#jan26 — Public Fediverse posts

Finally, the new year is upon us! A fresh start for some, same shit different year for others; mainly, my minions who toil in the mines ducts of the Filter. Since they don’t get any holidays, they probably don’t even fucking know it’s 2026 yet, but that’s okay. As long as they come back to HQ with a substantial haul, their ability to know when it is is immaterial.

These are the sacrifices we (not me, though), make to ensure you get the goods relatively on time-ish. So say thank you!

Kenstrosity’s Freaky Foursome

Upiór // Forefathers’ Eve (Redemption) [January 2nd, 2026 – Self Released]

Featuring members of Gorod (Benoit Claus) and Xaoc (Kévin Paradis), Upiór pinged my radar after a certain cosmic Discordian pinged me. A blistering combination of Fleshgod Apocalypse opulence and Wachenfeldt aggression, sophomore release Forefathers’ Eve (Redemption) impressed me immediately as “The Black Paintings ripped my face right off. “A Blessing or a Curse” doubled down on speed, blasting rhythms, and eerie melodies to propel itself straight into my Song o’ the Year long-list. Even with three instrumental interludes, all of which are quite fluffy, Forefathers’ Eve (Redemption) crams pummeling riffs, exuberant percussion, and dramatic lushness into its 51-minute runtime. “Forefathers’ Eve (Part I),” a fantastic companion to Fleshgod Apocalypse’s “Cold As Perfection” without aping its features, conjures a similarly affecting character that draws me in completely. Forefathers’ Eve (Redemption)’s middle section continues to build personality and develop greater dynamics from that point, represented most clearly in melodic riffs and expressive leads/soloing (“The Woman that Weeps”). Leading into its conclusion, a tonal shift towards the dire at this junction foreshadows the imminent release of Upiór’s second act, Forefathers’ Eve (Damnation) (due in early April), charring songs like “Forefather’s Eve (Part II)” and “Between the Living and Dead” with blackened rabidity and dissonant flourishes. All of this to say, Upiór launched this latest arc with a striking blow, and I can only imagine what’s in store for Damnation.

Forefathers’ Eve (Redemption) by Upiór

KadavriK // Erde666 [January 9th, 2026 – Self Released]

Germany’s melodic death metal quintet KadavriK have been cranking out records since 2007, but I only heard about them this year, once again, thanks to Discord. Erde666, their fifth outing, takes an unorthodox and progressive approach to melodic death metal, which makes comparisons difficult to draw. Stripped down and raw in some moments, mystical and lush in others, Erde666 is all about textures. Its opening title track explores that spectrum of sounds and philosophies to its fullest, even drawing heavy influence from blues, psychedelia, and sludge at times (“Getrümmerfreund”), but it all coalesces seamlessly. Following up an opener as strong as that would be a tall order for anyone, but KadavriK are clever songwriters, and the long form served them well even compared to the more straightforward tracklists of previous installments (“Nihilist,” “Das Ende Des Anthropozäns”). Off-kilter guitar melodies countered against twinkling Kalmah synths and sweeping strings do a lot of work to elevate and liven the crushing chords of their high-impact riffs as well, which adds a ton of interest into an already unconventional melodic death record (“Widerhall”). All of this makes for a record that might not be as immediate or fast-paced as most aim for in this space, but, counterintuitively, significantly more memorable. Don’t sleep on this one, folks!

Erde 666 by KadavriK

Luminesce // Like Crushed Violets and Linen [November 20th, 2026 – Self Released]

Prolific at a scale I haven’t witnessed since Déhà, Luminesce mastermind Alice Simard, based in Québec, piqued my curiosity for the first time with Like Crushed Violets and Linen, her sophomore effort under the Luminesce moniker. Boasting machine-gun rapidity (“Exploited Monochromaticism”), off-kilter rhythms (“Silver”), and a downright romantic sense of melody (“Like Crushed Violets and Linen,” “Lamp of Fulguration”)—countered by lyrical themes ranging from guilt complexes to gender identity (“To Restore”)—Like Crushed Violets and Linen is a deeply personal record forged in a melodic technical death metal mold. And as such a record, it recalls the vicarious guitar pyrotechnics of Inferi and Obscura while securing a melodic sensibility more in line with neoclassical composition (“The Covenant of Counterfeit Stars”). Unlike many of her contemporaries, however, Alice is a master of editing. Filled with killer ideas and instrumental wizardry without involving a drop of bloat, each of these seven songs coalesce into a buttery-smooth 30-minute excursion that punches far above its feathery mass. The addition of delightful chiptune dalliances helps distinguish Luminesce further from the pack (“To Restore”), though I’m torn about how far forward they are in the mix. In fact, the mix is my main gripe, as Like Crushed Violets and Linen is muffled and a bit flat, despite boasting a much-appreciated meaty bass presence. Nonetheless, if you’re looking for an unlikely tech-death contender, Luminesce might be just what you need.

Like Crushed Violets and Linen by Luminesce

Bone Storm // Daemon Breed [January 30th, 2026 – Self Released]

As the CEO of this Filter company, I withhold the right to break the rules and include a very cool bonus fourth option, Bone Storm’s cavebrained Daemon Breed. Do you like Bolt Thrower? Yes, you do. Do you like Bear Mace? Yes, you do. By proxy, then, you already like Connecticut’s Bone Storm as they draw from the same chunky, groove-laden school of death metal. At a somewhat overachieving 50 minutes, Daemon Breed pummels the listener beneath a veritable smorgasbord of neck-breaking riffs built upon a framework of triplet grooves, swaggering syncopations, and galloping double bass assaults. Their approach is simple and unburdened by blistering speed, fiddly technicality, or atmospheric deviation, and in that way recalls the undeniable immediacy and brutal effectiveness of records like Black Royal’s Firebride. With highlights “Heaven’s End (Burn Them All),” “Plaguerider,” “Sanctimonious Morality,” and above all “Ritual Supremacy,” Bone Storm use that approach with aplomb, proving that the spirit of classic, no-frills death metal is vital and vicarious. Delightfully cogent roars and gutturals allow the most difficult deliveries (see “Daemon Breed”) to feel vicious and purposeful, while a subtle thread of melody (see “Cursed Born”) affords the record a small measure of songwriting variety to break things up just when Daemon Breed needs it most. Heavy reliance on triplets and perhaps a zealous desire to put down every idea that seems good even if it’s placed immediately adjacent to much better one (“Halo of Disease” and “Hammer of Judas” bookending “Ritual Supremacy” are tough positions to defend, as is “Wrist Slitter” next to the fun Frozen Soul-esque “Blood Priest”), hold it back from higher praise only mildly. Moral of the story? Enter the bone zone, with haste!

Daemon Breed by Bone Storm

Creeping Ivy’s Riffy Remainder

Lord Elephant // Ultra Soul [January 30th, 2026 – Heavy Psych Sounds]

Sometimes, you don’t need dynamic songwriting, harmonic density, or even a vocalist. Sometimes, all you need are riffs. Okay, and maybe some psychedelic leads to go over those riffs. Ultra Soul, the sophomore album from Italian instrumental trio Lord Elephant, delivers 48 minutes of pure, mostly unadulterated stoner-doom. In the feudal jungle of heavy riff rock, Lord Elephant pays scutage to King Buffalo, similarly forming longish compositions where simple, bluesy figures reign supreme, stretching their limbs in grassy patches. Occasionally, guitarist Leandro Gaccione, bassist Edoardo De Nardi, and drummer Tommaso Urzino lock into some lively, head-bobbing grooves (“Gigantia”). But mostly, Lord Elephant keeps things meditative, hypnotizing listeners with Earthless drones and lurches (“Smoke Tower,” “Black River Blues”). De Nardi’s bass often leads the way (“Electric Dunes”), the underwater tone of which reminds me of falling for Isis.1 Lord Elephant aren’t reinventing any wheels here; the familiarity of their bluesy riffing simply won’t interest those for whom such bluesiness is a staid marker of old-man rock. The absence of vocals, however, makes Ultra Soul work as pseudo-ambient music that can set the mood, or accompany tasks, or gateway a normie. Closer listening will reveal, though, a tight trio reveling in the rudiments of rock music—a drummer, bassist, and guitarist vibing on a riff.

Ultra Soul by Lord Elephant

Andy-War-Hall’s Salvaged Windfall

Juodvarnis // Tékmés [January 23rd, 2026 – Self Released]

Lithuania’s Juodvarnis cooked for a long six years between albums for their fourth record Tékmés. With the confidence and sharpness displayed on all levels by Juodvarnis here, that was clearly time well spent in the kitchen. Sporting a brand of progressive black metal that blends the Enslaved framework of prog-black with the epic heft and melody of Iotunn and the crushing rhythms and harsh vocals of Gojira, Tékmés is tight, lively and achieves a remarkable level of melancholic thoughtfulness without neglecting the average listener’s chronic need for riffs. Translated to “flow” from Hungarian,2 Tékmés navigates inter-song and album-wide progressions of pummeling rhythms (“Dvasios Ligos”) and slow marches (“Tamsiausias Nušvitimas”), impassioned clean vocals (“Platybės”) and razor-throated screams (“Juodos Akys”) to achieve a gradual, natural sense of advancement across its 42-minute journey. If progressive black metal that knows how to riff and can turn the reverb off 11 sounds like a good time to you, give Juodvarnis’ Tékmés a shot sometime.

Tékmés by Juodvarnis

Thus Spoke’s Obscure Offerings

Ectovoid // In Unreality’s Coffin [January 9th, 2026 – Everlasting Spew Records]

Normally, it takes copious amounts of reverb, wonkiness, melody, or turbo-dissonance for death metal to be palatable to me. Every once in a while, however, an album like Ectovoid’s In Unreality’s Coffin comes along and shows me that there is another way. The music’s stickiness has a lot to do with its boundary-straddling take on OSDM. Ostensibly, the battering, percussion, sawblade riffing, and gruff gurgling growls mark it as your everyday modern no-nonsense death metal, somewhere between Cryptopsy and Immolation. But In Unreality’s Coffin is more like tech-death, disso-death, and brutal-death in a trench coat than it is any one of them, or another subgenre.3 Its arpeggios can be rhythmically snappy, sometimes combined with equally sharp vocal delivery (“Intrusive Illusions (Echoes from a Distant Plane)”), but more often than not channel a churning chaos that resists punchiness for a darker unease I find addictive (“Collapsing Spiritual Nebula,” “Erroneous Birth”). The music is constantly speeding up or slowing down, churning guitars collapsing with slides (“Dissonance Corporeum”) or pitching upwards in squeals (“In Anguished Levitation”), or evolving into mania as screams and growls fragment and layer (“Formless Seeking Form”). Rather than being exhausting, it’s exhilarating, with expertly-timed releases of diabolically echoing melody (“Collapsing Spiritual Nebula”) or a new groove to latch onto (“In Unreality’s Coffin”) coming to keep you afloat. Ectovoid keep you guessing without actually really pushing the boundaries, making In Unreality’s Coffin both a lot of fun and straightforwardly br00tal enough to sustain a savage workout; or just a really intense 45 minutes.

In Unreality’s Coffin by Ectovoid

Exxûl // Sealed into None [January 15th, 2026 – Productions TSO]

Phil Tougas has had an impressive start to the year. Before Worm’s Necropalace this February, came Sealed into None, the debut by Exxûl—a genre-blending, kinda blackened epic-power-doom-heavy-metal group also comprising several of Phil’s Atramentus band-mates. Several people brought up this album in the comments on my Worm review, often to the tune of “Exxûl better,” and while I respectfully disagree on the quality ranking of the two, I can’t deny how fabulous Sealed into None is. Here again are genres of music I’m usually unable to connect with—in this instance, power and classical heavy metal—but shaped in a way that opens my eyes and ears. Yes, the high-pitched wail style of singing first took me a little off-guard when they first arose on “Blighted Deity,” and they offend my usual tastes. But they are impressive, and work in a way I thought only harsh vocals could when following the trajectory of distorted keys and guitar (“Walls of Endless Darkness”), or shouting into an atmospheric abyss (“The Screaming Tower”). Oh, and of course, the overall vibe of magnificent, melodramatic blackened doom that sets the scene, capped off with—predictably—phenomenal guitarwork, is just magic and enough for me to get past my knee-jerk vocal ick and love it not in spite of that, but because of what it can bring to the whole. I love the slow builds to dazzling solos (“Bells of the Exxûl through to “Blighted Deity,” “The Screaming Tower”) and the way the camper, heavy-metal sides blur into something darker (“Labyrinthine Fate”). I just love this album, to be honest.

Sealed Into None by Exxûl

ClarkKent’s Canadian Catch

Turpitude // Mordoré [January 1, 2026 – Self Released]

Since 2019, Alice Simard has been a prolific presence in Quebec’s underground metal scene. She consistently releases albums for several different projects, from the ambient atmoblack of Coffret de Bijoux to the tech death of Luminesce (also uncovered in this month’s Filter by our Sponge Fren). Mordoré, the fourth full-length for Turpitude, thrives on its riffs and carries a cheerful energy reminiscent of the carefree raw black metal of Grime Stone Records stalwarts Wizard Keep and Old Nick. Yet Simard opts for traditional instruments, no synths, though production choices make the drumsticks sound as if they’re banging against blocks of wood, give the guitars a lofi reverb, and cause Simard’s voice to fade into the background in a cavernous growl. The riffs are the real star, with some terrifically catchy melodic leads and trems throughout (“La Traverse Mordorée,” “Aller de L’avant”). This combination of riffs, a raw sound, and often upbeat tunes draws comparison to Trhä and To Escape. While Mordoré keeps a mostly cheery tone, Turpitude’s no one-trick pony. There’s a tinge of the melancholic on the moody, atmospheric “Peintra,” as well as a successful stab at covering a non-metal song a lá Spider God on “Washing Machine Heart.”4 This is a worthwhile endeavor for those who like their black metal raw and energetic.

Mordoré by Turpitude

Grin Reaper’s Heavy Haul

Valiant Sentinel // Neverealm [January 16th, 2026 – Theogonia Records]

Greek heavy metal heroes Valiant Sentinel dropped their sophomore platter Neverealm back in mid-January, unleashing forty-six minutes that reek of high fantasy. Galloping riffs, driving drums, and vocal harmonies aplenty supply a cinematic adventure that basks in fun. While the pacing of Neverealm mainly operates in high-energy bombast, Valiant Sentinel smartly weaves in mid-paced might, evidenced by how the controlled assault of “Mirkwood Forest” provides a breather after opening chest-thumpers “War in Heaven” and “Neverealm.” Acoustic pieces “To Mend the Ring” and “Come What May” further diversify Neverealm’s heavy metal holdings, and while I’m usually keener on more aggressive numbers, these two tracks comprise some of my favorite moments on the album.5 Mostly, Valiant Sentinel summons comparisons to Germany’s heavy/power scene—chief among them Blind Guardian—going so far as to bring in BG drummer extraordinaire Frederik Ehmke. I also catch fleeting glimpses of Brainstorm and Mystic Prophecy in Valiant Sentinel’s DNA, though guitarist and composer Dimitris Skodras does a commendable job carving out a distinct identity for the band. Featuring skilled performances across the board and guest spots from Burning Witches’ Laura Guldemond (“Neverealm”) and Savatage’s Zak Stevens (“Arch Nemesis”), Valiant Sentinel packs loads of drama into a streamlined package. So what are you waiting for? Go grab your polyhedrals and a Spelljammer, and set sail for Neverealm.

Neverealm by Valiant Sentinel

Fili Bibiano’s Fortress // Death Is Your Master [January 30th, 2026 – High Roller Records]

Does Shredphobia keep you away from metal? Does the sultry siren call of licks, riffs, and chugs make you break into a cold sweat? If so, I strongly urge you to stay away from Fortress’ sophomore album, Death Is Your Master. Channeling Tony Martin-era Black Sabbath and 80s Judas Priest, Fortress drops six-string shenanigans that’ll get your booty shaking and the floor quaking, offering a romping retro slab that goes down slow ‘n’ easy. The overt classic 80s heavy metal worship on tracks “Flesh and Dagger” and “Night City” delivers riff after riff recalling the glory days, giving Fortress an authenticity that expands what could have otherwise been a one-dimensional LP. Guitarist Fili Bibiano sizzles with axe-slinging abandon, occasionally conjuring the neoclassical debauchery of Yngwie (“Savage Sword,” “Maze”). Still, it’s not all about the guitar, and drummer Joey Mancaruso and vocalist Juan Aguila nail their contributions as Fortress wends their way through a trim thirty-four minutes. On a guitar-forward album featuring slick songwriting and singalong jams, Death Is Your Master bumps, dives, and wails in a slow-burn frenzy of classic heavy goodness. Dig in!

