#mar25 — Public Fediverse posts

Crawling Chaos – Wyrd Review

By Twelve

Even before I’d seen the gorgeous cover art over there, Crawling Chaos had me marked. The Italian group’s third full-length release, Wyrd, is written around a theme that discusses prominent women in European folklore, mythologies, and history, and is “full of literary quotes and easter eggs, offering subtle nods to the most curious among the listeners.” Honestly, I was sold before I even noted the genre tag, but death metal and I are no strangers to one another either. So at first glance, Wyrd seems like my perfect match, but I’ve been writing here for years now, and I’ve been misled by cover art and thematic promise before. How will this one hold up?

What’s interesting about Wyrd is that a more apt description of the music is melodic death metal, but the phrase works better as a literal description than a genre tag. Wyrd is a death metal album that has melody, but doesn’t quite match what you could call “melodeath.” It is a heavy album, with no noticeable use of keys and uncompromising death metal overtures, similar to how Crescent approach their music. Guitarists Andrea Velli and Manuel Guerrieri put in some serious work here, swapping brilliantly between a veritable storm of riffs in songs like “Witch-Hunt” and eerie ambience in ones like “Necromancer.” Mind, don’t let that distinction fool you—death metal is absolutely the focus here, as Guerrieri’s roars and Edoardo Velli’s manic drumming make clear. Across Wyrd’s thirty-eight-minute runtime, Crawling Chaos make the most of their thematic source material by launching an all-out assault on the listener in a comparatively pleasing way, with nods to groups like Death, Gojira, and Nile apparent throughout.

Most of the hallmarks of death metal are present for Wyrd, but it’s the moments of melody that really give Crawling Chaos a distinct identity. William Leardini’s bass is wonderful in its griminess, and most songs are concise, speedy, and brutal, but the apparent care for memorability goes a long way too. “Veiled in Secrets” is the clearest example, a mid-paced (this is a relative descriptor) song with a beautiful, almost haunting melody that rings throughout, evocative of the desert the song describes. Similarly, the guitar leads in “To the Furies” are mighty, blending skill and style in a way that makes the song into a journey, exciting and memorable at once. Wyrd is an album of two worlds, firmly rooted in its thematic and stylistic choices, giving it the feel of a complete album, and a well-thought-out one.

I enjoy the melodic moments much more than the more brutal ones on Wyrd, which does make it feel like something of a lopsided listen at times. As I’ve said, crawling chaos can do wonders for both sides of the descriptor. Some songs lean heavier on melody and others heavier on heaviness, and that’s fine. Still, when a song like “Nomen Omen” opens with a slow, haunting melody, with genuine build-up, and then erupts into the same style of death metal that’s been so persistent across Wyrd, it feels almost like a let-down (despite, in this instance, a genuinely stunning vocal performance from Guerrieri). “Nails of Fate” does something similar with an acoustic guitar—a stirring intro that is never realized in the way you expect it to, despite the song itself being very strong. For me, the way Wyrd is structured creates a noticeable rift between the melodic and heavier choices in each song, making the full listen less cohesive than it might have otherwise been.

Wyrd is a fun listen regardless of how you like your death metal, because it is well-written, well-performed, and hits hard. Still, writing the above makes me wonder if I’m not quite the right audience for Crawling Chaos, if only because I have this bias for the melodic side of melodic death metal. And yet, I have to recommend it, which means you may like it a good deal more than I have. And I have enjoyed it—it’s heavy, it sounds great, and it includes literary and historic references. Realistically, I was always going to enjoy this one.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 128 kbps mp3
Label: Time to Kill Records
Websites: crawlingchaos-ttk.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/crawlingchaosit
Releases Worldwide: March 28th, 2025

#2025 #30 #CrawlingChaos #Crescent #Death #DeathMetal #Gojira #ItalianMetal #Mar25 #MelodicDeathMetal #Nile #Review #Reviews #TimeToKillRecords #Wyrd

Crawling Chaos – Wyrd Review

By Twelve

Even before I’d seen the gorgeous cover art over there, Crawling Chaos had me marked. The Italian group’s third full-length release, Wyrd, is written around a theme that discusses prominent women in European folklore, mythologies, and history, and is “full of literary quotes and easter eggs, offering subtle nods to the most curious among the listeners.” Honestly, I was sold before I even noted the genre tag, but death metal and I are no strangers to one another either. So at first glance, Wyrd seems like my perfect match, but I’ve been writing here for years now, and I’ve been misled by cover art and thematic promise before. How will this one hold up?

What’s interesting about Wyrd is that a more apt description of the music is melodic death metal, but the phrase works better as a literal description than a genre tag. Wyrd is a death metal album that has melody, but doesn’t quite match what you could call “melodeath.” It is a heavy album, with no noticeable use of keys and uncompromising death metal overtures, similar to how Crescent approach their music. Guitarists Andrea Velli and Manuel Guerrieri put in some serious work here, swapping brilliantly between a veritable storm of riffs in songs like “Witch-Hunt” and eerie ambience in ones like “Necromancer.” Mind, don’t let that distinction fool you—death metal is absolutely the focus here, as Guerrieri’s roars and Edoardo Velli’s manic drumming make clear. Across Wyrd’s thirty-eight-minute runtime, Crawling Chaos make the most of their thematic source material by launching an all-out assault on the listener in a comparatively pleasing way, with nods to groups like Death, Gojira, and Nile apparent throughout.

Most of the hallmarks of death metal are present for Wyrd, but it’s the moments of melody that really give Crawling Chaos a distinct identity. William Leardini’s bass is wonderful in its griminess, and most songs are concise, speedy, and brutal, but the apparent care for memorability goes a long way too. “Veiled in Secrets” is the clearest example, a mid-paced (this is a relative descriptor) song with a beautiful, almost haunting melody that rings throughout, evocative of the desert the song describes. Similarly, the guitar leads in “To the Furies” are mighty, blending skill and style in a way that makes the song into a journey, exciting and memorable at once. Wyrd is an album of two worlds, firmly rooted in its thematic and stylistic choices, giving it the feel of a complete album, and a well-thought-out one.

I enjoy the melodic moments much more than the more brutal ones on Wyrd, which does make it feel like something of a lopsided listen at times. As I’ve said, crawling chaos can do wonders for both sides of the descriptor. Some songs lean heavier on melody and others heavier on heaviness, and that’s fine. Still, when a song like “Nomen Omen” opens with a slow, haunting melody, with genuine build-up, and then erupts into the same style of death metal that’s been so persistent across Wyrd, it feels almost like a let-down (despite, in this instance, a genuinely stunning vocal performance from Guerrieri). “Nails of Fate” does something similar with an acoustic guitar—a stirring intro that is never realized in the way you expect it to, despite the song itself being very strong. For me, the way Wyrd is structured creates a noticeable rift between the melodic and heavier choices in each song, making the full listen less cohesive than it might have otherwise been.

