is everything a fan of either the band or this style of music could want. Like the land that inspires it, it is infused with violence and beauty and complexity. But it’s the ability to combine these disparate concepts with epic scope and intense vulnerability that sets it apart.” Say what you will, Blackbraid III is a real accomplishment.

Farseer // Portals to Cosmic Womb [August 22nd 2025 | Self-release | Bandcamp] — Farseer has its roots in stoner and sludge, and my eyes just shut of their own accord while I wrote that. So, it should come as no surprise to you that a self-released stoner/sludge release didn’t exactly jump off the page at me when reading about it. But thanks to some fine writing by Tyme and a well-placed bundle of cash in my freezer, I gave Portals to Cosmic Womb another listen. And another listen. And another listen. Turns out, these cats have some riffs in them. When their soupy riffs hit, they hit with the kind of splat that kills. Portals to Cosmic Womb has a drive that adds life to the thick guitar sound and the not-particularly-complex riffs, and for 39 minutes, it holds the listener in its grip without breaking a sweat. Our very own Tyme waxed poetic about Portals to Cosmic Womb, writing, “Farseer basting in their creative juices over the past six years has resulted in a vastly improved product, as Portals to Cosmic Womb shatters any notions of a sophomore slump. As if constructed from a blueprint of Opethic design, Farseer crafted Portals to Cosmic Womb with a near effortless flow. Its six songs—spanning a very manageable forty minutes—find Farseer merging the best parts of meandering instrumentals into rock-solid compositions that, like spring and neap tides, rise and fall with dramatic intensity.” Yeah, he’s saying it’s really good, y’all. Keep up!

Anchorite // Realm of Ruin [August 1st, 2025 | Personal Records | Bandcamp] — Anchorite is one of those bands that I shouldn’t be expected to like. The blues-infused doom roots here are strong, and yet, Realm of Ruin makes a surprisingly convincing case for itself. As is often the case when working with doom metal, the vocalist tends to drive whether a band is good or bad. In this case, Leo Stivala does a great job of balancing the aesthetics of Metal Voice™ and actually being able to sing with power. He’s got a pretty keen sense for melody, and his performance stands out. With that in place, Anchorite’s riffmeisters get to work writing a solid post-Candlemass doom that hits a place in my sadboi soul when I listen to it. And yet, part of what makes Realm of Ruin work is that it’s also surprisingly immediate at times. There’s a vibe like US power metal or thrash metal that suffuses the whole album, and with its unique production—that snare drum actually feels punchy, guys, so that’s weird—and its idiosyncratic songwriting, it all starts to feel special. Serial overrater and all-around softy Steely D put it like this: “Realm of Ruin is one of those albums you enjoy on the first go-through, and with each spin, it reveals more of itself until you’re fully submerged in the band’s craftwork. Anchorite has writing chops, and Realm of Ruin is an immersive stroll through the ruins with moments of genuine brilliance and grandeur.” So, there’s that.

#2025 #Anchorite #Aug25 #Blackbraid #BlackbraidIII #BlogPosts #Farseer #GardenOfStorms #InMourning #Insomnium #PortalsToCosmicWomb #RealmOfRuin #RecordOTheMonth #RecordSOTheMonth #RecordsOfTheMonth #TheBleedingVeil #TheImmortal #WinterSGate

In Mourning – The Immortal Review

By Kenstrosity

Swedish sadboi staples In Mourning have had quite the journey over the 25 years since their founding. From the early days of doom-laden, gothic-tinged pall to the current era of dramatic, crooning melodic death, In Mourning’s trajectory arcs over one of the more unsung careers in a world filled with Insomniums, Be’lakors, and Omnium Gatherums. Yet, theirs is the one that stuck with me. I witnessed the majesty of Monolith as a breakout high-water mark, the uncertainty of transitional records like Afterglow, and the resurgence of Garden of Storms followed by an absolute triumph in The Bleeding Veil. And through it all, In Mourning always delivered material of rich depth, considerable nuance, and highly developed songwriting. Their seventh, The Immortal, is no exception.

