#jun26 — Public Fediverse posts

Being the manager of a large arcade, you’d correctly imagine that summer has been kicking my keister. Consequently, this review is late, and not in a “I had it written, and Steel took his sweet time getting its glory to the masses” way.1 This one is my fault altogether, such that I almost let it slip through the cracks and gave it the TYMHM treatment. And yet, I cannot. International outfit (by way of Sweden and Italy) Feralia have quietly come out with a release which has enticed and enthralled me, warts and all, til I felt spiritually obligated to make sure I spoke of its darkness in a semi-timely manner. Third album Ultima Requies has been released, and while ostensibly black metal, it draws from so many colors within its palette that it makes for a quality and engaging listen.

In a stunning, fist-shaking gesture of defiance to AMG HQ procedures appropriate for my country celebrating the 4th of July, I’m gonna knock the whining out of the way up front. Ultima Requies has a lot of clean vocals, and not all of them stick the landing. Opening track “Ballata Avernale” is the worst offender, where the vocals don’t so much transition as much as startle with an effort at a baritone reminiscent of modern Mayhem but with a much more jarring, disjointed presentation. They do get smoother as the album unfolds; “Defigere” in particular manages to hit a particularly mournful tone about halfway through which fits quite well. Nevertheless, they’re easily the part that takes the longest to warm up to, and Feralia needs to improve their ability to mesh this element in with their overall sound.

The good news is Feralia has such a masterful command of textures that you shouldn’t let this get in the way of your enjoyment. Ultima Requies utilizes an excessive breadth of extra instrumentation ranging from organs (“Ballata Avernale”) to synthy choirs to acoustic guitars to a full-blown Beard-bait-dudgeon-synth-adjacent interlude (“Emperio”), and not one of them feels forced or uncalled for. While there aren’t any riffs here that could be classified as life-changing, the band exercise a mastery of flow from requisite crushing power to melancholic, introspective calm without missing a step. Ultima Requies is an excellent example of an album with a journey, escorting the listener across brief dollops of straightforward Havukruunu charge, and occasional Fell Omen riffs by way of mid-era Immortal tones, assembled between and around calmer moments of introspective peace with the arrangement skill of Nechochwen. Listeners should not come in expecting hellfire and suffering, but also not a lovely waltz through the woods; here there be thunderstorms and toppled statues as much as peace and serenity.

This defiance of easy classification is the most enticing thing about Ultima Requies. It isn’t so overtly assaulting as to be called a blackened slab of violence; nor does it rely on its interludes and peaceful moments enough to properly be classified as atmospheric. It has some whiffs of dissonance, trying to channel the most Omega of Deathspells (“Ver Sacrum”), but these moments collapse into bass-led melody as quick as they appear. Said bass, courtesy of member Krhura is given a lot of spotlight, with the guitars sometimes turned down for him to take complete sonic command in the stylings of more modern Krallice. Occasional leads pop up in the spirit of less flashy Aran Angmar but always with a focus on raw atmosphere and emotion rather than the slaughter of one’s enemies. Despite this constant carousel of mood and tone, Feralia have offered up a cohesive, well-assembled work which refuses to be limited by its genre labels despite working well within its established ideas.

Ultima Requies is a confusing album in the best possible sense. Not content to merely make you headbang, but also not trying to drag you into depression; not so evil as to make you throw horns but hardly giving in to anything that could be considered light and joy, it is a kaleidoscope of sound under a black metal umbrella. Driving home at two in the morning, exhausted from ten hours of exposure to the cacophony of screaming children, it hits different. Feralia have offered a great encapsulation of power spent, of the peace after the storm, with enough sparks of remaining spirit and might to invigorate as much as soothe and relax. That’s a rare treat in the realm of black metal, and in this abominable heat and exhausting season, it’s worthy of your time.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: Lost to time | Format Reviewed: Bandcamp stream
Label: Aeternitas Tenebrarum Musicae Fundamentum
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Being the manager of a large arcade, you’d correctly imagine that summer has been kicking my keister. Consequently, this review is late, and not in a “I had it written, and Steel took his sweet time getting its glory to the masses” way.1 This one is my fault altogether, such that I almost let it slip through the cracks and gave it the TYMHM treatment. And yet, I cannot. International outfit (by way of Sweden and Italy) Feralia have quietly come out with a release which has enticed and enthralled me, warts and all, til I felt spiritually obligated to make sure I spoke of its darkness in a semi-timely manner. Third album Ultima Requies has been released, and while ostensibly black metal, it draws from so many colors within its palette that it makes for a quality and engaging listen.

In a stunning, fist-shaking gesture of defiance to AMG HQ procedures appropriate for my country celebrating the 4th of July, I’m gonna knock the whining out of the way up front. Ultima Requies has a lot of clean vocals, and not all of them stick the landing. Opening track “Ballata Avernale” is the worst offender, where the vocals don’t so much transition as much as startle with an effort at a baritone reminiscent of modern Mayhem but with a much more jarring, disjointed presentation. They do get smoother as the album unfolds; “Defigere” in particular manages to hit a particularly mournful tone about halfway through which fits quite well. Nevertheless, they’re easily the part that takes the longest to warm up to, and Feralia needs to improve their ability to mesh this element in with their overall sound.

The good news is Feralia has such a masterful command of textures that you shouldn’t let this get in the way of your enjoyment. Ultima Requies utilizes an excessive breadth of extra instrumentation ranging from organs (“Ballata Avernale”) to synthy choirs to acoustic guitars to a full-blown Beard-bait-dudgeon-synth-adjacent interlude (“Emperio”), and not one of them feels forced or uncalled for. While there aren’t any riffs here that could be classified as life-changing, the band exercise a mastery of flow from requisite crushing power to melancholic, introspective calm without missing a step. Ultima Requies is an excellent example of an album with a journey, escorting the listener across brief dollops of straightforward Havukruunu charge, and occasional Fell Omen riffs by way of mid-era Immortal tones, assembled between and around calmer moments of introspective peace with the arrangement skill of Nechochwen. Listeners should not come in expecting hellfire and suffering, but also not a lovely waltz through the woods; here there be thunderstorms and toppled statues as much as peace and serenity.

This defiance of easy classification is the most enticing thing about Ultima Requies. It isn’t so overtly assaulting as to be called a blackened slab of violence; nor does it rely on its interludes and peaceful moments enough to properly be classified as atmospheric. It has some whiffs of dissonance, trying to channel the most Omega of Deathspells (“Ver Sacrum”), but these moments collapse into bass-led melody as quick as they appear. Said bass, courtesy of member Krhura is given a lot of spotlight, with the guitars sometimes turned down for him to take complete sonic command in the stylings of more modern Krallice. Occasional leads pop up in the spirit of less flashy Aran Angmar but always with a focus on raw atmosphere and emotion rather than the slaughter of one’s enemies. Despite this constant carousel of mood and tone, Feralia have offered up a cohesive, well-assembled work which refuses to be limited by its genre labels despite working well within its established ideas.

Ultima Requies is a confusing album in the best possible sense. Not content to merely make you headbang, but also not trying to drag you into depression; not so evil as to make you throw horns but hardly giving in to anything that could be considered light and joy, it is a kaleidoscope of sound under a black metal umbrella. Driving home at two in the morning, exhausted from ten hours of exposure to the cacophony of screaming children, it hits different. Feralia have offered a great encapsulation of power spent, of the peace after the storm, with enough sparks of remaining spirit and might to invigorate as much as soothe and relax. That’s a rare treat in the realm of black metal, and in this abominable heat and exhausting season, it’s worthy of your time.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: Lost to time | Format Reviewed: Bandcamp stream
Label: Aeternitas Tenebrarum Musicae Fundamentum
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Being the manager of a large arcade, you’d correctly imagine that summer has been kicking my keister. Consequently, this review is late, and not in a “I had it written, and Steel took his sweet time getting its glory to the masses” way.1 This one is my fault altogether, such that I almost let it slip through the cracks and gave it the TYMHM treatment. And yet, I cannot. International outfit (by way of Sweden and Italy) Feralia have quietly come out with a release which has enticed and enthralled me, warts and all, til I felt spiritually obligated to make sure I spoke of its darkness in a semi-timely manner. Third album Ultima Requies has been released, and while ostensibly black metal, it draws from so many colors within its palette that it makes for a quality and engaging listen.

In a stunning, fist-shaking gesture of defiance to AMG HQ procedures appropriate for my country celebrating the 4th of July, I’m gonna knock the whining out of the way up front. Ultima Requies has a lot of clean vocals, and not all of them stick the landing. Opening track “Ballata Avernale” is the worst offender, where the vocals don’t so much transition as much as startle with an effort at a baritone reminiscent of modern Mayhem but with a much more jarring, disjointed presentation. They do get smoother as the album unfolds; “Defigere” in particular manages to hit a particularly mournful tone about halfway through which fits quite well. Nevertheless, they’re easily the part that takes the longest to warm up to, and Feralia needs to improve their ability to mesh this element in with their overall sound.

The good news is Feralia has such a masterful command of textures that you shouldn’t let this get in the way of your enjoyment. Ultima Requies utilizes an excessive breadth of extra instrumentation ranging from organs (“Ballata Avernale”) to synthy choirs to acoustic guitars to a full-blown Beard-bait-dudgeon-synth-adjacent interlude (“Emperio”), and not one of them feels forced or uncalled for. While there aren’t any riffs here that could be classified as life-changing, the band exercise a mastery of flow from requisite crushing power to melancholic, introspective calm without missing a step. Ultima Requies is an excellent example of an album with a journey, escorting the listener across brief dollops of straightforward Havukruunu charge, and occasional Fell Omen riffs by way of mid-era Immortal tones, assembled between and around calmer moments of introspective peace with the arrangement skill of Nechochwen. Listeners should not come in expecting hellfire and suffering, but also not a lovely waltz through the woods; here there be thunderstorms and toppled statues as much as peace and serenity.

This defiance of easy classification is the most enticing thing about Ultima Requies. It isn’t so overtly assaulting as to be called a blackened slab of violence; nor does it rely on its interludes and peaceful moments enough to properly be classified as atmospheric. It has some whiffs of dissonance, trying to channel the most Omega of Deathspells (“Ver Sacrum”), but these moments collapse into bass-led melody as quick as they appear. Said bass, courtesy of member Krhura is given a lot of spotlight, with the guitars sometimes turned down for him to take complete sonic command in the stylings of more modern Krallice. Occasional leads pop up in the spirit of less flashy Aran Angmar but always with a focus on raw atmosphere and emotion rather than the slaughter of one’s enemies. Despite this constant carousel of mood and tone, Feralia have offered up a cohesive, well-assembled work which refuses to be limited by its genre labels despite working well within its established ideas.

Ultima Requies is a confusing album in the best possible sense. Not content to merely make you headbang, but also not trying to drag you into depression; not so evil as to make you throw horns but hardly giving in to anything that could be considered light and joy, it is a kaleidoscope of sound under a black metal umbrella. Driving home at two in the morning, exhausted from ten hours of exposure to the cacophony of screaming children, it hits different. Feralia have offered a great encapsulation of power spent, of the peace after the storm, with enough sparks of remaining spirit and might to invigorate as much as soothe and relax. That’s a rare treat in the realm of black metal, and in this abominable heat and exhausting season, it’s worthy of your time.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: Lost to time | Format Reviewed: Bandcamp stream
Label: Aeternitas Tenebrarum Musicae Fundamentum
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Being the manager of a large arcade, you’d correctly imagine that summer has been kicking my keister. Consequently, this review is late, and not in a “I had it written, and Steel took his sweet time getting its glory to the masses” way.1 This one is my fault altogether, such that I almost let it slip through the cracks and gave it the TYMHM treatment. And yet, I cannot. International outfit (by way of Sweden and Italy) Feralia have quietly come out with a release which has enticed and enthralled me, warts and all, til I felt spiritually obligated to make sure I spoke of its darkness in a semi-timely manner. Third album Ultima Requies has been released, and while ostensibly black metal, it draws from so many colors within its palette that it makes for a quality and engaging listen.

In a stunning, fist-shaking gesture of defiance to AMG HQ procedures appropriate for my country celebrating the 4th of July, I’m gonna knock the whining out of the way up front. Ultima Requies has a lot of clean vocals, and not all of them stick the landing. Opening track “Ballata Avernale” is the worst offender, where the vocals don’t so much transition as much as startle with an effort at a baritone reminiscent of modern Mayhem but with a much more jarring, disjointed presentation. They do get smoother as the album unfolds; “Defigere” in particular manages to hit a particularly mournful tone about halfway through which fits quite well. Nevertheless, they’re easily the part that takes the longest to warm up to, and Feralia needs to improve their ability to mesh this element in with their overall sound.

The good news is Feralia has such a masterful command of textures that you shouldn’t let this get in the way of your enjoyment. Ultima Requies utilizes an excessive breadth of extra instrumentation ranging from organs (“Ballata Avernale”) to synthy choirs to acoustic guitars to a full-blown Beard-bait-dudgeon-synth-adjacent interlude (“Emperio”), and not one of them feels forced or uncalled for. While there aren’t any riffs here that could be classified as life-changing, the band exercise a mastery of flow from requisite crushing power to melancholic, introspective calm without missing a step. Ultima Requies is an excellent example of an album with a journey, escorting the listener across brief dollops of straightforward Havukruunu charge, and occasional Fell Omen riffs by way of mid-era Immortal tones, assembled between and around calmer moments of introspective peace with the arrangement skill of Nechochwen. Listeners should not come in expecting hellfire and suffering, but also not a lovely waltz through the woods; here there be thunderstorms and toppled statues as much as peace and serenity.

This defiance of easy classification is the most enticing thing about Ultima Requies. It isn’t so overtly assaulting as to be called a blackened slab of violence; nor does it rely on its interludes and peaceful moments enough to properly be classified as atmospheric. It has some whiffs of dissonance, trying to channel the most Omega of Deathspells (“Ver Sacrum”), but these moments collapse into bass-led melody as quick as they appear. Said bass, courtesy of member Krhura is given a lot of spotlight, with the guitars sometimes turned down for him to take complete sonic command in the stylings of more modern Krallice. Occasional leads pop up in the spirit of less flashy Aran Angmar but always with a focus on raw atmosphere and emotion rather than the slaughter of one’s enemies. Despite this constant carousel of mood and tone, Feralia have offered up a cohesive, well-assembled work which refuses to be limited by its genre labels despite working well within its established ideas.

Ultima Requies is a confusing album in the best possible sense. Not content to merely make you headbang, but also not trying to drag you into depression; not so evil as to make you throw horns but hardly giving in to anything that could be considered light and joy, it is a kaleidoscope of sound under a black metal umbrella. Driving home at two in the morning, exhausted from ten hours of exposure to the cacophony of screaming children, it hits different. Feralia have offered a great encapsulation of power spent, of the peace after the storm, with enough sparks of remaining spirit and might to invigorate as much as soothe and relax. That’s a rare treat in the realm of black metal, and in this abominable heat and exhausting season, it’s worthy of your time.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: Lost to time | Format Reviewed: Bandcamp stream
Label: Aeternitas Tenebrarum Musicae Fundamentum
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Being the manager of a large arcade, you’d correctly imagine that summer has been kicking my keister. Consequently, this review is late, and not in a “I had it written, and Steel took his sweet time getting its glory to the masses” way.1 This one is my fault altogether, such that I almost let it slip through the cracks and gave it the TYMHM treatment. And yet, I cannot. International outfit (by way of Sweden and Italy) Feralia have quietly come out with a release which has enticed and enthralled me, warts and all, til I felt spiritually obligated to make sure I spoke of its darkness in a semi-timely manner. Third album Ultima Requies has been released, and while ostensibly black metal, it draws from so many colors within its palette that it makes for a quality and engaging listen.

In a stunning, fist-shaking gesture of defiance to AMG HQ procedures appropriate for my country celebrating the 4th of July, I’m gonna knock the whining out of the way up front. Ultima Requies has a lot of clean vocals, and not all of them stick the landing. Opening track “Ballata Avernale” is the worst offender, where the vocals don’t so much transition as much as startle with an effort at a baritone reminiscent of modern Mayhem but with a much more jarring, disjointed presentation. They do get smoother as the album unfolds; “Defigere” in particular manages to hit a particularly mournful tone about halfway through which fits quite well. Nevertheless, they’re easily the part that takes the longest to warm up to, and Feralia needs to improve their ability to mesh this element in with their overall sound.

The good news is Feralia has such a masterful command of textures that you shouldn’t let this get in the way of your enjoyment. Ultima Requies utilizes an excessive breadth of extra instrumentation ranging from organs (“Ballata Avernale”) to synthy choirs to acoustic guitars to a full-blown Beard-bait-dudgeon-synth-adjacent interlude (“Emperio”), and not one of them feels forced or uncalled for. While there aren’t any riffs here that could be classified as life-changing, the band exercise a mastery of flow from requisite crushing power to melancholic, introspective calm without missing a step. Ultima Requies is an excellent example of an album with a journey, escorting the listener across brief dollops of straightforward Havukruunu charge, and occasional Fell Omen riffs by way of mid-era Immortal tones, assembled between and around calmer moments of introspective peace with the arrangement skill of Nechochwen. Listeners should not come in expecting hellfire and suffering, but also not a lovely waltz through the woods; here there be thunderstorms and toppled statues as much as peace and serenity.

This defiance of easy classification is the most enticing thing about Ultima Requies. It isn’t so overtly assaulting as to be called a blackened slab of violence; nor does it rely on its interludes and peaceful moments enough to properly be classified as atmospheric. It has some whiffs of dissonance, trying to channel the most Omega of Deathspells (“Ver Sacrum”), but these moments collapse into bass-led melody as quick as they appear. Said bass, courtesy of member Krhura is given a lot of spotlight, with the guitars sometimes turned down for him to take complete sonic command in the stylings of more modern Krallice. Occasional leads pop up in the spirit of less flashy Aran Angmar but always with a focus on raw atmosphere and emotion rather than the slaughter of one’s enemies. Despite this constant carousel of mood and tone, Feralia have offered up a cohesive, well-assembled work which refuses to be limited by its genre labels despite working well within its established ideas.

Ultima Requies is a confusing album in the best possible sense. Not content to merely make you headbang, but also not trying to drag you into depression; not so evil as to make you throw horns but hardly giving in to anything that could be considered light and joy, it is a kaleidoscope of sound under a black metal umbrella. Driving home at two in the morning, exhausted from ten hours of exposure to the cacophony of screaming children, it hits different. Feralia have offered a great encapsulation of power spent, of the peace after the storm, with enough sparks of remaining spirit and might to invigorate as much as soothe and relax. That’s a rare treat in the realm of black metal, and in this abominable heat and exhausting season, it’s worthy of your time.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: Lost to time | Format Reviewed: Bandcamp stream
Label: Aeternitas Tenebrarum Musicae Fundamentum
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

I’ve been on a bit of a thrash bender in June, and Ruyned will conclude this month’s kick for ol’ Grin. The Romanian trio sends me deep into the heart of July with turbocharged, high-octane riffing and a moderate case of whiplash. Profanum Sacrificium, Ruyned’s sophomore LP, plays thrash the way the olde school intended—at furious speeds with the subtlety of an uppercut to the jawbone. My elevator pitch for Ruyned is, ‘Midnight but faster,’ yet the crew also channels Kill ‘Em All-era Metallica and a stripped-down Hellripper. With blistering paces in all the right places, does Profanum Sacrificium satisfy listeners’ need for speed?