Wyrd is a fun listen regardless of how you like your death metal, because it is well-written, well-performed, and hits hard. Still, writing the above makes me wonder if I’m not quite the right audience for Crawling Chaos, if only because I have this bias for the melodic side of melodic death metal. And yet, I have to recommend it, which means you may like it a good deal more than I have. And I have enjoyed it—it’s heavy, it sounds great, and it includes literary and historic references. Realistically, I was always going to enjoy this one.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 128 kbps mp3
Label: Time to Kill Records
Websites: crawlingchaos-ttk.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/crawlingchaosit
Releases Worldwide: March 28th, 2025

#2025 #30 #CrawlingChaos #Crescent #Death #DeathMetal #Gojira #ItalianMetal #Mar25 #MelodicDeathMetal #Nile #Review #Reviews #TimeToKillRecords #Wyrd

Crawling Chaos – Wyrd Review

By Twelve

Even before I’d seen the gorgeous cover art over there, Crawling Chaos had me marked. The Italian group’s third full-length release, Wyrd, is written around a theme that discusses prominent women in European folklore, mythologies, and history, and is “full of literary quotes and easter eggs, offering subtle nods to the most curious among the listeners.” Honestly, I was sold before I even noted the genre tag, but death metal and I are no strangers to one another either. So at first glance, Wyrd seems like my perfect match, but I’ve been writing here for years now, and I’ve been misled by cover art and thematic promise before. How will this one hold up?

What’s interesting about Wyrd is that a more apt description of the music is melodic death metal, but the phrase works better as a literal description than a genre tag. Wyrd is a death metal album that has melody, but doesn’t quite match what you could call “melodeath.” It is a heavy album, with no noticeable use of keys and uncompromising death metal overtures, similar to how Crescent approach their music. Guitarists Andrea Velli and Manuel Guerrieri put in some serious work here, swapping brilliantly between a veritable storm of riffs in songs like “Witch-Hunt” and eerie ambience in ones like “Necromancer.” Mind, don’t let that distinction fool you—death metal is absolutely the focus here, as Guerrieri’s roars and Edoardo Velli’s manic drumming make clear. Across Wyrd’s thirty-eight-minute runtime, Crawling Chaos make the most of their thematic source material by launching an all-out assault on the listener in a comparatively pleasing way, with nods to groups like Death, Gojira, and Nile apparent throughout.

Most of the hallmarks of death metal are present for Wyrd, but it’s the moments of melody that really give Crawling Chaos a distinct identity. William Leardini’s bass is wonderful in its griminess, and most songs are concise, speedy, and brutal, but the apparent care for memorability goes a long way too. “Veiled in Secrets” is the clearest example, a mid-paced (this is a relative descriptor) song with a beautiful, almost haunting melody that rings throughout, evocative of the desert the song describes. Similarly, the guitar leads in “To the Furies” are mighty, blending skill and style in a way that makes the song into a journey, exciting and memorable at once. Wyrd is an album of two worlds, firmly rooted in its thematic and stylistic choices, giving it the feel of a complete album, and a well-thought-out one.

I enjoy the melodic moments much more than the more brutal ones on Wyrd, which does make it feel like something of a lopsided listen at times. As I’ve said, crawling chaos can do wonders for both sides of the descriptor. Some songs lean heavier on melody and others heavier on heaviness, and that’s fine. Still, when a song like “Nomen Omen” opens with a slow, haunting melody, with genuine build-up, and then erupts into the same style of death metal that’s been so persistent across Wyrd, it feels almost like a let-down (despite, in this instance, a genuinely stunning vocal performance from Guerrieri). “Nails of Fate” does something similar with an acoustic guitar—a stirring intro that is never realized in the way you expect it to, despite the song itself being very strong. For me, the way Wyrd is structured creates a noticeable rift between the melodic and heavier choices in each song, making the full listen less cohesive than it might have otherwise been.

Wyrd is a fun listen regardless of how you like your death metal, because it is well-written, well-performed, and hits hard. Still, writing the above makes me wonder if I’m not quite the right audience for Crawling Chaos, if only because I have this bias for the melodic side of melodic death metal. And yet, I have to recommend it, which means you may like it a good deal more than I have. And I have enjoyed it—it’s heavy, it sounds great, and it includes literary and historic references. Realistically, I was always going to enjoy this one.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 128 kbps mp3
Label: Time to Kill Records
Websites: crawlingchaos-ttk.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/crawlingchaosit
Releases Worldwide: March 28th, 2025

#2025 #30 #CrawlingChaos #Crescent #Death #DeathMetal #Gojira #ItalianMetal #Mar25 #MelodicDeathMetal #Nile #Review #Reviews #TimeToKillRecords #Wyrd

Crawling Chaos – Wyrd Review

By Twelve

Even before I’d seen the gorgeous cover art over there, Crawling Chaos had me marked. The Italian group’s third full-length release, Wyrd, is written around a theme that discusses prominent women in European folklore, mythologies, and history, and is “full of literary quotes and easter eggs, offering subtle nods to the most curious among the listeners.” Honestly, I was sold before I even noted the genre tag, but death metal and I are no strangers to one another either. So at first glance, Wyrd seems like my perfect match, but I’ve been writing here for years now, and I’ve been misled by cover art and thematic promise before. How will this one hold up?

What’s interesting about Wyrd is that a more apt description of the music is melodic death metal, but the phrase works better as a literal description than a genre tag. Wyrd is a death metal album that has melody, but doesn’t quite match what you could call “melodeath.” It is a heavy album, with no noticeable use of keys and uncompromising death metal overtures, similar to how Crescent approach their music. Guitarists Andrea Velli and Manuel Guerrieri put in some serious work here, swapping brilliantly between a veritable storm of riffs in songs like “Witch-Hunt” and eerie ambience in ones like “Necromancer.” Mind, don’t let that distinction fool you—death metal is absolutely the focus here, as Guerrieri’s roars and Edoardo Velli’s manic drumming make clear. Across Wyrd’s thirty-eight-minute runtime, Crawling Chaos make the most of their thematic source material by launching an all-out assault on the listener in a comparatively pleasing way, with nods to groups like Death, Gojira, and Nile apparent throughout.

Most of the hallmarks of death metal are present for Wyrd, but it’s the moments of melody that really give Crawling Chaos a distinct identity. William Leardini’s bass is wonderful in its griminess, and most songs are concise, speedy, and brutal, but the apparent care for memorability goes a long way too. “Veiled in Secrets” is the clearest example, a mid-paced (this is a relative descriptor) song with a beautiful, almost haunting melody that rings throughout, evocative of the desert the song describes. Similarly, the guitar leads in “To the Furies” are mighty, blending skill and style in a way that makes the song into a journey, exciting and memorable at once. Wyrd is an album of two worlds, firmly rooted in its thematic and stylistic choices, giving it the feel of a complete album, and a well-thought-out one.

I enjoy the melodic moments much more than the more brutal ones on Wyrd, which does make it feel like something of a lopsided listen at times. As I’ve said, crawling chaos can do wonders for both sides of the descriptor. Some songs lean heavier on melody and others heavier on heaviness, and that’s fine. Still, when a song like “Nomen Omen” opens with a slow, haunting melody, with genuine build-up, and then erupts into the same style of death metal that’s been so persistent across Wyrd, it feels almost like a let-down (despite, in this instance, a genuinely stunning vocal performance from Guerrieri). “Nails of Fate” does something similar with an acoustic guitar—a stirring intro that is never realized in the way you expect it to, despite the song itself being very strong. For me, the way Wyrd is structured creates a noticeable rift between the melodic and heavier choices in each song, making the full listen less cohesive than it might have otherwise been.