Immediately identifiable as an In Mourning special, The Immortal sees these Swedes expanding and elevating their repertoire of sound and style further than ever, but still grounding themselves in the chunky riffs, multifaceted vocals, and soaring melodies I’ve come to expect. Integrating a mild proggy slant that reminds of The Meaning of I-era Voyager (“Song of the Cranes,” “The Sojourner”); scorching the flesh with second-wave black metal melodies that recall …and Oceans and Mare Cognitum (“Staghorn” and “The Hounding,” respectively); and utilizing a wide gamut of rhythms and percussive patterns pulling from all over the metallic spectrum1 mark a few key ways In Mourning play with this more varied palette, and to great effect. Pulling it all together, The Immortal’s crisp and clear mix showcases every performance, spotlights each vibrant tone and stimulating texture, and deftly balances soft ruminations against ferocious outbursts.

To my great delight, In Mourning’s best compositions here are those which challenge what I expect to experience. In particular, “As Long as the Twilight Stays” and “Staghorn” elicit intense frisson in my system as I cycle through each spin. In the former’s case, it is the chorus’ tremolo melody tumbling to the foreground from a wonderfully smooth percussive fill that lights up my skin. In the latter, the shock of an aggressive old-school black metal riff surprises me with a most enticing burst of velocity. Yet, each song offers much more than just a single moment of radiating pleasure. Smartly written, honed compositions like those aforementioned highlights writhe between shapes and styles in such a way as to create excitement and intrigue at every turn. Other contenders like “Silver Crescent,” “The Sojourner,” and “North Star” offer reminders of what In Mourning always excelled at, balancing syncopated riffs with weeping guitar melodies and clean vocals that evoke a synesthetic vision of sepia-toned fields of wheat brushing against a gentle breeze. More importantly, though, the effectiveness of these cuts illuminates how successfully closer “The Hounding” compiles all of In Mourning’s strengths, both proven and newfound, into a shimmering tearjerker that demands my rapt attention.

At a tight 47 minutes, The Immortal flies by with an effortless grace, leaving very little opportunity for me to capture and identify negatives. With persistence, however, I started noticing that gentle quasi-ballad quasi-interlude “Moonless Sky” is the only number that leaves my memory all too quickly. It’s gorgeous, just like everything The Immortal exhibits, but simply lacks staying power. In a similar vein, I call into question the function of opening intro “The Immortal.” It’s so short and blends so seamlessly into first track proper, “Silver Crescent,” that I wonder why the two aren’t merged into one. To reach for another nit to pick, “Song of the Cranes,” while a rock-solid song on its own, does feel less inspired and more in line with the majority of In Mourning’s existing catalog than its neighbors. It’s not so stark an outlier that it feels out of place in the tracklist. Rather, it simply feels a touch weaker by comparison.

With The Immortal, In Mourning further solidify their status as an elite act in the melodeath pantheon. It is well known to the readers and writers here that they have become my personal favorite in this particular subset, but I was still pleasantly surprised. A modest, but notable departure from their usual approach, and still unquestionably rooted in their established identity, The Immortal is on par with In Mourning’s best work. You owe it to yourselves to hear it.

Rating: Great!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Supreme Chaos Records
Websites: inmourning.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/inmourningband
Releases Worldwide: August 29th, 2025

#AndOceans #2025 #40 #Aug25 #BeLakor #InMourning #Insomnium #MareCognitum #MelodicBlackMetal #MelodicDeathMetal #OmniumGatherum #ProgressiveDeathMetal #Review #Reviews #SupremeChaosRecords #SwedishMetal #TheImmortal #Voyager

Blazing Eternity – A Certain End of Everything [Things You Might Have Missed 2024]

By Steel Druhm

In a year where I excessively obsessed over low-IQ, unevolved death metal, a few special albums shook me from my brutish ape froth and made me appreciate beauty and melancholy. Counting Hours did it, and this little unsung gem from Denmark did it too. Blazing Eternity saw a pair of releases in the early aughts and then vanished into the ether. They reformed in 2024 and dropped an album very different from the alt-goth-rock heard on 2003s A World to Drown In. Instead, A Certain End of Everything follows in the exact footsteps of my much beloved Rapture, very early Katatonia, and Slumber, with bits of Insomnium and Enshine sprinkled over the frosted tear flakes. In the process, Blazing Eternity finds a sound sure to hit the sadboi heartstrings and bring you the gift of unhappiness just in time for the holidays.