Death Is Your Master by Fili Bibiano’s Fortress

Baguette’s Brutal Burglary

Skulld // Abyss Calls to Abyss [January 23rd, 2026 – Time to Kill Records]

While last year was alright for death metal and notably starred Dormant Ordeal, I felt it was lacking in quantity of impressive releases for said cornerstone of the metal underground. Fortunately, Italian group Skulld is here to start off the year with a bang! Abyss Calls to Abyss takes Bolt Thrower’s tank-rolling grooves (“Mother Death”) and Dismember’s melodic buzzsaw action (“Wear the Night as a Velvet Cloak”) and adds in some crust punk influence as extra seasoning (“Le Diable and the Snake”). It feels like they’ve taken some influence from both Finnish and Swedish varieties of death metal as well, and I’m here for it! The band is fluent in switching things up at the drop of a hat without sacrificing energy or cohesion. “Mother Death” and “Drops of Sorrow” go from heavy, dissonant chords to big lead guitar melodies, which in turn lead to a chunky and punky death metal groove that’s bound to get your head moving. Teo’s drumming controls the mood in excellent fashion, adding fast blast beats or slow-pummelling stomps when called for. The vicious, varied growls of Pam further cement the violence contained within and add to the album’s attitude. At a brief 34 minutes spread over eight songs, it wastes no time going for your throat in a multitude of ways. Get this album into your skull or get Skulld!

Abyss Call To Abyss by Skulld

Total Annihilation // Mountains of Madness [January 16th, 2026 – Testimony Records]

What would happen if you took Vader, Slayer and Sodom and threw them in a big ol’ manic death/thrash blender? The answer is Mountains of Madness! While Swiss Total Annihilation’s earliest works were more in line with classic ’80s thrash metal, they have increasingly moved towards more aggressive and relentless pastures, and their songwriting is all the better for it. Fourth album Mountains of Madness channels records like Vader’s Litany and Sodom’s Tapping the Vein in particular (“The Art of Torture,” “Age of Mental Suicide”), taking advantage of a relentless, drum-forward groove and a furious vocal performance. The album’s dual guitar attack weaves together thrashier tunes with parts that reach straight up Swedeath territory, be it melodic or not. In addition, tracks like “Mountains of Madness” and “Choose the Day” throw some melodic thrash akin to Sodom’s self-titled album into the mix for that extra bit of variety and replay value. Mountains of Madness isn’t afraid to slow things down with a satisfying lead riff, but most of Mountains of Madness is at a respectful lightning-fast pace, as thrash should. Another brief but powerful addition to the January pile ov skulls!

Mountains Of Madness by Total Annihilation

Polaris Experience // Drifting Through Voids [January 2nd, 2026 – Distant Comet Entertainment]

On the earliest days of the year, Japan delivered an awesome surprise drop of death metal-influenced progressive thrash! Polaris Experience features various Cynical riffs (“Interplanetary Funambulist,” “Bathyscapes”) while sporting a similarly old-school guitar tone throughout. Being progressive thrash, the main focus is naturally on the oh-so-sweet instrumentation that balances melody and groove seamlessly. The instrumental “Parvati” alone highlights how tight everything is, from the snappy drumming to the bouncy bass work. Most importantly, the music is catchy and memorable despite its relative complexity and lack of brevity. Additionally, Drifting Through Voids uses vocals sparingly but in all the right ways, complementing its technicalities with a traditional thrashy, harsh bark. The fact that it’s a two-man project and a debut makes it all the more impressive. Fans of similar recent progressive and technical shenanigans like Species should take notes post-haste. Considering we’ve already had this and Cryptic Shift this early in the year, and how prog/tech thrash is usually only allowed one or two notable albums per year, we could be in for a banner year for the subgenre. It also marks the first time in ages that a Japanese album has genuinely good production. Welcome to the new millennium!

Drifting Through Voids by Polaris Experience

@oscarjiminy
it’s a well made point.

at the same time, i can imagine the people conservatives are reaching

the truly lovely man who does our cleaning once a fortnight, (not govt funded) is a “new australian” with an almost desperately positive attitude to australia
and fair enough… he came here as a teen, just before there was a coup back home.

once again, this australia day, he and his wife dressed their young boys up in green and gold, and headed into the city to “celebrate”
and, as much as he appreciates “freedom of speech”, he felt the invasion day demonstration and the attempts to stir up trouble had ruined his family;’s big day out.

as much as i’d love people to just see the world the way i see it, that’s not going to happen. i get it, and i understand where he is coming from.

but the conservative decision makers in government are the ones ruining the day, imo. they don’t really give a shit about letting people celebrate australia at all, or they would simply change the date. there would be more “socially cohesive” messaging and formal celebrations on the day of celebration.
it’s a wedge issue, thanks to howard. who sort of criminalised unhappiness about Indigenous disadvantage, using the date as an excuse.

he has a classic white superiority complex. the unspoken, core belief is “They” [Indigenous people] owe us everything. where’s the gratitude?

The Australian Aborigines’ Conference first had a day of mourning in 26 Jan in 1938, long before australia day was fixed for jan 26.

“We” have taken so much from Indigenous people, but feel they can’t have anything, not even a date, unless it is bestowed by “us”

uncomfortable with change, my aunt fanny

#auspol #Jan26 #ComfortZones #Howard

Something must be in the water over in Poland, because the country churns out quality death metal like few others. The phrase ‘Polish death metal’ always grabs my attention, whether it’s technical like early Decapitated, thrashy à la Vader, or as blackened as Behemoth. Such was the case when I espied Shine’s Wrathcult lying unclaimed in the promo bin. The invention of guitarist Tomasz Dobrzeniecki (ex-Hazael), Shine unleashes a Polished debut of blackened death, eliciting prompt comparisons to compatriots Hate and Behemoth. While both provide apt reference points, there’s an acerbic tunefulness that evokes At the Gates and Old Man’s Child, as well. Given the glamor of these benchmarks, does Wrathcult let a light Shine down on Poland’s latest blackened death metal opus?

If you give me a word to sum up Polish metal, I’ll say ‘conviction,’ which Wrathcult oozes with calculated rabidity. Whether brandishing steady chugs, rapid-fire trems, or slinky, groove-infested crawls, Shine feels focused and frothing with finely-tuned fire. Dobrzeniecki’s description of the music and lyrics pins the overarching inspiration of Wrathcult on pre-Christian beliefs and the arcane powers of primeval mysticism, specifically calling out the intersection of ‘Germanic, Norse, and Slavic mythology.’1 While it’s not a theme I would’ve divined on my own, this context adds helpful color once Shine shows me where to look. In particular, the clean singing (“The Lamb Against the Wolf”) and chanting (“The Horror of the Night”) sprinkled throughout Wrathcult often give proceedings a ritualistic zest, culminating in one of my favorite tracks, “The Necklace with Runes.” The clean drawl at the beginning is underscored by finely crafted, deeper vocal layers, and while I’m generally unmoved by rhythmic spoken word, singer Marek Krajcer’s performance reads as a ceremonial incantation, reinforcing Wrathcult’s primordial basis.2

Wrathcult by Shine

Musically, Shine exhibits a cunning understanding of the crossroads between death metal, black metal, and melody. Besides the cleans, Krajcer projects a deathly growl that’s at once confident, scathing, and commandingly effective throughout Wrathcult. Guitarists Tomasz Dobrzeniecki and Mateusz Waśkiewicz supply equal doses of second-wave fervor and dulcet leads that are as barbed as they are captivating. Mid-album song “Oddajcie co moje” sports not only the hookiest melody of the bunch, but also contains one of the best bass grooves. Though subtle, Wojciech Gąsiorowski’s ambling bass-lines burble and thump with delightful heft, solidifying a resonant dimension on tracks “The Lamb Against the Wolf” and “Wrath of the Hammer.” With the high caliber of musicianship featuring on strings, an anemic drum performance could dull the entire showing. Thankfully, Paweł Duda seizes the opportunity with gusto, lashing his kit with precision strikes. Overall, Shine lays me on the ground with meaty, well-executed performances that belie Wrathcult’s debut status.

While many moments on Wrathcult fly me in the sky, a few aspects creep in and dim the power of Shine’s light. The production bolsters strong performances across the album, allowing proper room for each instrument to gleam—especially the bass. The forty-six-minute runtime keeps Wrathcult digestible, although riff repetition presents an opportunity to trim thirty-to-sixty seconds from several tracks for a tighter experience. And while Shine serves up several great jams on Wrathcult, a few weaker cuts create dips between the peaks of its strongest material. To be clear, there are no bad or inessential songs that I skip,3 but I do find myself waiting out some moments to get to better ones. Still, there’s variety in the songwriting that keeps affairs engaging and blood pumping through Shine’s blackened heart.

Shine’s Wrathcult should garner its fair share of devotees, living up to the high expectations of Polish blackened death. It’s taken many spins to unlock Wrathcult’s otherworldly secrets, and I’m of a mind that there are even more treasures to unearth. Anyone looking for melodious fury and a band with possibilities on the horizon should be paying attention. When I snatched Shine’s debut, I asked myself, ‘What will I find? Will love be there?’ While I can’t guarantee the same results for you, my answer is a resounding, ‘Yeah.’

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Descent Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

Michael Dorn has appeared on screen in more episodes of Star Trek than anyone else.1 His character, the mighty Klingon warrior, Captain2 Worf is known to greatly enjoy gagh, a traditional Klingon delicacy comprised of live, wriggling serpent worms. It’s fucking gross. It’s also the first thing I thought of when I saw the album art for Gorrch’s sophomore effort, Stillamentum. Founded in 2010 and hailing from Cavaso del Tomba in northeastern Italy, Gorrch is the unsettling black metal project of fraternal duo, Chrimsicrin and Droich. Now, a decade after 2015 debut Nera estasi, Gorrch plumbs the depths of the abyss, seeking to give voice to the primal fear and disgust of being covered in roiling, writhing masses of maggots.

Standard black metal isn’t dark enough for Gorrch. Stillamentum is about horror and dread. Opener “Nimbus” wastes no time burying you alive in a cramped wooden box. Guitars like clamoring bells ring with sanity-threatening dissonance while pummeling blast beats quickly deplete your limited oxygen. Droich viciously saws at palm-muted strings like the erratic, terrifying sprints of cockroaches exploring what’s in the box (you). A lull at the midpoint ushers in a spiraling riff, rising like your gorge in mortal terror. Heretical Gregorian chanting reveals your captors as zealots, and all hope of seeing the sun again dies. Deranged prayers ripped from Chrimsicrin’s throat (“Vorago,” “Angor”), metallic tones like snapping wires (“Vorago,” “Larvæ”), and ritualistic percussion (“Phlegma”) keep you locked in this waking nightmare. The blasphemous love child of Gaerea and Imperial Triumphant, Stillamentum is cacophonous, claustrophobic, and rapturously disturbed.

Stillamentum by Gorrch

Developing and fostering atmosphere through repetition is a common trope in black metal. Stillamentum is no exception, but Gorrch’s approach makes the assessment thereof a bit of a challenge. Each track begins with strong, fast riffs, either searing or psychotic, drawing me in and demanding my attention. Somewhere in the middle third, however, long passages featuring markedly less instrumental variation take over and guide the song to its conclusion. The result is two or three minutes of relatively repetitive instrumentals per track. This was not an issue while running errands or gaming or otherwise spinning Stillamentum in the background—and was in fact a boon—as I enjoyed basking in the consistent atmosphere, but on focused listens, these stretched sections can stall the furious momentum gained earlier in each song.

This same critique can be found mirrored in the structure of Stillamentum as a whole. The front half—“Nimbus,” “Vorago,” and “Larvæ”—as well as closer “Phlegma,” evoke a singular and impressive sense of fear. “Cryptæ” and “Angor,” however, feel less inspired, giving the album’s quality a parabolic shape. They’re not bad songs by any means; there are parts of each I particularly enjoyed. I loved the tempo shift at the midpoint of “Angor” and the clanging, descending riffs in “Cryptæ,” and the synergy between the ritual chanting and Chrimsicrin’s drum work on both tracks is very effective. Even so, they seem closer to boilerplate black metal than the rest of Stillamentum, their teeth notably blunter in comparison. As on the level of individual tracks, this structure works well in the background, but under scrutiny, it highlights opportunities for Gorrch to improve their pacing and direction.

Gorrch shines brightest at their darkest and most unsafe. On Stillamentum, theirs is an abyssal darkness, drenched in formicative3 horror and clothed in perverse piety. At their most oppressive, Gorrch is exactly my kind of black metal: suffocating, malicious, dissonant, and maybe a little blasphemous. Were I grading based on highlights alone, Stillamentum would score much higher. Alas, those peaks are saddled with overlong atmospheric passages, a slight overuse of chanting vocals, and mildly inconsistent quality. If Gorrch can distill their strengths from Stillamentum and hone them to delve even deeper into the void, they’ll unearth something truly unspeakable.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Avantgarde Music
Websites: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

Becoming a fully-fledged metalhead is when you stop associating German metal with Rammstein and start with Teutonic thrash.1 There’s something about Germany that just makes thrash metal meaner, dirtier, and nastier than anywhere else, and without Teutonic thrash, extreme metal would likely look very different from where it is today. Knowing and loving this heritage, Germany’s own Teutonic Slaughter throws their feather-capped hat into the ring with their third album, Cheap Food, brandishing both a ridiculous album cover and a conviction to maintain the glory of old school Teutonic thrash metal. But it can be a challenge staying firmly rooted in the past while sounding vital in the present. Can Teutonic Slaughter make the cut with Cheap Food, or will this record go down hard like dry currywurst?

A lot of bands aren’t good judges of their own sound, but Teutonic Slaughter deliver what’s on the tin with Cheap Food: no-nonsense German thrash built to bash your bratwurst in forthwith. Teutonic Slaughter riffs without restraint or mercy, drawing from the melodic but near-death metal aggressiveness of Kreator (“Redistribution,” “Hostage”) as vocalist Phillip Krisch rasps and growls with the volatility of Sodom’s Angelripper and the band tears through tracks in reckless, Tankardesque good-times-lovin’ fashion (“Witches Rock ‘n’ Roll,” “Give em Hell”). Krisch and Jan Heinen’s guitars are hefty and lacerated on Cheap Food, bolstered by drummer Christian Vollmer’s thunderous kicks and an even heftier bass presence from Fabian Kellermann. The power chord rules on Cheap Food, but Teutonic Slaughter mix it up whenever necessary, like on the twisty leads of “Cheap Food,” the arpeggios kicking off “Redistribution” or the harmonics-laden chorus of “Witches Rock ‘n’ Roll.” Teutonic Slaughter promised nothing but good, archetypal German thrash and Cheap Food has that in spades.

But more impressively, Cheap Food also delivers in hashing out good thrash to the masses by means of lean songwriting, blistering energy and vicious vocals. Though songs frequent the thrash iffy-zone of five-plus-minutes, Teutonic Slaughter serve riffs and ideas economically, letting nothing wear out and keeping energy squarely at eleven. Besides the back end of “Eviscerating Surgery” and the dead minute-and-a-half of “Intro,”2 Cheap Food is spry at 36 minutes and flies by in a head-banging haze. Teutonic Slaughter sound one volt from exploding on Cheap Food, baring teeth on “Redistribution” and “Fight the Reaper” with crossover levels of hardcore intensity reminiscent of Municipal Waste.3 Personally, I think it’s Krisch’s animal-like mic job that gives Cheap Food its meanest bite, lathering songs with deathly howls (“Eviscerating Surgery”), blackened roars (“Witches Rock ‘n’ Roll”), hardcore gang shouts (“Hostage”), and just some of the gnarliest barks and shouts this side of Sodom. Gnarly vocals on top of fatless, relentlessly aggressive songs is foam crowning Cheap Food’s beer stein, and brother, it’s flowing over.