Wyrd is a fun listen regardless of how you like your death metal, because it is well-written, well-performed, and hits hard. Still, writing the above makes me wonder if I’m not quite the right audience for Crawling Chaos, if only because I have this bias for the melodic side of melodic death metal. And yet, I have to recommend it, which means you may like it a good deal more than I have. And I have enjoyed it—it’s heavy, it sounds great, and it includes literary and historic references. Realistically, I was always going to enjoy this one.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 128 kbps mp3
Label: Time to Kill Records
Websites: crawlingchaos-ttk.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/crawlingchaosit
Releases Worldwide: March 28th, 2025

#2025 #30 #CrawlingChaos #Crescent #Death #DeathMetal #Gojira #ItalianMetal #Mar25 #MelodicDeathMetal #Nile #Review #Reviews #TimeToKillRecords #Wyrd

An Evening With Knives – End of Time Review

By GardensTale

At the start of the year, I pledged to pick as many promos as I could from those sent to us directly through the contact form, as a way to lift up the smallest of underground acts. But as this week is rather barren, I got to have my choice from the remainder, the label-backed colossi who have all their tedious marketing hubbub taken care of. One band name jumped out at me: An Evening With Knives. A name I’ve seen on plenty a concert bill around here, usually in a supporting capacity. Lo and behold, the lads are local, or rather, they were formed in the next city over. It’s always nice to see geographical peers making waves. But it appears that dear Dear Hollow did not hold the last Evening’s record too dear. Has the trio improved since Sense of Gravity, or is End of Time the end of its 15 minutes of fame?

The review for Sense of Gravity complained of unbalanced songwriting with too many sudden turns, but no such problem arises on End of Time. The songwriting is concise and approachable, shirking most of the languid post-metal trappings for a style more akin to Baroness with early parts leaning punk-hardcore and later leaning fuzzy doom with a progressive slant. It suits An Evening With Knives rather well. The lead guitars braid sinewy hooks atop the heavy twang of the rhythm section, and excel at the emotive solos that dot the running time (“End of Time” and closer “S21” are the best examples). The bass has a pulsing melodic flair, the drums are sharp and energetic. Within this scope, the band carves out a lot of wiggle room, shifting gradually from concise cannon blasts to more long-winded material. It makes for an even-handed album that weighs depth with digestibility.

But my issue with An Evening With Knives is the vocals. Their technical application is not bad, per se; overall it’s middle of the road, somewhat versatile with passable core-style screams yet some pitch problems when skewing cleaner (most noticeable on “End of Time”). However, technique is only one side of vocals; emotional pull and projection are at least as important, and that aspect is largely shot by how strained the vocals sound. When belting, strain is expected; here, though, it’s a constant, even on smaller and quieter passages. Especially in the front half, this results in a likely unintended faux-aggression, even machismo, that completely falls flat. “All They Need” unironically and repeatedly uses ‘That’s how you do it’ with a cringe-inducing swagger, and “Death” doesn’t fare much better. It’s akin to overacting and it undermines the earnestness of the music, to the detriment of the whole package.

But as End of Time goes on and the compositions shift from concise to expansive, the vocal problem becomes less and less pronounced. “Voices” combines panicked wailing guitars and intelligent tempo changes with a more genuine anxious performance on the mic. “The Mistake” packs a fuzzy main riff that sounds like it was borrowed from King Buffalo, and through the patient build-up of the proggy “S21” we even get a few more subdued stanzas that dodge the worst of strain city central. Furthermore, the production is solid. Though the mix is a tad vocal-centric, I love the placement of the bass, and the guitar sound has a lovely buzzing edge that supports both the riffs and the solos quite nicely.

End of Time is not the easiest to score. An Evening With Knives is clearly getting better at identifying the strengths and weaknesses of their line-up, and the songwriting is tight without fully sacrificing a dynamic and exploratory aspect that keeps each song lively and interesting. But the exception seems to be the vocals, and it’s a damn shame how it prevents me from enjoying the front half of the album as much as I’d like. As a result, End of Time is an interesting but heavily backloaded album that holds itself back from becoming something greater. If you like this sort of style, though, give it a spin anyways, because that back half is teasing a diamond in the rough.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: aneveningwithknives.bandcamp.com | aneveningwithknives.com | facebook.com/aneveningwithknives
Releases Worldwide: March 14th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AnEveningWithKnives #ArgonautaRecords #Baroness #DutchMetal #EndOfTime #KingBuffalo #Mar25 #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #Sludge #StonerMetal

An Evening With Knives – End of Time Review

By GardensTale

At the start of the year, I pledged to pick as many promos as I could from those sent to us directly through the contact form, as a way to lift up the smallest of underground acts. But as this week is rather barren, I got to have my choice from the remainder, the label-backed colossi who have all their tedious marketing hubbub taken care of. One band name jumped out at me: An Evening With Knives. A name I’ve seen on plenty a concert bill around here, usually in a supporting capacity. Lo and behold, the lads are local, or rather, they were formed in the next city over. It’s always nice to see geographical peers making waves. But it appears that dear Dear Hollow did not hold the last Evening’s record too dear. Has the trio improved since Sense of Gravity, or is End of Time the end of its 15 minutes of fame?

The review for Sense of Gravity complained of unbalanced songwriting with too many sudden turns, but no such problem arises on End of Time. The songwriting is concise and approachable, shirking most of the languid post-metal trappings for a style more akin to Baroness with early parts leaning punk-hardcore and later leaning fuzzy doom with a progressive slant. It suits An Evening With Knives rather well. The lead guitars braid sinewy hooks atop the heavy twang of the rhythm section, and excel at the emotive solos that dot the running time (“End of Time” and closer “S21” are the best examples). The bass has a pulsing melodic flair, the drums are sharp and energetic. Within this scope, the band carves out a lot of wiggle room, shifting gradually from concise cannon blasts to more long-winded material. It makes for an even-handed album that weighs depth with digestibility.

But my issue with An Evening With Knives is the vocals. Their technical application is not bad, per se; overall it’s middle of the road, somewhat versatile with passable core-style screams yet some pitch problems when skewing cleaner (most noticeable on “End of Time”). However, technique is only one side of vocals; emotional pull and projection are at least as important, and that aspect is largely shot by how strained the vocals sound. When belting, strain is expected; here, though, it’s a constant, even on smaller and quieter passages. Especially in the front half, this results in a likely unintended faux-aggression, even machismo, that completely falls flat. “All They Need” unironically and repeatedly uses ‘That’s how you do it’ with a cringe-inducing swagger, and “Death” doesn’t fare much better. It’s akin to overacting and it undermines the earnestness of the music, to the detriment of the whole package.

But as End of Time goes on and the compositions shift from concise to expansive, the vocal problem becomes less and less pronounced. “Voices” combines panicked wailing guitars and intelligent tempo changes with a more genuine anxious performance on the mic. “The Mistake” packs a fuzzy main riff that sounds like it was borrowed from King Buffalo, and through the patient build-up of the proggy “S21” we even get a few more subdued stanzas that dodge the worst of strain city central. Furthermore, the production is solid. Though the mix is a tad vocal-centric, I love the placement of the bass, and the guitar sound has a lovely buzzing edge that supports both the riffs and the solos quite nicely.