Profanum Sacrificium is a tale of two halves, covering a pair of narrative arcs that relate accounts of violence and death. The front-end scorches with instantaneous shots of adrenaline and describes the heinous depravity of the Vampire of Düsseldorf. “Speedchain” and “Sex’n Speed” reek of OG Metallica, where “Hit the Lights” seems a major inspiration for both “Speedchain”‘s thunderous opening as well as the primary hook in “Sex’n Speed.” “Sex Commander 666” sprints into Motörhead territory, opening with a solo that Fast Eddie Clark would approve of before slinking into a funky swagger that reminds me of “Love Me Like a Reptile.” Where Ruyned plays a touch too close to influence on the first two, “Sex Commander 666” exudes a freshness that hints at touchstones without plaguing me with questions of where I’ve heard a riff before. Meanwhile, “Orgasm Through Death” slows proceedings down appreciably, with Bogdan Mateescu’s tortured, blackened rasps guiding listeners through a plodding march that amplifies the drama.

The second half of Profanum Sacrificium shifts to a separate narrative, describing centuries-long witch hunts from post-medieval Europe steeped in folklore and flames. Musically, this pulls Ruyned away from the straightforward ragers that define Profanum Sacrificium’s first half and into darker, more novel waters. The most immediate difference is that more time gets dedicated to instrumentation on the back half, with two instrumentals and less vocal focus towards the ends of tracks “Malleus Maleficarum” and “Witches Gallöw.” Originality flares here as well, where the instrumentation is reminiscent of bands like Bütcher and Toxic Holocaust, but the songs don’t blur with comparisons. “Profanum Sacrificium,” “Malleus Maleficarum,” and “Witches Gallöw” could pass for decade-old Kreator B-sides sung by Tapping the Vein-era Tom Angelripper, boasting snappy melodic riffing supported by Mihai Marinescu’s machine-gun blast drums and Tiberiu Olescher’s mid-range bass attack.

In all, Ruyned zips through half an hour of breakneck thrash with enough energy and grit that it’s unerringly easy to enjoy despite some bumps along the way. Even before I discovered Profanum Sacrificium’s two narrative arcs, the musical split between them stood out. While each half succeeds on its own, together they present a whole too disjointed to flourish without an interceding mixer. Ruyned’s instrumentals also undercut Profanum Sacrificium’s potential, where the three of them total four-and-a-half minutes of fluff. The remainder of Profanum Sacrificium barely contains enough meat to qualify for LP status, leaving the album longing for another well-developed song or two rather than three throwaway tracks.1 Still, the rest of the album supplies plenty of good thrashing, and with a little more consideration to songwriting cohesion, Ruyned possesses the pizzazz to set barns ablaze their next time out.

After several listens through Profanum Sacrificium, I’m convinced Ruyned can write first-class thrash. Rapidfire riffs and blackened edges give Ruyned a sense of familiarity, and if they can take care to push further away from genre greats and commit to more unified songwriting, they’ll menace listeners with an all-killer fusillade next time. Until then, Profanum Sacrificium serves as a fun diversion when time doesn’t allow for a longer dive, but it ultimately doesn’t threaten what other acts have done in the space this year.

Rating: Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Osmose Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

I’ve been on a bit of a thrash bender in June, and Ruyned will conclude this month’s kick for ol’ Grin. The Romanian trio sends me deep into the heart of July with turbocharged, high-octane riffing and a moderate case of whiplash. Profanum Sacrificium, Ruyned’s sophomore LP, plays thrash the way the olde school intended—at furious speeds with the subtlety of an uppercut to the jawbone. My elevator pitch for Ruyned is, ‘Midnight but faster,’ yet the crew also channels Kill ‘Em All-era Metallica and a stripped-down Hellripper. With blistering paces in all the right places, does Profanum Sacrificium satisfy listeners’ need for speed?

Profanum Sacrificium is a tale of two halves, covering a pair of narrative arcs that relate accounts of violence and death. The front-end scorches with instantaneous shots of adrenaline and describes the heinous depravity of the Vampire of Düsseldorf. “Speedchain” and “Sex’n Speed” reek of OG Metallica, where “Hit the Lights” seems a major inspiration for both “Speedchain”‘s thunderous opening as well as the primary hook in “Sex’n Speed.” “Sex Commander 666” sprints into Motörhead territory, opening with a solo that Fast Eddie Clark would approve of before slinking into a funky swagger that reminds me of “Love Me Like a Reptile.” Where Ruyned plays a touch too close to influence on the first two, “Sex Commander 666” exudes a freshness that hints at touchstones without plaguing me with questions of where I’ve heard a riff before. Meanwhile, “Orgasm Through Death” slows proceedings down appreciably, with Bogdan Mateescu’s tortured, blackened rasps guiding listeners through a plodding march that amplifies the drama.

The second half of Profanum Sacrificium shifts to a separate narrative, describing centuries-long witch hunts from post-medieval Europe steeped in folklore and flames. Musically, this pulls Ruyned away from the straightforward ragers that define Profanum Sacrificium’s first half and into darker, more novel waters. The most immediate difference is that more time gets dedicated to instrumentation on the back half, with two instrumentals and less vocal focus towards the ends of tracks “Malleus Maleficarum” and “Witches Gallöw.” Originality flares here as well, where the instrumentation is reminiscent of bands like Bütcher and Toxic Holocaust, but the songs don’t blur with comparisons. “Profanum Sacrificium,” “Malleus Maleficarum,” and “Witches Gallöw” could pass for decade-old Kreator B-sides sung by Tapping the Vein-era Tom Angelripper, boasting snappy melodic riffing supported by Mihai Marinescu’s machine-gun blast drums and Tiberiu Olescher’s mid-range bass attack.

In all, Ruyned zips through half an hour of breakneck thrash with enough energy and grit that it’s unerringly easy to enjoy despite some bumps along the way. Even before I discovered Profanum Sacrificium’s two narrative arcs, the musical split between them stood out. While each half succeeds on its own, together they present a whole too disjointed to flourish without an interceding mixer. Ruyned’s instrumentals also undercut Profanum Sacrificium’s potential, where the three of them total four-and-a-half minutes of fluff. The remainder of Profanum Sacrificium barely contains enough meat to qualify for LP status, leaving the album longing for another well-developed song or two rather than three throwaway tracks.1 Still, the rest of the album supplies plenty of good thrashing, and with a little more consideration to songwriting cohesion, Ruyned possesses the pizzazz to set barns ablaze their next time out.

After several listens through Profanum Sacrificium, I’m convinced Ruyned can write first-class thrash. Rapidfire riffs and blackened edges give Ruyned a sense of familiarity, and if they can take care to push further away from genre greats and commit to more unified songwriting, they’ll menace listeners with an all-killer fusillade next time. Until then, Profanum Sacrificium serves as a fun diversion when time doesn’t allow for a longer dive, but it ultimately doesn’t threaten what other acts have done in the space this year.

Rating: Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Osmose Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

I’ve been on a bit of a thrash bender in June, and Ruyned will conclude this month’s kick for ol’ Grin. The Romanian trio sends me deep into the heart of July with turbocharged, high-octane riffing and a moderate case of whiplash. Profanum Sacrificium, Ruyned’s sophomore LP, plays thrash the way the olde school intended—at furious speeds with the subtlety of an uppercut to the jawbone. My elevator pitch for Ruyned is, ‘Midnight but faster,’ yet the crew also channels Kill ‘Em All-era Metallica and a stripped-down Hellripper. With blistering paces in all the right places, does Profanum Sacrificium satisfy listeners’ need for speed?

Profanum Sacrificium is a tale of two halves, covering a pair of narrative arcs that relate accounts of violence and death. The front-end scorches with instantaneous shots of adrenaline and describes the heinous depravity of the Vampire of Düsseldorf. “Speedchain” and “Sex’n Speed” reek of OG Metallica, where “Hit the Lights” seems a major inspiration for both “Speedchain”‘s thunderous opening as well as the primary hook in “Sex’n Speed.” “Sex Commander 666” sprints into Motörhead territory, opening with a solo that Fast Eddie Clark would approve of before slinking into a funky swagger that reminds me of “Love Me Like a Reptile.” Where Ruyned plays a touch too close to influence on the first two, “Sex Commander 666” exudes a freshness that hints at touchstones without plaguing me with questions of where I’ve heard a riff before. Meanwhile, “Orgasm Through Death” slows proceedings down appreciably, with Bogdan Mateescu’s tortured, blackened rasps guiding listeners through a plodding march that amplifies the drama.

The second half of Profanum Sacrificium shifts to a separate narrative, describing centuries-long witch hunts from post-medieval Europe steeped in folklore and flames. Musically, this pulls Ruyned away from the straightforward ragers that define Profanum Sacrificium’s first half and into darker, more novel waters. The most immediate difference is that more time gets dedicated to instrumentation on the back half, with two instrumentals and less vocal focus towards the ends of tracks “Malleus Maleficarum” and “Witches Gallöw.” Originality flares here as well, where the instrumentation is reminiscent of bands like Bütcher and Toxic Holocaust, but the songs don’t blur with comparisons. “Profanum Sacrificium,” “Malleus Maleficarum,” and “Witches Gallöw” could pass for decade-old Kreator B-sides sung by Tapping the Vein-era Tom Angelripper, boasting snappy melodic riffing supported by Mihai Marinescu’s machine-gun blast drums and Tiberiu Olescher’s mid-range bass attack.

In all, Ruyned zips through half an hour of breakneck thrash with enough energy and grit that it’s unerringly easy to enjoy despite some bumps along the way. Even before I discovered Profanum Sacrificium’s two narrative arcs, the musical split between them stood out. While each half succeeds on its own, together they present a whole too disjointed to flourish without an interceding mixer. Ruyned’s instrumentals also undercut Profanum Sacrificium’s potential, where the three of them total four-and-a-half minutes of fluff. The remainder of Profanum Sacrificium barely contains enough meat to qualify for LP status, leaving the album longing for another well-developed song or two rather than three throwaway tracks.1 Still, the rest of the album supplies plenty of good thrashing, and with a little more consideration to songwriting cohesion, Ruyned possesses the pizzazz to set barns ablaze their next time out.

After several listens through Profanum Sacrificium, I’m convinced Ruyned can write first-class thrash. Rapidfire riffs and blackened edges give Ruyned a sense of familiarity, and if they can take care to push further away from genre greats and commit to more unified songwriting, they’ll menace listeners with an all-killer fusillade next time. Until then, Profanum Sacrificium serves as a fun diversion when time doesn’t allow for a longer dive, but it ultimately doesn’t threaten what other acts have done in the space this year.

Rating: Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Osmose Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

I’ve been on a bit of a thrash bender in June, and Ruyned will conclude this month’s kick for ol’ Grin. The Romanian trio sends me deep into the heart of July with turbocharged, high-octane riffing and a moderate case of whiplash. Profanum Sacrificium, Ruyned’s sophomore LP, plays thrash the way the olde school intended—at furious speeds with the subtlety of an uppercut to the jawbone. My elevator pitch for Ruyned is, ‘Midnight but faster,’ yet the crew also channels Kill ‘Em All-era Metallica and a stripped-down Hellripper. With blistering paces in all the right places, does Profanum Sacrificium satisfy listeners’ need for speed?

Profanum Sacrificium is a tale of two halves, covering a pair of narrative arcs that relate accounts of violence and death. The front-end scorches with instantaneous shots of adrenaline and describes the heinous depravity of the Vampire of Düsseldorf. “Speedchain” and “Sex’n Speed” reek of OG Metallica, where “Hit the Lights” seems a major inspiration for both “Speedchain”‘s thunderous opening as well as the primary hook in “Sex’n Speed.” “Sex Commander 666” sprints into Motörhead territory, opening with a solo that Fast Eddie Clark would approve of before slinking into a funky swagger that reminds me of “Love Me Like a Reptile.” Where Ruyned plays a touch too close to influence on the first two, “Sex Commander 666” exudes a freshness that hints at touchstones without plaguing me with questions of where I’ve heard a riff before. Meanwhile, “Orgasm Through Death” slows proceedings down appreciably, with Bogdan Mateescu’s tortured, blackened rasps guiding listeners through a plodding march that amplifies the drama.

The second half of Profanum Sacrificium shifts to a separate narrative, describing centuries-long witch hunts from post-medieval Europe steeped in folklore and flames. Musically, this pulls Ruyned away from the straightforward ragers that define Profanum Sacrificium’s first half and into darker, more novel waters. The most immediate difference is that more time gets dedicated to instrumentation on the back half, with two instrumentals and less vocal focus towards the ends of tracks “Malleus Maleficarum” and “Witches Gallöw.” Originality flares here as well, where the instrumentation is reminiscent of bands like Bütcher and Toxic Holocaust, but the songs don’t blur with comparisons. “Profanum Sacrificium,” “Malleus Maleficarum,” and “Witches Gallöw” could pass for decade-old Kreator B-sides sung by Tapping the Vein-era Tom Angelripper, boasting snappy melodic riffing supported by Mihai Marinescu’s machine-gun blast drums and Tiberiu Olescher’s mid-range bass attack.

In all, Ruyned zips through half an hour of breakneck thrash with enough energy and grit that it’s unerringly easy to enjoy despite some bumps along the way. Even before I discovered Profanum Sacrificium’s two narrative arcs, the musical split between them stood out. While each half succeeds on its own, together they present a whole too disjointed to flourish without an interceding mixer. Ruyned’s instrumentals also undercut Profanum Sacrificium’s potential, where the three of them total four-and-a-half minutes of fluff. The remainder of Profanum Sacrificium barely contains enough meat to qualify for LP status, leaving the album longing for another well-developed song or two rather than three throwaway tracks.1 Still, the rest of the album supplies plenty of good thrashing, and with a little more consideration to songwriting cohesion, Ruyned possesses the pizzazz to set barns ablaze their next time out.

After several listens through Profanum Sacrificium, I’m convinced Ruyned can write first-class thrash. Rapidfire riffs and blackened edges give Ruyned a sense of familiarity, and if they can take care to push further away from genre greats and commit to more unified songwriting, they’ll menace listeners with an all-killer fusillade next time. Until then, Profanum Sacrificium serves as a fun diversion when time doesn’t allow for a longer dive, but it ultimately doesn’t threaten what other acts have done in the space this year.

Rating: Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Osmose Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

I’ve been on a bit of a thrash bender in June, and Ruyned will conclude this month’s kick for ol’ Grin. The Romanian trio sends me deep into the heart of July with turbocharged, high-octane riffing and a moderate case of whiplash. Profanum Sacrificium, Ruyned’s sophomore LP, plays thrash the way the olde school intended—at furious speeds with the subtlety of an uppercut to the jawbone. My elevator pitch for Ruyned is, ‘Midnight but faster,’ yet the crew also channels Kill ‘Em All-era Metallica and a stripped-down Hellripper. With blistering paces in all the right places, does Profanum Sacrificium satisfy listeners’ need for speed?

Profanum Sacrificium is a tale of two halves, covering a pair of narrative arcs that relate accounts of violence and death. The front-end scorches with instantaneous shots of adrenaline and describes the heinous depravity of the Vampire of Düsseldorf. “Speedchain” and “Sex’n Speed” reek of OG Metallica, where “Hit the Lights” seems a major inspiration for both “Speedchain”‘s thunderous opening as well as the primary hook in “Sex’n Speed.” “Sex Commander 666” sprints into Motörhead territory, opening with a solo that Fast Eddie Clark would approve of before slinking into a funky swagger that reminds me of “Love Me Like a Reptile.” Where Ruyned plays a touch too close to influence on the first two, “Sex Commander 666” exudes a freshness that hints at touchstones without plaguing me with questions of where I’ve heard a riff before. Meanwhile, “Orgasm Through Death” slows proceedings down appreciably, with Bogdan Mateescu’s tortured, blackened rasps guiding listeners through a plodding march that amplifies the drama.

The second half of Profanum Sacrificium shifts to a separate narrative, describing centuries-long witch hunts from post-medieval Europe steeped in folklore and flames. Musically, this pulls Ruyned away from the straightforward ragers that define Profanum Sacrificium’s first half and into darker, more novel waters. The most immediate difference is that more time gets dedicated to instrumentation on the back half, with two instrumentals and less vocal focus towards the ends of tracks “Malleus Maleficarum” and “Witches Gallöw.” Originality flares here as well, where the instrumentation is reminiscent of bands like Bütcher and Toxic Holocaust, but the songs don’t blur with comparisons. “Profanum Sacrificium,” “Malleus Maleficarum,” and “Witches Gallöw” could pass for decade-old Kreator B-sides sung by Tapping the Vein-era Tom Angelripper, boasting snappy melodic riffing supported by Mihai Marinescu’s machine-gun blast drums and Tiberiu Olescher’s mid-range bass attack.

In all, Ruyned zips through half an hour of breakneck thrash with enough energy and grit that it’s unerringly easy to enjoy despite some bumps along the way. Even before I discovered Profanum Sacrificium’s two narrative arcs, the musical split between them stood out. While each half succeeds on its own, together they present a whole too disjointed to flourish without an interceding mixer. Ruyned’s instrumentals also undercut Profanum Sacrificium’s potential, where the three of them total four-and-a-half minutes of fluff. The remainder of Profanum Sacrificium barely contains enough meat to qualify for LP status, leaving the album longing for another well-developed song or two rather than three throwaway tracks.1 Still, the rest of the album supplies plenty of good thrashing, and with a little more consideration to songwriting cohesion, Ruyned possesses the pizzazz to set barns ablaze their next time out.

After several listens through Profanum Sacrificium, I’m convinced Ruyned can write first-class thrash. Rapidfire riffs and blackened edges give Ruyned a sense of familiarity, and if they can take care to push further away from genre greats and commit to more unified songwriting, they’ll menace listeners with an all-killer fusillade next time. Until then, Profanum Sacrificium serves as a fun diversion when time doesn’t allow for a longer dive, but it ultimately doesn’t threaten what other acts have done in the space this year.

Rating: Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Osmose Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

40 years, 34 past and present members, over 230 releases credited in the archives, and one migration from Pennsylvania—this is the rap sheet for Cleveland, Ohio’s Nunslaughter, who have been jousting Jesus since 1987. Some 5 years1 further down the left-hand path from 2021’s Red Is the Color of Ripping Death, which our own El Cuervo described as “an enjoyable experience that’s frayed around the edges,” Nunslaughter return in fine form to bless the black masses and kick Christian asses with sixth long-player, and BLKIIBLK Records debut, Satanic Chaos Legions. Such prolific proselytization on Satan’s behalf requires a certain type of longevity and focus, of which the sole remaining founder and vocalist, Don of the Dead, seems to have in droves, as Nunslaughter returns two-thirds of their Ripping Death lineup (intact since 2016) but for bassist Detonate, who was replaced by Malum in 2022. My only question: is this the Nunslaughter worth bringing your daughter to?

Nunslaughter play attention-deficit death metal—Satanic Chaos Legions’ 14-track, 34-minute runtime replicating the Ripping Death blueprint to a tee. Tormentor’s riffs, of which there are legion, buzz just short of HM2 worship, but crackle with a thrashy electricity that slices through flesh with surgical, tremolodic speed (“Unsacrament”), chugs along with Deicide-ic groove (“Cathedral of Stench”), and pummels doomily like hell’s hammer (“Heavenless”), all evidence of a practitioner in full control of his dark art. Don of the Dead’s vocals are as viscerally vehement as ever—I love this dude’s voice—his death growls and howls amping up the evil with distinct lyrical clarity. And while Nunslaughter’s base devil metal approach hasn’t really changed over the past two score years, Satanic Chaos Legions stands as a high point in the discography, triumphantly marrying their knack for writing uniquely catchy bite-sized brutality with a newfound talent for pacing, producing an album perfectly assembled for maximum damage.