Teutonic Slaughter made a simply fun album. You’re not getting any radical surprises out of Cheap Food, and that’s by design. Instead, Teutonic Slaughter delight through expert performances of well-trodden thrash staples. Heinen provides the dive-happy, shredful soloing you expect and demand from the genre, leaving everything he has on closer “Give ’em Hell” in a no-holds-bar display of guitar belligerence. Thematically, when not dealing in societal or political issues (“Cheap Food,” “Redistribution”), Teutonic Slaughter revel in the schlocky macabre (“Witches Rock ‘n’ Roll,” “Eviscerating Surgery”) and fist-pumping motivation (“Fight the Reaper,” “Give em Hell”). It’s not meant to be complicated. Teutonic Slaughter aimed to pound your brain to spätzle with Cheap Food, and if you give it a spin, they’ll have succeeded handily.

Worthy of their countrymates’ thrash legacies, Teutonic Slaughter produced an incredibly enjoyable album in Cheap Food. Riffing heavy, fast, and without stop, it’s a record that’s here for good times and for making good times. Perhaps it gets a bit played out by the end, repeating a short list of moves for half-an-hour, but Cheap Food proved to be a surprisingly compelling listen that only further endeared itself to me with every listen. Obviously, if you like thrash, I’m going to recommend you give Cheap Food a spin. If not, don’t let the door hit your lederhosen on the way out. Mahlzeit!



Rating: Very Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Iron Shield Records
Websites: facebook.com/teutonicslaughter | teutonicslaughter.bigcartel.com
Available Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

Motivation can be a tricky thing. Take me, for instance—it’s my first review of 2026, and I’m already starting it later in the month than I meant to. For me, motivation has been a bit lacking. Now look at the subject of my first review, Der Brauch (“The Need”) from German progressive metal act The Hirsch Effekt. This is their seventh full-length release in sixteen years of existence, a commendable testament to motivation, at the very least. And while putting pen to paper (figuratively) can be a hard thing to do, I love writing about a motivated group. Though I hadn’t heard of The Hirsch Effekt before this year, I was eager to explore their unique take on progressive metal.

And progressive it is! Though perhaps the band would disagree with me—they describe their sound as being “rooted in Postpunk, Postrock, Artcore, Progressive Metal, Pop and classical music.” It’s an interesting blend with a couple of notable outliers, but frankly, that’s how I like my music. Lead vocalist and guitarist Nils Wittrock’s style could fit fairly well in most of those styles, a clean, somber croon with a hardcore edge—or vice versa, depending on the song. Bassist Ilja John Lappin lends his cello to proceedings, giving Der Brauch a symphonic, classical side that softens its otherwise loud approach. This, in turn, forces drummer Moritz Schmidt to be something of a chameleon, adapting to each of the aforementioned styles as songs demand. The result is a loud, hardcore-ish sound rooted in progressive metal that is nevertheless “nice” to listen to.

Der Brauch by The Hirsch Effekt

…or so it may appear at first glance. Truer is that Der Brauch is very much a multifaceted album and The Hirsch Effekt have a lot of tricks up their sleeves. Songs like “Das Seil” lean into their art/classical stylings, with lengthy, complex guitar noodling and cello support. It builds to a dramatic metal flourish and demonstrates much skill from each musician. Elsewhere, “Der Doppelgägner” features notably more intense guitar work, leaning towards the more extreme side of progressive metal. “Die Brücke,” on the other hand, is slow and dream-like, reminding me of Dawnwalker in the way it covers a lot of ground, seemingly in no rush to do so. Lastly, “Das Nachsehen” treads symphonic metal territory, using the cello as a lead instrument and building a genuinely dramatic sound. Throughout, the three bandmates, all of them vocalists, sing, growl, and scream their way through each style as needed.

So there’s a lot happening here; The Hirsch Effekt is a dodecahedron of ideas on Der Brauch, something you may see as a strength or weakness depending on your preferences. I could argue, for example, that Der Brauch doesn’t have very strong flow as a complete album because the sound is constantly changing. You might return that the sound they cultivate is unmistakably theirs, and so it really isn’t that big a deal. For my part, I like their melodic leanings the best—the dramatic “Das Nachsehen” and surprisingly catchy “Der Brauch” in particular, with their huge choruses and passionate performances. By contrast, the longer, more wandering pieces like “Die Lüge” don’t land so well, and as a resul,t I find Der Brauch lags a little in the middle. I wouldn’t have minded if it were a bit less than its 49-minute runtime, despite the impressive array of ideas contained therein.

But all that is me. Really, The Hirsch Effekt has enough ideas and styles that it’s a hard album to put a number or description on. I’ve certainly enjoyed it, and will likely return to it after this review is published. But I think a lot of people will have varied experiences with Der Brauch (more so than the average album, I mean). It’s a fascinating listen, one that reveals more and more with every spin; strong, explorative, and motivated for sure.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Long Branch Records
Websites: thehirscheffekt.bandcamp.com | thehirscheffekt.de | facebook.com/thehirscheffekt
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

Swords and sorcery have served as metal muses since the genre’s earliest days and for the most seminal acts. Indeed, many a writer here at AMG Studios has indulged in a game or three hundred of Dungeons & Dragons, and I imagine the same can be said of our esteemed commentariat. So, on the rare occasion that dungeon synth, the correct soundtrack for all D&D games, falls into the promo sump, it’s picked up fairly quickly. Old Sorcery’s newest full-length, The Outsider, didn’t even make it that far before Mystikus Hugebeard and I had a Canadian standoff about coverage and settled on this appropriately lengthy double review.

Old Sorcery is the dungeon synth project of Lahti, Finland-based multi-instrumentalist Vechi Vrăjitor.1 The Outsider sees Vrăjitor continuing the “Masks of the Magi” trilogy that began with 2025’s delightful and exploratory The Escapist. Small excursions from Old Sorcery’s core sound yielded great results, incorporating sweeping cinematic textures and classical instrumentation. That adventurous spirit lives on here, but The Outsider ranges much further afield. Vrăjitor ventures into territory once explored by early Emperor, but he emerges with a sound more atmospheric and raw. 12-grit tremolo walls, blast beats aplenty, and echoing rasps like howling storm winds provide a base upon which Old Sorcery centers icy synths (“Magick Triumph,” “Barrowgrim Asylum”), folk-minded woodwinds (“The Interior Gates of the True Soul,” “Where Sorrow Reigns”), and the searching reverence of Sojourner or Eldamar. Rather than an end in itself, Vrăjitor uses black metal on The Outsider as a malleable vehicle to further explore the concepts introduced in The Escapist.

The Outsider by Old Sorcery

The result is a 71-minute behemoth. Following The Escapist’s comparatively trim 50 minutes, The Outsider was a daunting prospect, to say the least. I still think it could lose ten minutes or so—“The Pain Threshold,” early sections of “Innigkeit” and “Magick Triumph,” and the quirky Gothic section of “Where Sorrow Reigns”—but repeated listens showed me that I was missing the forest for the trees. And like the moss that grows on those trees, The Outsider grew on me. Both black metal and dungeon synth are well-suited to fostering atmosphere and emotive landscapes, and Vrăjitor harnesses this shared propensity to his advantage. With turns at times subtle—the synths and guitars shifting into lockstep at the end of “Magick Triumph”—and at others, explosive and invigorating—the phenomenal triple attack of gritty guitar, ephemeral synth licks, and breathy woodwind solo in “Where Sorrow Reigns”—The Outsider is a journey, not a destination.

And it is the compositional vistas and narrative musicality of The Outsider that make it a journey worth taking. The bones of a story are hidden within The Outsider, and Vrăjitor intends them to be found. While there are presumably lyrics to The Outsider, Vrăjitor’s vocals are pushed back in the mix and filtered, allowing this to be a functionally instrumental album. Such Old Sorcery as this will naturally whisper different tales to different listeners, but I defy the skeptic to stand on the moon-kissed snowfields of “Magick Triumph,” tarry by the campfire and tender acoustics of “Innigkeit,”2 or emerge from the airy, crystalline caverns “Where Sorrow Reigns” and conjure no dreams of the titular outsider’s adventures. Not merely a pairing, The Outsider weaves wintery synths and raw, blackened atmospherics into a single spell and adorns it with grand, evocative structures and diverse instrumentation to create a story that needs no overt narration, but reveals its bones through music alone.

Established through the excellent “Castle” trilogy,3 Old Sorcery is a mainstay in dungeon synth circles, and if The Outsider proves anything, it’s for good reason. While The Escapist took day trips beyond Old Sorcery’s core sound, The Outsider bravely departs familiar territory while never forgetting its heritage. While there are certainly passages and pathways I trudged through rather than enjoyed, The Outsider is a singular, grand tapestry, cleverly composed and beautifully arranged. Old Sorcery’s latest is a work best basked in and consumed organically, rather than dissected microscopically, and has only gotten better with each spin. Set aside an hour on a cold, snowy day (there should be plenty of them right about now), cozy up with a warm drink, and hear The Outsider’s tale.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Avantgarde Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

Mystikus Hugebeard (a practitioner of old sorcery, as it were)

Whenever the yearning for old-school dungeon synth takes me, Old Sorcery has long been one of my first choices. However, I’m embarrassed to admit that during my preparatory research, I was rather shocked to learn that Old Sorcery debuted as recently as 2017 with Realms of Magickal Sorrow. I’d just assumed Old Sorcery has been around since, I don’t know, time immemorial, only because Old Sorcery so effortlessly plays that sort of raw, old school dungeon synth that you’d find on a cassette tape tucked away next to a Jim Kirkwood or Depressive Silence. I’m grateful that Spicie Forrest clued me in on this release and allowed me to double review with him, such that I could further inform our readers of the truly quality dungeon synth act that Old Sorcery is. This opportunity has not presented itself in a way I’d anticipated, however, because The Outsider is not merely dungeon synth like most Old Sorcery releases, but also an album of raw, wintry black metal.

As The Outsider opens in “Magick Triumph,” rumbling horns and scattered synths set the stage for a classic Swords n’ Sorcery experience typical to the Old Sorcery oeuvre, until a grimy guitar chord descends like a fog. It’s worth mentioning that Old Sorcery has traveled this blackened road before with 2020’s Sorrowcrown, but it’s done exceptionally well here. It’s the kind of frigid black metal you’d hear from Paysage d’Hiver and Lunar Aurora, with a similarly raw production style to boot. An overly raw-sounding mix that sacrifices too much listenability for “authenticity” is an immediate album-killer for me, but The Outsider is in that perfect sweet spot. The tremolos and blast-beats buzz with wintry chill and the vocals are way, way in the back, and the synths are always able to cut through the din. The mix has that nice, approachable sort of buzz, like just a little too much wine.4 Still, headphones will definitely be your friend for this album.

Old Sorcery weaves dungeon synth and black metal together such that each is stronger for the other’s presence, effectively playing off each other’s strengths. The dungeon synth elements in The Outsider enjoy an active melodic role in the heavier songs, the inviting, pleasant tones of old-school dungeon synth exuding warmth amidst the cold black metal. It makes for some standout moments, like frostbiting synths fading in and out through stormy guitar riffs (“Magick Triumph”), or a crystalline melody ringing hopeful above rhythmic tremolos and strings (“Where Sorrow Reigns”). “The Interior Gates of the True Soul” is an exquisite blend of synths and metal with an energy that almost reminds of Khonsu, a percussive, mystical synth melody warping, shifting, driving the song forward atop rolling tremolos. There is, naturally, a great deal of care in The Outsider’s construction of atmosphere, but the melodic focus given to the synths in relation to the black metal feels quite refreshing for the genre. As such, The Outsider rarely feels passive even across its length and maintains a strong sense of engagement from moment to moment.

Speaking of length, The Outsider is notably on the longer side, clocking in at over 70 minutes. But I find that Old Sorcery manages the time well with a healthy spread of longer and shorter songs, coupled with their diverse songwriting approach. The Outsider begins and ends with its dramatic epics, as the bulk of the album swirls through cackling, malevolent melodies (“Barrowgrim Asylum”), softer dungeon synth proper (“Innigkeit,” “The Pain Threshold”), and fantastical electronic/metal harmonies (“The Interior Gates of the True Soul”). There’s nary a weak link on the album, but while the staccato, electronic synth tones work wonders in “Magick Triumph” and “The Interior Gates of the True Soul,” I wish they were utilized a bit more in the ambient tracks. “The Pain Threshold” technically fits that bill, but it’s written in such a way that’s more sweeping and orchestral. It would’ve been nice to see the sharper synth tones common to Old Sorcery’s other works explored in a space less dominated by chaotic black metal, that I might appreciate them in clearer focus.

All in all, The Outsider is another rock-solid album by an artist who has consistently delivered great music, even though this album is a rare break from the Old Sorcery mold. It’s well-paced, well-written dungeon synth/black metal that is always good, and often great. I’ve often joked that this hellsite needs more goddamn dungeon synth, and The Outsider is my perfect specimen: just metal enough to bypass Steel’s gaze, yet with enough dungeon synth that I don’t look out of place wearing my wizard robes while listening to it. I furthermore suspect that my Spicie friend has delivered similarly positive tidings, so now that you’ve had two exceedingly trustworthy goobers tell you how good this album is, just go listen to the damn thing.

Rating: Very Good!

It’s no secret that funeral doom is all about death, but in case you weren’t aware, Lone Wanderer hits you over the head with the fact (don’t worry, it’s not a fatal whack). The title of their latest record, Exequaie, is Latin for “funeral rites.” The album cover, from Ernst Ferdinand Oehme’s 1828 painting Procession in the Fog, depicts a ghostly funeral procession, and most song titles use death as a theme in some shape or form. Lone Wanderer have been at this for over ten years, but they’ve been independent until now, signing with High Roller Records for the release of Exequaie. According to the band’s promo sheet, this will be album number three, but perhaps it’s telling how funeral doom warps one’s sense of time when they claim that their 43-minute debut is an EP. Their follow-up, The Majesty of Loss, is only three minutes longer, so it’s anyone’s guess where they draw the line between LP and EP. Their albums have only gotten longer since, with The Faustian Winter hitting the hour mark and now Exequaie reaching a lofty 72 minutes. Honestly, if you’re looking for a soundtrack to your funeral, this isn’t a bad option.

On the funeral doom scale, Lone Wanderer fits the Oromet scale more closely than My Dying Bride or Godthrymm. Exequaie mixes the gentle with the crushingly heavy, and the heavier riffs carry more reverb than muscle, lending a more tranquil feel than raw power. Over the course of 24 minutes, the beastly opener “To Rest Eternally” demonstrates Lone Wanderer’s slow burn approach, with impenetrably deep vocals, glacial drum beats, and a slowly developed melody. The gentler portions put away the booming drums and instead twinkle with arpeggiated rhythm while the bass plays out a complementary melody. We hear this tug and pull throughout Exequiaie, from the melancholic and heavy to something more peaceful, still tinged with sorrow but carrying a little hope. Ironically, “Anhedonia”1 showcases the album’s most pleasurable and memorable riffs during its opening few minutes. The remainder is also exquisite, delving into immense sorrow before closing out in tranquility. The song guides you into gentle acceptance of the fate that awaits us all at the end.

Exequiae by Lone Wanderer

Going in line with the “funeral rites” theme, plenty of elements in Exequaie appear to represent religious symbols or godly figures. The opening minutes of “To Rest Eternally” provide a distant reminder of a church setting with the tolling of bells. This holy setting returns in the finale, “Epistemology of the Passed,” where organs play a mournful dirge alongside wistful arpeggios. The vocals from Bruno Schotten serve as an omnipresent character, his low rumbles coming off like thunder rolling through the sky. Scattered throughout the album, Lone Wanderer perform spoken word portions that serve to enhance this godly persona. While such song segments are generally a nuisance, here they fit seamlessly, taking on the presence of an Oz-like character, commanding yet distant. The purpose of these elements may be inscrutable, but they do provide a sense of formality and authority accompanying death.

As great as the individual tracks are, Exequiae’s biggest obstacle is its own length. With any funeral doom record, holding the listener’s attention can be a challenge, and a 72-minute runtime across 5 songs feels more like work than pleasure. Yet there is plenty to enjoy on this epic record, and Lone Wanderer does implement some variety to mix things up a bit. “Existence Nullified” has a moment of chugging death-doom riffs that take me back to early Swallow the Sun. “Epistemology of the Passed” has a similar increase in tempo thanks to energetic tremolos and brisk drum beats. These moments are brief and few, but all the more notable because of their rarity. In the end, Exequaie’s length isn’t a deal breaker because it has such exquisite compositions. There’s just so much beauty in the music it could go on for twice as long and it’d still be heavenly.