End of Time is not the easiest to score. An Evening With Knives is clearly getting better at identifying the strengths and weaknesses of their line-up, and the songwriting is tight without fully sacrificing a dynamic and exploratory aspect that keeps each song lively and interesting. But the exception seems to be the vocals, and it’s a damn shame how it prevents me from enjoying the front half of the album as much as I’d like. As a result, End of Time is an interesting but heavily backloaded album that holds itself back from becoming something greater. If you like this sort of style, though, give it a spin anyways, because that back half is teasing a diamond in the rough.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: aneveningwithknives.bandcamp.com | aneveningwithknives.com | facebook.com/aneveningwithknives
Releases Worldwide: March 14th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AnEveningWithKnives #ArgonautaRecords #Baroness #DutchMetal #EndOfTime #KingBuffalo #Mar25 #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #Sludge #StonerMetal

An Evening With Knives – End of Time Review

By GardensTale

At the start of the year, I pledged to pick as many promos as I could from those sent to us directly through the contact form, as a way to lift up the smallest of underground acts. But as this week is rather barren, I got to have my choice from the remainder, the label-backed colossi who have all their tedious marketing hubbub taken care of. One band name jumped out at me: An Evening With Knives. A name I’ve seen on plenty a concert bill around here, usually in a supporting capacity. Lo and behold, the lads are local, or rather, they were formed in the next city over. It’s always nice to see geographical peers making waves. But it appears that dear Dear Hollow did not hold the last Evening’s record too dear. Has the trio improved since Sense of Gravity, or is End of Time the end of its 15 minutes of fame?

The review for Sense of Gravity complained of unbalanced songwriting with too many sudden turns, but no such problem arises on End of Time. The songwriting is concise and approachable, shirking most of the languid post-metal trappings for a style more akin to Baroness with early parts leaning punk-hardcore and later leaning fuzzy doom with a progressive slant. It suits An Evening With Knives rather well. The lead guitars braid sinewy hooks atop the heavy twang of the rhythm section, and excel at the emotive solos that dot the running time (“End of Time” and closer “S21” are the best examples). The bass has a pulsing melodic flair, the drums are sharp and energetic. Within this scope, the band carves out a lot of wiggle room, shifting gradually from concise cannon blasts to more long-winded material. It makes for an even-handed album that weighs depth with digestibility.

But my issue with An Evening With Knives is the vocals. Their technical application is not bad, per se; overall it’s middle of the road, somewhat versatile with passable core-style screams yet some pitch problems when skewing cleaner (most noticeable on “End of Time”). However, technique is only one side of vocals; emotional pull and projection are at least as important, and that aspect is largely shot by how strained the vocals sound. When belting, strain is expected; here, though, it’s a constant, even on smaller and quieter passages. Especially in the front half, this results in a likely unintended faux-aggression, even machismo, that completely falls flat. “All They Need” unironically and repeatedly uses ‘That’s how you do it’ with a cringe-inducing swagger, and “Death” doesn’t fare much better. It’s akin to overacting and it undermines the earnestness of the music, to the detriment of the whole package.

But as End of Time goes on and the compositions shift from concise to expansive, the vocal problem becomes less and less pronounced. “Voices” combines panicked wailing guitars and intelligent tempo changes with a more genuine anxious performance on the mic. “The Mistake” packs a fuzzy main riff that sounds like it was borrowed from King Buffalo, and through the patient build-up of the proggy “S21” we even get a few more subdued stanzas that dodge the worst of strain city central. Furthermore, the production is solid. Though the mix is a tad vocal-centric, I love the placement of the bass, and the guitar sound has a lovely buzzing edge that supports both the riffs and the solos quite nicely.

End of Time is not the easiest to score. An Evening With Knives is clearly getting better at identifying the strengths and weaknesses of their line-up, and the songwriting is tight without fully sacrificing a dynamic and exploratory aspect that keeps each song lively and interesting. But the exception seems to be the vocals, and it’s a damn shame how it prevents me from enjoying the front half of the album as much as I’d like. As a result, End of Time is an interesting but heavily backloaded album that holds itself back from becoming something greater. If you like this sort of style, though, give it a spin anyways, because that back half is teasing a diamond in the rough.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: aneveningwithknives.bandcamp.com | aneveningwithknives.com | facebook.com/aneveningwithknives
Releases Worldwide: March 14th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AnEveningWithKnives #ArgonautaRecords #Baroness #DutchMetal #EndOfTime #KingBuffalo #Mar25 #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #Sludge #StonerMetal

An Evening With Knives – End of Time Review

By GardensTale

At the start of the year, I pledged to pick as many promos as I could from those sent to us directly through the contact form, as a way to lift up the smallest of underground acts. But as this week is rather barren, I got to have my choice from the remainder, the label-backed colossi who have all their tedious marketing hubbub taken care of. One band name jumped out at me: An Evening With Knives. A name I’ve seen on plenty a concert bill around here, usually in a supporting capacity. Lo and behold, the lads are local, or rather, they were formed in the next city over. It’s always nice to see geographical peers making waves. But it appears that dear Dear Hollow did not hold the last Evening’s record too dear. Has the trio improved since Sense of Gravity, or is End of Time the end of its 15 minutes of fame?

The review for Sense of Gravity complained of unbalanced songwriting with too many sudden turns, but no such problem arises on End of Time. The songwriting is concise and approachable, shirking most of the languid post-metal trappings for a style more akin to Baroness with early parts leaning punk-hardcore and later leaning fuzzy doom with a progressive slant. It suits An Evening With Knives rather well. The lead guitars braid sinewy hooks atop the heavy twang of the rhythm section, and excel at the emotive solos that dot the running time (“End of Time” and closer “S21” are the best examples). The bass has a pulsing melodic flair, the drums are sharp and energetic. Within this scope, the band carves out a lot of wiggle room, shifting gradually from concise cannon blasts to more long-winded material. It makes for an even-handed album that weighs depth with digestibility.

But my issue with An Evening With Knives is the vocals. Their technical application is not bad, per se; overall it’s middle of the road, somewhat versatile with passable core-style screams yet some pitch problems when skewing cleaner (most noticeable on “End of Time”). However, technique is only one side of vocals; emotional pull and projection are at least as important, and that aspect is largely shot by how strained the vocals sound. When belting, strain is expected; here, though, it’s a constant, even on smaller and quieter passages. Especially in the front half, this results in a likely unintended faux-aggression, even machismo, that completely falls flat. “All They Need” unironically and repeatedly uses ‘That’s how you do it’ with a cringe-inducing swagger, and “Death” doesn’t fare much better. It’s akin to overacting and it undermines the earnestness of the music, to the detriment of the whole package.

But as End of Time goes on and the compositions shift from concise to expansive, the vocal problem becomes less and less pronounced. “Voices” combines panicked wailing guitars and intelligent tempo changes with a more genuine anxious performance on the mic. “The Mistake” packs a fuzzy main riff that sounds like it was borrowed from King Buffalo, and through the patient build-up of the proggy “S21” we even get a few more subdued stanzas that dodge the worst of strain city central. Furthermore, the production is solid. Though the mix is a tad vocal-centric, I love the placement of the bass, and the guitar sound has a lovely buzzing edge that supports both the riffs and the solos quite nicely.