Though hardly offering a new take on the style, these Danes know how to wring all the misery juice from it for maximum heartache. Opener “One Thousand Lights” is over 7 minutes but every second is steeped in such exquisite morositude that you’ll wish it was longer. It captures everything I loved about Rapture and currently love about Counting Hours and it’s in the running for my Song o’ the Year. The weeping, trilling leads, the harsh but downcast vocals, the forlorn noodling, it’s all so glorious! It reminds me of “A Tear From a Beast” from Autumnal’s 2014 opus and that’s very high praise. The title track is equally grand and sullen, doomy and full of icy emptiness. Depressing guitar work seeps grief into your bone marrow and there’s no joy in this void of despondency. The chorus will stick in your soul and form a lasting sorrow reservoir. Fun stuff, right?

One could argue the album is one-note and that note is relentlessly grey and depressive, but that’s true of anything in this genre. There are no weak songs and there are sufficient variations in tempo and vibrancy to prevent everything from devolving into a morass of malaise. “Your Mountains Will Drown Again” has a Goth rock vibe and calls to mind the more upbeat material from Lake of Tears. Closing movement “The Bells” also spikes the energy level just enough to wake up the fast-twitch muscles while submerging you in a frozen Finnish lake. Morten Lybecker is adept at crafting soul-killing leads and harmonies full of forlorn gloom and decorating them with pretty but hopeless trilling, making everything feel like it leads to a funeral. There are some truly beautiful moments captured here (I’m especially taken with the piece beginning at 4:31 in “The Bells”). Vocalist Peter Mesnickow delivers the majority of his lines in a harsh rasp quite like that of Henkka J. Villberg of Rapture which works perfectly with the material.

A Certain End of Everything is sadboi Goth metal done very well. I’ve been returning to it all year and it’s proving to be a great listen on cold, bleak winter days. Blaze of Eternity caught lightning in a frozen bottle here and you should get yourself some of these negative emotions. Only through enjoying of deep sadness can we attain true happiness.

Tracks to Check Out: “One Thousand Lights,” “A Certain End of Everything,” and “The Bells”

#2024 #ACertainEndOfEverything #BlazingEternity #CountingHours #DoomMetal #Enshine #GothicMetal #Insomnium #Katatonia #MightyMusic #Rapture #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed2024

Blazing Eternity – A Certain End of Everything [Things You Might Have Missed 2024]

By Steel Druhm

In a year where I excessively obsessed over low-IQ, unevolved death metal, a few special albums shook me from my brutish ape froth and made me appreciate beauty and melancholy. Counting Hours did it, and this little unsung gem from Denmark did it too. Blazing Eternity saw a pair of releases in the early aughts and then vanished into the ether. They reformed in 2024 and dropped an album very different from the alt-goth-rock heard on 2003s A World to Drown In. Instead, A Certain End of Everything follows in the exact footsteps of my much beloved Rapture, very early Katatonia, and Slumber, with bits of Insomnium and Enshine sprinkled over the frosted tear flakes. In the process, Blazing Eternity finds a sound sure to hit the sadboi heartstrings and bring you the gift of unhappiness just in time for the holidays.

Though hardly offering a new take on the style, these Danes know how to wring all the misery juice from it for maximum heartache. Opener “One Thousand Lights” is over 7 minutes but every second is steeped in such exquisite morositude that you’ll wish it was longer. It captures everything I loved about Rapture and currently love about Counting Hours and it’s in the running for my Song o’ the Year. The weeping, trilling leads, the harsh but downcast vocals, the forlorn noodling, it’s all so glorious! It reminds me of “A Tear From a Beast” from Autumnal’s 2014 opus and that’s very high praise. The title track is equally grand and sullen, doomy and full of icy emptiness. Depressing guitar work seeps grief into your bone marrow and there’s no joy in this void of despondency. The chorus will stick in your soul and form a lasting sorrow reservoir. Fun stuff, right?