Lone Wanderer is kicking funeral doom off to a great start for 2026. There’s something about the band’s often gentle sound that creates calm, as opposed to bands that lay the despair and melancholy thick with more powerful, overbearing guitar tones. Don’t let the 72 minutes intimidate you. Set aside some time and let Exequiae’s mix of melancholic, peaceful, and even hopeful tones wash over you and transport you, for a time, to a place where you no longer need to worry.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: High Roller Records
Website: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

Herezjarcha—Arch-Heretic—is the sophomore of Pennsylvania-based Profane Elegy, who are determined to escape genre boundaries. Following the trajectory set by 2023’s When All is Nothing, it sees the co-existence if not coalescence of black and death metal, but also an atmospheric, ambient kind of doom, and only doubles down on each aspect. It’s not the first time a metal artist has claimed to eschew categorization, and many, if not most, modern artists in extreme subgenres borrow from less extreme ones and incorporate generous reverb. Profane Elegy’s claims, therefore, don’t excite special interest whether you’ve heard the debut or not; listeners dis/like their sound on its own terms. However, there is actually something different about the way they combine their disparate aspects, and Herezjarcha is all the stronger for it.

Dropped blindly into Herezjarcha at any random moment, you’d be forgiven for taking it for trve blackened death—reminiscent in particular of Keres, or a less-polished Vredehammer. Rough snarls rip like cold wind across mean-faced arpeggios skittering their way up and down sinister scales to unforgiving percussive assaults, satisfyingly gnarly. But with a snap, Profane Elegy’s mood swings from malice to despair, and clean vocals lead a mournful refrain, layered, post-black strums dominating the soundscape. Opener “Exeunt Omnes,” which begins—as many others do—with wild, thrashy black metal energy, prefigures the way the album repeatedly changes the vibe and takes its listener by surprise, as the riffs soften and are joined by softly sung “ohh-hh-hh”s. Their blackened base is rent by change, from stripped-back ambience to hearty sung-screamed duets, black n’ roll irreverence to sludgy blackened doom and frosty black metal proper. Though sounding very little alike in actuality, the best comparison to Profane Elegy’s marrying of a vibrant blackened death with overt melodicism led by cleans is Slugdge.1 Herezjarcha is far more intriguing and multifaceted than may appear on face value.

Herezjarcha by Profane Elegy

Profane Elegy do nothing by half-measures, and throw themselves with equal vigour into both their heavier and softer sides. Their blackened death is gnarly and dynamic, whether overtly aggressive (“I AM”) or in squealing, drawling pursuit of flair and acrobatics (“Haunted” “And Then We Are Gone”). The second-wave-adjacent harsh vocal production, slightly muted and noisy, adds to the overall rawness, intensifying the more straightforwardly brutal and giving grit to the more melodic, atmospherically inclined. On the former side, things really do get heavy, and the churning, howl-ridden soundscape is irresistible, but as the album progresses, it’s the latter that sees Profane Elegy doing some genuinely cool things. Eerie scales blend into a layered cascade of strums (“As My Heart Turns to Ash”), or invite the chords of melancholia to join them (“The Accuser”); more and more space is devoted to variously stripped-back quiet. Things don’t just hang in reverb; space opens in which a savage riff briefly grows mournful, and after few turns of tension, an almost gazey feel prevails as cleans take the lead (“As My Heart…”). It’s not the addition of atmosphere that’s good, it’s how Profane Elegy positions a mournful, post-adjacent mood with their harsh blackened side that manages to not sacrifice either, even when combined.

Yet, in committing as fully as they do to the spirit and execution of their disparate visages, Profane Elegy demonstrate that they haven’t quite refined the formula for their coexistence. The churning, variously vicious and epic blackened death on display on Herezjarcha is raucously enjoyable, while the vulnerability and atmosphere brought in by other influences create a powerful emotionality and works very well in combination. This doesn’t prevent the slightly awkward way one transitions to the other—particularly in the record’s first half. The balance and integration do improve as the runtime progresses, to the extent that the latter end, if stretched to the length of a full LP, would receive a higher score of at least one half figure. Still, the difference in the sound between the raw and ugly and the comparatively glossy is marked and can give the impression that one is suddenly listening to a totally different artist when the former switches places entirely for the other.

What Profane Elegy do achieve with Herezarcha, however, is to assert their skill and personality. Amidst a sea of underground metal artists pitching their bold and subversive takes, Profane Elegy stand in the sureness of honest distinction. They might not have cracked the complete execution yet, at a slim 38 minutes, Herezarcha is more than worth the time it takes to experience their unpolished expression.

Rating: Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

For progressive death metal acts, the shadow of the masters, Opeth, looms large. Yet some recent progressive death acts, like Iotunn, Tómarúm, and Dvne, have carved their own paths in the genre. When Dyed in Grey released their debut, The Abandoned Part, in 2013, Opeth was charting a course into pure prog sans death metal. I only mention Opeth because Dyed in Grey’s brand of prog death sees clear influences in the titans of the genre, though with a more technical, improvisational imprint. Harbinger marks only their third full-length album in thirteen years. These years have seen inconsistency in the lineup, with 2018’s Anguish and Ardor losing the vocalist and going full instrumental. Now with a new vocalist, Harbinger sees a return to Dyed in Grey’s roots with a more honed vision from founder Adam Edgemont.

Unlike Soen’s cleaner approach to prog, Dyed in Grey is much rawer and rougher around the edges, utilizing plenty of off-key notes. There’s a greater sense of urgency and authenticity in this approach, and songs are carefully crafted to sound improvisational rather than intentional and overly polished. At times, Dyed in Grey plays it light and breezy, such as on the intro track “Sunbird” and the first few minutes of “Ascent,” where you could almost mistake them for a happy-go-lucky Weezer. At other times, they play a rough and tumble of ’90s grunge, with “Silent Symmetry” taking on an Alice in Chains-esque gruffness. Yet behind each arpeggio and light strum lurks an Opethian turn, which can rear its head suddenly with an eruption of heavy guitars and monstrous death growls. These turns prove an effectively cathartic release of emotion; “Mirrored Ruins” in particular takes a brilliant turn with some of the coolest riffs on Harbinger. While Opeth is a clear influence, Dyed in Grey take a novel enough approach to avoid being a mere clone.

Descent by Dyed In Grey

Dyed in Grey cite jazz as one of their musical styles, and this is most apparent in the improvisational turns that songs take. Unlike Opeth’s more developed passages of death metal or prog, Dyed in Grey can flip on a dime. “Static Tides” best demonstrates this as it transitions from growls to cleans, arpeggios to blasting riffs, all within short spans of time. Similarly, “Descent” plays off-tune riffs one moment and a sudden melodic lead the next before erupting into death metal with some impressive technical fretwork. I don’t mean to make this sound like a random jumble of song parts. Harbinger still has enough structure for it to contain well-defined tracks. Riffs from the beginning of a tune return at the end (“Ascent,” “Silent Symmetry”) and catchier passages, such as the chorus of “Tempest,” repeat throughout the course of each song. The unpredictable nature of the music keeps you on your toes and provides new surprises with each spin.

As much as there is to enjoy, there’s plenty on Harbinger that makes it a confounding listen. The angular, sometimes atonal, music is certainly off-putting and proves an obstacle to appreciating Dyed in Grey’s strengths. The vocal performances, particularly the cleans, also leave something to be desired.1 The cleans have a gruffer, grungier resonance that fits what Dyed in Grey is going for, but the vocalist struggles with his pitch at times. Despite the strong production values, another issue is that the death metal riffs sound flat and lack the muscular punch needed to truly make these portions pop. The growls, however, deliver enough power to offset this shortcoming. The rougher elements of the band’s sound fit in with their rugged character, yet there’s a fine line in the atonal approach between enjoyable and cringe-worthy music, and fortunately, Dyed in Grey fall on the enjoyable side more often than not.

What started off for me on initial spins as disappointing has since turned into something more interesting, rewarding, and even catchy with repeat and closer listens. Dyed in Grey don’t quite stand with the bands listed in my opening paragraph, but for fans of prog death, Harbinger is a worthy exploration. It also represents a growth in Edgemont’s songwriting. This proves to be a pretty cool amalgamation of styles that doesn’t play it safe yet feels assured in its performances and compositions.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Self-Released
Website: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

Vienna, Austria’s Tarlung has been coughing up thick clouds of resinous doom and smoky sludge since 2013, when, after just six months in existence and having never performed live, they released their eponymous debut album. Now, with two additional full-lengths—2017’s Beyond the Black Pyramid and 2021’s Architect—and some healthy touring under their belts, Tarlung braces to bring their fourth album in nearly five years, Axis Mundi, to the masses. With a catalog predicated on fair to middling sludgy doom, I was curious to hear if Axis Mundi would be the product of a Tarlung doing more of the same, or if the album would represent a defining ‘center’ in the discography and, per its namesake, link the Tarlung of old to the Tarlung that’s progressing into the future.

Tarlung remains devoted to the almighty riff, but with a sound that has become increasingly less fuzzy over the years. Guitarists Rotten and Phillip Seiler deliver massive doses of ear-drum damage via swampy, thick riffs bristling with taut, chuggy muscle (“State Noise,” “Between the Earth and Moon”) and bluesy swagger (“Swans”), which serve as the bong water for most of these melodies to bubble up through. Seiler’s chesty, Akerfeldtian roars are ever-present, which, along with Marian Weibl’s beastly drum beatings, provide the excess sonic weight Tarlung has become increasingly known for. Purveyors of Crowbar, High on Fire, and Dopethrone will find warm pockets of familiarity here. Yet, Axis Mundi indeed signals a progression as Tarlung evolves its sound, introducing elements of refined psychedelia and vocal variation.

Axis Mundi by TarLung

Axis Mundi takes marked steps to set itself apart from the rest of Tarlung’s catalog. With an airy, soft-strummed melody and some subdued, clean vocals to start, “Burning Out” evokes a feeling akin to lying alone in a country field, exhaling smoky clouds of organic green and staring at kaleidoscopic prisms of light as they filter through dew drops on sun-dappled daffodils. Even after the track picks up a little steam with a chugging riff that seems to build more speed than it does, and Seiler’s growls return, the warm feeling doesn’t dissipate. Follow-up “Sea of Drowned Souls” continues down an experimental path, as its mournful melodies merge with clean vocals from Thérèse Lanz and Casey Rogers of Mares of Thrace in pensive passages that keep giving me Alice in Chains vibes. Particularly effective here, too, is the vocal interplay between Seiler and Lantz as each takes brutal swipes at the mic; Lantz’s visceral, blackened screams serving as a satisfying counterpoint to Seiler’s guttural grumblings. These two tracks really stood out to me and make up the core of my overall Axis Mundi experience.

Axis Mundi represents Tarlung operating at its most mature. Beautifully simplistic and wildly effective songwriting that, with repeated spins, did nothing but chip away at my critiques. What first seemed like a lagging back half continued to sink its claws into my brain. Before long, I was looking forward to the laid-back melodies of “Full Circle,” where Seiler channels his inner Matt Pike (High on Fire) to significant effect, and anticipating the very Crowbaric pounding of album closer “Axis Mundi.” Running just thirty-eight minutes, it became easier and easier to hit that replay button every time. There are moments when the melodies seem to trip over themselves, like on the bluesy main riff of “Swans,” which gets a bit muddy at times, but not so much that it took me out of the experience.

Fans of Tarlung are in for a special surprise, and if you’re just now getting to the party, Axis Mundi is an excellent place to get started. I hadn’t spent any time at all with this power trio before writing this review, and I can wholeheartedly say Tarlung has won me over. After a more than cursory dive into the bands previous efforts I can say without a doubt, Axis Mundi is the best Tarlung album to date. A slow-paced ride that delivers riffs for days and melodies that settle in, wrapping you in blankets of crushing warmth for one helluva satisfying experience.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

After waiting seventeen years to release their debut full-length, Norwegian progressive metal act Course of Fate is now three albums in since 2020. I missed their sophomore release in 2023—I’m actually just learning it exists as I type this—so I was especially excited to see this group back in action. Mindweaver was a delight of an album, the kind of release that hums with potential and makes you eager to see what a band is going to do next. Evidently, I missed what Course of Fate did next, but now that Behind the Eclipse is here and audible, I’m no less excited to share that they haven’t missed a step.

Course of Fate are still very much Course of Fate, though the sound I remember from Mindweaver has morphed into something altogether more aggressive and impactful. Kenneth Henriksen and Fredrik Jacobsen’s guitars are louder and rougher around the edges, and bass by Torstein Guttormsen is fully audible through most of Behind the Eclipse. Their core sound—a heavy backdrop supported by lush drumming (Per-Morten Bergseth) and memorable, just-melodic-enough riffs counterbalanced by Eivind Gunnesen’s smooth singing—is still there, but even the singing is more aggressive than I remember, with the odd growl thrown in for good measure. There is a sense of care to the songwriting, evident in the quiet keys and strings, and the storytelling in the lyrics to songs like “Behind the Eclipse,” the titanic opener1 with an epic chorus and huge resolution that gets stuck in your head for days after you hear it.

There’s a sense of melancholic anger throughout Behind the Eclipse; Course of Fate are very much at home in frustration and sorrow, though their compositions are as lively as ever. “Acolyte,” for example, opens with a quiet piano lead that builds to an aggressive, almost thrashy riff. Gunnesen is loud here, fitting in so well with the music, right up to the chorus—then things slow. The piano returns, and his performance turns introspective. Then, as soon as it’s over, Course of Fate is back to its fiery self. The balance is impressive and shows up again throughout. Closer “Neverwhere” is another classic Course of Fate exploration, a song that builds and builds from bitter reflections to soaring interludes to its massive chorus and beyond. As with Mindweaver, there is an emotive core to Behind the Eclipse that gives it genuine staying power (and once again, the ballad is one of the best songs, this time in the form of “Don’t Close Your Eyes”).

There are only a few moments throughout Behind the Eclipse where the aforementioned balance of aggression and melancholy doesn’t quite come together, and in these moments, it becomes “merely” good metal. “Sky Is Falling” is a fine song, but it comes in a little strong for my tastes, while “Hiding from the Light” takes a slower, less immediate approach that initially had me wondering if Course of Fate didn’t have some metalcore influences. It isn’t metalcore—I can’t stress that enough—but the balance isn’t quite there, at least not to my ears. With that said, the solo guitar work in “Sky Is Falling” is one of the coolest moments on Behind the Eclipse, and I love the use of growls in “Hiding from the Light.” Every song has something going for it, and this is in large part due to the fact that Course of Fate are strong performers and great songwriters. As a bonus, eight tracks spanning forty-five minutes make it hard to lose interest at any point.

So I’d say Course of Fate have done it again—they’ve kick-started my year with an impressive showing of progressive metal that I expect to come back to often as the year goes on. Behind the Eclipse is a well-written, cathartic, and empowering album that is fun to listen to. I could argue it’s a little uneven, but it never dips below “good” and often reaches “great.” It seems that Course of Fate are finding their groove—not to mention a consistent release schedule—and I couldn’t be happier for it.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Roar! Rock of Angels Records
Websites: facebook.com/courseoffate
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

While I may be a product of the 80s, I have almost zero direct recollection of the decade itself. Born in 1985, I didn’t become self aware until the 90s.1 So, essentially, by the time I could form long-lasting memories, most of the world’s great music had already been written. Perhaps my inaccessible 80s origins explain why I am drawn to things from and about the era. The bizarre color schemes, the bombastic musical aesthetic, the cheesy-yet-awesome cinema, all of it gives me a satisfyingly melancholic sense of nostalgia. The 80s feel like my own personal primordial, mythological paradise, a Garden of Eden to which I can never return. The gate is eternally guarded by a cherub wielding a flaming sword, but thanks to bands like Rave in Fire, I need not risk being divinely smote in order to feel like I’m back in the garden, all innocent, naked, and happy.

Just one look at that glorious album cover should tell you that Spain’s Rave in Fire oozes 80s glory. Lead single “Still Standing” sounds like it rode a tiger straight outta Ronnie James Dio’s mind with its driving groove, intricate guitar leads, and the effortlessly powerful vocals of singer Sele. The track is so 80s that it would fit perfectly over the top of a Rocky IV fight scene or training montage (one of my primary measuring sticks for quality 80s music, I might add).