End of Time is not the easiest to score. An Evening With Knives is clearly getting better at identifying the strengths and weaknesses of their line-up, and the songwriting is tight without fully sacrificing a dynamic and exploratory aspect that keeps each song lively and interesting. But the exception seems to be the vocals, and it’s a damn shame how it prevents me from enjoying the front half of the album as much as I’d like. As a result, End of Time is an interesting but heavily backloaded album that holds itself back from becoming something greater. If you like this sort of style, though, give it a spin anyways, because that back half is teasing a diamond in the rough.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Argonauta Records
Websites: aneveningwithknives.bandcamp.com | aneveningwithknives.com | facebook.com/aneveningwithknives
Releases Worldwide: March 14th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AnEveningWithKnives #ArgonautaRecords #Baroness #DutchMetal #EndOfTime #KingBuffalo #Mar25 #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #Sludge #StonerMetal

Kazea – I. Ancestral Review

By Iceberg

Kazea hail from Sweden, home of the Björiff and the chainsaw song of the HM2. But on their debut album, I. Ancestral, the Gothenburg trio promise to blend “the power of post-rock, the haunting melodies of neo-folk, and the crushing weight of sludge.” If the mere mention of sludge hasn’t sent you screaming from the room, good, because you’re in for a treat today. I dealt with posty sludge from labelmates Besra in my n00b days, but throwing neo-folk into the mix puts an unusual spin on the situation. While both styles revel in their simplicity of content, the open soundscapes of folk could provide much-needed contrast against sludge’s distorted chugging. Or it could devolve into a mishmash of styles that don’t share any common language. Whatever the musical case, there’s no denying the gorgeous poetry of Frederico Garcia Lorca in opener “With A Knife:” “Green, how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. The ship out on the sea. The horse on the mountain.” Color me intrigued.

Kazea choose to separate and highlight, rather than amalgamate, their stylistic influences, a gamble that pays off more often than not. Dusky acoustic guitars reminiscent of Gustavo Santaolalla or A Romance With Violence-era Wayfarer lead the folk-inspired sections, evoking untamed, pagan wilderness (“With A Knife,” “A Strange Burial”). The sludge, which forms the backbone of Kazea’s sound, is more Melvins than Mastodon, and a lot of American Scrap-era Huntsmen, with fuzzy guitars and stomping drum patterns (“Whispering Hand,” “Wailing Blood”). Jonas Mattsson’s vocals may be a bit controversial here, with their Billy Corgan-esque nasal quality, but the more I listened to I. Ancestral the more Mattsson’s performance stuck with me. I hear shades of Layne Staley in his scrawling delivery, and while I wasn’t always able to discern the lyrics, his dynamic croon forms the beating heart of the album’s post-metal tunes (“Trenches,” “Seamlessly Woven”).

For a band handing in their debut record, Kazea slither and wind their way around 37 minutes with the hallmarks of seasoned songwriters. An air of storytelling pervades the album, with memorable spoken word fragments (“A Little Knife,” “A Strange Burial”) and ambient soundscapes (“The North Passage,” “Seamlessly Woven”) delivering post-metal’s cinematics within a sludge framework. Post-metal swells and crashes à la This Will Destroy You and Isis are found on “Trenches” and “Seamlessly Woven,” and while these are unsurprisingly the longest tracks on the record they handle their duration well, with the latter providing one of the strongest, heart-wrenching choruses I’ve heard all year long. Even “Whispering Hand,” which is something akin to pop sludge, is a radio-ready anthem full of earworms that evokes the better moments of Them Crooked Vultures.

I. Ancestral is a promising opening for Kazea’s proposed musical series, and its flaws are few and far between. Daniel Olsson’s drums are powerful, and the groove laid down in “The North Passage” marches in mammoth lockstep with Rasmus Lindbolm’s bass, but the minimalist tribal kick/toms/snare pattern begins to feel a bit overused the longer one listens to the record. “Pale City Skin” and “Wailing Blood” both start strongly but spin their riff wheels a touch too long, giving in to the tendency of both sludge and post-metal to utilize repetition for content. And while a master by Cult of Luna’s Magnus Lindberg is roomy and darkly colorful, the vocal mix does get buried in the busier sections of the album, which is a shame because these constitute some of the best music I. Ancestral has to offer (“Trenches,” “Seamlessly Woven”). But the overall impression of Kazea’s debut beats its blemishes, presenting a stark and unique voice formed from disparate influences.

“…with a knife. With a little knife that just fits into the palm.” The chilling denouement of “With A Knife” has stuck with me as I’ve ruminated over I. Ancestral. It neatly encapsulates the album, weaving shadowy, wooded energy into an unlikely combination of post-metal and sludge. The album is smartly edited and easy to pore over multiple times, with repeat listens revealing some standout moments: “Whispering Hand” is a shamelessly fun sludge anthem, and “Seamlessly Woven” is the most emotionally packed closer I’ve heard since The Drowning’s “Blood Marks My Grave.” I think Kazea have knocked it out of the park with this debut, and are on the verge of coalescing their sound into something truly remarkable. Don’t sleep on these guys.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Suicide Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 21st, 2025

#2025 #35 #GustavoSantaolalla #Hunstmen #IAncestral #Isis #Kazea #Mar25 #Melvins #NeoFolk #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #Sludge #SuicideRecords #SwedishMetal #ThemCrookedVultures #ThisWillDestroyYou #Wayfarer

Istapp – Sól Tér Sortna Review

By Doom_et_Al

Not many bands can claim to have a 4.5 from AMG Himself and a 4.0 from notorious curmudgeon, Grier. Yet that is exactly what Swedish black metal band, Istapp (Icicle) managed to achieve with debut album, Blekinge, and third album, The Insidious Star, respectively. Yet despite these glowing endorsements, Istapp remained on the periphery of the metal scene since their inception in 2005. Maybe it’s the long turnaround time between albums (4 in 20 years), or perhaps it’s the constantly shifting band line-up. Whatever the reason, Istapp remained relatively obscure, producing albums that people like, but that don’t make any dents in end-of-year lists. Now they’re back after a 6-year gap, with (surprise!) a new lineup and a new album, Sól Tér Sortna (The Sun Turns Dark). Are they about to add a Doom 4.0 to their accolades?

Pretty much the only constant in Istapp is founder, songwriter, and vocalist-turned-drummer, Fjalar. And when the opening notes of “Under Jökelisen” begin, you’ll know this is a classic Istapp album, through and through. Melodic chords married to furious blast beats in a way that is both compelling and accessible (by black metal standards). But it’s when the clean vocals hit that the true power of Istapp shines – the ability to incorporate more accessible elements without compromising their core ethos. Istapp manage to sound like a cool mix of Borknagar, Immortal, and Svavelvinter, without ever treading onto “derivative” territory. If this description of Sól Tér Sortna sounds eerily familiar to previous albums, that’s because Istapp maintain the clear, distinctive sound that they’ve perfected since 2005.

And yet, for some reason, Sól Tér Sortna just doesn’t hit as hard as those previous albums. And I’ve spent a week trying to puzzle out why. Certainly, when a sound remains unchanged for this long, we start entering “diminishing returns” territory. Istapp are playing it very safe with their aesthetic, and when you become familiar with it, it all starts to blur together. This isn’t helped by the fact that this collection lacks a real banger; something that grabs you by the short and curlys and says, “Listen! This is more interesting than that random chore you are doing!” When the band does try something new, like the introduction of female vocals on “Rägnarok,” it works fantastically, making you wish they had taken a few more risks. The songs on Sól Tér Sortna are consistently very good, but rarely great.