If the boots-marching intro to the opening title track serves as the warning of Nunslaughter’s coming, then it’s track two that has them kicking in your fucking door. A visceral indictment of Catholicism and priestly pedophilia, “Jesus Fucking Dies” is a vicious, 1:20 speed fest that will leave you more breathless than a polar plunge. Moments like these have always worked in Nunslaughter’s favor, their bread and black butter, and with an average track length of 2:30, Legions suffers no dearth of these minute malignancies (“Listen To the Lies,” “Infernal Reign”). And while I enjoy the raw energy and brevity, I find myself more drawn to Nunslaughter’s slower, slightly drawn-out side. Lumbering, sludgy bass lines and some distorted spoken words welcome us to the inverted communion of the apex track, “Peukharist,” which further probes “Casket Lid Creaks” territory. Slow and dripping with heavy, sustained death chords, the track features some of Don Of the Dead’s most vile, hateful spitting, and with the clever sans-cringe song title, grabs my top spot as album highlight. In this, Satanic Chaos Legions eludes the curse of swirling similitude that could have easily cast a pall over the proceedings of a non-stop speed penned by lesser songwriters.

Engineered, mastered, and mixed by Noah “Tormentor” Buchanan at his own Mercinary Studios in Cleveland, Satanic Chaos Legions benefits greatly from this backyard setup. A far cry from the early albums, Legions’ production surpasses that of its predecessor in terms of death metal heaviness, the slick mix highlighting all of Nunslaughter’s talent without sacrificing any of the raw edge the group’s become known for. Malum’s bass lines thrum, Wrath’s drums pulse with profane putridity, and all those god-forsaken riffs land like so many one-two punches to the solar plexus, making Satanic Chaos Legions one of, if not the, best-sounding Nunslaughter records in the discog. In nearly every respect, Satanic Chaos Legions improves upon the Ripping Death template, perhaps taking cues in some part from El Cuervo’s critique, and in so doing leaving me with little to fuss over. Aside perhaps from a couple of song titles that had me chucklingly eye-rolling (“Die Your Own Death,” “In the Flames of Inferno”), I had a blast with Nunslaughter this time out.

For a band that’s been around for as long as Nunslaughter has, I’m often surprised by how little notoriety they receive. Is it the moniker, the subject matter, the gob-stopping depth of the discography? I’m not sure, but I will say if you’re looking for an entry point into Nunslaughter’s canon, look no further than Satanic Chaos Legions, and for those pre-ordained fanatics, buckle up; you’re in for a fun ride.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: NA | Format Reviewed: Fookin’ Stream
Label: BLKIIBLK Records
Websites: Facebook | Instagram

40 years, 34 past and present members, over 230 releases credited in the archives, and one migration from Pennsylvania—this is the rap sheet for Cleveland, Ohio’s Nunslaughter, who have been jousting Jesus since 1987. Some 5 years1 further down the left-hand path from 2021’s Red Is the Color of Ripping Death, which our own El Cuervo described as “an enjoyable experience that’s frayed around the edges,” Nunslaughter return in fine form to bless the black masses and kick Christian asses with sixth long-player, and BLKIIBLK Records debut, Satanic Chaos Legions. Such prolific proselytization on Satan’s behalf requires a certain type of longevity and focus, of which the sole remaining founder and vocalist, Don of the Dead, seems to have in droves, as Nunslaughter returns two-thirds of their Ripping Death lineup (intact since 2016) but for bassist Detonate, who was replaced by Malum in 2022. My only question: is this the Nunslaughter worth bringing your daughter to?

Nunslaughter play attention-deficit death metal—Satanic Chaos Legions’ 14-track, 34-minute runtime replicating the Ripping Death blueprint to a tee. Tormentor’s riffs, of which there are legion, buzz just short of HM2 worship, but crackle with a thrashy electricity that slices through flesh with surgical, tremolodic speed (“Unsacrament”), chugs along with Deicide-ic groove (“Cathedral of Stench”), and pummels doomily like hell’s hammer (“Heavenless”), all evidence of a practitioner in full control of his dark art. Don of the Dead’s vocals are as viscerally vehement as ever—I love this dude’s voice—his death growls and howls amping up the evil with distinct lyrical clarity. And while Nunslaughter’s base devil metal approach hasn’t really changed over the past two score years, Satanic Chaos Legions stands as a high point in the discography, triumphantly marrying their knack for writing uniquely catchy bite-sized brutality with a newfound talent for pacing, producing an album perfectly assembled for maximum damage.

If the boots-marching intro to the opening title track serves as the warning of Nunslaughter’s coming, then it’s track two that has them kicking in your fucking door. A visceral indictment of Catholicism and priestly pedophilia, “Jesus Fucking Dies” is a vicious, 1:20 speed fest that will leave you more breathless than a polar plunge. Moments like these have always worked in Nunslaughter’s favor, their bread and black butter, and with an average track length of 2:30, Legions suffers no dearth of these minute malignancies (“Listen To the Lies,” “Infernal Reign”). And while I enjoy the raw energy and brevity, I find myself more drawn to Nunslaughter’s slower, slightly drawn-out side. Lumbering, sludgy bass lines and some distorted spoken words welcome us to the inverted communion of the apex track, “Peukharist,” which further probes “Casket Lid Creaks” territory. Slow and dripping with heavy, sustained death chords, the track features some of Don Of the Dead’s most vile, hateful spitting, and with the clever sans-cringe song title, grabs my top spot as album highlight. In this, Satanic Chaos Legions eludes the curse of swirling similitude that could have easily cast a pall over the proceedings of a non-stop speed penned by lesser songwriters.

Engineered, mastered, and mixed by Noah “Tormentor” Buchanan at his own Mercinary Studios in Cleveland, Satanic Chaos Legions benefits greatly from this backyard setup. A far cry from the early albums, Legions’ production surpasses that of its predecessor in terms of death metal heaviness, the slick mix highlighting all of Nunslaughter’s talent without sacrificing any of the raw edge the group’s become known for. Malum’s bass lines thrum, Wrath’s drums pulse with profane putridity, and all those god-forsaken riffs land like so many one-two punches to the solar plexus, making Satanic Chaos Legions one of, if not the, best-sounding Nunslaughter records in the discog. In nearly every respect, Satanic Chaos Legions improves upon the Ripping Death template, perhaps taking cues in some part from El Cuervo’s critique, and in so doing leaving me with little to fuss over. Aside perhaps from a couple of song titles that had me chucklingly eye-rolling (“Die Your Own Death,” “In the Flames of Inferno”), I had a blast with Nunslaughter this time out.

For a band that’s been around for as long as Nunslaughter has, I’m often surprised by how little notoriety they receive. Is it the moniker, the subject matter, the gob-stopping depth of the discography? I’m not sure, but I will say if you’re looking for an entry point into Nunslaughter’s canon, look no further than Satanic Chaos Legions, and for those pre-ordained fanatics, buckle up; you’re in for a fun ride.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: NA | Format Reviewed: Fookin’ Stream
Label: BLKIIBLK Records
Websites: Facebook | Instagram

40 years, 34 past and present members, over 230 releases credited in the archives, and one migration from Pennsylvania—this is the rap sheet for Cleveland, Ohio’s Nunslaughter, who have been jousting Jesus since 1987. Some 5 years1 further down the left-hand path from 2021’s Red Is the Color of Ripping Death, which our own El Cuervo described as “an enjoyable experience that’s frayed around the edges,” Nunslaughter return in fine form to bless the black masses and kick Christian asses with sixth long-player, and BLKIIBLK Records debut, Satanic Chaos Legions. Such prolific proselytization on Satan’s behalf requires a certain type of longevity and focus, of which the sole remaining founder and vocalist, Don of the Dead, seems to have in droves, as Nunslaughter returns two-thirds of their Ripping Death lineup (intact since 2016) but for bassist Detonate, who was replaced by Malum in 2022. My only question: is this the Nunslaughter worth bringing your daughter to?

Nunslaughter play attention-deficit death metal—Satanic Chaos Legions’ 14-track, 34-minute runtime replicating the Ripping Death blueprint to a tee. Tormentor’s riffs, of which there are legion, buzz just short of HM2 worship, but crackle with a thrashy electricity that slices through flesh with surgical, tremolodic speed (“Unsacrament”), chugs along with Deicide-ic groove (“Cathedral of Stench”), and pummels doomily like hell’s hammer (“Heavenless”), all evidence of a practitioner in full control of his dark art. Don of the Dead’s vocals are as viscerally vehement as ever—I love this dude’s voice—his death growls and howls amping up the evil with distinct lyrical clarity. And while Nunslaughter’s base devil metal approach hasn’t really changed over the past two score years, Satanic Chaos Legions stands as a high point in the discography, triumphantly marrying their knack for writing uniquely catchy bite-sized brutality with a newfound talent for pacing, producing an album perfectly assembled for maximum damage.

If the boots-marching intro to the opening title track serves as the warning of Nunslaughter’s coming, then it’s track two that has them kicking in your fucking door. A visceral indictment of Catholicism and priestly pedophilia, “Jesus Fucking Dies” is a vicious, 1:20 speed fest that will leave you more breathless than a polar plunge. Moments like these have always worked in Nunslaughter’s favor, their bread and black butter, and with an average track length of 2:30, Legions suffers no dearth of these minute malignancies (“Listen To the Lies,” “Infernal Reign”). And while I enjoy the raw energy and brevity, I find myself more drawn to Nunslaughter’s slower, slightly drawn-out side. Lumbering, sludgy bass lines and some distorted spoken words welcome us to the inverted communion of the apex track, “Peukharist,” which further probes “Casket Lid Creaks” territory. Slow and dripping with heavy, sustained death chords, the track features some of Don Of the Dead’s most vile, hateful spitting, and with the clever sans-cringe song title, grabs my top spot as album highlight. In this, Satanic Chaos Legions eludes the curse of swirling similitude that could have easily cast a pall over the proceedings of a non-stop speed penned by lesser songwriters.

Engineered, mastered, and mixed by Noah “Tormentor” Buchanan at his own Mercinary Studios in Cleveland, Satanic Chaos Legions benefits greatly from this backyard setup. A far cry from the early albums, Legions’ production surpasses that of its predecessor in terms of death metal heaviness, the slick mix highlighting all of Nunslaughter’s talent without sacrificing any of the raw edge the group’s become known for. Malum’s bass lines thrum, Wrath’s drums pulse with profane putridity, and all those god-forsaken riffs land like so many one-two punches to the solar plexus, making Satanic Chaos Legions one of, if not the, best-sounding Nunslaughter records in the discog. In nearly every respect, Satanic Chaos Legions improves upon the Ripping Death template, perhaps taking cues in some part from El Cuervo’s critique, and in so doing leaving me with little to fuss over. Aside perhaps from a couple of song titles that had me chucklingly eye-rolling (“Die Your Own Death,” “In the Flames of Inferno”), I had a blast with Nunslaughter this time out.

For a band that’s been around for as long as Nunslaughter has, I’m often surprised by how little notoriety they receive. Is it the moniker, the subject matter, the gob-stopping depth of the discography? I’m not sure, but I will say if you’re looking for an entry point into Nunslaughter’s canon, look no further than Satanic Chaos Legions, and for those pre-ordained fanatics, buckle up; you’re in for a fun ride.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: NA | Format Reviewed: Fookin’ Stream
Label: BLKIIBLK Records
Websites: Facebook | Instagram

40 years, 34 past and present members, over 230 releases credited in the archives, and one migration from Pennsylvania—this is the rap sheet for Cleveland, Ohio’s Nunslaughter, who have been jousting Jesus since 1987. Some 5 years1 further down the left-hand path from 2021’s Red Is the Color of Ripping Death, which our own El Cuervo described as “an enjoyable experience that’s frayed around the edges,” Nunslaughter return in fine form to bless the black masses and kick Christian asses with sixth long-player, and BLKIIBLK Records debut, Satanic Chaos Legions. Such prolific proselytization on Satan’s behalf requires a certain type of longevity and focus, of which the sole remaining founder and vocalist, Don of the Dead, seems to have in droves, as Nunslaughter returns two-thirds of their Ripping Death lineup (intact since 2016) but for bassist Detonate, who was replaced by Malum in 2022. My only question: is this the Nunslaughter worth bringing your daughter to?

Nunslaughter play attention-deficit death metal—Satanic Chaos Legions’ 14-track, 34-minute runtime replicating the Ripping Death blueprint to a tee. Tormentor’s riffs, of which there are legion, buzz just short of HM2 worship, but crackle with a thrashy electricity that slices through flesh with surgical, tremolodic speed (“Unsacrament”), chugs along with Deicide-ic groove (“Cathedral of Stench”), and pummels doomily like hell’s hammer (“Heavenless”), all evidence of a practitioner in full control of his dark art. Don of the Dead’s vocals are as viscerally vehement as ever—I love this dude’s voice—his death growls and howls amping up the evil with distinct lyrical clarity. And while Nunslaughter’s base devil metal approach hasn’t really changed over the past two score years, Satanic Chaos Legions stands as a high point in the discography, triumphantly marrying their knack for writing uniquely catchy bite-sized brutality with a newfound talent for pacing, producing an album perfectly assembled for maximum damage.

If the boots-marching intro to the opening title track serves as the warning of Nunslaughter’s coming, then it’s track two that has them kicking in your fucking door. A visceral indictment of Catholicism and priestly pedophilia, “Jesus Fucking Dies” is a vicious, 1:20 speed fest that will leave you more breathless than a polar plunge. Moments like these have always worked in Nunslaughter’s favor, their bread and black butter, and with an average track length of 2:30, Legions suffers no dearth of these minute malignancies (“Listen To the Lies,” “Infernal Reign”). And while I enjoy the raw energy and brevity, I find myself more drawn to Nunslaughter’s slower, slightly drawn-out side. Lumbering, sludgy bass lines and some distorted spoken words welcome us to the inverted communion of the apex track, “Peukharist,” which further probes “Casket Lid Creaks” territory. Slow and dripping with heavy, sustained death chords, the track features some of Don Of the Dead’s most vile, hateful spitting, and with the clever sans-cringe song title, grabs my top spot as album highlight. In this, Satanic Chaos Legions eludes the curse of swirling similitude that could have easily cast a pall over the proceedings of a non-stop speed penned by lesser songwriters.

Engineered, mastered, and mixed by Noah “Tormentor” Buchanan at his own Mercinary Studios in Cleveland, Satanic Chaos Legions benefits greatly from this backyard setup. A far cry from the early albums, Legions’ production surpasses that of its predecessor in terms of death metal heaviness, the slick mix highlighting all of Nunslaughter’s talent without sacrificing any of the raw edge the group’s become known for. Malum’s bass lines thrum, Wrath’s drums pulse with profane putridity, and all those god-forsaken riffs land like so many one-two punches to the solar plexus, making Satanic Chaos Legions one of, if not the, best-sounding Nunslaughter records in the discog. In nearly every respect, Satanic Chaos Legions improves upon the Ripping Death template, perhaps taking cues in some part from El Cuervo’s critique, and in so doing leaving me with little to fuss over. Aside perhaps from a couple of song titles that had me chucklingly eye-rolling (“Die Your Own Death,” “In the Flames of Inferno”), I had a blast with Nunslaughter this time out.

For a band that’s been around for as long as Nunslaughter has, I’m often surprised by how little notoriety they receive. Is it the moniker, the subject matter, the gob-stopping depth of the discography? I’m not sure, but I will say if you’re looking for an entry point into Nunslaughter’s canon, look no further than Satanic Chaos Legions, and for those pre-ordained fanatics, buckle up; you’re in for a fun ride.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: NA | Format Reviewed: Fookin’ Stream
Label: BLKIIBLK Records
Websites: Facebook | Instagram

40 years, 34 past and present members, over 230 releases credited in the archives, and one migration from Pennsylvania—this is the rap sheet for Cleveland, Ohio’s Nunslaughter, who have been jousting Jesus since 1987. Some 5 years1 further down the left-hand path from 2021’s Red Is the Color of Ripping Death, which our own El Cuervo described as “an enjoyable experience that’s frayed around the edges,” Nunslaughter return in fine form to bless the black masses and kick Christian asses with sixth long-player, and BLKIIBLK Records debut, Satanic Chaos Legions. Such prolific proselytization on Satan’s behalf requires a certain type of longevity and focus, of which the sole remaining founder and vocalist, Don of the Dead, seems to have in droves, as Nunslaughter returns two-thirds of their Ripping Death lineup (intact since 2016) but for bassist Detonate, who was replaced by Malum in 2022. My only question: is this the Nunslaughter worth bringing your daughter to?

Nunslaughter play attention-deficit death metal—Satanic Chaos Legions’ 14-track, 34-minute runtime replicating the Ripping Death blueprint to a tee. Tormentor’s riffs, of which there are legion, buzz just short of HM2 worship, but crackle with a thrashy electricity that slices through flesh with surgical, tremolodic speed (“Unsacrament”), chugs along with Deicide-ic groove (“Cathedral of Stench”), and pummels doomily like hell’s hammer (“Heavenless”), all evidence of a practitioner in full control of his dark art. Don of the Dead’s vocals are as viscerally vehement as ever—I love this dude’s voice—his death growls and howls amping up the evil with distinct lyrical clarity. And while Nunslaughter’s base devil metal approach hasn’t really changed over the past two score years, Satanic Chaos Legions stands as a high point in the discography, triumphantly marrying their knack for writing uniquely catchy bite-sized brutality with a newfound talent for pacing, producing an album perfectly assembled for maximum damage.

If the boots-marching intro to the opening title track serves as the warning of Nunslaughter’s coming, then it’s track two that has them kicking in your fucking door. A visceral indictment of Catholicism and priestly pedophilia, “Jesus Fucking Dies” is a vicious, 1:20 speed fest that will leave you more breathless than a polar plunge. Moments like these have always worked in Nunslaughter’s favor, their bread and black butter, and with an average track length of 2:30, Legions suffers no dearth of these minute malignancies (“Listen To the Lies,” “Infernal Reign”). And while I enjoy the raw energy and brevity, I find myself more drawn to Nunslaughter’s slower, slightly drawn-out side. Lumbering, sludgy bass lines and some distorted spoken words welcome us to the inverted communion of the apex track, “Peukharist,” which further probes “Casket Lid Creaks” territory. Slow and dripping with heavy, sustained death chords, the track features some of Don Of the Dead’s most vile, hateful spitting, and with the clever sans-cringe song title, grabs my top spot as album highlight. In this, Satanic Chaos Legions eludes the curse of swirling similitude that could have easily cast a pall over the proceedings of a non-stop speed penned by lesser songwriters.

Engineered, mastered, and mixed by Noah “Tormentor” Buchanan at his own Mercinary Studios in Cleveland, Satanic Chaos Legions benefits greatly from this backyard setup. A far cry from the early albums, Legions’ production surpasses that of its predecessor in terms of death metal heaviness, the slick mix highlighting all of Nunslaughter’s talent without sacrificing any of the raw edge the group’s become known for. Malum’s bass lines thrum, Wrath’s drums pulse with profane putridity, and all those god-forsaken riffs land like so many one-two punches to the solar plexus, making Satanic Chaos Legions one of, if not the, best-sounding Nunslaughter records in the discog. In nearly every respect, Satanic Chaos Legions improves upon the Ripping Death template, perhaps taking cues in some part from El Cuervo’s critique, and in so doing leaving me with little to fuss over. Aside perhaps from a couple of song titles that had me chucklingly eye-rolling (“Die Your Own Death,” “In the Flames of Inferno”), I had a blast with Nunslaughter this time out.