Square One by Rave In Fire

If metal was doing something cool in the 1980s, it’s a good bet that Rave in Fire does it too. “Witches’ Hell” captures the swagger of peak Scorpions, the instrumental opener and its successor scream Screaming-era Judas Priest, and “Untiring Eagles” and “Speed and Rave” sound like Megadeth from an alternate reality, one where Dave Mustaine is female and can actually sing. The closing title track displays the band’s more ambitious aims, mixing all of the above-mentioned influences with progressive rock a la Rush and/or Kansas. Overall, Rave in Fire does everything they do with so much competence and authenticity that they’re hard not to love.

My only real nitpick with Square One involves the transition from the “The Hellion”-esque opener into first proper track “Dark Poison.” The switch just doesn’t match up very well, so much so that I checked multiple times to make sure I hadn’t unwittingly messed up the track order. It’s a fairly minor flaw in the grand scheme of a 42-minute album, but it’s jarring each time nonetheless. Instrumentally, Rave in Fire is stacked with talent. Guitarist Jonjo puts on a classic metal/rock clinic, and the rhythm section (Sara on bass and Jimi on drums) displays impressive chemistry. But the MVP trophy goes to vocalist Sele. Her passionate performance is just spectacular, sounding so unbelievably genuine and lending Square One a pleasing patina of seemingly long-lost classic status, and, fortunately, the beautiful production only enhances the luster of that patina.

When I picked Square One out of the promo sump, I’d just finished Stranger Things and was yearning to fill that 80s-shaped hole in my heart. After spinning this dozens of times, I can confidently say that Rave in Fire has done just that. This band is loaded with talent, and I expect more very good albums from them in the future.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: High Roller Records
Websites: raveinfire.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/raveinfire
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

As this new year has gotten off to a right proper, lunacy-fueled start, I scoured the sump pit in search of something to pen my first review of 2026 on. As I poked through the pickens, slim as they were, I spied one of my favorite tags: ‘Steel says review,’ sitting unclaimed. Self-described as ‘free form death-jazz,’ Umeå, Sweden’s Backengrillen play music that is a paean to chaos and destruction. The basic idea is to take a death/doom metal, or noiserock riff and play it until it loses meaning and then break it apart like a ravenous cat would a tiny forest mouse. Okay, I thought, I’ll bite. Formed primarily from the ashes of the now twice-dead Swedish post-hardcore legends Refused, vocalist Dennis Lyxzén, bassist Magnus Flagge, and drummer David Sandström have partnered with composer and saxophonist Mats Gustafsson to release Backengrillen, their eponymous debut album on Svart Records. Backengrillen cull inspiration from The Cramps and Little Richard to Entombed, Misfits, and Can. With such an eclectic cadre of performers to draw muse from, I was thoroughly intrigued to dive into Backengrillen and discover what I had gotten myself into.

Experimentally chaotic yet at times catchy and compelling, Backengrillen reaps seeds first sown on Refused’s initial 1998 swan song, The Shape of Punk to Come. Where TSoPtC only dabbled outside traditional punk and hardcore tropes, though, Backengrillen embeds those fringe elements of ambiance, electronics, and jazzy instrumentation as the spine of its soundscape, with Gustafsson carrying most of the weird load. His role as frenetic flautist, huffing, puffing, and grunting violently over his flute’s embouchure like some deranged Ian Anderson (“Dör för långsamt”), and psychotic saxophonist, skronking, squawking, and swooning (“Backengrillen”), counterbalances Backengrillen’s more alt-punk style, homogenizing the whole into something akin to Morphine on meth.

Backengrillen by Backengrillen

Written during Backengrillen’s first rehearsal, performed live the next day, then recorded the day after that, Backengrillen is a gutsy shot in the dark. As off-the-cuff as it is, there are moments on Backengrillen that came off way more methodical than the nature of their origin would suggest. Launching from a simple, keyed melody, “A Hate Inferior” builds slowly as layers of drums, bass, and smarmy sax eventually coalesce into a scorched-earth sludge bomb that hits around the three-minute mark, and is topped off by Lyxzén’s nuclear scream, whose vocals sound like a mix of Zach de la Rocha and Jello Biafra. From that point on, the track had me rocking a slow and steady stank-faced head bob. Then there’s, at least for me, the humorously titled “Repeater II,” which is the shortest and most traditionally structured of the bunch—clocking in at a brisk six minutes forty-three seconds. A rompy, punk-fueled ditty that sounds like a mix of The Cramps, Dead Kennedys, and Nirvana, with a bit of sax thrown in for good measure, and Lyxzén, at his most Biafra-like, shouting the infectious chorus, ‘Hey, repeat it, repeat it again,’ over and over.

Whipped up quicker than a batch of Mom’s Rice Krispies treats, Backengrillen suffers most from impoverished improvisation. Despite the churlish charm present on the tracks mentioned above, the rest of this five-song, fifty-three-minute monster isn’t nearly as engaging or easy to listen to. “Dör för långsamt,” for example, is just over thirteen minutes of Gustaffson’s squawky, dying-animal sax playing entwined with a bevy of Lyxzén’s screeches, screams, grunts, and queasy, drunken-sounding chorus lines layered over a plodding, tribal bass and drum beat. “Backengrillen” fares no better, eleven minutes of sluggish drum and bass holding up Gustaffson’s breathy, trilly flute and barely tuned saxophone alongside another Lyxzén performance made up of pitchy, swaying chants and lots of grunting screams. And on every play through, by the time “Socialism or Barbarism” rolled around, I was checked out and ready to move on. This made slogging through the tracks’ first three minutes of electronic noise that much harder to digest, let alone the remaining 7.5 minutes.

Had this been recorded as one continuous, fully improvised live set in some Västerbotten County dive-bar, complete with sparse crowd reactions, by four musicians who’d never played one note together, it might have hit different.1 As it stands, my greatest takeaway from this experience was discovering Refused, which I actually had a lot of fun listening to during my prep. And for those wondering, why no puns, here you go. Ultimately, there isn’t enough meat grillen here to get me to come Backen.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Svart Records
Websites: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: January 23, 2026

It’s heartening to see Par Olofsson getting work in the age of cheap generative AI. In retrospect, his purple, shining renderings of cityscape kaijou vortex gore, now a visual synonym for modern death metal, share a looseness and repetition of detail that’s strikingly reminiscent of midjourney products. It would be all too easy to ask the computer to ape, though you’d lose the structural, communicative logic that comes from putting a sandwich-powered Swede1 rather than a gas-powered server farm behind the brush. Icon, the third record from Switzerland’s Defaced, comes wrapped up in a characteristically Olofsson-ey work and, much like the cover, is decidedly human, if a bit unambitious. Defaced have re-emerged more than a decade for good reason; a record’s worth of carefully-crafted death metal.

Defaced operate in the style of bands like Abysmal Dawn or Throne of Heresy, unabashedly ornamenting their death metal with splashes of black metal and melodeath and foregoing flashy playing and stylized production. “The Antagonist” opens Icon at full speed, demonstrating Defaced’s strengths. After a bit of string bending, the song’s low, tremolo-picked theme kicks in, and the band trades between this riff and a few others for the rest of the song, adding a new flourish each time. A secondary melody here gets a few variations, first staccato, then subdued to back a solo, then broadly chugged with a subtle pinch harmonic tag at the end, then chugged again with a big rest after the first phrase for a bit of ornamentation. Guitarists Matze Schiemann and Marco Kessi don’t pull out show-stopping riffs but play around plenty with what they do put forth and transition very smoothly between variations, ones that usually give the rhythm section (drummer Massimiliano Malvassora and bassist Michael Gertsch) some room to show off. The other Gertsch (gruff-voiced Thomas) gets a few nice cut-outs as well, with the more melodic, black-metal-influenced “The Initiation” letting his burly roars and hoarse croaks ring out above the other instruments, frequently multi-tracked. The Gertsches even get themselves a little bass/barker duet before the bouncy pit riff of “Culling the Herd” kicks in.

Icon is expertly paced and organized. Mid-album duo of “Anthem of Vermin” and “Sonate” shakes expectations just as things seem to get static, the former ending in trem-picked triumph before transitioning to the latter, an acoustic guitar piece that a half-dozen Gothenburgers would have been proud to write to tape thirty years ago. In both pieces, Defaced practice the same shrewd and thoughtful songwriting found across the album; neither follows a predictable path, but each new idea flows from the last seemingly without effort or thought.

Yet Icon lacks the punch to compel listening. The band plays expertly with their compositions and, at small scales, demonstrates a playfulness and creativity that’s often missing from death metal. But somewhere in the middle detail—the riffs and melodies themselves—things are a bit gray. Defaced’s last effort—the decade-old Forging the Sanctuary—suffered similarly, though it had a bit more ambition. Icon plays death metal well but plays it safely, carefully welding riffs together and sanding the joints smooth into something very strong and very cube-shaped.

The more closely I listen to Icon, the more I appreciate Defaced’s obvious skill; it’s more than a competent record, with watertight songs that wring their riffs pretty dry without ever getting tedious. But those riffs just aren’t very exciting, and this middle-of-the-road modern death metal style really needs spectacle to excel, like the catchy choruses and wild Death-isms of Abysmal Dawn. Icon doesn’t offer listeners excitement, but there’s room in it for plenty of contentment. If you like your death metal well-played and without the fuss, Icon is your cup of tea.2



Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps MP3
Label: Massacre Records
Websites: facebook.com/defacedswiss
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

I’m a tad slow out of the blocks to kick off the new year. Though in reviewing terms, it seems par for the course for yours truly. Time spent enjoying a break from the everyday job grind, catching up on the bounty of overlooked 2025 releases, and, as per tradition, enjoying the comfort of personal favorites and metal classics has occupied my time. As we plunge on through a wild, erratic, and intermittently sweltering Aussie summer, some hard-rocking doomy fun seems like a suitable seasonal pastime. Thus, while wading through the promo sump, I stumbled across the self-titled debut of fresh project, Ritual Arcana. Soon discovering this seasoned power trio features none other than the legendary Scott ‘Wino’ Weinrich (Saint Vitus, The Obsessed, Spirit Caravan), wielding his scuzzed-up axe alongside Sharlee LuckyFree (ex-Moth) on bass and vocals, and drummer Oakley Munsen (The Black Lips).

Rather than a stoned cruise through the desert, Ritual Arcana play a raucous, bewitching blend of hard slugging doom and occult-tinged rock, fit to appeal to fans of nostalgiacore retro rock, Wino’s various projects, and other smoky doom persuasions such as Sabbath Assembly, Jess and the Ancient Ones, Castle Rat, and Witch Mountain. Imbued with dark, alluring vibes and a riff rumbling bluesy edge, Ritual Arcana features the requisite doom-laden heft and freewheeling grooves to accompany songs that rock and rumble with a sprightly bounce. The jammy, psych-drenched swagger leans as much into heavy rock and stoner realms as it does dour doom. LuckyFree’s beguiling pipes boast an undeniable appeal and hooky charm. And while perhaps not the most unique female vocalist in the biz, she holds her own and supplies plenty of earwormy hooks atop a solid foundation of hefty rhythms and fat, swaggering riffs.

Right off the bat, the opening title track lays a groovy path, riding a thick, simplistic central groove and catchy vocal flow, enlivened by Wino’s easy-on-the-ear lead work. Similarly, bluesy, hard-rocking fare and juicy hooks feature prominently (“Free Like a Pirate,” “Summon the Wheel,” “Road Burnt,” and “Judgment XX”) to fun effect, nestled between doomy, heavier fare. These are solid examples of Ritual Arcana’s formula; however, the most interesting material leans deeper into their doomy roots. “Mistress of Change” possesses an ominous atmosphere and lurching, drunken gait, highlighted by LuckyFree’s slightly unhinged vocal performance. Similarly impactful bursts of rugged doom, molten riffage, and rawer vocal turns feature on the highlight-worthy “Subtle Fruits.” There are no blatant weak points, just certain tunes that hit harder and stick for longer. Ritual Arcana do the bluesy hard rock stuff well, yet it’s the brooding doomier forays that sustain greater interest.

What they perhaps lack in innovation, Ritual Arcana compensate through lean and tightly wound songwriting, solid musicianship, and familiar yet delightfully catchy songs. Wino is an iconic metal legend, and even minus the gruff, well-lived presence of his vocals, he makes a punchy impact through his accomplished guitar work. The well-worn riffs carry a fresh, catchy edge; however, it’s the flashier leads and psych-drenched embellishments that complement the no-frills riffs. And as cool and effective as LuckyFree’s vocals are, it is a tad disappointing that Wino’s grizzled voice doesn’t pop up in cameo or dueting form. Meanwhile, the production may be a little clean for some tastes; however, it’s easy to appreciate the clarity and chunky tones.

Ritual Arcana is a likable, gratifyingly catchy exercise in seasoned doom and psych-riddled occult rock from experienced hands. It plays things a little too safe at times, and as enjoyable and undeniably infectious as the songwriting on this debut platter proves to be, it rarely hits truly outstanding levels. Regardless, this style of doom/occult rock has an infectious charm, and when in the hands of veterans and a legend like Wino, it is difficult to fuck up. Ritual Arcana is a cool example of the saturated style and perhaps a precursor to greater things to come from this unit.



Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 304 kbps mp3
Label: Heavy Psych Sounds | Bandcamp
Websites: facebook.com/ritualarcana
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

Like a sailor’s call to the sea, I am routinely compelled to the sub-genre of symphonic metal in all of its be-corset-ed miscellany. Why? Maybe I need a break from dudes singing ugly for ladies singing pretty. Maybe falling for Seven Spires justified my continued curiosity in the style.1 Maybe I’ve never been as happy as I was discovering Imaginaerum in high school. Regardless, the call brought me now to the German symphonic group Coronatus and their new record, Dreadful Waters. Led by songwriter/drummer Mats Kurth, Coronatus features three singers in mezzo sopranos Leni Eitrich and Sabine Prechtel, and “rock vocals” by Nemesis, who also contributes to songwriting along with guitarist Harry Zeidler. Rounded out with bassist Simon Gutbrod and violinist Tine Jülich, Coronatus wrote Dreadful Waters with a focus on “merging mysticism, danger and the elemental force of water.” All good words, but does Dreadful Waters bring the strings to live up to them and, more importantly, can Coronatus meet my fix for symphonic metal?

Whatever Coronatus is doing, Dreadful Waters sounds nice doing it. Oscillating between varying degrees of symphonic (“The Siren” and “Die Hexe und der Teufel”) and nautically inclined folk metals (“Southern Cross” and “A Seaman’s Yarn”), Dreadful Waters’ production and mix bring out the best in Coronatus’ instrumentation and give everything a rich openness. Guitars sound chunky and bold while taking on an auxiliary role to the violin and vocals, which are always warm and upfront. Coronatus’ mezzo sopranos bring your typical Tarja-era Nightwish operatics to “The Maelstrom” and “To the Reef!” while Nemesis’ “rock voice” means she brings a Jørn-like grizzled theatricality to her performances on “Dark Ice” and “The Ship’s Cook.” But what really stands out to me is Kurth’s drumming, which is more nuanced than the average symphonic drumming performance. The kick patterns on “Through the Brightest Blue”‘s chorus sound more like a Lamb of God drum track than Nightwish, and “To the Reef!” boasts a palpable jauntiness thanks to the percussion groove. Dreadful Waters is composed of many different pieces, so it’s nice that Coronatus got them all to sound good together.

But symphonic metal lives and dies on its vocalists, and while Coronatus’ singers are skilled musicians, their performances can feel awkward. Each vocalist often brings an almost comical level of warble to their voices, swinging tracks like “Southern Cross” and “A Seaman’s Yarn” towards the ridiculous. Nemesis in particular can overdo it, as her heavy, gravelly vibrato can at times chew the scenery. The mezzo soprano and “rock voice” stylings also sometimes stand at odds with each other, as on songs like “The Siren” and “Dark Ice,” they blend poorly and give off the impression that they weren’t in the studio at the same time. When Coroantus coalesce, like on the album highlight “The Ship’s Cook,” the result is a riveting blend of sophistication and grit that I could listen to all day, but moments like this are unfortunately rare on Dreadful Waters.

The slight vocal issues I see on Dreadful Waters may be a symptom of a larger issue on the album: the lukewarm songcraft. Coronatus’ songs mostly stick to either a slowburn or mid-paced stomp, featuring pretty folk melodies and pleasant orchestrations but little in the way of gripping hooks or powerful performances. Further, vocal melodies are usually played overly straight, throwing few unexpected turns or interesting intervals in favor of a fairly standard symphonic metal play sheet. This makes the more metal-friendly tracks like “The Maelstrom” and “The Siren” come off a bit tepid and, at Dreadful Waters’ worst, its ballads in “Southern Cross” and “Die Hexe und der Teufel” real slogs to get through. Only “The Ship’s Cook” excited me, and that’s because its power metal-adjacent vocal heroics and bouncy chorus melody embody what is woefully missing on much of Dreadful Waters: character.