The production, as consistent as it is, also sounds weirdly thin. It’s hard to explain, but there’s a chonkiness missing from the guitars. This anemic mix leeches the album of some of its power. Istapp always flourished by relying on those “big” moments in their material; the flattened range makes everything sound a bit tinny and flat. For comparison, I went back to early Immortal, and while the production in those days was clearly inferior, there is real oomph behind the guitars. Even The Insidious Star sounded better balanced. I’m not certain if this production was intentional or not, but it doesn’t help the music.

Sól Tér Sortna is an album I really wanted to love, but although its catchy melodies and solid songwriting initially seduced me, I could never firmly commit. It’s a collection that, although never difficult to listen to, is missing something. This is speculation, but perhaps the constant lineup shifts have prevented Fjalar from evolving his brand. Perhaps this is simply the AMG “Law of Diminishing Returns” proving itself again as a band enters its third decade. Or maybe I expected too much from a band that has given us plenty to cheer about in the past. Regardless, Sól Tér Sortna, while rock-solid, simply doesn’t hit like other Istapp material. As a result, it eludes the unqualified Doom stamp of approval.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: trollzorn.de/en
Websites: istappofficial.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/IstappOfficial
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2025

#2025 #30 #BlackMetal #Borknagar #Immortal #Istapp #Mar25 #Review #Reviews #SwedishMetal #TrollzornRecords

Istapp – Sól Tér Sortna Review

By Doom_et_Al

Not many bands can claim to have a 4.5 from AMG Himself and a 4.0 from notorious curmudgeon, Grier. Yet that is exactly what Swedish black metal band, Istapp (Icicle) managed to achieve with debut album, Blekinge, and third album, The Insidious Star, respectively. Yet despite these glowing endorsements, Istapp remained on the periphery of the metal scene since their inception in 2005. Maybe it’s the long turnaround time between albums (4 in 20 years), or perhaps it’s the constantly shifting band line-up. Whatever the reason, Istapp remained relatively obscure, producing albums that people like, but that don’t make any dents in end-of-year lists. Now they’re back after a 6-year gap, with (surprise!) a new lineup and a new album, Sól Tér Sortna (The Sun Turns Dark). Are they about to add a Doom 4.0 to their accolades?

Pretty much the only constant in Istapp is founder, songwriter, and vocalist-turned-drummer, Fjalar. And when the opening notes of “Under Jökelisen” begin, you’ll know this is a classic Istapp album, through and through. Melodic chords married to furious blast beats in a way that is both compelling and accessible (by black metal standards). But it’s when the clean vocals hit that the true power of Istapp shines – the ability to incorporate more accessible elements without compromising their core ethos. Istapp manage to sound like a cool mix of Borknagar, Immortal, and Svavelvinter, without ever treading onto “derivative” territory. If this description of Sól Tér Sortna sounds eerily familiar to previous albums, that’s because Istapp maintain the clear, distinctive sound that they’ve perfected since 2005.

And yet, for some reason, Sól Tér Sortna just doesn’t hit as hard as those previous albums. And I’ve spent a week trying to puzzle out why. Certainly, when a sound remains unchanged for this long, we start entering “diminishing returns” territory. Istapp are playing it very safe with their aesthetic, and when you become familiar with it, it all starts to blur together. This isn’t helped by the fact that this collection lacks a real banger; something that grabs you by the short and curlys and says, “Listen! This is more interesting than that random chore you are doing!” When the band does try something new, like the introduction of female vocals on “Rägnarok,” it works fantastically, making you wish they had taken a few more risks. The songs on Sól Tér Sortna are consistently very good, but rarely great.

The production, as consistent as it is, also sounds weirdly thin. It’s hard to explain, but there’s a chonkiness missing from the guitars. This anemic mix leeches the album of some of its power. Istapp always flourished by relying on those “big” moments in their material; the flattened range makes everything sound a bit tinny and flat. For comparison, I went back to early Immortal, and while the production in those days was clearly inferior, there is real oomph behind the guitars. Even The Insidious Star sounded better balanced. I’m not certain if this production was intentional or not, but it doesn’t help the music.

Sól Tér Sortna is an album I really wanted to love, but although its catchy melodies and solid songwriting initially seduced me, I could never firmly commit. It’s a collection that, although never difficult to listen to, is missing something. This is speculation, but perhaps the constant lineup shifts have prevented Fjalar from evolving his brand. Perhaps this is simply the AMG “Law of Diminishing Returns” proving itself again as a band enters its third decade. Or maybe I expected too much from a band that has given us plenty to cheer about in the past. Regardless, Sól Tér Sortna, while rock-solid, simply doesn’t hit like other Istapp material. As a result, it eludes the unqualified Doom stamp of approval.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: trollzorn.de/en
Websites: istappofficial.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/IstappOfficial
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2025

#2025 #30 #BlackMetal #Borknagar #Immortal #Istapp #Mar25 #Review #Reviews #SwedishMetal #TrollzornRecords

Istapp – Sól Tér Sortna Review

By Doom_et_Al

Not many bands can claim to have a 4.5 from AMG Himself and a 4.0 from notorious curmudgeon, Grier. Yet that is exactly what Swedish black metal band, Istapp (Icicle) managed to achieve with debut album, Blekinge, and third album, The Insidious Star, respectively. Yet despite these glowing endorsements, Istapp remained on the periphery of the metal scene since their inception in 2005. Maybe it’s the long turnaround time between albums (4 in 20 years), or perhaps it’s the constantly shifting band line-up. Whatever the reason, Istapp remained relatively obscure, producing albums that people like, but that don’t make any dents in end-of-year lists. Now they’re back after a 6-year gap, with (surprise!) a new lineup and a new album, Sól Tér Sortna (The Sun Turns Dark). Are they about to add a Doom 4.0 to their accolades?

Pretty much the only constant in Istapp is founder, songwriter, and vocalist-turned-drummer, Fjalar. And when the opening notes of “Under Jökelisen” begin, you’ll know this is a classic Istapp album, through and through. Melodic chords married to furious blast beats in a way that is both compelling and accessible (by black metal standards). But it’s when the clean vocals hit that the true power of Istapp shines – the ability to incorporate more accessible elements without compromising their core ethos. Istapp manage to sound like a cool mix of Borknagar, Immortal, and Svavelvinter, without ever treading onto “derivative” territory. If this description of Sól Tér Sortna sounds eerily familiar to previous albums, that’s because Istapp maintain the clear, distinctive sound that they’ve perfected since 2005.

And yet, for some reason, Sól Tér Sortna just doesn’t hit as hard as those previous albums. And I’ve spent a week trying to puzzle out why. Certainly, when a sound remains unchanged for this long, we start entering “diminishing returns” territory. Istapp are playing it very safe with their aesthetic, and when you become familiar with it, it all starts to blur together. This isn’t helped by the fact that this collection lacks a real banger; something that grabs you by the short and curlys and says, “Listen! This is more interesting than that random chore you are doing!” When the band does try something new, like the introduction of female vocals on “Rägnarok,” it works fantastically, making you wish they had taken a few more risks. The songs on Sól Tér Sortna are consistently very good, but rarely great.