For a band that’s been around for as long as Nunslaughter has, I’m often surprised by how little notoriety they receive. Is it the moniker, the subject matter, the gob-stopping depth of the discography? I’m not sure, but I will say if you’re looking for an entry point into Nunslaughter’s canon, look no further than Satanic Chaos Legions, and for those pre-ordained fanatics, buckle up; you’re in for a fun ride.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: NA | Format Reviewed: Fookin’ Stream
Label: BLKIIBLK Records
Websites: Facebook | Instagram

Saidan – Fangdriller: Scars Beneath Memory’s Wrist Review

Saidan’s Fangdriller: Scars Beneath Memory’s Wrist wasn’t an album I’d initially planned to review, but when my Dear…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #4.0 #AmericanMetal #AvantgardeMusic #BlackMetal #Entertainment #Fangdriller:ScarsBeneathMemory'sWrist #Jun26 #MelodicBlackMetal #MoonlightSorcery #review #Reviews #Sacramentum #Saidan #SallowMoth #Stormkeep #UK #UnitedKingdom #葬火
https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/684943/

Saidan – Fangdriller: Scars Beneath Memory’s Wrist Review

Saidan’s Fangdriller: Scars Beneath Memory’s Wrist wasn’t an album I’d initially planned to review, but when my Dear…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2026 #4.0 #AmericanMetal #AvantgardeMusic #BlackMetal #Entertainment #Fangdriller:ScarsBeneathMemory'sWrist #Jun26 #MelodicBlackMetal #MoonlightSorcery #review #reviews #Sacramentum #Saidan #SallowMoth #Stormkeep #葬火
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/755393/

Saidan – Fangdriller: Scars Beneath Memory’s Wrist Review

Saidan’s Fangdriller: Scars Beneath Memory’s Wrist wasn’t an album I’d initially planned to review, but when my Dear…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2026 #4.0 #AmericanMetal #AvantgardeMusic #BlackMetal #Entertainment #Fangdriller:ScarsBeneathMemory'sWrist #Jun26 #MelodicBlackMetal #MoonlightSorcery #review #reviews #Sacramentum #Saidan #SallowMoth #Stormkeep #葬火
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https://www.europesays.com/uk/1081294/ Saidan – Fangdriller: Scars Beneath Memory’s Wrist Review #2026 #40 #AmericanMetal #AvantgardeMusic #BlackMetal #Entertainment #Fangdriller:ScarsBeneathMemory'sWrist #Jun26 #MelodicBlackMetal #MoonlightSorcery #music #Review #Reviews #Sacramentum #Saidan #SallowMoth #Stormkeep #UK #UnitedKingdom #葬火

Saidan’s Fangdriller: Scars Beneath Memory’s Wrist wasn’t an album I’d initially planned to review, but when my Dear Friend said he wasn’t able to make the time, I carved some out. Brainchild of vocalist/guitarist/bassist Splatterpvnk, Nashville, Tennessee’s Saidan plays black metal at once scathing and ultra-melodic. Visual Kill, and specifically Dear Hollow’s blurb about it, introduced me to Saidan’s charms. Since then, I’ve kept Visual Kill in regular rotation and hotly anticipated their next release. That time is now upon us, and I’ve prepared my body and eardrums for Saidan’s raw, blackened stylings steeped in tunefulness so seductive that I’m left in sonic subjugation. The only task left to us, then, is to explore how deep Fangdriller’s Scars go.

Tangentially or directly, one topic that garners a fair bit of discussion in our beloved blog’s reviews is originality. Considering how clustered some corners of the metalsphere have become,1 singular identities stand out like a white-hot beacon in the dead of night, and Saidan doubtlessly brings this galvanizing vitality to their music. Conceptually, Fangdriller adds another chapter to Saidan’s narrative conceit, acting as a precursor to Visual Kill and detailing the crippling exile of loneliness that breeds ideal targets for abuse and manipulation. Musically, Fangdriller skews more morose and wistful than the wrath-wrought frenzy of Visual Kill.2 While Moonlight Sorcery’s eldritch mystique and Sacramentum’s furious riffstorming ably serve as points of comparison, Stormkeep’s subdued grandeur and 葬火’s3 seething angst whet Fangdriller’s emotional impact to a finer point than its predecessor.

Compared to previous outings, Fangdriller eases off some of the experimental diversity and instead focuses on delivering first-rate compositional cohesion. Saidan’s melodic sensibilities permeate Fangdriller’s runtime, from opening track “Razorblade Temptation” onwards. Trem-picked guitar leads dance across the fretboard as breakcore drum beats and sparkling synth injections swirl within the mix (“Rapture (I’ll Wait for You),” “Kara No Bara”). Where Visual Kill luxuriates in flamboyance, reminding me of Sallow Moth’s Mossbane Lantern, Fangdriller affixes to mood and songwriting. The tension within “Kara No Bara” and “Womb of Hatred” simmers with bombastic builds that explode with the culmination of inexorable pressure, guided by the frantic rhythms of drummer (and only other band member) Hundosai. Each song on Fangdriller sways with relentless tensity and release, but it’s quasi-title track “Stained Glass Sin – Fang Driller” that achieves the supreme compositional masterstroke. Beginning with a slow, ramping maelstrom, the give and take on “Stained Glass Sin…” propel it to the cusp of melodic nirvana, which is when the transcendent solo bushwhacks with full force. Though impressive on their own, the individual components of the song aren’t what shatters expectations4—it’s the perfect sequencing to release. And more than any other element Saidan presents, these calculated moments and transitions maximize Fangdriller’s impact throughout.

Along with the expert compositions and performances, Saidan sounds amazing on Fangdriller. While maintaining the typical raw stylings, Splatterpvnk’s every note remains delectably audible despite the background fuzz and hiss. The downside to this production style is that the bottom end is a tad thin, but this hardly registers given that Saidan’s songwriting doesn’t hinge on it. The crude aesthetic is especially evident on final track “Mortuary,” which applies the same treatment as Visual Kill’s somber closer “Suffer” by way of melancholic guitar strumming supporting emo cleans. It makes for a satisfying denouement, and even though “Mortuary” double-dips with this trick, conceptually it tethers the albums to an even greater degree.

Upon listening to Fangdriller as a fan, the potency of Saidan’s refined melodicism immediately stood out. Further treasures revealed themselves after spending even more time with it for my review. Nearly two dozen spins later, I never find my interest waning throughout Fangdriller’s forty-seven minutes. Quite the opposite, as each time “Mortuary” fades, I either restart the album or desire to. Though slightly less gung-ho than its predecessor, what Fangdriller forfeits in balls-out blitzing Saidan recoups in songwriting sophistication. If you haven’t listened to this one yet, you should. Though I liked Fangdriller from the outset, each subsequent spin has solidified my love for it. For anyone skeptical of Saidan’s latest, I encourage a dedicated, active listen—there’s a beautifully constructed album waiting to share its dark secrets with you if you’re brave enough to let it.

Rating: Great!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Avantgarde Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

Saidan’s Fangdriller: Scars Beneath Memory’s Wrist wasn’t an album I’d initially planned to review, but when my Dear Friend said he wasn’t able to make the time, I carved some out. Brainchild of vocalist/guitarist/bassist Splatterpvnk, Nashville, Tennessee’s Saidan plays black metal at once scathing and ultra-melodic. Visual Kill, and specifically Dear Hollow’s blurb about it, introduced me to Saidan’s charms. Since then, I’ve kept Visual Kill in regular rotation and hotly anticipated their next release. That time is now upon us, and I’ve prepared my body and eardrums for Saidan’s raw, blackened stylings steeped in tunefulness so seductive that I’m left in sonic subjugation. The only task left to us, then, is to explore how deep Fangdriller’s Scars go.

Tangentially or directly, one topic that garners a fair bit of discussion in our beloved blog’s reviews is originality. Considering how clustered some corners of the metalsphere have become,1 singular identities stand out like a white-hot beacon in the dead of night, and Saidan doubtlessly brings this galvanizing vitality to their music. Conceptually, Fangdriller adds another chapter to Saidan’s narrative conceit, acting as a precursor to Visual Kill and detailing the crippling exile of loneliness that breeds ideal targets for abuse and manipulation. Musically, Fangdriller skews more morose and wistful than the wrath-wrought frenzy of Visual Kill.2 While Moonlight Sorcery’s eldritch mystique and Sacramentum’s furious riffstorming ably serve as points of comparison, Stormkeep’s subdued grandeur and 葬火’s3 seething angst whet Fangdriller’s emotional impact to a finer point than its predecessor.

Compared to previous outings, Fangdriller eases off some of the experimental diversity and instead focuses on delivering first-rate compositional cohesion. Saidan’s melodic sensibilities permeate Fangdriller’s runtime, from opening track “Razorblade Temptation” onwards. Trem-picked guitar leads dance across the fretboard as breakcore drum beats and sparkling synth injections swirl within the mix (“Rapture (I’ll Wait for You),” “Kara No Bara”). Where Visual Kill luxuriates in flamboyance, reminding me of Sallow Moth’s Mossbane Lantern, Fangdriller affixes to mood and songwriting. The tension within “Kara No Bara” and “Womb of Hatred” simmers with bombastic builds that explode with the culmination of inexorable pressure, guided by the frantic rhythms of drummer (and only other band member) Hundosai. Each song on Fangdriller sways with relentless tensity and release, but it’s quasi-title track “Stained Glass Sin – Fang Driller” that achieves the supreme compositional masterstroke. Beginning with a slow, ramping maelstrom, the give and take on “Stained Glass Sin…” propel it to the cusp of melodic nirvana, which is when the transcendent solo bushwhacks with full force. Though impressive on their own, the individual components of the song aren’t what shatters expectations4—it’s the perfect sequencing to release. And more than any other element Saidan presents, these calculated moments and transitions maximize Fangdriller’s impact throughout.

Along with the expert compositions and performances, Saidan sounds amazing on Fangdriller. While maintaining the typical raw stylings, Splatterpvnk’s every note remains delectably audible despite the background fuzz and hiss. The downside to this production style is that the bottom end is a tad thin, but this hardly registers given that Saidan’s songwriting doesn’t hinge on it. The crude aesthetic is especially evident on final track “Mortuary,” which applies the same treatment as Visual Kill’s somber closer “Suffer” by way of melancholic guitar strumming supporting emo cleans. It makes for a satisfying denouement, and even though “Mortuary” double-dips with this trick, conceptually it tethers the albums to an even greater degree.

Upon listening to Fangdriller as a fan, the potency of Saidan’s refined melodicism immediately stood out. Further treasures revealed themselves after spending even more time with it for my review. Nearly two dozen spins later, I never find my interest waning throughout Fangdriller’s forty-seven minutes. Quite the opposite, as each time “Mortuary” fades, I either restart the album or desire to. Though slightly less gung-ho than its predecessor, what Fangdriller forfeits in balls-out blitzing Saidan recoups in songwriting sophistication. If you haven’t listened to this one yet, you should. Though I liked Fangdriller from the outset, each subsequent spin has solidified my love for it. For anyone skeptical of Saidan’s latest, I encourage a dedicated, active listen—there’s a beautifully constructed album waiting to share its dark secrets with you if you’re brave enough to let it.

Rating: Great!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Avantgarde Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

Saidan’s Fangdriller: Scars Beneath Memory’s Wrist wasn’t an album I’d initially planned to review, but when my Dear Friend said he wasn’t able to make the time, I carved some out. Brainchild of vocalist/guitarist/bassist Splatterpvnk, Nashville, Tennessee’s Saidan plays black metal at once scathing and ultra-melodic. Visual Kill, and specifically Dear Hollow’s blurb about it, introduced me to Saidan’s charms. Since then, I’ve kept Visual Kill in regular rotation and hotly anticipated their next release. That time is now upon us, and I’ve prepared my body and eardrums for Saidan’s raw, blackened stylings steeped in tunefulness so seductive that I’m left in sonic subjugation. The only task left to us, then, is to explore how deep Fangdriller’s Scars go.

Tangentially or directly, one topic that garners a fair bit of discussion in our beloved blog’s reviews is originality. Considering how clustered some corners of the metalsphere have become,1 singular identities stand out like a white-hot beacon in the dead of night, and Saidan doubtlessly brings this galvanizing vitality to their music. Conceptually, Fangdriller adds another chapter to Saidan’s narrative conceit, acting as a precursor to Visual Kill and detailing the crippling exile of loneliness that breeds ideal targets for abuse and manipulation. Musically, Fangdriller skews more morose and wistful than the wrath-wrought frenzy of Visual Kill.2 While Moonlight Sorcery’s eldritch mystique and Sacramentum’s furious riffstorming ably serve as points of comparison, Stormkeep’s subdued grandeur and 葬火’s3 seething angst whet Fangdriller’s emotional impact to a finer point than its predecessor.

Compared to previous outings, Fangdriller eases off some of the experimental diversity and instead focuses on delivering first-rate compositional cohesion. Saidan’s melodic sensibilities permeate Fangdriller’s runtime, from opening track “Razorblade Temptation” onwards. Trem-picked guitar leads dance across the fretboard as breakcore drum beats and sparkling synth injections swirl within the mix (“Rapture (I’ll Wait for You),” “Kara No Bara”). Where Visual Kill luxuriates in flamboyance, reminding me of Sallow Moth’s Mossbane Lantern, Fangdriller affixes to mood and songwriting. The tension within “Kara No Bara” and “Womb of Hatred” simmers with bombastic builds that explode with the culmination of inexorable pressure, guided by the frantic rhythms of drummer (and only other band member) Hundosai. Each song on Fangdriller sways with relentless tensity and release, but it’s quasi-title track “Stained Glass Sin – Fang Driller” that achieves the supreme compositional masterstroke. Beginning with a slow, ramping maelstrom, the give and take on “Stained Glass Sin…” propel it to the cusp of melodic nirvana, which is when the transcendent solo bushwhacks with full force. Though impressive on their own, the individual components of the song aren’t what shatters expectations4—it’s the perfect sequencing to release. And more than any other element Saidan presents, these calculated moments and transitions maximize Fangdriller’s impact throughout.

Along with the expert compositions and performances, Saidan sounds amazing on Fangdriller. While maintaining the typical raw stylings, Splatterpvnk’s every note remains delectably audible despite the background fuzz and hiss. The downside to this production style is that the bottom end is a tad thin, but this hardly registers given that Saidan’s songwriting doesn’t hinge on it. The crude aesthetic is especially evident on final track “Mortuary,” which applies the same treatment as Visual Kill’s somber closer “Suffer” by way of melancholic guitar strumming supporting emo cleans. It makes for a satisfying denouement, and even though “Mortuary” double-dips with this trick, conceptually it tethers the albums to an even greater degree.

Upon listening to Fangdriller as a fan, the potency of Saidan’s refined melodicism immediately stood out. Further treasures revealed themselves after spending even more time with it for my review. Nearly two dozen spins later, I never find my interest waning throughout Fangdriller’s forty-seven minutes. Quite the opposite, as each time “Mortuary” fades, I either restart the album or desire to. Though slightly less gung-ho than its predecessor, what Fangdriller forfeits in balls-out blitzing Saidan recoups in songwriting sophistication. If you haven’t listened to this one yet, you should. Though I liked Fangdriller from the outset, each subsequent spin has solidified my love for it. For anyone skeptical of Saidan’s latest, I encourage a dedicated, active listen—there’s a beautifully constructed album waiting to share its dark secrets with you if you’re brave enough to let it.

Rating: Great!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Avantgarde Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

Saidan’s Fangdriller: Scars Beneath Memory’s Wrist wasn’t an album I’d initially planned to review, but when my Dear Friend said he wasn’t able to make the time, I carved some out. Brainchild of vocalist/guitarist/bassist Splatterpvnk, Nashville, Tennessee’s Saidan plays black metal at once scathing and ultra-melodic. Visual Kill, and specifically Dear Hollow’s blurb about it, introduced me to Saidan’s charms. Since then, I’ve kept Visual Kill in regular rotation and hotly anticipated their next release. That time is now upon us, and I’ve prepared my body and eardrums for Saidan’s raw, blackened stylings steeped in tunefulness so seductive that I’m left in sonic subjugation. The only task left to us, then, is to explore how deep Fangdriller’s Scars go.

Tangentially or directly, one topic that garners a fair bit of discussion in our beloved blog’s reviews is originality. Considering how clustered some corners of the metalsphere have become,1 singular identities stand out like a white-hot beacon in the dead of night, and Saidan doubtlessly brings this galvanizing vitality to their music. Conceptually, Fangdriller adds another chapter to Saidan’s narrative conceit, acting as a precursor to Visual Kill and detailing the crippling exile of loneliness that breeds ideal targets for abuse and manipulation. Musically, Fangdriller skews more morose and wistful than the wrath-wrought frenzy of Visual Kill.2 While Moonlight Sorcery’s eldritch mystique and Sacramentum’s furious riffstorming ably serve as points of comparison, Stormkeep’s subdued grandeur and 葬火’s3 seething angst whet Fangdriller’s emotional impact to a finer point than its predecessor.

Compared to previous outings, Fangdriller eases off some of the experimental diversity and instead focuses on delivering first-rate compositional cohesion. Saidan’s melodic sensibilities permeate Fangdriller’s runtime, from opening track “Razorblade Temptation” onwards. Trem-picked guitar leads dance across the fretboard as breakcore drum beats and sparkling synth injections swirl within the mix (“Rapture (I’ll Wait for You),” “Kara No Bara”). Where Visual Kill luxuriates in flamboyance, reminding me of Sallow Moth’s Mossbane Lantern, Fangdriller affixes to mood and songwriting. The tension within “Kara No Bara” and “Womb of Hatred” simmers with bombastic builds that explode with the culmination of inexorable pressure, guided by the frantic rhythms of drummer (and only other band member) Hundosai. Each song on Fangdriller sways with relentless tensity and release, but it’s quasi-title track “Stained Glass Sin – Fang Driller” that achieves the supreme compositional masterstroke. Beginning with a slow, ramping maelstrom, the give and take on “Stained Glass Sin…” propel it to the cusp of melodic nirvana, which is when the transcendent solo bushwhacks with full force. Though impressive on their own, the individual components of the song aren’t what shatters expectations4—it’s the perfect sequencing to release. And more than any other element Saidan presents, these calculated moments and transitions maximize Fangdriller’s impact throughout.

Along with the expert compositions and performances, Saidan sounds amazing on Fangdriller. While maintaining the typical raw stylings, Splatterpvnk’s every note remains delectably audible despite the background fuzz and hiss. The downside to this production style is that the bottom end is a tad thin, but this hardly registers given that Saidan’s songwriting doesn’t hinge on it. The crude aesthetic is especially evident on final track “Mortuary,” which applies the same treatment as Visual Kill’s somber closer “Suffer” by way of melancholic guitar strumming supporting emo cleans. It makes for a satisfying denouement, and even though “Mortuary” double-dips with this trick, conceptually it tethers the albums to an even greater degree.

Upon listening to Fangdriller as a fan, the potency of Saidan’s refined melodicism immediately stood out. Further treasures revealed themselves after spending even more time with it for my review. Nearly two dozen spins later, I never find my interest waning throughout Fangdriller’s forty-seven minutes. Quite the opposite, as each time “Mortuary” fades, I either restart the album or desire to. Though slightly less gung-ho than its predecessor, what Fangdriller forfeits in balls-out blitzing Saidan recoups in songwriting sophistication. If you haven’t listened to this one yet, you should. Though I liked Fangdriller from the outset, each subsequent spin has solidified my love for it. For anyone skeptical of Saidan’s latest, I encourage a dedicated, active listen—there’s a beautifully constructed album waiting to share its dark secrets with you if you’re brave enough to let it.