Dreadful Waters neither sinks nor swims. Far from awful, this record’s shortcomings stem from not doing enough to stand out from the symphonic crowd or playing exceptionally well into its tropes. Less fairweather fans of symphonic metal than I may get more out of Coronatus’ style, but detractors of the style won’t be swayed from their haterdom by it either. Coronatus snagged a real winner with “The Ship’s Cook,” though, so I don’t foresee terrible sailing for the band in their future. But for meeting the need for big strings over my metal, Dreadful Waters doesn’t do it for me.



Rating: Disappointing
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps MP3
Label: Massacre Records
Websites: facebook.com/coronatusofficial | coronatus.de
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

In the metalverse, there are plenty of unique personas, and now we can count Valira Pietrangelo among them. She has been very open in interviews about suffering from identity dysphoria. As a result, she dove into making music and eventually discovered herself as a demon.1 What better way to express your newfound demonhood than through black metal? Everything about Vesseles (pronounced veh-sel-is) revolves around Pietrangelo’s identity. The band’s name is a Latinized version of the word vessel, as in her body being a vessel containing an identity that doesn’t quite fit. In 2024, Vesseles released their debut EP, not-so-subtly titled I Am a Demon, about her inner struggles and coming out as a demon. Now with Home, Vesseles takes a more ambitious approach as Pietrangelo expands her songwriting repertoire.

This shouldn’t come as a surprise with a demon at the helm, but Home sounds sinister as hell. With a cinematic flair, Vesseles shares some similarities with the darker symphonic metal of Dimmu Borgir and SepticFlesh, yet they play with a dissonance and malevolence that draws closer comparisons to Hasard. Like with Hasard, guitars play second fiddle to the haunting strings and off-key piano notes. Joel Ferry’s demonic rasps, harsh and high, ooze hatred and venom, while the constant tempo shifts serve to keep listeners off-balance. Home is a concept album about a demon cast from one world she didn’t belong to and into another she’s not wanted. Pietrangelo entangles us in her character’s emotional state, making us feel her rage and malice through the challenging music. She may have succeeded in her approach a little too well—while I appreciate her vision, it can be difficult to enjoy at times.

Home by Vesseles

Home contains some impressive musical passages, and yet the overall style becomes taxing over time. As a result, the front half is much more effective than the back half. Opener “Flesh Throne” establishes a menacing atmosphere with its string compositions, but it’s the piano that steals the show. The dissonant piano and icy riffs on “The Beneath” create an appropriately malevolent atmosphere that’s sure to send shivers down your spine. “Home” opens with a classical-sounding, off-key piano segment that’s moving in its evil intent. “Home” is also where the record’s approach begins to falter and grate—the noisiness and constant tonal shifts take their toll over the span of a too-long six minutes. This comes to a head on the final two tracks, the weakest on Home. “Perpetual Chasm of Black Mirrors” in particular lacks the bits of brilliance of the rest of Home, and the finale, “This Is Not Home,” drags on for too long. The constant shifts—in tempo, volume, and noise levels—grow challenging to tolerate for long periods.

Ultimately, what holds Home back is the production. Vesseles suffers the same issue as Hasard’s debut—their record is just too loud. My poor ears could only take so much, and headphones only compounded the issue. There’s a moment on “Scriptures Etched Into the Mind’s Pillars” where the guitars and rasps become muted in favor of a nice string and drum segment, and I found myself breathing a sigh of relief as my ears were given a brief reprieve from the aural assault. The crushed compression also hurts the instrumentally busier passages; I found it difficult in these moments to appreciate individual performances or make out what’s going on. On one hand, this contributes to the chaotic, unsettling tone that Vesseles appears to be aiming for, but it ultimately mars some impressive songwriting.

Home is simultaneously a remarkable debut and an intolerable one. Pietrangelo successfully carries out her unsettling vision in crafting a sinister tone through complex compositions. Yet the bogeyman of poor mastering hampers her vision. Despite this, the first half of Home is quite strong and took me fondly back to my time reviewing Hasard’s Abgnose. One can only hope that she learns the same lessons Hasard did, as Abgnose’s production was a huge improvement over the debut. I have faith that this demon can wow us with her unique vision yet again, and I look forward to hearing it.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: vesseles.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/vesseles
Releases Worldwide: January 16th, 2026

Melodic heavy metal outfit Turbo’s Tribunal heralds the arrival of Mills of Tribunal, hoping to light a fire that warms the dark recesses of our cynical hearts.1 Hailing from Denmark, Turbo’s Tribunal is the invention of mastermind and sole contributor Andreas Thunbo. Having toiled on demos, EPs, and splits over the last couple of decades, Mills of Tribunal presents Thunbo’s first full-length endeavor. Citing legendary acts like Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, and Running Wild as creative touchstones, can Turbo’s Tribunal live up to the lofty expectations, or does Mills of Tribunal need further refinement under the grinding wheel?

Though the promo material for Turbo’s Tribunal lists a handful of inspirations, the one I hear most immediately is Iron Maiden. And while I’d like to say that you can’t go wrong using such an exalted act as a template, the truth is some bands define a sound so well that treading too closely creates an unattainable promise for listeners. Thankfully, Turbo’s Tribunal admirably balances inspiration and originality, evoking muses without aping them. Specifically, Mills of Tribunal most reminds me of Piece of Mind, though later 80s Maiden seeps in via sustained synth twinkles (“Draw the Line” and “Satan Is Here”). Priestliness also rears its head, particularly on the intro to “Men of the World,” and Running Wild’s guitar and bass interplay runs rampant throughout.

Mills of Tribunal by Turbo’s Tribunal

For a record where Thunbo provides all the instrumentation, Mills of Tribunal occupies a remarkably three-dimensional soundscape. The bell of the ball is Turbo’s Tribunal’s bouncing bass, fluttering and chugging on every track with delightful, Steve Harris-inspired melodicism.2 Spotlighted by a spacious mix, I can’t resist the enchantments of Mills of Tribunal’s well-crafted grooves and countermelodies (“Deliberation” and “Summon the Tribunal”). Nearly as alluring as the basswork, guitars dance and swirl, establishing a fleet lead here (“Draw the Line”) and a supporting power chord there (“Men of the World”). Meanwhile, synths enrich the atmosphere of many tracks, supplying subtle retro pangs reminiscent of Somewhere in Time or Rush’s Grace Under Pressure. Through it all, Thunbo’s higher register cleans pierce with melodic clarity, occasionally summoning the specter of a subdued King Diamond. And while I think that Turbo’s Tribunal vocals are good, examining them closely highlights larger opportunities across Mills of Tribunal.

The individual tracks on Mills of Tribunal furnish a polished debut, although in totality, Turbo’s Tribunal suffers from the tangle of a safety net. Too many mid-paced songs, repetitive vocals, and too narrow a scope of sounds limit what Mills of Tribunal could be. Make no mistake, what’s on tap here is unequivocally good, but it’s like the aural counterpart to a sepia photograph—limited dynamism paints the album in a uniformity that artificially imposes limits on what Mills achieves. While Thunbo does a fine job on the mic, there’s too little variation. Adding some gritty phrasing or a guest vocalist would help satisfy the need for the sonic diversity required to drive anticipation and tension. Besides the drums, which are inoffensive and unremarkable, the instrumentation delivers beefy trad character, though I wish Turbo’s Tribunal experimented more with the guitar tone; like the vocals, a lack of range imposes a ceiling. While many things are done well on Mills of Tribunal, there’s ample potential for a greater outing, and if addressed, closing these gaps will help push future platters into fatally fun territory.

Despite some missed opportunities on risk-taking, Turbo’s Tribunal offers an entertaining debut that’s sure to garner fans. Audible basscraft that draws Steve Harris comparisons should get people’s attention, as should a rich DR and a restrained forty-minute runtime. Mills of Tribunal marks a success that most new bands would be proud of,3 and Thunbo deserves praise for such a tight and well-composed dish. If Turbo’s Tribunal can maintain the engaging songwriting while amplifying the tolerance for danger and risks, the next album might just burn the place down in a heavy metal inferno.

Rating: Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Jawbreaker Records
Websites: turbostribunal.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/turbostribunal
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

One of the common complaints I see about blackgaze is that it tends to be toothless compared to its black metal forebear. This is part of the personal appeal to me, but, in any case, Denmark’s MØL has built a reputation for bucking that trend. They managed to impress even hardened metalheads like Mark Z., who found their 2018 debut, Jord, biting enough to shake him from his blackgaze apathy. Nuclear Blast Records scooped up MØL for the release of Diorama in 2021, which largely picked up where Jord left off. Now, after a fairly lengthy absence, we have Dreamcrush. Is MØL still interested in being one of the fiercest voices in the blackgaze genre?

While MØL was once a direct competitor to Deafheaven, they have largely moved on to a different market segment. The change is most apparent in the guitars, which traded the muscular black metal riffs for a dreamy hybrid of classic shoegaze and vintage alt-rock hooks à la The Smashing Pumpkins or Silversun Pickups. At the same time, traces of more modern acts can be detected. The pairing of cheery, punk-tinged guitar chords with blackened rasps calls to mind Noctambulist. Other times, Dreamcrush is like a more gazey, less mathy version of Rolo Tomassi. Somehow, MØL has created something that feels both fresh and nostalgic.

DREAMCRUSH by MØL

These significant overhauls that MØL made to their formula have vastly improved replayability. On previous records, the guitars did a lot of the heavy lifting to convey nuanced emotion while the vocals mainly draped a uniform blanket of fury. Now, Kim Song Sternkopf’s clean singing shares much more of the melodic load. His harsh vocal range has also been noticeably expanded from his usual high-pitched snarls, dipping into low growls during tracks such as “Young” and “A Former Blueprint.” Dreamcrush is also more dynamic from an instrumental perspective, from the jangling guitar strumming (“Små Forlis”) to dark riffing (“Young”) to delicate strings (“Favour”). While I do enjoy MØL’s prior work, it didn’t quite escape a sense of homogeneity until now.

There are, however, a few small kinks in MØL’s newfound musical direction. Even though their melodies are distinctive, the song structures become a tad predictable, often alternating between clean-sung verses and lead guitar/harsh vocal choruses. Also, several songs have limp, unsatisfying conclusions (“DREAM,” “Dissonance”), slightly hampering the overall flow. Finally, Dreamcrush’s midsection (“Hud,” “Garland,” and “Favour”) is considerably softer than usual for MØL, which I personally appreciate but may cause some existing fans to take issue. I will say, however, that these tracks feature the more dazzling guitar solos, and the tail end of Dreamcrush hearkens more to MØL’s former aggression. Dreamcrush’s individual track lengths have been trimmed to reach an easily digestible total runtime of 42 minutes.

MØL continues to defy genre stereotypes, though in a much different way than before. No longer content to zoom past other groups in the blackgaze lane, they unexpectedly shifted to various other rock subgenres. Some longtime fans may be disappointed by the waning black metal, but MØL still juxtaposes ethereal and heavy with the skill that many of their peers strive for but rarely achieve. I can genuinely say that Dreamcrush is my favorite MØL release to date, and they have removed many of the barriers that were preventing me from fully embracing fandom. While Dreamcrush may not perfectly come together as a whole, it proves that MØL isn’t inclined to sit still and grow complacent.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: moeldk.bandcamp.com | molband.com | facebook.com/moeldk
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

There’s something tantalizing about the brand of metal-adjacent noise rock that’s experienced a renaissance in recent years. It’s ugly, it’s loud, and it doesn’t give a damn if you’re comfortable. You’ve got breakout stars Chat Pile dragging nü-metal’s bloated corpse through the mud, Couch Slut dishing out dissonant, riff-heavy nightmare fuel, and Intercourse sounding like a feral animal tearing flesh for fun. This isn’t “revival” music; it’s bands weaponizing noise, smashing metal’s brute force into punk’s emotional hemorrhaging, and then deliberately breaking whatever’s left just to see it scream. Enter the UK’s Under, stepping into this mess with zero interest in playing nice. They fuse sludge metal’s suffocating weight, noise rock’s hostility, and art rock’s weird, confrontational instincts into something genuinely unhinged. Their third record, What Happened In Roundwood, doesn’t aim to be palatable. It aims to crush, mesmerize, and leave a dent. The question isn’t what they’re doing—it’s whether Under hit hard enough to leave permanent damage.

In the first half of What Happened In Roundwood, Under establishes their own distinct style that sits nicely in conversation with their American contemporaries. The foundations of these songs are built on angular sludge riffs over looping odd time signatures and off-kilter rhythmic patterns, like if a more avant-garde Melvins crashed into a version of Swans that was capable of editing. Bassist and vocalist Matt Franklin anchors the music with simple but weighty low-end riffs, locking tightly with drummer Andy Preece’s commanding, hypnotic grooves. Guitarist Simon Mayo fills in the gaps with jagged riffs and layers of dissonant, skronk-heavy leads. Franklin lends a sneering, British rasp to the endeavor, guiding the songs with an impassioned vocal performance that successfully conveys the aural depravity on display. This formula is deepened with the addition of menacing choral vocals and harmonies (“Ma,” “The Alchemist”), swirling guitar cacophonies (“Tantrum), and even Primitive Man-tinged, slow noise bursts (“Isaac”). It’s an effective and thoroughly unsettling display with just enough variety in its execution to keep things exciting until the B-side obliterates any sense of normalcy.

What Happened In Roundwood by Under

In the second half of What Happens In Roundwood, Under undergo a dramatic sonic shift, and the results are thrilling. The final stretch of the album leans heavily into exploratory, avant-garde jazz-influenced territory, with the tracks flowing seamlessly into one another like a three-part suite. These songs stand out as the album’s clear highlights. The sequence begins with “Rings,” which unfolds in a state of subdued horror, slowly building tension through sparse instrumentation before reaching a blissful climax. This transitions smoothly into “Roots and Limbs,” a jazzy, post-hardcore-like track that increases the tempo and intensity, providing a sense of release after several slower songs. All of this builds toward the closer, “Felling.” The final track plays out like a fever dream, reprising key moments from earlier in the album and reshaping them into a chaotic haze of noise. When the music finally collapses into rich choral vocals, it feels like the calm at the center of a storm. A perfect ending to a bold and striking second half.

This places What Happens in Roundwood in a peculiar position. The second half of the record explores markedly different sonic territory than the first, and is stronger for it. Under’s more standard sound, showcased on the first five tracks, is engaging, but compared to the highs of the final three, it falls a little short. Repeated listens leave me wanting just a bit more grit or memorability in the more straightforward sludge riffcraft before it gives way to the more exploratory material. I appreciate the band’s efforts to vary their noise-rock/sludge approach through vocal layers/embellishments or a Southern tinge (“Escape Roundwood”), but I find myself largely whelmed by the opening salvo. This isn’t a major mark against the record; the album is solid throughout. Still, it keeps the work from standing quite as tall alongside some of my favorites in the style.

With What Happens In Roundwood, Under have delivered a solid sludgy noise rock record with plenty of autre appeal. I wish the impressive oddity were distributed a bit more evenly throughout the album’s runtime, but it’s still an enjoyable listen that carves out its own unique niche within the broader style. The next time the UK group revisits their brand of sinister sludge, I’ll be excited to listen.

Rating: Good!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: APF Records
Websites: understockport.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/understockport
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

Hällas—Sweden’s self-styled administrators of ‘adventure rock’—has suffered a nearly decade-long absence from AMG. Back in 2017, El Cuervo (rightly) awarded Excerpts from a Future Past a 4.0, praising the debut for its transportive aesthetic and cohesive performances. Since this one-off review, Hällas has become a premier neo- proto-metal act, yet they haven’t reached the exceptionality of their entrance. Conundrum (2020) continued in the vein of Excerpts with a synth-heavy slow burn that (why not?) feels less adventurous than the debut.1 Redressing this safeness, Isle of Wisdom (2022) favors tighter, jauntier tunes that bleed into each other.2 On the heels of two very good albums is Panorama, the first to be released on Hällas’s own (aptly named) Äventry Records. This shift seems to signal the kind of confidence arising from a veteran band coming into their own. Accordingly, Panorama experiments more than any previous Hällas album, but experimentation alone does not guarantee Greatness.