The production, as consistent as it is, also sounds weirdly thin. It’s hard to explain, but there’s a chonkiness missing from the guitars. This anemic mix leeches the album of some of its power. Istapp always flourished by relying on those “big” moments in their material; the flattened range makes everything sound a bit tinny and flat. For comparison, I went back to early Immortal, and while the production in those days was clearly inferior, there is real oomph behind the guitars. Even The Insidious Star sounded better balanced. I’m not certain if this production was intentional or not, but it doesn’t help the music.

Sól Tér Sortna is an album I really wanted to love, but although its catchy melodies and solid songwriting initially seduced me, I could never firmly commit. It’s a collection that, although never difficult to listen to, is missing something. This is speculation, but perhaps the constant lineup shifts have prevented Fjalar from evolving his brand. Perhaps this is simply the AMG “Law of Diminishing Returns” proving itself again as a band enters its third decade. Or maybe I expected too much from a band that has given us plenty to cheer about in the past. Regardless, Sól Tér Sortna, while rock-solid, simply doesn’t hit like other Istapp material. As a result, it eludes the unqualified Doom stamp of approval.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: trollzorn.de/en
Websites: istappofficial.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/IstappOfficial
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2025

#2025 #30 #BlackMetal #Borknagar #Immortal #Istapp #Mar25 #Review #Reviews #SwedishMetal #TrollzornRecords

Istapp – Sól Tér Sortna Review

By Doom_et_Al

Not many bands can claim to have a 4.5 from AMG Himself and a 4.0 from notorious curmudgeon, Grier. Yet that is exactly what Swedish black metal band, Istapp (Icicle) managed to achieve with debut album, Blekinge, and third album, The Insidious Star, respectively. Yet despite these glowing endorsements, Istapp remained on the periphery of the metal scene since their inception in 2005. Maybe it’s the long turnaround time between albums (4 in 20 years), or perhaps it’s the constantly shifting band line-up. Whatever the reason, Istapp remained relatively obscure, producing albums that people like, but that don’t make any dents in end-of-year lists. Now they’re back after a 6-year gap, with (surprise!) a new lineup and a new album, Sól Tér Sortna (The Sun Turns Dark). Are they about to add a Doom 4.0 to their accolades?

Pretty much the only constant in Istapp is founder, songwriter, and vocalist-turned-drummer, Fjalar. And when the opening notes of “Under Jökelisen” begin, you’ll know this is a classic Istapp album, through and through. Melodic chords married to furious blast beats in a way that is both compelling and accessible (by black metal standards). But it’s when the clean vocals hit that the true power of Istapp shines – the ability to incorporate more accessible elements without compromising their core ethos. Istapp manage to sound like a cool mix of Borknagar, Immortal, and Svavelvinter, without ever treading onto “derivative” territory. If this description of Sól Tér Sortna sounds eerily familiar to previous albums, that’s because Istapp maintain the clear, distinctive sound that they’ve perfected since 2005.

And yet, for some reason, Sól Tér Sortna just doesn’t hit as hard as those previous albums. And I’ve spent a week trying to puzzle out why. Certainly, when a sound remains unchanged for this long, we start entering “diminishing returns” territory. Istapp are playing it very safe with their aesthetic, and when you become familiar with it, it all starts to blur together. This isn’t helped by the fact that this collection lacks a real banger; something that grabs you by the short and curlys and says, “Listen! This is more interesting than that random chore you are doing!” When the band does try something new, like the introduction of female vocals on “Rägnarok,” it works fantastically, making you wish they had taken a few more risks. The songs on Sól Tér Sortna are consistently very good, but rarely great.

The production, as consistent as it is, also sounds weirdly thin. It’s hard to explain, but there’s a chonkiness missing from the guitars. This anemic mix leeches the album of some of its power. Istapp always flourished by relying on those “big” moments in their material; the flattened range makes everything sound a bit tinny and flat. For comparison, I went back to early Immortal, and while the production in those days was clearly inferior, there is real oomph behind the guitars. Even The Insidious Star sounded better balanced. I’m not certain if this production was intentional or not, but it doesn’t help the music.

Sól Tér Sortna is an album I really wanted to love, but although its catchy melodies and solid songwriting initially seduced me, I could never firmly commit. It’s a collection that, although never difficult to listen to, is missing something. This is speculation, but perhaps the constant lineup shifts have prevented Fjalar from evolving his brand. Perhaps this is simply the AMG “Law of Diminishing Returns” proving itself again as a band enters its third decade. Or maybe I expected too much from a band that has given us plenty to cheer about in the past. Regardless, Sól Tér Sortna, while rock-solid, simply doesn’t hit like other Istapp material. As a result, it eludes the unqualified Doom stamp of approval.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: trollzorn.de/en
Websites: istappofficial.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/IstappOfficial
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2025

#2025 #30 #BlackMetal #Borknagar #Immortal #Istapp #Mar25 #Review #Reviews #SwedishMetal #TrollzornRecords

Cryptosis – Celestial Death Review

By Iceberg

When it comes to evolving past its lean, mean beginnings, thrash has had a rough go of it. Modern iterations shoot for a return-to-roots approach, which feels doomed to fall short in the shadow of the genre’s titans or augment the style with increasingly odd bedfellows (I’m looking at you Demoniac). Dutch trio Cryptosis fell firmly in the latter camp with their 2021 debut, Bionic Swarm, and they’ve continued to march away from their Teutonic roots with follow-up Celestial Death. Bionic Swarm passed 4.0ldeneye’s questionably positioned bar for admittance to “Great” status, and being the scholar and gentleman that he is, he was gracious enough to allow little ol’ me to sink my teeth into Cryptosis’ sophomore effort. Sporting a spiffy new Kantor cover and promising a more “cinematic path” and “darker atmosphere,” I’m hoping Celestial Death will give me another reason to believe that thrash is still alive and well.

Thrash was a basis for Bionic Swarm, but here it’s used more as a color on Cryptosis’ palette. The boundary-pushing sounds of Vektor are still present here, but they’re joined by Gothenburg melodeath (“Ascending”) and expansive post-metal instrumentals (“The Silent Call,” “Coda-Wander Into The Light”). Even as they widen their stylistic pool, Cryptosis retain a high level of musicianship and execution. Marco Prij’s drumming is still blisteringly fast, and added creativity in the cymbal-work (“Static Horizon,” “Ascending”) and decidedly non-thrash blasting (“The Silent Call,” “Cryptosphere”) makes it a great listen for the rhythmically inclined. Frank te Riet’s synths are much more present this go-around, and paired with his mellotron work, they achieve a void-wrapped atmosphere worthy of the album’s title. Frontman Laurens Houvert reminds us this album is still rooted in furious thrash, though, and his gruff barks paired with maniacally dancing riffs make Celestial Death an entertaining and, at times, challenging record.

Thrash is known for burning hot and dying fast, but that’s not the case with Celestial Death. Although only 42 minutes, a perfectly adequate runtime, there’s lots of heady material packed into these 11 tracks. Bookended and bisected by instrumentals, there’s an erudite symmetry to Celestial Death’s structure. The front half features 4 experimental non-thrash compositions, while the back half’s 4 are more concerned with kicking ass and taking names. Though I applaud Cryptosis for their willingness to color outside the lines, not everything sticks its landing. Sweeping, half-time sections showcase te Riet’s droning synths but lose precious potential energy (“The Silent Call,” “Motionless Balance”). Tracks in this half are well performed, but the songwriting feels less focused, holding onto riffs and instrumental sections a bit too long (“Static Horizon”). With the exception of proper opener “Faceless Matter” which is a successful composite of Cryptosis’ past and future, the album’s front thoughtfully meanders when it should be gripping throats.