Rating: Great!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Avantgarde Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

Saidan’s Fangdriller: Scars Beneath Memory’s Wrist wasn’t an album I’d initially planned to review, but when my Dear Friend said he wasn’t able to make the time, I carved some out. Brainchild of vocalist/guitarist/bassist Splatterpvnk, Nashville, Tennessee’s Saidan plays black metal at once scathing and ultra-melodic. Visual Kill, and specifically Dear Hollow’s blurb about it, introduced me to Saidan’s charms. Since then, I’ve kept Visual Kill in regular rotation and hotly anticipated their next release. That time is now upon us, and I’ve prepared my body and eardrums for Saidan’s raw, blackened stylings steeped in tunefulness so seductive that I’m left in sonic subjugation. The only task left to us, then, is to explore how deep Fangdriller’s Scars go.

Tangentially or directly, one topic that garners a fair bit of discussion in our beloved blog’s reviews is originality. Considering how clustered some corners of the metalsphere have become,1 singular identities stand out like a white-hot beacon in the dead of night, and Saidan doubtlessly brings this galvanizing vitality to their music. Conceptually, Fangdriller adds another chapter to Saidan’s narrative conceit, acting as a precursor to Visual Kill and detailing the crippling exile of loneliness that breeds ideal targets for abuse and manipulation. Musically, Fangdriller skews more morose and wistful than the wrath-wrought frenzy of Visual Kill.2 While Moonlight Sorcery’s eldritch mystique and Sacramentum’s furious riffstorming ably serve as points of comparison, Stormkeep’s subdued grandeur and 葬火’s3 seething angst whet Fangdriller’s emotional impact to a finer point than its predecessor.

Compared to previous outings, Fangdriller eases off some of the experimental diversity and instead focuses on delivering first-rate compositional cohesion. Saidan’s melodic sensibilities permeate Fangdriller’s runtime, from opening track “Razorblade Temptation” onwards. Trem-picked guitar leads dance across the fretboard as breakcore drum beats and sparkling synth injections swirl within the mix (“Rapture (I’ll Wait for You),” “Kara No Bara”). Where Visual Kill luxuriates in flamboyance, reminding me of Sallow Moth’s Mossbane Lantern, Fangdriller affixes to mood and songwriting. The tension within “Kara No Bara” and “Womb of Hatred” simmers with bombastic builds that explode with the culmination of inexorable pressure, guided by the frantic rhythms of drummer (and only other band member) Hundosai. Each song on Fangdriller sways with relentless tensity and release, but it’s quasi-title track “Stained Glass Sin – Fang Driller” that achieves the supreme compositional masterstroke. Beginning with a slow, ramping maelstrom, the give and take on “Stained Glass Sin…” propel it to the cusp of melodic nirvana, which is when the transcendent solo bushwhacks with full force. Though impressive on their own, the individual components of the song aren’t what shatters expectations4—it’s the perfect sequencing to release. And more than any other element Saidan presents, these calculated moments and transitions maximize Fangdriller’s impact throughout.

Along with the expert compositions and performances, Saidan sounds amazing on Fangdriller. While maintaining the typical raw stylings, Splatterpvnk’s every note remains delectably audible despite the background fuzz and hiss. The downside to this production style is that the bottom end is a tad thin, but this hardly registers given that Saidan’s songwriting doesn’t hinge on it. The crude aesthetic is especially evident on final track “Mortuary,” which applies the same treatment as Visual Kill’s somber closer “Suffer” by way of melancholic guitar strumming supporting emo cleans. It makes for a satisfying denouement, and even though “Mortuary” double-dips with this trick, conceptually it tethers the albums to an even greater degree.

Upon listening to Fangdriller as a fan, the potency of Saidan’s refined melodicism immediately stood out. Further treasures revealed themselves after spending even more time with it for my review. Nearly two dozen spins later, I never find my interest waning throughout Fangdriller’s forty-seven minutes. Quite the opposite, as each time “Mortuary” fades, I either restart the album or desire to. Though slightly less gung-ho than its predecessor, what Fangdriller forfeits in balls-out blitzing Saidan recoups in songwriting sophistication. If you haven’t listened to this one yet, you should. Though I liked Fangdriller from the outset, each subsequent spin has solidified my love for it. For anyone skeptical of Saidan’s latest, I encourage a dedicated, active listen—there’s a beautifully constructed album waiting to share its dark secrets with you if you’re brave enough to let it.

Rating: Great!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Avantgarde Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

Walg appeared out of nowhere in 2021 with a debut filled with tenacious riffs, creative melodies, and impassioned performances. They have attained a sort of cult status in the years since—not quite widely known, but fiercely beloved by their fans. Their energetic fervor has swept up a few writers here at AMG, including Gardenstale, Grin Reaper, and me.1 Walg have been prolific since their debut, releasing one album per year—sometimes there’s just no stopping the creative juices from flowing. On the flip side, such a prolific release schedule risks snuffing out the candle of passion by falling into the trap of formulaic songwriting. Walg continue to conjure that amazing, infectious energy, but once you’ve heard it 3 or 4 or 5 times, it’s difficult to create that original magic. So what will it be for this sixth go-around? Will the bellows continue to feed the flames of passion, or have the flames dwindled to mere embers?

On VI, Walg still tenaciously cling to the passion that drove them on their debut. “Nevel” starts things off with your typical Walg guitar lead—energetic and catchy as hell. Subtle symphonics enhance the music and bring their style of meloblack closer to the likes of Dimmu Borgir, Old Man’s Child, and …And Oceans. Yet Walg also sound fiercely like their own beast. VI does have a slightly different vibe compared to the earlier records; it’s missing those spontaneous moments of sudden passionate melodicism that surprised and delighted on prior records. The tunes here feel more deliberately crafted and controlled. A tenacity on past works has given way to a little more restraint. Of course, they still play with hunger and deliver many exceptional melodies. They also pause more frequently for moments of quieter beauty, as on “1597” when Robert Koning sings his plaintive cleans amidst some gentle tremolos.

That Walg wildness still remains, though, and it largely comes out in the vocal performance of Yorick Keijzer. He snarls and rasps like a wounded animal. While his deranged delivery gives the impression of a record careening out of control, there’s a method to his madness. His cadence sometimes brings to mind that of Maurice Wilson (Antrisch), and it adds a distinctive character to the heart and soul of the music. While the songs themselves have more constrained structures to offset Yorick’s wildness, there is one exception. The six-minute “De Eenlonkster” is an uncaged beast that is among Walg’s most creative. From arpeggios and riffs with a country twang, to a gently sung portion accompanied by the sound of lapping waves, to a brief moment when it nearly dives into death-doom territory, “De Eenlonkster” kicks and bucks, leaving you with whiplash and a purple bruise around your eye, but you’ll be grinning, missing teeth and all, when the tune rolls to its end.

Having written dozens of songs in the six years of their existence, it’s safe to wonder if Walg are running out of ideas, especially when they deliver, at 34 minutes and 8 songs, their shortest album to date. And yet they have meticulously crafted something fabulous, still full of the Walg zeal and spark. It’s true, though, as Gardenstale pointed out in his review of V, that the veneer of their formula is starting to wear thin. There’s a sense of déjà vu when a band releases material so frequently and consistently. On VI’s weaker tracks on the back half of the record, “Stil Geboren” and “De Nacht Behoort On Allen Toes” (which are still plenty fun), the repetition is more obvious than on other tracks. The back half does have a couple of winners, however. “Het Klooster Van Ter Apel” has some creative percussion work along with a sweet riff line, while “Erfvloek” takes a more subdued route with a beautiful trem melody that provides VI a rather lovely conclusion.

My journey with VI contained moments of ups and downs. Admittedly, my initial spins left it wanting—something felt different that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Eventually, however, it clicked, and I began to again appreciate Walg’s songwriting magic. There’s a duet here between a gentle beauty and repellent wildness. Walg still sound like Walg, yet there’s a subtle evolution. They have managed to craft a very enjoyable record, and this brief package shows that Walg remain a wrecking ball force of nature in the realm of melodic black metal. However, one can hope they’re able to take a further step in their evolution on the follow-up to VI—VII.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Walg appeared out of nowhere in 2021 with a debut filled with tenacious riffs, creative melodies, and impassioned performances. They have attained a sort of cult status in the years since—not quite widely known, but fiercely beloved by their fans. Their energetic fervor has swept up a few writers here at AMG, including Gardenstale, Grin Reaper, and me.1 Walg have been prolific since their debut, releasing one album per year—sometimes there’s just no stopping the creative juices from flowing. On the flip side, such a prolific release schedule risks snuffing out the candle of passion by falling into the trap of formulaic songwriting. Walg continue to conjure that amazing, infectious energy, but once you’ve heard it 3 or 4 or 5 times, it’s difficult to create that original magic. So what will it be for this sixth go-around? Will the bellows continue to feed the flames of passion, or have the flames dwindled to mere embers?

On VI, Walg still tenaciously cling to the passion that drove them on their debut. “Nevel” starts things off with your typical Walg guitar lead—energetic and catchy as hell. Subtle symphonics enhance the music and bring their style of meloblack closer to the likes of Dimmu Borgir, Old Man’s Child, and …And Oceans. Yet Walg also sound fiercely like their own beast. VI does have a slightly different vibe compared to the earlier records; it’s missing those spontaneous moments of sudden passionate melodicism that surprised and delighted on prior records. The tunes here feel more deliberately crafted and controlled. A tenacity on past works has given way to a little more restraint. Of course, they still play with hunger and deliver many exceptional melodies. They also pause more frequently for moments of quieter beauty, as on “1597” when Robert Koning sings his plaintive cleans amidst some gentle tremolos.

That Walg wildness still remains, though, and it largely comes out in the vocal performance of Yorick Keijzer. He snarls and rasps like a wounded animal. While his deranged delivery gives the impression of a record careening out of control, there’s a method to his madness. His cadence sometimes brings to mind that of Maurice Wilson (Antrisch), and it adds a distinctive character to the heart and soul of the music. While the songs themselves have more constrained structures to offset Yorick’s wildness, there is one exception. The six-minute “De Eenlonkster” is an uncaged beast that is among Walg’s most creative. From arpeggios and riffs with a country twang, to a gently sung portion accompanied by the sound of lapping waves, to a brief moment when it nearly dives into death-doom territory, “De Eenlonkster” kicks and bucks, leaving you with whiplash and a purple bruise around your eye, but you’ll be grinning, missing teeth and all, when the tune rolls to its end.

Having written dozens of songs in the six years of their existence, it’s safe to wonder if Walg are running out of ideas, especially when they deliver, at 34 minutes and 8 songs, their shortest album to date. And yet they have meticulously crafted something fabulous, still full of the Walg zeal and spark. It’s true, though, as Gardenstale pointed out in his review of V, that the veneer of their formula is starting to wear thin. There’s a sense of déjà vu when a band releases material so frequently and consistently. On VI’s weaker tracks on the back half of the record, “Stil Geboren” and “De Nacht Behoort On Allen Toes” (which are still plenty fun), the repetition is more obvious than on other tracks. The back half does have a couple of winners, however. “Het Klooster Van Ter Apel” has some creative percussion work along with a sweet riff line, while “Erfvloek” takes a more subdued route with a beautiful trem melody that provides VI a rather lovely conclusion.

My journey with VI contained moments of ups and downs. Admittedly, my initial spins left it wanting—something felt different that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Eventually, however, it clicked, and I began to again appreciate Walg’s songwriting magic. There’s a duet here between a gentle beauty and repellent wildness. Walg still sound like Walg, yet there’s a subtle evolution. They have managed to craft a very enjoyable record, and this brief package shows that Walg remain a wrecking ball force of nature in the realm of melodic black metal. However, one can hope they’re able to take a further step in their evolution on the follow-up to VI—VII.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Walg appeared out of nowhere in 2021 with a debut filled with tenacious riffs, creative melodies, and impassioned performances. They have attained a sort of cult status in the years since—not quite widely known, but fiercely beloved by their fans. Their energetic fervor has swept up a few writers here at AMG, including Gardenstale, Grin Reaper, and me.1 Walg have been prolific since their debut, releasing one album per year—sometimes there’s just no stopping the creative juices from flowing. On the flip side, such a prolific release schedule risks snuffing out the candle of passion by falling into the trap of formulaic songwriting. Walg continue to conjure that amazing, infectious energy, but once you’ve heard it 3 or 4 or 5 times, it’s difficult to create that original magic. So what will it be for this sixth go-around? Will the bellows continue to feed the flames of passion, or have the flames dwindled to mere embers?

On VI, Walg still tenaciously cling to the passion that drove them on their debut. “Nevel” starts things off with your typical Walg guitar lead—energetic and catchy as hell. Subtle symphonics enhance the music and bring their style of meloblack closer to the likes of Dimmu Borgir, Old Man’s Child, and …And Oceans. Yet Walg also sound fiercely like their own beast. VI does have a slightly different vibe compared to the earlier records; it’s missing those spontaneous moments of sudden passionate melodicism that surprised and delighted on prior records. The tunes here feel more deliberately crafted and controlled. A tenacity on past works has given way to a little more restraint. Of course, they still play with hunger and deliver many exceptional melodies. They also pause more frequently for moments of quieter beauty, as on “1597” when Robert Koning sings his plaintive cleans amidst some gentle tremolos.

That Walg wildness still remains, though, and it largely comes out in the vocal performance of Yorick Keijzer. He snarls and rasps like a wounded animal. While his deranged delivery gives the impression of a record careening out of control, there’s a method to his madness. His cadence sometimes brings to mind that of Maurice Wilson (Antrisch), and it adds a distinctive character to the heart and soul of the music. While the songs themselves have more constrained structures to offset Yorick’s wildness, there is one exception. The six-minute “De Eenlonkster” is an uncaged beast that is among Walg’s most creative. From arpeggios and riffs with a country twang, to a gently sung portion accompanied by the sound of lapping waves, to a brief moment when it nearly dives into death-doom territory, “De Eenlonkster” kicks and bucks, leaving you with whiplash and a purple bruise around your eye, but you’ll be grinning, missing teeth and all, when the tune rolls to its end.

Having written dozens of songs in the six years of their existence, it’s safe to wonder if Walg are running out of ideas, especially when they deliver, at 34 minutes and 8 songs, their shortest album to date. And yet they have meticulously crafted something fabulous, still full of the Walg zeal and spark. It’s true, though, as Gardenstale pointed out in his review of V, that the veneer of their formula is starting to wear thin. There’s a sense of déjà vu when a band releases material so frequently and consistently. On VI’s weaker tracks on the back half of the record, “Stil Geboren” and “De Nacht Behoort On Allen Toes” (which are still plenty fun), the repetition is more obvious than on other tracks. The back half does have a couple of winners, however. “Het Klooster Van Ter Apel” has some creative percussion work along with a sweet riff line, while “Erfvloek” takes a more subdued route with a beautiful trem melody that provides VI a rather lovely conclusion.

My journey with VI contained moments of ups and downs. Admittedly, my initial spins left it wanting—something felt different that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Eventually, however, it clicked, and I began to again appreciate Walg’s songwriting magic. There’s a duet here between a gentle beauty and repellent wildness. Walg still sound like Walg, yet there’s a subtle evolution. They have managed to craft a very enjoyable record, and this brief package shows that Walg remain a wrecking ball force of nature in the realm of melodic black metal. However, one can hope they’re able to take a further step in their evolution on the follow-up to VI—VII.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Walg appeared out of nowhere in 2021 with a debut filled with tenacious riffs, creative melodies, and impassioned performances. They have attained a sort of cult status in the years since—not quite widely known, but fiercely beloved by their fans. Their energetic fervor has swept up a few writers here at AMG, including Gardenstale, Grin Reaper, and me.1 Walg have been prolific since their debut, releasing one album per year—sometimes there’s just no stopping the creative juices from flowing. On the flip side, such a prolific release schedule risks snuffing out the candle of passion by falling into the trap of formulaic songwriting. Walg continue to conjure that amazing, infectious energy, but once you’ve heard it 3 or 4 or 5 times, it’s difficult to create that original magic. So what will it be for this sixth go-around? Will the bellows continue to feed the flames of passion, or have the flames dwindled to mere embers?

On VI, Walg still tenaciously cling to the passion that drove them on their debut. “Nevel” starts things off with your typical Walg guitar lead—energetic and catchy as hell. Subtle symphonics enhance the music and bring their style of meloblack closer to the likes of Dimmu Borgir, Old Man’s Child, and …And Oceans. Yet Walg also sound fiercely like their own beast. VI does have a slightly different vibe compared to the earlier records; it’s missing those spontaneous moments of sudden passionate melodicism that surprised and delighted on prior records. The tunes here feel more deliberately crafted and controlled. A tenacity on past works has given way to a little more restraint. Of course, they still play with hunger and deliver many exceptional melodies. They also pause more frequently for moments of quieter beauty, as on “1597” when Robert Koning sings his plaintive cleans amidst some gentle tremolos.

That Walg wildness still remains, though, and it largely comes out in the vocal performance of Yorick Keijzer. He snarls and rasps like a wounded animal. While his deranged delivery gives the impression of a record careening out of control, there’s a method to his madness. His cadence sometimes brings to mind that of Maurice Wilson (Antrisch), and it adds a distinctive character to the heart and soul of the music. While the songs themselves have more constrained structures to offset Yorick’s wildness, there is one exception. The six-minute “De Eenlonkster” is an uncaged beast that is among Walg’s most creative. From arpeggios and riffs with a country twang, to a gently sung portion accompanied by the sound of lapping waves, to a brief moment when it nearly dives into death-doom territory, “De Eenlonkster” kicks and bucks, leaving you with whiplash and a purple bruise around your eye, but you’ll be grinning, missing teeth and all, when the tune rolls to its end.

Having written dozens of songs in the six years of their existence, it’s safe to wonder if Walg are running out of ideas, especially when they deliver, at 34 minutes and 8 songs, their shortest album to date. And yet they have meticulously crafted something fabulous, still full of the Walg zeal and spark. It’s true, though, as Gardenstale pointed out in his review of V, that the veneer of their formula is starting to wear thin. There’s a sense of déjà vu when a band releases material so frequently and consistently. On VI’s weaker tracks on the back half of the record, “Stil Geboren” and “De Nacht Behoort On Allen Toes” (which are still plenty fun), the repetition is more obvious than on other tracks. The back half does have a couple of winners, however. “Het Klooster Van Ter Apel” has some creative percussion work along with a sweet riff line, while “Erfvloek” takes a more subdued route with a beautiful trem melody that provides VI a rather lovely conclusion.

My journey with VI contained moments of ups and downs. Admittedly, my initial spins left it wanting—something felt different that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Eventually, however, it clicked, and I began to again appreciate Walg’s songwriting magic. There’s a duet here between a gentle beauty and repellent wildness. Walg still sound like Walg, yet there’s a subtle evolution. They have managed to craft a very enjoyable record, and this brief package shows that Walg remain a wrecking ball force of nature in the realm of melodic black metal. However, one can hope they’re able to take a further step in their evolution on the follow-up to VI—VII.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Walg appeared out of nowhere in 2021 with a debut filled with tenacious riffs, creative melodies, and impassioned performances. They have attained a sort of cult status in the years since—not quite widely known, but fiercely beloved by their fans. Their energetic fervor has swept up a few writers here at AMG, including Gardenstale, Grin Reaper, and me.1 Walg have been prolific since their debut, releasing one album per year—sometimes there’s just no stopping the creative juices from flowing. On the flip side, such a prolific release schedule risks snuffing out the candle of passion by falling into the trap of formulaic songwriting. Walg continue to conjure that amazing, infectious energy, but once you’ve heard it 3 or 4 or 5 times, it’s difficult to create that original magic. So what will it be for this sixth go-around? Will the bellows continue to feed the flames of passion, or have the flames dwindled to mere embers?