Panorama deftly delivers Hällas’s now-familiar take on heavy, psychedelic prog rock. Indeed, these Swedes still sound like Uriah Heep counseling Iron Maiden. Pre-release single “The Emissary” and closer “At the Summit” best encapsulate classic Hällas. On these tracks, Rickard Swahn and Marcus Petersson bounce between wee-da-lee guitarmonies, Ren-faire acoustic plucks, and driving riffage. Nicklas Malmqvist supplies texture via sparkling synthesizers and percussive organ. It is the infectious guitar/key interplays, however, that define Hällas. Towards the end of “At the Summit,” Swahn, Petersson, and Malmqvist unite for delicious harmonized noodling, building drama before a serene denouement. Wrapped in warm, 70s-sounding production fans have come to expect, Panorama supplies some of the strongest Hällas tunes yet.

Panorama’s experimentations, however, make it Hällas’s most singular statement. Its boldest innovation is “Above the Continuum,” a 20-minute, 7-part suite akin to the eponymous openers of Rush’s 2112 and Yes’s Close to the Edge. On this cinematic saga, Hällas brings Gregorian chants, strings, and horns to their brand of synth-rock. Floydian voice-overs materialize Panorama’s somber narrative, in which a hermit laments encroaching dystopia atop his tower. An imperceptible escalation that finally burrowed under my skin after ten or so listens, “Above the Continuum” is an early Song o’ the Year candidate.3 How does one follow such a sprawling epic? With a trotting jam, of course. On “Face of an Angel,” another pre-release single, drummer Kasper Eriksson rides a sleazy Thin Lizzy groove with bassist/vocalist Tommy Alexandersson, who lays down a droningly hooky chorus. Hällas has dropped crowd pleasers before (“Star Rider,” “Carry On”), but “Face of an Angel” is their poppiest ditty yet and the perfect counterbalance to the opening beast. It is “Bestiaus,” though, that truly spotlights Alexandersson’s vocals. His smoky baritone and booming bellow sit center stage on this affecting piano ballad, standing alone in Hällas’s catalogue.

Five scenes spliced into one holistic picture, Panorama is a grand album, which might not register when glancing at the runtime. Like every Hällas record, Panorama clocks in at just under 45 minutes, yet its more limited track count (5, instead of 7–8) renders every song utterly distinct. There is zero filler here, only questionable moments. “Above the Continuum” has abrupt transitions in its opening minutes, but they don’t hinder the track as a whole. Additionally, the immediate fadeout on the punk ending of “The Emissary” always frustrates me. Frustration is surely the intended effect, but Hällas could have stretched the part a few measures and achieved the same. And “Bestiaus” itself feels a little like a moment, striving for songhood but not quite reaching it. Still, it’s an elegant setup for “At the Summit”—an epic but unprotracted finale.

With Panorama, Hällas has delivered (why not?) their most adventurous album, but it’s also their best work to date. Excerpts hinted at excellence—Panorama achieves it. Per its namesake, Panorama provides a virtually seamless showcase of all that Hällas has done while splendidly surveying new terrain. A fun yet serious record, Panorama puts an angelic synth-rock face on a devilish narrative circulatory system. It’s only January, but these Swedes may have already dropped the neo- proto-metal album of 2026 (and a list-topping contender for yours truly).



Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Äventyr Records
Websites: facebook.com/haellas | hallasband.com
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

Far be it from me to deny a band the right to representation under their full government name. However, Belarusian tech death entity Eximperituserqethhzebibšiptugakkathšulweliarzaxułum challenges not just SEO integrity, but also the sanity of all who would read its name. Good luck with that, too, because if you manage it, you’ll open a portal to an unfathomable universe of hellish delights. My bet is that nobody reading this accomplishes a successful pronunciation of Eximperitus’ full name before finishing this review, so onwards we go to examine the Meritoriousness of Equanimity!

In my review for Eximperitus’s last exhibit, Šahrartu, I cited the band’s refinement over their rough and jagged debut, the name of which is simply unsuited to anything other than an epic footnovel.1 This follows that same trajectory, further tightening and streamlining the Nile-meets-Necrophagist-meets-seven separate chainsaws sound that Eximperitus created for themselves back in 2009. Šahrartu’s trippy psychedelic twist remains intact as well, imbued deeply within Meritoriousness’ riffs, leads, and solos. Despite adopting a pace much less ballistic than Nile, Eximperitus instead views technicality as a vehicle to explore bizarre guitar techniques that create bonkers effects, allow for incredible density inside a more relaxed framework, and invite subsequent freakish antics on the percussive front. With all of this in mind, Meritoriousness is much more straightforward than Šahrartu, boasting a total runtime of 31 minutes and an average song length clocking in under 5 minutes per track. Thankfully, this minor tweak didn’t change Eximperitus’ penchant for protracted refrains, arcing tremolo melodies, and twisting, kaleidoscopic atmospheres.

Meritoriousness of Equanimity by Eximperitus

One thing I always appreciate about Eximperitus is its commitment to a high level of detail. Even in their most simplistic compositions, such as the transcendent “The Untimely Fruit of the Undead” and the stomping “Chalkionic Wandering Among the Wreckage of the Future,”2 brilliant little details like a popping clang of bass strings, a long, leisurely scrape across a fretboard, or a machine-gun snare fill continually focuses and intensifies my attention. Meritoriousness’ unorthodox way of opening makes for one brutal hook as well, as “One Step Long Infinity” riffs with great speed directly into a lumbering, chunky pound that introduces “Contemplation of the Plastic Fibers of Perfection at the Second Level of Reality” without an iota of ceremony. Almost universally operating inside the MENA double-harmonic scale, Eximperitus impresses with a wide gamut of riffs distinguished and elevated by dueling plucks that ping pong out of deep trembles across “Contemplation…” and “Golden Chains for the Construction of Individual Greatness.” Delicate melodies in “Twelve Centuries”3 make what would be a trite interlude a necessary palette cleanser for the more epic and sprawling “Finding Consistency in the Fourth Quadrant of Eternity,” which in its own right boasts delightfully bluesy leads, more than one of Eximperitus’ signature epic solos, and a new surprise: earnest, belting cleans! The ultimate result of such successful and smooth integration of innumerable notable points of interest is a rich, layered, and rewarding album experience.

Repeat spins deepen that sense of reward I get from investing my time with Eximperitus’ newest platter, but it also reveals one glaring omission: a climax. I’m not one to maintain that a climax is or should be the only goal of any experience, but Meritoriousness of Equanimity begs for one of the same caliber as Šahrartu‘s showstopper, “Inqirad.” While many, if not all, tracks on Meritoriousness boast big standout moments (the hammer drop at the final third of “The Untimely Fruit of the Unsaid,” the Wormhole-d riffing on “Golden Chains for the Construction of Individual Greatness,” all of “Chalkionic Wandering”) and spine-tingling passages (“Twelve Centuries…” and “Standing a the Skirt of the Ruins of Human Nature…”) that make this record so engaging, I know the level of epic high that Eximperitus are capable of creating, and it’s the one thing I miss here. Additionally, as much as I enjoyed the messy mix and noisy guitar tone on Šahrartu, on Meritoriousness, I fear it takes away a small measure of impact from some of Eximperitus’ more melodic or complex phrases. I’ll never wish for a clean Eximperitus record for as long as I live, but maybe just a touch less grime would help in this case.

Now that I absolutely embarrassed myself on word count, thanks to Eximperitus’ variously egregious song names, I can finally wholeheartedly recommend Meritoriousness of Equanimity. Hooky, technical, mystical, and majestic, Meritoriousness continues the otherworldly assault that these Belarusian curiosities initiated almost 20 years ago, but with greater refinement and exactitude than ever before. A worthy successor to Šahrartu, it lacks only a showstopper to secure its unrelenting takeover of my listening rotation. For those to whom that’s no impediment, I wish you well as Meritoriousness of Equanimity steals you from this mortal coil with disturbing ease.4

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Willowtip Records
Websites: eximperitus.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Eximperitus
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

Crystal Lake is one of those bands that I lost track of. I adored 2015’s The Sign, its blend of hardcore attitude with a surgical metalcore attack and just enough djent and deathcore to make things interesting resulted in some of my all-time favorites in the style (“Prometheus,” “Matrix,” “Hades”). Yes, it’s knuckleheaded and boner-dragging brutality posturing, but for a jolt of breakdown-heavy sonic adrenaline, the Japanese quintet fit the bill. I lost track of them, with albums True North and Helix toning down the weight for an Erra-inspired atmospheric metalcore sound. It has been eight years since Helix entered the scene with a thud, so what can we expect from The Weight of Sound?

The Weight of Sound is the heft of change and consistency alike for Crystal Lake. A notable change is the departure of long-time vocalist Ryo Kinoshita, who released the debut for his solo project Knosis last year, and was replaced by John Robert Centorrino, former vocalist of The Last Ten Seconds of Life. The band acknowledges that Kinoshita’s shoes are nearly impossible to fill; to supplement, Centorrino is backed by an array of guest vocalists: David Simonich of Signs of the Swarm, Taylor Barber of Left to Suffer and Seven Hours After Violet, Myke Terry of Volumes and Fire from the Gods,1 Karl Schubach of Misery Signals and Jesse Leach of Killswitch Engage. Consistently, however, the instrumental approach is the same, bringing back the nu-metal-meets-djent-meets-hardcore chugs (whose absence made the last two outings toothless), as well as that trademark ethereal guitar layers. The result, however, falls woefully short compared to Crystal Lake’s landmark albums, as the knuckleheaded overtakes the thoughtful and the vocals become a monotonous muck.

The Weight of Sound (24-bit HD audio) by Crystal Lake

For positives, when Crystal Lake manages to balance the heavy and the atmospheric, tracks can truly soar. Yearning chord progressions, layers of melodies and sustained trills, and desperate vocals combine to add a nice dose of melancholy and fury, accented by the band’s signature guitar tone that balances djent weight with hardcore urgency. Even Centorrino’s cleans are a nice addition throughout these tracks, distant shouts or croons that recall Brett Gurewitz’s guest spot in Parkway Drive’s “Home is for the Heartless:”: tasteful and subtle. These tracks primarily populate the back half, a calm after the storm of metalcore pummeling, complete with a more somber mood (“The Undertow,” “The Weight of Sound,” “Sinners,” “Coma Wave”) that recalls more melodic hardcore-inflected metalcore acts like Counterparts or The Ghost Inside. The patience in the songwriting of these moments is also noteworthy, as movements feel nicely unhurried and appropriately contemplative.

Crystal Lake’s balance of the atmosphere and chug, as well as vocal charisma, have always been assets, but they plague The Weight of Sound. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t love Helix’s more light-and-airy vibe, but too many tracks are just too knuckleheaded here to make a splash, particularly the opening “unnecessary contractions” triptych (“Everblack,” “BludGod,” “Neversleep”), which seem like the band’s metalcore answer to Signs of the Swarm’s To Rid Myself of Truth. Meanwhile, other tracks seem to be wildly inconsistent and are true head-scratchers in terms of placement in the tracklist, featuring bluesy Southern vibes (“King Down”) or awkward shifts between heavy and ethereal (“Dystopia,” “Crossing Nails”). Each placement in the playlist at large feels shoehorned and abrupt, from balls-to-the-wall heavy to southern to ethereal, to confused. For the number of guest vocalists that appear throughout The Weight of Sound, Centorrino’s vocals make them difficult to discern with his smokier and denser presence. It’s unclear if this makes him a better performer or if the production value is just that putrid – or both.

To their credit, Crystal Lake hasn’t had to change up their sound since Kinoshita’s departure, and the balance between ethereal atmosphere and chuggy metalcore remains a formidable asset. However, scattershot songwriting and odd track placement doom effectiveness beyond a few sparse moments to break up the confused, knuckleheaded beatdowns. The Weight of Sound is everything you loved about The Sign eleven years ago, but with less identity and more distraction, chugging along for one song before brutalizing you with breakdowns the next. But most notable is Crystal Lake’s lack of direction: The Weight of Sound is all chugs and atmosphere with no clear purpose.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: crystallake-worldwide.com | facebook.com/crystallake777
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

The marriage of death and doom is a well-trodden path, but Malignant Aura’s 2022 debut proved they had quickly mastered the formula. Abysmal Misfortune is Draped Upon Me was a crushing blend of old-school death metal (OSDM) misery and funeral desolation, establishing the Australian quartet as another worthy addition to an already vibrant scene. Born from the collaborative interests of guitarist Chris Clark and vocalist Tim Smith, the project has quickly metastasized from its demo roots into a fully realized unit. Now a part of the Memento Mori roster, their sophomore effort, Where All of Worth Comes to Wither, arrives to push Malignant Aura out of the nether realm and into a world all their own.

Where All of Worth picks up where Abysmal Misfortune left off. Opening with a series of gongs, the title track’s Mournful Congregation of Peaceville Three-inspired languid melodies and somber refrains surrender to a plodding, tectonic drum beat. Though Malignant Aura could have merged this intro into the subsequent track, it successfully anchors the record’s slow-burn atmosphere. Elsewhere, “The Pathetic Festival” conjures the macabre spirit of Hooded Menace and OSDM legends Incantation. It stands out as the tighter and faster track of the bunch, while the remaining three tracks are massive—mostly exceeding ten minutes—weaving funeral doom’s glacial phrasing with incendiary OSDM grit. Malignant Aura’s strength lies in the interplay between Robertson’s articulate drumming and Smith’s visceral vocal performance. Smith’s cesspool of gutturals, gurgles (“Beneath a Crown of Anguish,” “The Pathetic Festival”), chokes (“The Pathetic Festival”), and “bleghs” (“Languishing in the Perpetual Mire”) are phenomenal, with Clark’s wailing guitars, titanic riffs, and processional melodies guiding his vocals through shifting and swirling movements.

Where All of Worth Comes to Wither by Malignant Aura

I usually groan when I see double-digit track times, but Malignant Aura navigates Where All of Worth’s unabridged structure with ease by prioritizing flow over sheer density. Treating length as a function of tension and release rather than piling on riffs, they rely on intentional pacing, dynamic restraint, and Robertson’s percussion-led transitions to maintain intrigue and momentum. Whether it’s through violent double bass ruptures (“Languishing in the Perpetual Mire”), sepulchral marches (“The Pathetic Festival”), or cascading, symmetrical fills (“An Abhorrent Path to Providence”), Robertson’s drumming ensures that Where All of Worth’s transitions never feel foreign or accidental. This makes the eventual catastrophic payoffs feel earned rather than obligatory, a key reason each song’s arc feels purposeful. Motifs recur, but they return with altered tempos, denser drumming, or heightened aggression. The constant push and pull between crawling doom passages with repeated fake-outs and sudden bursts of deathly speed prevents stagnation in “Languishing in the Perpetual Mire.” Additionally, the formidable “Beneath a Crown of Anguish” never feels bloated thanks to later sections reframing what came before. “Beneath a Crown of Anguish’s” finale particularly nails this approach, briefly pausing for a moment before slamming back in at halftime for a decisive, memorable ending. Overall, Malignant Aura’s songwriting either deepens atmosphere, increases tension, or reshapes ideas, making their sprawling compositions feel immersive rather than exhausting.

Malignant Aura has undoubtedly sharpened their funerary tools on Where All of Worth, yet the songwriting doesn’t always stick the landing. “An Abhorrent Path to Providence,” for instance, lacks the peaks and valleys of other songs, succumbing to an atmospheric plateau that reveals what happens when runtime exceeds inspiration. The track’s midsection outstays its welcome and, despite the quality of Robertson’s kit work, the track feels unnecessarily distended. Moreover, a solo that fails to echo the song’s morose essence hampers the finale of “Languishing in the Perpetual Mire.” Though a far more evocative lead follows—nearly masking the previous stumble—the song awkwardly dissolves into a fade-out. It’s a clumsy end for a song that deserved a far more monolithic conclusion. However, while these compositional fractures exist, the songwriting remains sharp enough to sustain the weight of Where All of Worth’s expansive crusade.