One could argue the album is one-note and that note is relentlessly grey and depressive, but that’s true of anything in this genre. There are no weak songs and there are sufficient variations in tempo and vibrancy to prevent everything from devolving into a morass of malaise. “Your Mountains Will Drown Again” has a Goth rock vibe and calls to mind the more upbeat material from Lake of Tears. Closing movement “The Bells” also spikes the energy level just enough to wake up the fast-twitch muscles while submerging you in a frozen Finnish lake. Morten Lybecker is adept at crafting soul-killing leads and harmonies full of forlorn gloom and decorating them with pretty but hopeless trilling, making everything feel like it leads to a funeral. There are some truly beautiful moments captured here (I’m especially taken with the piece beginning at 4:31 in “The Bells”). Vocalist Peter Mesnickow delivers the majority of his lines in a harsh rasp quite like that of Henkka J. Villberg of Rapture which works perfectly with the material.

A Certain End of Everything is sadboi Goth metal done very well. I’ve been returning to it all year and it’s proving to be a great listen on cold, bleak winter days. Blaze of Eternity caught lightning in a frozen bottle here and you should get yourself some of these negative emotions. Only through enjoying of deep sadness can we attain true happiness.

Tracks to Check Out: “One Thousand Lights,” “A Certain End of Everything,” and “The Bells”

#2024 #ACertainEndOfEverything #BlazingEternity #CountingHours #DoomMetal #Enshine #GothicMetal #Insomnium #Katatonia #MightyMusic #Rapture #ThingsYouMightHaveMissed2024

Blazing Eternity – A Certain End of Everything [Things You Might Have Missed 2024]

By Steel Druhm

In a year where I excessively obsessed over low-IQ, unevolved death metal, a few special albums shook me from my brutish ape froth and made me appreciate beauty and melancholy. Counting Hours did it, and this little unsung gem from Denmark did it too. Blazing Eternity saw a pair of releases in the early aughts and then vanished into the ether. They reformed in 2024 and dropped an album very different from the alt-goth-rock heard on 2003s A World to Drown In. Instead, A Certain End of Everything follows in the exact footsteps of my much beloved Rapture, very early Katatonia, and Slumber, with bits of Insomnium and Enshine sprinkled over the frosted tear flakes. In the process, Blazing Eternity finds a sound sure to hit the sadboi heartstrings and bring you the gift of unhappiness just in time for the holidays.

Though hardly offering a new take on the style, these Danes know how to wring all the misery juice from it for maximum heartache. Opener “One Thousand Lights” is over 7 minutes but every second is steeped in such exquisite morositude that you’ll wish it was longer. It captures everything I loved about Rapture and currently love about Counting Hours and it’s in the running for my Song o’ the Year. The weeping, trilling leads, the harsh but downcast vocals, the forlorn noodling, it’s all so glorious! It reminds me of “A Tear From a Beast” from Autumnal’s 2014 opus and that’s very high praise. The title track is equally grand and sullen, doomy and full of icy emptiness. Depressing guitar work seeps grief into your bone marrow and there’s no joy in this void of despondency. The chorus will stick in your soul and form a lasting sorrow reservoir. Fun stuff, right?

One could argue the album is one-note and that note is relentlessly grey and depressive, but that’s true of anything in this genre. There are no weak songs and there are sufficient variations in tempo and vibrancy to prevent everything from devolving into a morass of malaise. “Your Mountains Will Drown Again” has a Goth rock vibe and calls to mind the more upbeat material from Lake of Tears. Closing movement “The Bells” also spikes the energy level just enough to wake up the fast-twitch muscles while submerging you in a frozen Finnish lake. Morten Lybecker is adept at crafting soul-killing leads and harmonies full of forlorn gloom and decorating them with pretty but hopeless trilling, making everything feel like it leads to a funeral. There are some truly beautiful moments captured here (I’m especially taken with the piece beginning at 4:31 in “The Bells”). Vocalist Peter Mesnickow delivers the majority of his lines in a harsh rasp quite like that of Henkka J. Villberg of Rapture which works perfectly with the material.

A Certain End of Everything is sadboi Goth metal done very well. I’ve been returning to it all year and it’s proving to be a great listen on cold, bleak winter days. Blaze of Eternity caught lightning in a frozen bottle here and you should get yourself some of these negative emotions. Only through enjoying of deep sadness can we attain true happiness.

Tracks to Check Out: “One Thousand Lights,” “A Certain End of Everything,” and “The Bells”

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