On VI, Walg still tenaciously cling to the passion that drove them on their debut. “Nevel” starts things off with your typical Walg guitar lead—energetic and catchy as hell. Subtle symphonics enhance the music and bring their style of meloblack closer to the likes of Dimmu Borgir, Old Man’s Child, and …And Oceans. Yet Walg also sound fiercely like their own beast. VI does have a slightly different vibe compared to the earlier records; it’s missing those spontaneous moments of sudden passionate melodicism that surprised and delighted on prior records. The tunes here feel more deliberately crafted and controlled. A tenacity on past works has given way to a little more restraint. Of course, they still play with hunger and deliver many exceptional melodies. They also pause more frequently for moments of quieter beauty, as on “1597” when Robert Koning sings his plaintive cleans amidst some gentle tremolos.

That Walg wildness still remains, though, and it largely comes out in the vocal performance of Yorick Keijzer. He snarls and rasps like a wounded animal. While his deranged delivery gives the impression of a record careening out of control, there’s a method to his madness. His cadence sometimes brings to mind that of Maurice Wilson (Antrisch), and it adds a distinctive character to the heart and soul of the music. While the songs themselves have more constrained structures to offset Yorick’s wildness, there is one exception. The six-minute “De Eenlonkster” is an uncaged beast that is among Walg’s most creative. From arpeggios and riffs with a country twang, to a gently sung portion accompanied by the sound of lapping waves, to a brief moment when it nearly dives into death-doom territory, “De Eenlonkster” kicks and bucks, leaving you with whiplash and a purple bruise around your eye, but you’ll be grinning, missing teeth and all, when the tune rolls to its end.

Having written dozens of songs in the six years of their existence, it’s safe to wonder if Walg are running out of ideas, especially when they deliver, at 34 minutes and 8 songs, their shortest album to date. And yet they have meticulously crafted something fabulous, still full of the Walg zeal and spark. It’s true, though, as Gardenstale pointed out in his review of V, that the veneer of their formula is starting to wear thin. There’s a sense of déjà vu when a band releases material so frequently and consistently. On VI’s weaker tracks on the back half of the record, “Stil Geboren” and “De Nacht Behoort On Allen Toes” (which are still plenty fun), the repetition is more obvious than on other tracks. The back half does have a couple of winners, however. “Het Klooster Van Ter Apel” has some creative percussion work along with a sweet riff line, while “Erfvloek” takes a more subdued route with a beautiful trem melody that provides VI a rather lovely conclusion.

My journey with VI contained moments of ups and downs. Admittedly, my initial spins left it wanting—something felt different that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Eventually, however, it clicked, and I began to again appreciate Walg’s songwriting magic. There’s a duet here between a gentle beauty and repellent wildness. Walg still sound like Walg, yet there’s a subtle evolution. They have managed to craft a very enjoyable record, and this brief package shows that Walg remain a wrecking ball force of nature in the realm of melodic black metal. However, one can hope they’re able to take a further step in their evolution on the follow-up to VI—VII.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Autumnblaze – Glut Review | Angry Metal Guy

Add Autumnblaze to the list of long-standing bands you’ve likely never heard of. Formed in 1996, this German…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #3.0 #ArgonautaRecords #AU #Australia #Autumnblaze #DarkRock #Empyrium #Entertainment #GermanMetal #glut #GothicMetal #Jun26 #Katatonia #ParadiseLost #review #reviews #TheVisionBleak
https://www.newsbeep.com/au/781017/

Autumnblaze – Glut Review | Angry Metal Guy

Add Autumnblaze to the list of long-standing bands you’ve likely never heard of. Formed in 1996, this German…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #3.0 #ArgonautaRecords #AU #Australia #Autumnblaze #DarkRock #Empyrium #Entertainment #GermanMetal #glut #GothicMetal #Jun26 #Katatonia #ParadiseLost #review #reviews #TheVisionBleak
https://www.newsbeep.com/au/781017/

https://www.europesays.com/ie/570308/ Autumnblaze – Glut Review | Angry Metal Guy #2026 #30 #ArgonautaRecords #Autumnblaze #DarkRock #Éire #Empyrium #Entertainment #GermanMetal #Glut #GothicMetal #IE #Ireland #Jun26 #Katatonia #Music #ParadiseLost #Review #Reviews #TheVisionBleak

Add Autumnblaze to the list of long-standing bands you’ve likely never heard of. Formed in 1996, this German duo found inspiration in early Katatonia, though their vision has changed throughout the years. Glut will be their ninth full-length album,1 and their third with Argonauta Records. In the years before signing with Argonauta, when they were with Prophecy Productions, they added a few tricks to their bag from fellow labelmates, Empyrium, and still view them as an important influence today. Their last two releases reflect the diversity in their approach, from the acoustic and gentle Welkin Shores Burning (2020) to the light gothic rock of Auf Zerfetzten Schwingen (2024). What drew my attention to Autumnblaze was the mentions of The Vision Bleak and Paradise Lost, along with Katatonia, in their promo materials. At 13 songs, is Glut too much of a good thing, or will it have you happily gorging on their vision of sadboi gothic metal?

Glut trends much heavier and more metal than anything they’ve released for Argonauta. While harsh vocals were present very rarely on their 2024 release, here they are a prominent feature. Vocalist Eldron slips back and forth between cleans and growls, which serve as effective foils for the harsh/gentle dynamic on the record. His growls, more raspy than deep-throated, lend a violent darkness, while the melodic tilt of his cleans brings a tender melancholy. The catchy chorus on “Kerkersonne” will have you singing along and seeking to brush up on your German to better understand the words tugging at your heartstrings.2 The guitar tone is also louder and heavier than on prior releases, and Arisjel sets an energetic, brisk pace on the drums that keeps things from growing too dark or saccharine. Autumblaze mix the gothic melodicism of Katatonia and The Vision Bleak with a more blackened, almost shoegaze-y edge on the guitars and vocals to create an impassioned record that is simultaneously joyful, angry, and sad.

Unlike the prog of Katatonia or the more unpredictable nature of Weird Tales, Autumnblaze favor a much more formulaic structure that proves both a boon and a bane. “Licht Aus” sets the general template for most songs, beginning harsh and heavy before Eldron’s cleans soften the tone for a more palatable chorus. This formula is a comfort, as Eldron’s cleans prove a balm to soothe the harshness of his growls—whether intentional or not, there is a sort of harm/heal dynamic to the music. Of course, where the formula proves a comfort, it also grows a touch repetitive. Glut is an incredibly pleasurable listening experience, yet hearing the same formula across 13 tracks becomes tiresome. It also doesn’t help that Autumnblaze write largely standard rock riffs without any melodic leads to help songs stand apart from one another.

When Autumnblaze mixes up their formula, it also comes with mixed results. “Glut” features some arpeggios that are a nice change of pace, while “Mondmann” forgoes the growls in favor of a pleasantly poppy, but still heavy, metal song. In other ways, their nuanced alterations to the formula prove nuisances. There’s an unfortunate focus on spoken word elements, with “Heilung,” “Glut,” and “Geisteskind” all using them in place of the growls. On top of that, instrumentally, the music is weakest during the spoken segments. “Heilung” and “Geisteskind” both opt for low-energy, uninteresting instrumentals during these moments, but they grow more enjoyable when the cleans kick in. “Heilung” in particular wastes a pretty terrific performance from Arjon by splitting half the song with the tedious spoken parts. Despite these issues, Glut’s strengths weigh favorably enough to make it more enjoyable than not.

Glut truly is a pleasant listening experience that effectively touches on a range of impassioned feelings. Autumnblaze have honed in on a successful formula that works for most of Glut’s 42-minute runtime, even if it starts to bow under the weight of its 13 songs. Having revisited their past stuff, I feel that Glut is the best they’ve ever sounded, both from a production and songwriting perspective. While it’s true they may have injected a little more variety in the past, their earlier stuff didn’t really stick as Glut does. So, sure, there are a few issues to work out, but if 30 years later you sound this fresh, that’s a win.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Add Autumnblaze to the list of long-standing bands you’ve likely never heard of. Formed in 1996, this German duo found inspiration in early Katatonia, though their vision has changed throughout the years. Glut will be their ninth full-length album,1 and their third with Argonauta Records. In the years before signing with Argonauta, when they were with Prophecy Productions, they added a few tricks to their bag from fellow labelmates, Empyrium, and still view them as an important influence today. Their last two releases reflect the diversity in their approach, from the acoustic and gentle Welkin Shores Burning (2020) to the light gothic rock of Auf Zerfetzten Schwingen (2024). What drew my attention to Autumnblaze was the mentions of The Vision Bleak and Paradise Lost, along with Katatonia, in their promo materials. At 13 songs, is Glut too much of a good thing, or will it have you happily gorging on their vision of sadboi gothic metal?

Glut trends much heavier and more metal than anything they’ve released for Argonauta. While harsh vocals were present very rarely on their 2024 release, here they are a prominent feature. Vocalist Eldron slips back and forth between cleans and growls, which serve as effective foils for the harsh/gentle dynamic on the record. His growls, more raspy than deep-throated, lend a violent darkness, while the melodic tilt of his cleans brings a tender melancholy. The catchy chorus on “Kerkersonne” will have you singing along and seeking to brush up on your German to better understand the words tugging at your heartstrings.2 The guitar tone is also louder and heavier than on prior releases, and Arisjel sets an energetic, brisk pace on the drums that keeps things from growing too dark or saccharine. Autumblaze mix the gothic melodicism of Katatonia and The Vision Bleak with a more blackened, almost shoegaze-y edge on the guitars and vocals to create an impassioned record that is simultaneously joyful, angry, and sad.

Unlike the prog of Katatonia or the more unpredictable nature of Weird Tales, Autumnblaze favor a much more formulaic structure that proves both a boon and a bane. “Licht Aus” sets the general template for most songs, beginning harsh and heavy before Eldron’s cleans soften the tone for a more palatable chorus. This formula is a comfort, as Eldron’s cleans prove a balm to soothe the harshness of his growls—whether intentional or not, there is a sort of harm/heal dynamic to the music. Of course, where the formula proves a comfort, it also grows a touch repetitive. Glut is an incredibly pleasurable listening experience, yet hearing the same formula across 13 tracks becomes tiresome. It also doesn’t help that Autumnblaze write largely standard rock riffs without any melodic leads to help songs stand apart from one another.

When Autumnblaze mixes up their formula, it also comes with mixed results. “Glut” features some arpeggios that are a nice change of pace, while “Mondmann” forgoes the growls in favor of a pleasantly poppy, but still heavy, metal song. In other ways, their nuanced alterations to the formula prove nuisances. There’s an unfortunate focus on spoken word elements, with “Heilung,” “Glut,” and “Geisteskind” all using them in place of the growls. On top of that, instrumentally, the music is weakest during the spoken segments. “Heilung” and “Geisteskind” both opt for low-energy, uninteresting instrumentals during these moments, but they grow more enjoyable when the cleans kick in. “Heilung” in particular wastes a pretty terrific performance from Arjon by splitting half the song with the tedious spoken parts. Despite these issues, Glut’s strengths weigh favorably enough to make it more enjoyable than not.

Glut truly is a pleasant listening experience that effectively touches on a range of impassioned feelings. Autumnblaze have honed in on a successful formula that works for most of Glut’s 42-minute runtime, even if it starts to bow under the weight of its 13 songs. Having revisited their past stuff, I feel that Glut is the best they’ve ever sounded, both from a production and songwriting perspective. While it’s true they may have injected a little more variety in the past, their earlier stuff didn’t really stick as Glut does. So, sure, there are a few issues to work out, but if 30 years later you sound this fresh, that’s a win.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Add Autumnblaze to the list of long-standing bands you’ve likely never heard of. Formed in 1996, this German duo found inspiration in early Katatonia, though their vision has changed throughout the years. Glut will be their ninth full-length album,1 and their third with Argonauta Records. In the years before signing with Argonauta, when they were with Prophecy Productions, they added a few tricks to their bag from fellow labelmates, Empyrium, and still view them as an important influence today. Their last two releases reflect the diversity in their approach, from the acoustic and gentle Welkin Shores Burning (2020) to the light gothic rock of Auf Zerfetzten Schwingen (2024). What drew my attention to Autumnblaze was the mentions of The Vision Bleak and Paradise Lost, along with Katatonia, in their promo materials. At 13 songs, is Glut too much of a good thing, or will it have you happily gorging on their vision of sadboi gothic metal?

Glut trends much heavier and more metal than anything they’ve released for Argonauta. While harsh vocals were present very rarely on their 2024 release, here they are a prominent feature. Vocalist Eldron slips back and forth between cleans and growls, which serve as effective foils for the harsh/gentle dynamic on the record. His growls, more raspy than deep-throated, lend a violent darkness, while the melodic tilt of his cleans brings a tender melancholy. The catchy chorus on “Kerkersonne” will have you singing along and seeking to brush up on your German to better understand the words tugging at your heartstrings.2 The guitar tone is also louder and heavier than on prior releases, and Arisjel sets an energetic, brisk pace on the drums that keeps things from growing too dark or saccharine. Autumblaze mix the gothic melodicism of Katatonia and The Vision Bleak with a more blackened, almost shoegaze-y edge on the guitars and vocals to create an impassioned record that is simultaneously joyful, angry, and sad.

Unlike the prog of Katatonia or the more unpredictable nature of Weird Tales, Autumnblaze favor a much more formulaic structure that proves both a boon and a bane. “Licht Aus” sets the general template for most songs, beginning harsh and heavy before Eldron’s cleans soften the tone for a more palatable chorus. This formula is a comfort, as Eldron’s cleans prove a balm to soothe the harshness of his growls—whether intentional or not, there is a sort of harm/heal dynamic to the music. Of course, where the formula proves a comfort, it also grows a touch repetitive. Glut is an incredibly pleasurable listening experience, yet hearing the same formula across 13 tracks becomes tiresome. It also doesn’t help that Autumnblaze write largely standard rock riffs without any melodic leads to help songs stand apart from one another.

When Autumnblaze mixes up their formula, it also comes with mixed results. “Glut” features some arpeggios that are a nice change of pace, while “Mondmann” forgoes the growls in favor of a pleasantly poppy, but still heavy, metal song. In other ways, their nuanced alterations to the formula prove nuisances. There’s an unfortunate focus on spoken word elements, with “Heilung,” “Glut,” and “Geisteskind” all using them in place of the growls. On top of that, instrumentally, the music is weakest during the spoken segments. “Heilung” and “Geisteskind” both opt for low-energy, uninteresting instrumentals during these moments, but they grow more enjoyable when the cleans kick in. “Heilung” in particular wastes a pretty terrific performance from Arjon by splitting half the song with the tedious spoken parts. Despite these issues, Glut’s strengths weigh favorably enough to make it more enjoyable than not.

Glut truly is a pleasant listening experience that effectively touches on a range of impassioned feelings. Autumnblaze have honed in on a successful formula that works for most of Glut’s 42-minute runtime, even if it starts to bow under the weight of its 13 songs. Having revisited their past stuff, I feel that Glut is the best they’ve ever sounded, both from a production and songwriting perspective. While it’s true they may have injected a little more variety in the past, their earlier stuff didn’t really stick as Glut does. So, sure, there are a few issues to work out, but if 30 years later you sound this fresh, that’s a win.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Add Autumnblaze to the list of long-standing bands you’ve likely never heard of. Formed in 1996, this German duo found inspiration in early Katatonia, though their vision has changed throughout the years. Glut will be their ninth full-length album,1 and their third with Argonauta Records. In the years before signing with Argonauta, when they were with Prophecy Productions, they added a few tricks to their bag from fellow labelmates, Empyrium, and still view them as an important influence today. Their last two releases reflect the diversity in their approach, from the acoustic and gentle Welkin Shores Burning (2020) to the light gothic rock of Auf Zerfetzten Schwingen (2024). What drew my attention to Autumnblaze was the mentions of The Vision Bleak and Paradise Lost, along with Katatonia, in their promo materials. At 13 songs, is Glut too much of a good thing, or will it have you happily gorging on their vision of sadboi gothic metal?

Glut trends much heavier and more metal than anything they’ve released for Argonauta. While harsh vocals were present very rarely on their 2024 release, here they are a prominent feature. Vocalist Eldron slips back and forth between cleans and growls, which serve as effective foils for the harsh/gentle dynamic on the record. His growls, more raspy than deep-throated, lend a violent darkness, while the melodic tilt of his cleans brings a tender melancholy. The catchy chorus on “Kerkersonne” will have you singing along and seeking to brush up on your German to better understand the words tugging at your heartstrings.2 The guitar tone is also louder and heavier than on prior releases, and Arisjel sets an energetic, brisk pace on the drums that keeps things from growing too dark or saccharine. Autumblaze mix the gothic melodicism of Katatonia and The Vision Bleak with a more blackened, almost shoegaze-y edge on the guitars and vocals to create an impassioned record that is simultaneously joyful, angry, and sad.

Unlike the prog of Katatonia or the more unpredictable nature of Weird Tales, Autumnblaze favor a much more formulaic structure that proves both a boon and a bane. “Licht Aus” sets the general template for most songs, beginning harsh and heavy before Eldron’s cleans soften the tone for a more palatable chorus. This formula is a comfort, as Eldron’s cleans prove a balm to soothe the harshness of his growls—whether intentional or not, there is a sort of harm/heal dynamic to the music. Of course, where the formula proves a comfort, it also grows a touch repetitive. Glut is an incredibly pleasurable listening experience, yet hearing the same formula across 13 tracks becomes tiresome. It also doesn’t help that Autumnblaze write largely standard rock riffs without any melodic leads to help songs stand apart from one another.

When Autumnblaze mixes up their formula, it also comes with mixed results. “Glut” features some arpeggios that are a nice change of pace, while “Mondmann” forgoes the growls in favor of a pleasantly poppy, but still heavy, metal song. In other ways, their nuanced alterations to the formula prove nuisances. There’s an unfortunate focus on spoken word elements, with “Heilung,” “Glut,” and “Geisteskind” all using them in place of the growls. On top of that, instrumentally, the music is weakest during the spoken segments. “Heilung” and “Geisteskind” both opt for low-energy, uninteresting instrumentals during these moments, but they grow more enjoyable when the cleans kick in. “Heilung” in particular wastes a pretty terrific performance from Arjon by splitting half the song with the tedious spoken parts. Despite these issues, Glut’s strengths weigh favorably enough to make it more enjoyable than not.

Glut truly is a pleasant listening experience that effectively touches on a range of impassioned feelings. Autumnblaze have honed in on a successful formula that works for most of Glut’s 42-minute runtime, even if it starts to bow under the weight of its 13 songs. Having revisited their past stuff, I feel that Glut is the best they’ve ever sounded, both from a production and songwriting perspective. While it’s true they may have injected a little more variety in the past, their earlier stuff didn’t really stick as Glut does. So, sure, there are a few issues to work out, but if 30 years later you sound this fresh, that’s a win.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Add Autumnblaze to the list of long-standing bands you’ve likely never heard of. Formed in 1996, this German duo found inspiration in early Katatonia, though their vision has changed throughout the years. Glut will be their ninth full-length album,1 and their third with Argonauta Records. In the years before signing with Argonauta, when they were with Prophecy Productions, they added a few tricks to their bag from fellow labelmates, Empyrium, and still view them as an important influence today. Their last two releases reflect the diversity in their approach, from the acoustic and gentle Welkin Shores Burning (2020) to the light gothic rock of Auf Zerfetzten Schwingen (2024). What drew my attention to Autumnblaze was the mentions of The Vision Bleak and Paradise Lost, along with Katatonia, in their promo materials. At 13 songs, is Glut too much of a good thing, or will it have you happily gorging on their vision of sadboi gothic metal?