As my colleagues in the staff lounge can attest, Where All of Worth’s cold embrace initially enthralled me—frankly, I wouldn’t shut up about it. I was certain it would drag the Score Counter into the lifeless muck with ease. Yet, reviewing has a way of introducing irony. Upon further listening, the record leveled out more than I anticipated, causing it to just miss greatness. Nonetheless, Malignant Aura has crafted an undeniable winner here, offering a wealth of grim, doom-laden, and morbid textures that will more than satisfy doom and death fans alike.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Memento Mori | Grindhead/Primitive Moth
Websites: malignant-aura.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/MalignantAura
Releases Worldwide: January 26th, 2026

The evolution of a band is a fickle thing. Change too much, and you alienate those who started the journey with you; change too little and bore listeners over time, leaving only ardent fans of the sound. URNE, a London three-piece with close ties to Gojira and Mastodon, has already shown a surprising amount of reformation by their third release, Setting Fire to the Sky. The band’s debut, SERPENT & SPIRIT, was a hard-edged mix of post-hardcore, sweeping grooves, and raw vocals, with a little bit of sludge thrown into their clean-singing. Their sophomore album refined the sound and felt like a logical evolution, even with a few missteps (especially on the production side). Setting Fire to the Sky fixes some of these issues and sees the band streamline their songs, but not all change is good. Instead of crawling into a chrysalis and emerging as a flying beauty, they slither out as something more akin to a leech, spilling out of their cocoon and siphoning other bands’ sounds to a fault.

URNE serves up nearly fifty minutes of Mastodon-infused metalcore on Setting Fire to the Sky. Yes, you read that correctly. Nothing on their third album feels reminiscent of the classic-rock-infused, post-hardcore sludge on their debut, or the post-metal epics on A Feast on Sorrow. Instead, their latest is stuffed with songs that, while expertly played and produced, feel soulless. Joe Nally sounds like a different singer at this point. While his clean singing is infinitely more competent, it sounds too similar to Mastodon’s Troy Sanders. Nally’s basswork fares better, and he manhandles the frets along Angus Neyra’s thrashy riffs and James Cook’s punchy drumming. The trio sounds great, and their work has been honed like a razor, likely due to their time alongside massive acts like Gojira and Mastodon, but they lack the creative bend of either. Setting Fire to the Sky feels meant to cast a wide net, playing arenas and the radio, but leaving much of the spirit (heh) that was present on SPIRIT & SERPENT to wither.

Expectations hurt URNE on Setting Fire to the Sky. After A Feast on Sorrow, I saw a band poised for their best work yet. URNE’s latest shows a tighter band playing well, and the production is much better than their last outing, but nearly every other facet feels weaker. Songs quickly grow formulaic and repetitive, with “Be Not Dismayed,” “The Spirit, Alive,” and “Setting Fire to the Sky” starting with a chuggy opening riff (usually the best part) and slowly morphing into a generic metalcore song. Each features the typical swing back and forth between core-style screaming and harmonized clean choruses that feel hamfisted, with generically uplifting lyrics like “Be not dismayed and carry this torch forward.” The album lacks the flourishes of URNE’s past two releases, and rarely do songs deviate from their repetitive structures.

Setting Fire to the Sky isn’t all disappointing. As previously mentioned, the production is great, and James Cook’s snare sounds wonderful throughout. While formulaic, the album is full of riffs that will at least get you headbanging, even if they are without pathos. “The Ancient Horizon” is an album highlight, featuring a massive lead and a sound worthy of its title while avoiding the pitfalls of the metalcore hole URNE has crawled into. Album closer “Nocturnal Forms” falls on the good side of Mastodon worship, with a chorus that feels like something off Emperor of Sand. A few features appear on the album, like the aforementioned “Harken the Waves” with Troy Sanders. A song that feels somewhat comical given Joe Nally’s clear worship of Sander’s iconic style, making for a feature that feels obligatory but not complementary. The second, “Breathe” with Jo Quail, goes nowhere. An overly sappy tune with bland cleans and cringe lyrics like “I saw the world, before the world saw me.” Neither feature feels necessary, and with the latter, you have a track that could be cut altogether.

I had high expectations, but Setting Fire to the Sky failed to meet them at every turn. The band’s sound changed in a way that many metal fans are familiar with. More generic music, more radio-friendly songs, more clean singing, all the things that make longtime metal fans cringe and flip on a group. While I foresee this album ending up all over year-end lists on the normie sites, this record is a shadow of the band’s clear inspirations and shows a group that should return to what made them stand out in the first place. At least the album artwork is gorgeous.

Rating: Mixed
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream :(
Label: Spinefarm
Websites: urneofficial.com | instagram.com/urneband
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

As a musician, sometimes you just want to blow off some steam with a fun, low-stakes side project, free from the genre trappings or expectations of your main gig. Karloff is a band born of such an impulse, serving as the vehicle for Graveyard Ghoul’s Tom “Tyrantör” Horrified to deliver some vintage metal/punk. The band’s last full-length, 2021’s The Appearing, was an enjoyable but unimpressive throwback to the halcyon days of punky heavy metal with a blackened twist. Now Mr. Horrified and his team storm back from the grave with another fist-swinging slab of tight, nostalgia-soaked riffage, built to crack open some beers and rattle your damn crypt to rubble. Can Karloff rise above their debut, hit harder, and unleash a truly skull-splitting dose of heavy metal warcraft?

From the moment you press “play,” it’s clear that Revered by Death is bursting with punk energy and metal spirit. Opener “A Pessimistic Soaring” wastes no time before hitting you square in the face with a simple, but effective power chord riff panned to one channel before the full rhythm section bursts in. We get a tasty, phased-out guitar lead before landing on a fun, punky verse riff, complete with blackened rasps about “a world consumed by darkness.” This sets the stage nicely for what Karloff is all about: no-nonsense, kitschy retro metal/punk with plenty of energy. Their bread-and-butter is like if a less-gaudy Midnight crashed into the punked-out thrash of early Nasty Savage and sprinkled it in a blackened layer of late-era Darkthrone. When it all comes together, the result can be oodles of fun. Karloff isn’t reinventing the wheel, but they’re definitely spilling some beer on it and decorating it with fake cobwebs and candles.

Revered by Death by Karloff

A lot of Revered by Death’s charm comes from the no-nonsense attitude on display from Karloff’s members. At their best, the riffs have the sort of quality of alcohol-fueled basement jams, with Tom Horrified providing some flavorful leads to spice things up and laying down punky power chords that find a sweet spot between uncomplicated and straight-up ignorant (“Crown Cult Fate,” “Die Wiederkehr der Dunkeleit”). H.T Steinbrecher’s drum performance is effective and workmanlike, rarely veering into blastbeat territory and keeping things classy with variations on rock beats, aided by the occasional d-beat (“Prince of Parasites”). Karloff maintains their core metal/punk sound across much of the album, but a few effective variations help to keep things fresh. “When the Flames Devour You All” is a mid-tempo, blackened banger, with swirling black metal arpeggios meeting sludgy power chords, and “Elisabetha’s Revenge” continues this thread, amping up the cinematics and dynamics to make for a memorable closer. Throughout it all, there’s a distinct sense of personality that helps maintain a sonic cohesion.

My only real complaint with Revered by Death is that some tracks aren’t quite as tightly executed as others. Karloff largely hit the mark, and none of the songs are complete stinkers, but some of the B-sides fail to get the blood pumping as effectively. At 4-minutes, “Regicide” is a tad longer than average and lingers on its main riff for its entirety, lacking a lead or meaningful variation to keep things interesting. “On Weathered Altar” is a surprising turn towards instrumental horror ambience and lands smack in the middle as an interlude that runs for about twice as long as it should. These aren’t total deal breakers, but on a short album, they feel longer than they otherwise would and distract somewhat from an otherwise solid package.

With Revered by Death, Karloff has delivered a lively batch of blackened metal/punk rippers. Nothing here will boggle your mind, but the band’s distinctive attitude and kitschy execution are plenty entertaining. The next time I want to feel like I’m in a metal party scene from an 80s horror movie, I’ll crush a beer can on my forehead, pull out my ripped jeans, gel my mullet, and throw on some of the best tracks from this latest Karloff.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Website: facebook.com/karloffpunk
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

Five years ago, I highlighted Invictus’ 2020 debut LP Catacombs of Fear as part of our year-end death metal roundup feature. Since then, the Japanese death metal trio toiled under the ground with a brutal live schedule and steadily wrote what might very well be my most highly anticipated follow-up in the death metal realm. Hot on the heels of killer releases from personal favorites like Depravity, and jumping just ahead of another highly anticipated salvo from Eximperitus, Invictus’ upcoming Nocturnal Visions has big shoes to fill and stiff competition to combat. But if anybody has the chops and the balls to do it, it’s Invictus.

Having only one previous album and a few scattered demos/singles to their name, Invictus haven’t messed with their formula very much since their inception. Boasting a killer combo of Demolition Hammer nastiness and Consuming Impulse-era Pestilence attack, Nocturnal Visions pushes 35 minutes of pure adrenaline. Nary a second faffs about with filler, fluffy atmosphere, or anything else that could be construed as something other than devout reverence to The Almighty Riff™. With each twist of phrase or shift in movement, guitarist/vocalist Takehitopsy Seki tears through an unrelenting assault of intense grooves, speedy thrashes, and writhing rhythms that don’t just open up pits, but rather rip open dimensional rifts straight to hell itself (“Altar of Devoted Slaughter,” “Wandering Ashdream”). Instead of relying on blasts for intensity, Haruki Tokutake’s percussive strategy focuses on machine-gun double-bass runs and thrashy skanks so brutally exacted upon my spine that I needed a back brace and headgear just to approach the second half—accommodations which in no way deterred my summary bodily encrushment (“Persecution Madness”). Bassist Toshihiro Seki clunks and clangs beneath the surface with a violent, hammering tone that, while not always as audible as it ought to be, nonetheless deepens the tonal quality of the record’s warm, slightly swampy production (“Nocturnal Visions”). Unlike many of those acts from whom Invictus draws inspiration, Seki’s vocals operate squarely inside the Incantation/Tomb Mold school of subterranean monstrosity. Counterintuitively, this sets the trio apart from their influences by hiding in plain sight with their contemporaries.

Nocturnal Visions by Invictus

Regardless of where you fall in the greater scope of metallic fandom, Nocturnal Visions is a magnificent showcase of energetic songwriting and devastating hookcraft. While the formula opener proper “Abyssal Earth Eradicates” utilizes feels and sounds familiar, Invictus executes it with a youthfulness, voracity, and dare I say exuberance that makes me forget for a moment the entirety of death metal’s history. As Nocturnal Visions progresses through its early movements, boasting killer tracks in “Altar of Devoted Slaughter,” “Lucid Dream Trauma,” and “Persecution Madness,” my ability to care about anything other than banging my head, grimacing like a gargoyle, and stomping my poor abused feet against the floor vanishes. What’s left is a mind-broken sponge reduced to primal instincts, with a vocabulary of one word, “Fuck!” exclaimed exclusively with each new swaggering groove or pummeling riff. Even after several dozen spins, pit monsters “Persecution Madness,” “Dragged Beneath the Grave,” and later highlight “Wandering Ashdream” received such frequent and aggressive verbal confirmation of their sheer awesomeness and perpetual energy that my coworker had to perform a wellness check. Even the daunting eight-minute closer “Nocturnal Visions” earns its keep here, switching up themes and reprising refrains just enough to keep my interest up and my engagement high.

That doesn’t leave much room for negatives, and indeed, few found purchase in my evaluation. Obviously, Nocturnal Visions exhibits nothing new or innovative; it’s simply doing classic death metal far better than most. Consequently, Invictus left some creativity and novelty on the table. They could easily pick up bits and bobs from that stack of potential ideas and bring an extra dimension to future efforts without sacrificing their core sound. Additionally, pacing Nocturnal Visions at such a blistering rate of speed so consistently across 35 minutes leaves a little to be desired in the way of songwriting dynamics. Tokutake in particular makes the most of his arsenal of patterns, fills, and tumbles to alleviate this condition, but not quite enough to cure it—see the otherwise ripping “Frozen Tomb.” Seki’s somewhat one-note vocal approach doesn’t always help matters in that respect, but his performance is rock-solid and dependable enough not to hurt either.

Of course, these critiques amount to mere nitpicks in the truest sense of the term. Nocturnal Visions is, simply put, a staggering monument to old-school death molded for the modern era. Invictus blasted my skull apart with their debut, but this sophomore effort is more than a worthy successor. Hear it!

Rating: Great!
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Me Saco Un Ojo Records
Websites: invictus3.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Invictus
Releases Worldwide: January 26th, 2026

Literal metals are always cooler when they come from space. A blade forged from meteoric iron is effectively the same as one made from iron you can find on Earth, but don’t tell me you wouldn’t want the space knife way more. Likewise, metal music always sounds cooler when it feels like it’s from another world. Enter ZU, the Italian jazz metal trio comprised of guitarist/bassist Massimo Pupillo, saxophonist/keyboardist Luca Mai, and drummer Paolo Mangardi. ZU forged their latest record, Ferrum Sidereum, Latin for “iron of (or from) the stars,” to sonically approach something otherworldly, drawing from the historical spiritual significance of meteoric iron as inspiration for their music. And forge ZU did, because Ferrum Sidereum is an 80-minute double album of progressive, industrial, punk-infused, and fully instrumental jazz metal. But is Ferrum Sidereum a gift from the stars, or should you look for your metal closer to home?

Ferrum Sidereum is a record that revels in texture and rhythm more so than melody. Like ObZen-era Meshuggah, ZU play melodically bare but rhythmically exquisite riffs, with their prog and metal elements manifesting into bouncy, syncopated djent jabs prominent on tracks like “Golgotha” and “Kether.” Guitars are low (“Ferrum Sidereum”), bass is plucked with abandon (“Charagma”), and drums roll with jazz-practiced precision and metal aggression (“La Donna Vestita Di Sole”). Industrial elements and saxophone conspire to either inject a sense of progression to simple riffs (“Hymn of the Pearl”) or, more often than not, tear your ears a new one with punkish, dissonant whines and whistles (“Fuoco Saturnio”). ZU bounce between these loud, crunched moments with Tool-like passages of meditative, methodical calm and repetition with a hodgepodge of percussive additions to fill out space (“Pleroma”). You likely won’t be able to hum anything off Ferrum Sidereum by the end, but it’s undeniable that ZU are very particular about sounding a very particular way.

Ferrum Sidereum by ZU

ZU have the chops to carry the load of a double album, but Ferrum Sidereum unfortunately doesn’t have the substance to fill one. To achieve a sense of spiritual ritualism, ZU obviously had to rely on repetition within songs, but it quickly just gets excessive and bland. Differences between songs—like “AI Hive Mind” and its distinct, mathcore level of scronk in its guitar tone and saxophone or “Golgotha” and its use of ghostly choir to build unnerving atmospheres—get lost in the flood of crushed djenting that better defines Ferrum Sidereum. ZU stick to such a strict palette that following along to the album as a whole becomes tedious, and the lack of melodic leads or even just a singer make Ferrum Sidereum easy to drift away from mentally. Eighty minutes and no hook is a big ask for any listener. Ferrum Sidereum’s uniform construction does lend it a sense of unity, and ZU’s expert musicianship and occasional atmospheres do make the record a good background listen, but for the purpose of intentional, critical listening, it leaves much to be desired.

This is deeply disappointing to me, because Ferrum Sidereum can at times be simply transcendent. When it comes to shaping otherworldly and religious atmospheres, when ZU get it right, they get it right. “La Donna Vestita Di Sole” feels like a festival from another planet with its twisty sax riff, while the conclusion to the closing title track uses the dichotomy of furious palm-muted riffing and complete silence to make an ending both meditative and succinct. The one-two punch of “The Celestial Bull and the White Lady” and “Hymn of the Pearl” sees ZU at their most sublime, awash with delayed clean guitars and tribal drumming derived from the same sacred geometry as Lateralus, both stirring and refreshing to the mind and soul. There’s great material on Ferrum Sidereum, songs so good I can see clearly the greatness that ZU see in it, but material buried under about as much runtime of bloat as well.

I know there’s a world where Ferrum Sidereum clicks with me, but here and now it doesn’t. ZU are wildly talented musicians, and I know there are fans of instrumental metal who will gobble this up, but for me too much of what makes Ferrum Sidereum enthralling (its rich atmosphere and contemplative nature) is sidelined by what makes it boring (djent). “Hymn of the Pearl” may make a reappearance in December for SotY contention, but I think I’ve gotten enough of ZU’s latest as a whole. But I’ll keep an eye out for falling rocks, regardless.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: House of Mythology
Websites: zuhom.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/vajrazu | zuism.net
Releases Worldwide: January 9th, 2026