Glut trends much heavier and more metal than anything they’ve released for Argonauta. While harsh vocals were present very rarely on their 2024 release, here they are a prominent feature. Vocalist Eldron slips back and forth between cleans and growls, which serve as effective foils for the harsh/gentle dynamic on the record. His growls, more raspy than deep-throated, lend a violent darkness, while the melodic tilt of his cleans brings a tender melancholy. The catchy chorus on “Kerkersonne” will have you singing along and seeking to brush up on your German to better understand the words tugging at your heartstrings.2 The guitar tone is also louder and heavier than on prior releases, and Arisjel sets an energetic, brisk pace on the drums that keeps things from growing too dark or saccharine. Autumblaze mix the gothic melodicism of Katatonia and The Vision Bleak with a more blackened, almost shoegaze-y edge on the guitars and vocals to create an impassioned record that is simultaneously joyful, angry, and sad.

Unlike the prog of Katatonia or the more unpredictable nature of Weird Tales, Autumnblaze favor a much more formulaic structure that proves both a boon and a bane. “Licht Aus” sets the general template for most songs, beginning harsh and heavy before Eldron’s cleans soften the tone for a more palatable chorus. This formula is a comfort, as Eldron’s cleans prove a balm to soothe the harshness of his growls—whether intentional or not, there is a sort of harm/heal dynamic to the music. Of course, where the formula proves a comfort, it also grows a touch repetitive. Glut is an incredibly pleasurable listening experience, yet hearing the same formula across 13 tracks becomes tiresome. It also doesn’t help that Autumnblaze write largely standard rock riffs without any melodic leads to help songs stand apart from one another.

When Autumnblaze mixes up their formula, it also comes with mixed results. “Glut” features some arpeggios that are a nice change of pace, while “Mondmann” forgoes the growls in favor of a pleasantly poppy, but still heavy, metal song. In other ways, their nuanced alterations to the formula prove nuisances. There’s an unfortunate focus on spoken word elements, with “Heilung,” “Glut,” and “Geisteskind” all using them in place of the growls. On top of that, instrumentally, the music is weakest during the spoken segments. “Heilung” and “Geisteskind” both opt for low-energy, uninteresting instrumentals during these moments, but they grow more enjoyable when the cleans kick in. “Heilung” in particular wastes a pretty terrific performance from Arjon by splitting half the song with the tedious spoken parts. Despite these issues, Glut’s strengths weigh favorably enough to make it more enjoyable than not.

Glut truly is a pleasant listening experience that effectively touches on a range of impassioned feelings. Autumnblaze have honed in on a successful formula that works for most of Glut’s 42-minute runtime, even if it starts to bow under the weight of its 13 songs. Having revisited their past stuff, I feel that Glut is the best they’ve ever sounded, both from a production and songwriting perspective. While it’s true they may have injected a little more variety in the past, their earlier stuff didn’t really stick as Glut does. So, sure, there are a few issues to work out, but if 30 years later you sound this fresh, that’s a win.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

August Burns Red – Season of Surrender Review

I want to apologize in advance for delaying the biggest review of the summer that we all have…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #3.5 #AmericanMetal #AugustBurnsRed #CA #Canada #Entertainment #FearlessRecords #Gojira #HighonFire #Jun26 #Mastodon #Metalcore #ProgressiveMetalcore #review #reviews #SeasonofSurrender
https://www.newsbeep.com/ca/781381/

Four-and-a-half years after releasing debut T.S.N.R.I. – Impermanenza, Italian atmospheric folk/black outfit Duir returns with sophomore full-length Catarsi. Drawing similarities to Saor, Autrest, and Mossgiver, Duir plays a blend of black and folk metal rooted in evocative instrumentation—specifically the Irish flute, hurdy-gurdy, and bagpipes. Italian for ‘Catharsis,’ Catarsi tells the story of a World War I soldier caught at a crossroads of emotional turmoil and relays the narrative through six tracks totaling forty-seven minutes. Without a lyrics sheet or story details, I can’t comment on the tale itself, yet I admit it establishes a poignant backdrop for atmospheric metal. It’s evident that Duir possesses the skills and imagination to pull it off, but does Catarsi succeed in doing so.

What I enjoy best about Catarsi is Duir’s ability to construct rich layers of music overflowing with vivid textures. Their soundstage feels inhabited and natural, with folk instruments complementing the traditional juncture of guitars and drums. The resulting fusion entices with an understated beauty I heavily associate with folk-informed metal, allowing Duir to forge a path parallel to black metal while developing distinct aural tones besides. Compared to Impermanenza, Catarsi experiments with fewer components, focusing on a narrower scope of sounds and tempos. This allows Duir to fully explore their chosen milieu for the story they’re telling, though it also limits the paths Catarsi can take.

While the instrumentation skews Gaelic and Duir hails from Italy, Catarsi predominantly sounds regionally agnostic,1 imparting an ambiguous rustic charm to the music. Catarsi swells with sumptuous folds as TZ supplies Irish flute and hurdy-gurdy, instilling wonderfully welcome supplements to the tremolos and mournful keening (“Della notte”) of guitarists MK and Skryer. Ever propelling the action forward, drummer P wields a deft touch as he unleashes fierce rolls (“Di nessuno”) and restrained timekeeping (“Manifesto”) in equal measure. Vocalist Vox in Umbra delivers a vicious performance as well, scouring eardrums with his heart-rending rasps (“Manifesto,” “Oltre l’alba”). And though I’m a sucker for punchy bass performances, Duir neither has nor needs any on Catarsi.2 In all, the folk instruments supply ample counterpoints that engender the variety and depth that well-written bass lines typically apply to augment guitars and drums, begetting a well-balanced sonic spread on Catarsi.

I can’t deny that Duir’s performances here are genuinely stunning, yet as a whole, it leaves little impression once concluded. Most of this I attribute to the pervasive homogeneity across the album. Songs are winsome from moment to moment, but leave me with few anchor points to differentiate them. The guitars mostly trem-pick in steady rhythms or drop into passive, melancholic refrains, limiting Duir to only a couple modes of play. And although the flute and hurdy-gurdy bring an extra dimension to proceedings, making them more of a melodic centerpiece would have gone further than utilizing them as accents and flourishes. To be fair, I suspect I’m missing a key component by knowing there’s a story to Catarsi while being ignorant of the details, yet I wish Duir employed more obvious contrasts between the tracks. T.S.N.R.I. – Impermanenza better separated themes and motifs, and while Catarsi’s compositions are more mature, stronger song identities could have reduced the perception of uniformity. Still, Duir prevails on other fronts. The DR score of 8 strongly supports the complexity of their arrangements, and L.G.’s3 guest vocals on “Impeto” yield a clever change-of-pace midway through the album.

Though some flaws hold Catarsi back, Duir can clearly craft absorbing metal. It’s impossible to deny the allure of their music, and any song in isolation sells the vision of Duir’s niche in black metal. All told, though, I struggle to discern the nuances within Catarsi’s design, and without mile markers to segregate passages, its songs can easily slip into the background rather than demanding attention. Even so, Catarsi offers plenty of redeeming moments, and I expect other fans of this style may find more to love than I did.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: AOP Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Four-and-a-half years after releasing debut T.S.N.R.I. – Impermanenza, Italian atmospheric folk/black outfit Duir returns with sophomore full-length Catarsi. Drawing similarities to Saor, Autrest, and Mossgiver, Duir plays a blend of black and folk metal rooted in evocative instrumentation—specifically the Irish flute, hurdy-gurdy, and bagpipes. Italian for ‘Catharsis,’ Catarsi tells the story of a World War I soldier caught at a crossroads of emotional turmoil and relays the narrative through six tracks totaling forty-seven minutes. Without a lyrics sheet or story details, I can’t comment on the tale itself, yet I admit it establishes a poignant backdrop for atmospheric metal. It’s evident that Duir possesses the skills and imagination to pull it off, but does Catarsi succeed in doing so.

What I enjoy best about Catarsi is Duir’s ability to construct rich layers of music overflowing with vivid textures. Their soundstage feels inhabited and natural, with folk instruments complementing the traditional juncture of guitars and drums. The resulting fusion entices with an understated beauty I heavily associate with folk-informed metal, allowing Duir to forge a path parallel to black metal while developing distinct aural tones besides. Compared to Impermanenza, Catarsi experiments with fewer components, focusing on a narrower scope of sounds and tempos. This allows Duir to fully explore their chosen milieu for the story they’re telling, though it also limits the paths Catarsi can take.

While the instrumentation skews Gaelic and Duir hails from Italy, Catarsi predominantly sounds regionally agnostic,1 imparting an ambiguous rustic charm to the music. Catarsi swells with sumptuous folds as TZ supplies Irish flute and hurdy-gurdy, instilling wonderfully welcome supplements to the tremolos and mournful keening (“Della notte”) of guitarists MK and Skryer. Ever propelling the action forward, drummer P wields a deft touch as he unleashes fierce rolls (“Di nessuno”) and restrained timekeeping (“Manifesto”) in equal measure. Vocalist Vox in Umbra delivers a vicious performance as well, scouring eardrums with his heart-rending rasps (“Manifesto,” “Oltre l’alba”). And though I’m a sucker for punchy bass performances, Duir neither has nor needs any on Catarsi.2 In all, the folk instruments supply ample counterpoints that engender the variety and depth that well-written bass lines typically apply to augment guitars and drums, begetting a well-balanced sonic spread on Catarsi.

I can’t deny that Duir’s performances here are genuinely stunning, yet as a whole, it leaves little impression once concluded. Most of this I attribute to the pervasive homogeneity across the album. Songs are winsome from moment to moment, but leave me with few anchor points to differentiate them. The guitars mostly trem-pick in steady rhythms or drop into passive, melancholic refrains, limiting Duir to only a couple modes of play. And although the flute and hurdy-gurdy bring an extra dimension to proceedings, making them more of a melodic centerpiece would have gone further than utilizing them as accents and flourishes. To be fair, I suspect I’m missing a key component by knowing there’s a story to Catarsi while being ignorant of the details, yet I wish Duir employed more obvious contrasts between the tracks. T.S.N.R.I. – Impermanenza better separated themes and motifs, and while Catarsi’s compositions are more mature, stronger song identities could have reduced the perception of uniformity. Still, Duir prevails on other fronts. The DR score of 8 strongly supports the complexity of their arrangements, and L.G.’s3 guest vocals on “Impeto” yield a clever change-of-pace midway through the album.

Though some flaws hold Catarsi back, Duir can clearly craft absorbing metal. It’s impossible to deny the allure of their music, and any song in isolation sells the vision of Duir’s niche in black metal. All told, though, I struggle to discern the nuances within Catarsi’s design, and without mile markers to segregate passages, its songs can easily slip into the background rather than demanding attention. Even so, Catarsi offers plenty of redeeming moments, and I expect other fans of this style may find more to love than I did.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: AOP Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Four-and-a-half years after releasing debut T.S.N.R.I. – Impermanenza, Italian atmospheric folk/black outfit Duir returns with sophomore full-length Catarsi. Drawing similarities to Saor, Autrest, and Mossgiver, Duir plays a blend of black and folk metal rooted in evocative instrumentation—specifically the Irish flute, hurdy-gurdy, and bagpipes. Italian for ‘Catharsis,’ Catarsi tells the story of a World War I soldier caught at a crossroads of emotional turmoil and relays the narrative through six tracks totaling forty-seven minutes. Without a lyrics sheet or story details, I can’t comment on the tale itself, yet I admit it establishes a poignant backdrop for atmospheric metal. It’s evident that Duir possesses the skills and imagination to pull it off, but does Catarsi succeed in doing so.

What I enjoy best about Catarsi is Duir’s ability to construct rich layers of music overflowing with vivid textures. Their soundstage feels inhabited and natural, with folk instruments complementing the traditional juncture of guitars and drums. The resulting fusion entices with an understated beauty I heavily associate with folk-informed metal, allowing Duir to forge a path parallel to black metal while developing distinct aural tones besides. Compared to Impermanenza, Catarsi experiments with fewer components, focusing on a narrower scope of sounds and tempos. This allows Duir to fully explore their chosen milieu for the story they’re telling, though it also limits the paths Catarsi can take.

While the instrumentation skews Gaelic and Duir hails from Italy, Catarsi predominantly sounds regionally agnostic,1 imparting an ambiguous rustic charm to the music. Catarsi swells with sumptuous folds as TZ supplies Irish flute and hurdy-gurdy, instilling wonderfully welcome supplements to the tremolos and mournful keening (“Della notte”) of guitarists MK and Skryer. Ever propelling the action forward, drummer P wields a deft touch as he unleashes fierce rolls (“Di nessuno”) and restrained timekeeping (“Manifesto”) in equal measure. Vocalist Vox in Umbra delivers a vicious performance as well, scouring eardrums with his heart-rending rasps (“Manifesto,” “Oltre l’alba”). And though I’m a sucker for punchy bass performances, Duir neither has nor needs any on Catarsi.2 In all, the folk instruments supply ample counterpoints that engender the variety and depth that well-written bass lines typically apply to augment guitars and drums, begetting a well-balanced sonic spread on Catarsi.

I can’t deny that Duir’s performances here are genuinely stunning, yet as a whole, it leaves little impression once concluded. Most of this I attribute to the pervasive homogeneity across the album. Songs are winsome from moment to moment, but leave me with few anchor points to differentiate them. The guitars mostly trem-pick in steady rhythms or drop into passive, melancholic refrains, limiting Duir to only a couple modes of play. And although the flute and hurdy-gurdy bring an extra dimension to proceedings, making them more of a melodic centerpiece would have gone further than utilizing them as accents and flourishes. To be fair, I suspect I’m missing a key component by knowing there’s a story to Catarsi while being ignorant of the details, yet I wish Duir employed more obvious contrasts between the tracks. T.S.N.R.I. – Impermanenza better separated themes and motifs, and while Catarsi’s compositions are more mature, stronger song identities could have reduced the perception of uniformity. Still, Duir prevails on other fronts. The DR score of 8 strongly supports the complexity of their arrangements, and L.G.’s3 guest vocals on “Impeto” yield a clever change-of-pace midway through the album.

Though some flaws hold Catarsi back, Duir can clearly craft absorbing metal. It’s impossible to deny the allure of their music, and any song in isolation sells the vision of Duir’s niche in black metal. All told, though, I struggle to discern the nuances within Catarsi’s design, and without mile markers to segregate passages, its songs can easily slip into the background rather than demanding attention. Even so, Catarsi offers plenty of redeeming moments, and I expect other fans of this style may find more to love than I did.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: AOP Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Four-and-a-half years after releasing debut T.S.N.R.I. – Impermanenza, Italian atmospheric folk/black outfit Duir returns with sophomore full-length Catarsi. Drawing similarities to Saor, Autrest, and Mossgiver, Duir plays a blend of black and folk metal rooted in evocative instrumentation—specifically the Irish flute, hurdy-gurdy, and bagpipes. Italian for ‘Catharsis,’ Catarsi tells the story of a World War I soldier caught at a crossroads of emotional turmoil and relays the narrative through six tracks totaling forty-seven minutes. Without a lyrics sheet or story details, I can’t comment on the tale itself, yet I admit it establishes a poignant backdrop for atmospheric metal. It’s evident that Duir possesses the skills and imagination to pull it off, but does Catarsi succeed in doing so.

What I enjoy best about Catarsi is Duir’s ability to construct rich layers of music overflowing with vivid textures. Their soundstage feels inhabited and natural, with folk instruments complementing the traditional juncture of guitars and drums. The resulting fusion entices with an understated beauty I heavily associate with folk-informed metal, allowing Duir to forge a path parallel to black metal while developing distinct aural tones besides. Compared to Impermanenza, Catarsi experiments with fewer components, focusing on a narrower scope of sounds and tempos. This allows Duir to fully explore their chosen milieu for the story they’re telling, though it also limits the paths Catarsi can take.

While the instrumentation skews Gaelic and Duir hails from Italy, Catarsi predominantly sounds regionally agnostic,1 imparting an ambiguous rustic charm to the music. Catarsi swells with sumptuous folds as TZ supplies Irish flute and hurdy-gurdy, instilling wonderfully welcome supplements to the tremolos and mournful keening (“Della notte”) of guitarists MK and Skryer. Ever propelling the action forward, drummer P wields a deft touch as he unleashes fierce rolls (“Di nessuno”) and restrained timekeeping (“Manifesto”) in equal measure. Vocalist Vox in Umbra delivers a vicious performance as well, scouring eardrums with his heart-rending rasps (“Manifesto,” “Oltre l’alba”). And though I’m a sucker for punchy bass performances, Duir neither has nor needs any on Catarsi.2 In all, the folk instruments supply ample counterpoints that engender the variety and depth that well-written bass lines typically apply to augment guitars and drums, begetting a well-balanced sonic spread on Catarsi.

I can’t deny that Duir’s performances here are genuinely stunning, yet as a whole, it leaves little impression once concluded. Most of this I attribute to the pervasive homogeneity across the album. Songs are winsome from moment to moment, but leave me with few anchor points to differentiate them. The guitars mostly trem-pick in steady rhythms or drop into passive, melancholic refrains, limiting Duir to only a couple modes of play. And although the flute and hurdy-gurdy bring an extra dimension to proceedings, making them more of a melodic centerpiece would have gone further than utilizing them as accents and flourishes. To be fair, I suspect I’m missing a key component by knowing there’s a story to Catarsi while being ignorant of the details, yet I wish Duir employed more obvious contrasts between the tracks. T.S.N.R.I. – Impermanenza better separated themes and motifs, and while Catarsi’s compositions are more mature, stronger song identities could have reduced the perception of uniformity. Still, Duir prevails on other fronts. The DR score of 8 strongly supports the complexity of their arrangements, and L.G.’s3 guest vocals on “Impeto” yield a clever change-of-pace midway through the album.

Though some flaws hold Catarsi back, Duir can clearly craft absorbing metal. It’s impossible to deny the allure of their music, and any song in isolation sells the vision of Duir’s niche in black metal. All told, though, I struggle to discern the nuances within Catarsi’s design, and without mile markers to segregate passages, its songs can easily slip into the background rather than demanding attention. Even so, Catarsi offers plenty of redeeming moments, and I expect other fans of this style may find more to love than I did.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: AOP Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

Four-and-a-half years after releasing debut T.S.N.R.I. – Impermanenza, Italian atmospheric folk/black outfit Duir returns with sophomore full-length Catarsi. Drawing similarities to Saor, Autrest, and Mossgiver, Duir plays a blend of black and folk metal rooted in evocative instrumentation—specifically the Irish flute, hurdy-gurdy, and bagpipes. Italian for ‘Catharsis,’ Catarsi tells the story of a World War I soldier caught at a crossroads of emotional turmoil and relays the narrative through six tracks totaling forty-seven minutes. Without a lyrics sheet or story details, I can’t comment on the tale itself, yet I admit it establishes a poignant backdrop for atmospheric metal. It’s evident that Duir possesses the skills and imagination to pull it off, but does Catarsi succeed in doing so.

What I enjoy best about Catarsi is Duir’s ability to construct rich layers of music overflowing with vivid textures. Their soundstage feels inhabited and natural, with folk instruments complementing the traditional juncture of guitars and drums. The resulting fusion entices with an understated beauty I heavily associate with folk-informed metal, allowing Duir to forge a path parallel to black metal while developing distinct aural tones besides. Compared to Impermanenza, Catarsi experiments with fewer components, focusing on a narrower scope of sounds and tempos. This allows Duir to fully explore their chosen milieu for the story they’re telling, though it also limits the paths Catarsi can take.

While the instrumentation skews Gaelic and Duir hails from Italy, Catarsi predominantly sounds regionally agnostic,1 imparting an ambiguous rustic charm to the music. Catarsi swells with sumptuous folds as TZ supplies Irish flute and hurdy-gurdy, instilling wonderfully welcome supplements to the tremolos and mournful keening (“Della notte”) of guitarists MK and Skryer. Ever propelling the action forward, drummer P wields a deft touch as he unleashes fierce rolls (“Di nessuno”) and restrained timekeeping (“Manifesto”) in equal measure. Vocalist Vox in Umbra delivers a vicious performance as well, scouring eardrums with his heart-rending rasps (“Manifesto,” “Oltre l’alba”). And though I’m a sucker for punchy bass performances, Duir neither has nor needs any on Catarsi.2 In all, the folk instruments supply ample counterpoints that engender the variety and depth that well-written bass lines typically apply to augment guitars and drums, begetting a well-balanced sonic spread on Catarsi.

I can’t deny that Duir’s performances here are genuinely stunning, yet as a whole, it leaves little impression once concluded. Most of this I attribute to the pervasive homogeneity across the album. Songs are winsome from moment to moment, but leave me with few anchor points to differentiate them. The guitars mostly trem-pick in steady rhythms or drop into passive, melancholic refrains, limiting Duir to only a couple modes of play. And although the flute and hurdy-gurdy bring an extra dimension to proceedings, making them more of a melodic centerpiece would have gone further than utilizing them as accents and flourishes. To be fair, I suspect I’m missing a key component by knowing there’s a story to Catarsi while being ignorant of the details, yet I wish Duir employed more obvious contrasts between the tracks. T.S.N.R.I. – Impermanenza better separated themes and motifs, and while Catarsi’s compositions are more mature, stronger song identities could have reduced the perception of uniformity. Still, Duir prevails on other fronts. The DR score of 8 strongly supports the complexity of their arrangements, and L.G.’s3 guest vocals on “Impeto” yield a clever change-of-pace midway through the album.

Though some flaws hold Catarsi back, Duir can clearly craft absorbing metal. It’s impossible to deny the allure of their music, and any song in isolation sells the vision of Duir’s niche in black metal. All told, though, I struggle to discern the nuances within Catarsi’s design, and without mile markers to segregate passages, its songs can easily slip into the background rather than demanding attention. Even so, Catarsi offers plenty of redeeming moments, and I expect other fans of this style may find more to love than I did.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: AOP Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: June 26th, 2026

I want to apologize in advance for delaying the biggest review of the summer that we all have been waiting for. While I know everyone here is chomping at the bit for more Christian-adjacent metalcore, you need to wait patiently for another moment so I can introduce the legendary August Burns Red. Jokes aside, the veteran genre stalwarts have released their tenth record, Season of Surrender, and to my surprise, as a longtime fan of the act despite their religious inception, S.O.S. is one of their most brutal albums to date. August Burns Red turns to the past to inspire its sound for the future, but is this shallow nostalgia-bait or an evolution of the band’s most refined records?

August Burns Red is the type of band that will sour metalheads on site. Formed in the heyday of Christian metalcore, the band has been chugging along for decades with its trademark sound. As someone who found them after already cutting my teeth on acts like Mastodon, Gojira, High on Fire, and many more, their undeniable technical skill, blistering breakdowns, and heartfelt execution caught my ear. Their 2009 record, Constellations, remains as affecting as ever and serves as a north star for the band to this day. Now, with Season of Surrender, they have finally moved out of the era of genre-switchups and downright inspired musical interludes into something more efficient, heavy, and pointed. Matt Greiner remains the highlight of a band loaded with talent. His rhythm, force, and pure technical skill without resorting to metal cliches is the nucleus of a band that has written music together for two decades. August Burns Red has featured the same members since 2006, with nine of its ten records sporting the same lineup. This consistently carries over to the music, and everything about Season of Surrender feels effortless. Guitarists JB Brubaker and Brent Rambler have remained underrated throughout their career due to the Christian-metalcore label, but Season of Surrender is full of brutal breakdowns that would make even the heaviest deathcore bands blush, while retaining the rhythm and pacing that lets them truly hit hard.

Season of Surrender contains some of August Burns Red’s heaviest material to date, clearly harkening back to The Messengers’ days. While its Christian trappings have become basically agnostic (only a few members of the band are still self-identified believers), Season of Surrender still contains the band’s trademark positivity. This trope doesn’t always serve the songs, and the lyrics on “Cerebral Malfunction” feel particularly tone-deaf, seemingly poking fun at therapy. “Sonic Salvation” revives a classic cliché by using music as an escape from life and stress. The song itself is solid, but I cannot help but cringe at some of the refrains. Despite these stumbles, Jake Luhrs seems to only get better and better as a vocalist with each record, and Season of Surrender shows his widest range while hitting the heaviest lows in his career, like on the ending of “Legions”.

Season of Surrender is one of their most consistent and heavy records since their best releases, and while the band has rarely, if ever, stumbled, this record is stuffed with brutality. “Forged by Failure” features an opening riff that is so groovy and simultaneously heavy that it will surely end up as a concert finale. “Den of Thieves” is one of the best tracks the band has penned in its career, and “Behemoth” is an absolute crusher. Outside of a few lyrical stutters, Season of Surrender is mostly unblemished. The album is slim and trim for a band that usually lets things get a little bloated, and at nine tracks and one musical interlude, the album breezes by.

Season of Surrender is a perfect example of August Burns Red at its tightest and most driven. Despite the genre label, the band continues to challenge the technical skill and sheer brutality of most modern core acts while showcasing a dedication to rhythm and emotion. Season of Surrender won’t likely change the minds of those who have written the act off, but it’s a great starting point with its parallels to early records. Season of Surrender is a solid metalcore record that will likely be a favorite of longtime fans, and if you can brush off the lingering scent of Jesus, it may just be a metalcore record worth your time.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 4| Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Fearless Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

I want to apologize in advance for delaying the biggest review of the summer that we all have been waiting for. While I know everyone here is chomping at the bit for more Christian-adjacent metalcore, you need to wait patiently for another moment so I can introduce the legendary August Burns Red. Jokes aside, the veteran genre stalwarts have released their tenth record, Season of Surrender, and to my surprise, as a longtime fan of the act despite their religious inception, S.O.S. is one of their most brutal albums to date. August Burns Red turns to the past to inspire its sound for the future, but is this shallow nostalgia-bait or an evolution of the band’s most refined records?

August Burns Red is the type of band that will sour metalheads on site. Formed in the heyday of Christian metalcore, the band has been chugging along for decades with its trademark sound. As someone who found them after already cutting my teeth on acts like Mastodon, Gojira, High on Fire, and many more, their undeniable technical skill, blistering breakdowns, and heartfelt execution caught my ear. Their 2009 record, Constellations, remains as affecting as ever and serves as a north star for the band to this day. Now, with Season of Surrender, they have finally moved out of the era of genre-switchups and downright inspired musical interludes into something more efficient, heavy, and pointed. Matt Greiner remains the highlight of a band loaded with talent. His rhythm, force, and pure technical skill without resorting to metal cliches is the nucleus of a band that has written music together for two decades. August Burns Red has featured the same members since 2006, with nine of its ten records sporting the same lineup. This consistently carries over to the music, and everything about Season of Surrender feels effortless. Guitarists JB Brubaker and Brent Rambler have remained underrated throughout their career due to the Christian-metalcore label, but Season of Surrender is full of brutal breakdowns that would make even the heaviest deathcore bands blush, while retaining the rhythm and pacing that lets them truly hit hard.

Season of Surrender contains some of August Burns Red’s heaviest material to date, clearly harkening back to The Messengers’ days. While its Christian trappings have become basically agnostic (only a few members of the band are still self-identified believers), Season of Surrender still contains the band’s trademark positivity. This trope doesn’t always serve the songs, and the lyrics on “Cerebral Malfunction” feel particularly tone-deaf, seemingly poking fun at therapy. “Sonic Salvation” revives a classic cliché by using music as an escape from life and stress. The song itself is solid, but I cannot help but cringe at some of the refrains. Despite these stumbles, Jake Luhrs seems to only get better and better as a vocalist with each record, and Season of Surrender shows his widest range while hitting the heaviest lows in his career, like on the ending of “Legions”.

Season of Surrender is one of their most consistent and heavy records since their best releases, and while the band has rarely, if ever, stumbled, this record is stuffed with brutality. “Forged by Failure” features an opening riff that is so groovy and simultaneously heavy that it will surely end up as a concert finale. “Den of Thieves” is one of the best tracks the band has penned in its career, and “Behemoth” is an absolute crusher. Outside of a few lyrical stutters, Season of Surrender is mostly unblemished. The album is slim and trim for a band that usually lets things get a little bloated, and at nine tracks and one musical interlude, the album breezes by.

Season of Surrender is a perfect example of August Burns Red at its tightest and most driven. Despite the genre label, the band continues to challenge the technical skill and sheer brutality of most modern core acts while showcasing a dedication to rhythm and emotion. Season of Surrender won’t likely change the minds of those who have written the act off, but it’s a great starting point with its parallels to early records. Season of Surrender is a solid metalcore record that will likely be a favorite of longtime fans, and if you can brush off the lingering scent of Jesus, it may just be a metalcore record worth your time.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 4| Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Fearless Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

I want to apologize in advance for delaying the biggest review of the summer that we all have been waiting for. While I know everyone here is chomping at the bit for more Christian-adjacent metalcore, you need to wait patiently for another moment so I can introduce the legendary August Burns Red. Jokes aside, the veteran genre stalwarts have released their tenth record, Season of Surrender, and to my surprise, as a longtime fan of the act despite their religious inception, S.O.S. is one of their most brutal albums to date. August Burns Red turns to the past to inspire its sound for the future, but is this shallow nostalgia-bait or an evolution of the band’s most refined records?

August Burns Red is the type of band that will sour metalheads on site. Formed in the heyday of Christian metalcore, the band has been chugging along for decades with its trademark sound. As someone who found them after already cutting my teeth on acts like Mastodon, Gojira, High on Fire, and many more, their undeniable technical skill, blistering breakdowns, and heartfelt execution caught my ear. Their 2009 record, Constellations, remains as affecting as ever and serves as a north star for the band to this day. Now, with Season of Surrender, they have finally moved out of the era of genre-switchups and downright inspired musical interludes into something more efficient, heavy, and pointed. Matt Greiner remains the highlight of a band loaded with talent. His rhythm, force, and pure technical skill without resorting to metal cliches is the nucleus of a band that has written music together for two decades. August Burns Red has featured the same members since 2006, with nine of its ten records sporting the same lineup. This consistently carries over to the music, and everything about Season of Surrender feels effortless. Guitarists JB Brubaker and Brent Rambler have remained underrated throughout their career due to the Christian-metalcore label, but Season of Surrender is full of brutal breakdowns that would make even the heaviest deathcore bands blush, while retaining the rhythm and pacing that lets them truly hit hard.

Season of Surrender contains some of August Burns Red’s heaviest material to date, clearly harkening back to The Messengers’ days. While its Christian trappings have become basically agnostic (only a few members of the band are still self-identified believers), Season of Surrender still contains the band’s trademark positivity. This trope doesn’t always serve the songs, and the lyrics on “Cerebral Malfunction” feel particularly tone-deaf, seemingly poking fun at therapy. “Sonic Salvation” revives a classic cliché by using music as an escape from life and stress. The song itself is solid, but I cannot help but cringe at some of the refrains. Despite these stumbles, Jake Luhrs seems to only get better and better as a vocalist with each record, and Season of Surrender shows his widest range while hitting the heaviest lows in his career, like on the ending of “Legions”.

Season of Surrender is one of their most consistent and heavy records since their best releases, and while the band has rarely, if ever, stumbled, this record is stuffed with brutality. “Forged by Failure” features an opening riff that is so groovy and simultaneously heavy that it will surely end up as a concert finale. “Den of Thieves” is one of the best tracks the band has penned in its career, and “Behemoth” is an absolute crusher. Outside of a few lyrical stutters, Season of Surrender is mostly unblemished. The album is slim and trim for a band that usually lets things get a little bloated, and at nine tracks and one musical interlude, the album breezes by.

Season of Surrender is a perfect example of August Burns Red at its tightest and most driven. Despite the genre label, the band continues to challenge the technical skill and sheer brutality of most modern core acts while showcasing a dedication to rhythm and emotion. Season of Surrender won’t likely change the minds of those who have written the act off, but it’s a great starting point with its parallels to early records. Season of Surrender is a solid metalcore record that will likely be a favorite of longtime fans, and if you can brush off the lingering scent of Jesus, it may just be a metalcore record worth your time.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 4| Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Fearless Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

I want to apologize in advance for delaying the biggest review of the summer that we all have been waiting for. While I know everyone here is chomping at the bit for more Christian-adjacent metalcore, you need to wait patiently for another moment so I can introduce the legendary August Burns Red. Jokes aside, the veteran genre stalwarts have released their tenth record, Season of Surrender, and to my surprise, as a longtime fan of the act despite their religious inception, S.O.S. is one of their most brutal albums to date. August Burns Red turns to the past to inspire its sound for the future, but is this shallow nostalgia-bait or an evolution of the band’s most refined records?

August Burns Red is the type of band that will sour metalheads on site. Formed in the heyday of Christian metalcore, the band has been chugging along for decades with its trademark sound. As someone who found them after already cutting my teeth on acts like Mastodon, Gojira, High on Fire, and many more, their undeniable technical skill, blistering breakdowns, and heartfelt execution caught my ear. Their 2009 record, Constellations, remains as affecting as ever and serves as a north star for the band to this day. Now, with Season of Surrender, they have finally moved out of the era of genre-switchups and downright inspired musical interludes into something more efficient, heavy, and pointed. Matt Greiner remains the highlight of a band loaded with talent. His rhythm, force, and pure technical skill without resorting to metal cliches is the nucleus of a band that has written music together for two decades. August Burns Red has featured the same members since 2006, with nine of its ten records sporting the same lineup. This consistently carries over to the music, and everything about Season of Surrender feels effortless. Guitarists JB Brubaker and Brent Rambler have remained underrated throughout their career due to the Christian-metalcore label, but Season of Surrender is full of brutal breakdowns that would make even the heaviest deathcore bands blush, while retaining the rhythm and pacing that lets them truly hit hard.

Season of Surrender contains some of August Burns Red’s heaviest material to date, clearly harkening back to The Messengers’ days. While its Christian trappings have become basically agnostic (only a few members of the band are still self-identified believers), Season of Surrender still contains the band’s trademark positivity. This trope doesn’t always serve the songs, and the lyrics on “Cerebral Malfunction” feel particularly tone-deaf, seemingly poking fun at therapy. “Sonic Salvation” revives a classic cliché by using music as an escape from life and stress. The song itself is solid, but I cannot help but cringe at some of the refrains. Despite these stumbles, Jake Luhrs seems to only get better and better as a vocalist with each record, and Season of Surrender shows his widest range while hitting the heaviest lows in his career, like on the ending of “Legions”.

Season of Surrender is one of their most consistent and heavy records since their best releases, and while the band has rarely, if ever, stumbled, this record is stuffed with brutality. “Forged by Failure” features an opening riff that is so groovy and simultaneously heavy that it will surely end up as a concert finale. “Den of Thieves” is one of the best tracks the band has penned in its career, and “Behemoth” is an absolute crusher. Outside of a few lyrical stutters, Season of Surrender is mostly unblemished. The album is slim and trim for a band that usually lets things get a little bloated, and at nine tracks and one musical interlude, the album breezes by.

Season of Surrender is a perfect example of August Burns Red at its tightest and most driven. Despite the genre label, the band continues to challenge the technical skill and sheer brutality of most modern core acts while showcasing a dedication to rhythm and emotion. Season of Surrender won’t likely change the minds of those who have written the act off, but it’s a great starting point with its parallels to early records. Season of Surrender is a solid metalcore record that will likely be a favorite of longtime fans, and if you can brush off the lingering scent of Jesus, it may just be a metalcore record worth your time.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 4| Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Fearless Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

I want to apologize in advance for delaying the biggest review of the summer that we all have been waiting for. While I know everyone here is chomping at the bit for more Christian-adjacent metalcore, you need to wait patiently for another moment so I can introduce the legendary August Burns Red. Jokes aside, the veteran genre stalwarts have released their tenth record, Season of Surrender, and to my surprise, as a longtime fan of the act despite their religious inception, S.O.S. is one of their most brutal albums to date. August Burns Red turns to the past to inspire its sound for the future, but is this shallow nostalgia-bait or an evolution of the band’s most refined records?

August Burns Red is the type of band that will sour metalheads on site. Formed in the heyday of Christian metalcore, the band has been chugging along for decades with its trademark sound. As someone who found them after already cutting my teeth on acts like Mastodon, Gojira, High on Fire, and many more, their undeniable technical skill, blistering breakdowns, and heartfelt execution caught my ear. Their 2009 record, Constellations, remains as affecting as ever and serves as a north star for the band to this day. Now, with Season of Surrender, they have finally moved out of the era of genre-switchups and downright inspired musical interludes into something more efficient, heavy, and pointed. Matt Greiner remains the highlight of a band loaded with talent. His rhythm, force, and pure technical skill without resorting to metal cliches is the nucleus of a band that has written music together for two decades. August Burns Red has featured the same members since 2006, with nine of its ten records sporting the same lineup. This consistently carries over to the music, and everything about Season of Surrender feels effortless. Guitarists JB Brubaker and Brent Rambler have remained underrated throughout their career due to the Christian-metalcore label, but Season of Surrender is full of brutal breakdowns that would make even the heaviest deathcore bands blush, while retaining the rhythm and pacing that lets them truly hit hard.

Season of Surrender contains some of August Burns Red’s heaviest material to date, clearly harkening back to The Messengers’ days. While its Christian trappings have become basically agnostic (only a few members of the band are still self-identified believers), Season of Surrender still contains the band’s trademark positivity. This trope doesn’t always serve the songs, and the lyrics on “Cerebral Malfunction” feel particularly tone-deaf, seemingly poking fun at therapy. “Sonic Salvation” revives a classic cliché by using music as an escape from life and stress. The song itself is solid, but I cannot help but cringe at some of the refrains. Despite these stumbles, Jake Luhrs seems to only get better and better as a vocalist with each record, and Season of Surrender shows his widest range while hitting the heaviest lows in his career, like on the ending of “Legions”.

Season of Surrender is one of their most consistent and heavy records since their best releases, and while the band has rarely, if ever, stumbled, this record is stuffed with brutality. “Forged by Failure” features an opening riff that is so groovy and simultaneously heavy that it will surely end up as a concert finale. “Den of Thieves” is one of the best tracks the band has penned in its career, and “Behemoth” is an absolute crusher. Outside of a few lyrical stutters, Season of Surrender is mostly unblemished. The album is slim and trim for a band that usually lets things get a little bloated, and at nine tracks and one musical interlude, the album breezes by.

Season of Surrender is a perfect example of August Burns Red at its tightest and most driven. Despite the genre label, the band continues to challenge the technical skill and sheer brutality of most modern core acts while showcasing a dedication to rhythm and emotion. Season of Surrender won’t likely change the minds of those who have written the act off, but it’s a great starting point with its parallels to early records. Season of Surrender is a solid metalcore record that will likely be a favorite of longtime fans, and if you can brush off the lingering scent of Jesus, it may just be a metalcore record worth your time.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 4| Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Fearless Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

Anlässlich des Internationalen Tags zur Unterstützung von Folterüberlebenden haben die europäischen Mitgliedszentren des #IRCT am 26. Juni eine ausführliche 6-seitige Stellungnahme zum reformierten europäischen Asylsystem veröffentlicht "Protection before Enforcement".

#GEAS #Folter #Jun26

Anlässlich des Internationalen Tags zur Unterstützung von Folterüberlebenden haben die europäischen Mitgliedszentren des #IRCT am 26. Juni eine ausführliche 6-seitige Stellungnahme zum reformierten europäischen Asylsystem veröffentlicht "Protection before Enforcement".

#GEAS #Folter #Jun26