A trio of songs in the album’s B-side reminds us of why Cryptosis deserves to be in the conversation for compelling, modern thrash. Out of the transitory warblings of “Motionless Balance” comes an absolute ripper of a track in “Reign Of Infinite.” Houvert’s opening riff sets fire to his fretboard, and the double-kick battering is a welcome backing for the most headbangable moment on the album. The instrumental in the album’s bridge, including a beautiful rising lead melody in the guitars, gives just enough time away from the sturm und drang to clear the air before plunging earthward again. “In Between Realities” pairs the album’s sole sing-along chorus with choppy rhythms and extended tremolos, and closer “Cryptosphere” makes the case for Symphony X-style thrash. My attention snapped back into place in this section of Celestial Death, ending the album on a high note and earning the place of zoom-out closer “Coda-Wander Into The Light.”

Celestial Death doesn’t give up its astral secrets easily and will rebuff the casual listener. What at first feels like a wall of riffs and washy synths eventually finds definition and reveals a burgeoning voice in extreme metal. Even the instrumentals, which are so often shoehorned into “progressive” pieces, earn their keep after repeated listens. While I don’t share the enthusiasm gene of our dear Holden, I think Cryptosis have a solid addition to their discography here and are on the verge of synthesizing their own take on modern thrash. At times viciously thrash, twistingly prog, or tantalizingly atmospheric, Celestial Death has a little something for everybody and has successfully avoided, at least in this writer’s opinion, the modern thrash trap.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: STREAM | Format Reviewed: STREAM
Label: Century Media
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 7th, 2025

#2025 #30 #CelestialDeath #CenturyMedia #Cryptosis #DeathMetal #Demoniac #DutchMetal #Mar25 #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #SpaceMetal #SymphonyX #ThrashMetal #Vektor

Cryptosis – Celestial Death Review

By Iceberg

When it comes to evolving past its lean, mean beginnings, thrash has had a rough go of it. Modern iterations shoot for a return-to-roots approach, which feels doomed to fall short in the shadow of the genre’s titans or augment the style with increasingly odd bedfellows (I’m looking at you Demoniac). Dutch trio Cryptosis fell firmly in the latter camp with their 2021 debut, Bionic Swarm, and they’ve continued to march away from their Teutonic roots with follow-up Celestial Death. Bionic Swarm passed 4.0ldeneye’s questionably positioned bar for admittance to “Great” status, and being the scholar and gentleman that he is, he was gracious enough to allow little ol’ me to sink my teeth into Cryptosis’ sophomore effort. Sporting a spiffy new Kantor cover and promising a more “cinematic path” and “darker atmosphere,” I’m hoping Celestial Death will give me another reason to believe that thrash is still alive and well.

Thrash was a basis for Bionic Swarm, but here it’s used more as a color on Cryptosis’ palette. The boundary-pushing sounds of Vektor are still present here, but they’re joined by Gothenburg melodeath (“Ascending”) and expansive post-metal instrumentals (“The Silent Call,” “Coda-Wander Into The Light”). Even as they widen their stylistic pool, Cryptosis retain a high level of musicianship and execution. Marco Prij’s drumming is still blisteringly fast, and added creativity in the cymbal-work (“Static Horizon,” “Ascending”) and decidedly non-thrash blasting (“The Silent Call,” “Cryptosphere”) makes it a great listen for the rhythmically inclined. Frank te Riet’s synths are much more present this go-around, and paired with his mellotron work, they achieve a void-wrapped atmosphere worthy of the album’s title. Frontman Laurens Houvert reminds us this album is still rooted in furious thrash, though, and his gruff barks paired with maniacally dancing riffs make Celestial Death an entertaining and, at times, challenging record.

Thrash is known for burning hot and dying fast, but that’s not the case with Celestial Death. Although only 42 minutes, a perfectly adequate runtime, there’s lots of heady material packed into these 11 tracks. Bookended and bisected by instrumentals, there’s an erudite symmetry to Celestial Death’s structure. The front half features 4 experimental non-thrash compositions, while the back half’s 4 are more concerned with kicking ass and taking names. Though I applaud Cryptosis for their willingness to color outside the lines, not everything sticks its landing. Sweeping, half-time sections showcase te Riet’s droning synths but lose precious potential energy (“The Silent Call,” “Motionless Balance”). Tracks in this half are well performed, but the songwriting feels less focused, holding onto riffs and instrumental sections a bit too long (“Static Horizon”). With the exception of proper opener “Faceless Matter” which is a successful composite of Cryptosis’ past and future, the album’s front thoughtfully meanders when it should be gripping throats.

A trio of songs in the album’s B-side reminds us of why Cryptosis deserves to be in the conversation for compelling, modern thrash. Out of the transitory warblings of “Motionless Balance” comes an absolute ripper of a track in “Reign Of Infinite.” Houvert’s opening riff sets fire to his fretboard, and the double-kick battering is a welcome backing for the most headbangable moment on the album. The instrumental in the album’s bridge, including a beautiful rising lead melody in the guitars, gives just enough time away from the sturm und drang to clear the air before plunging earthward again. “In Between Realities” pairs the album’s sole sing-along chorus with choppy rhythms and extended tremolos, and closer “Cryptosphere” makes the case for Symphony X-style thrash. My attention snapped back into place in this section of Celestial Death, ending the album on a high note and earning the place of zoom-out closer “Coda-Wander Into The Light.”

Celestial Death doesn’t give up its astral secrets easily and will rebuff the casual listener. What at first feels like a wall of riffs and washy synths eventually finds definition and reveals a burgeoning voice in extreme metal. Even the instrumentals, which are so often shoehorned into “progressive” pieces, earn their keep after repeated listens. While I don’t share the enthusiasm gene of our dear Holden, I think Cryptosis have a solid addition to their discography here and are on the verge of synthesizing their own take on modern thrash. At times viciously thrash, twistingly prog, or tantalizingly atmospheric, Celestial Death has a little something for everybody and has successfully avoided, at least in this writer’s opinion, the modern thrash trap.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: STREAM | Format Reviewed: STREAM
Label: Century Media
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 7th, 2025

#2025 #30 #CelestialDeath #CenturyMedia #Cryptosis #DeathMetal #Demoniac #DutchMetal #Mar25 #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #SpaceMetal #SymphonyX #ThrashMetal #Vektor

Cryptosis – Celestial Death Review

By Iceberg

When it comes to evolving past its lean, mean beginnings, thrash has had a rough go of it. Modern iterations shoot for a return-to-roots approach, which feels doomed to fall short in the shadow of the genre’s titans or augment the style with increasingly odd bedfellows (I’m looking at you Demoniac). Dutch trio Cryptosis fell firmly in the latter camp with their 2021 debut, Bionic Swarm, and they’ve continued to march away from their Teutonic roots with follow-up Celestial Death. Bionic Swarm passed 4.0ldeneye’s questionably positioned bar for admittance to “Great” status, and being the scholar and gentleman that he is, he was gracious enough to allow little ol’ me to sink my teeth into Cryptosis’ sophomore effort. Sporting a spiffy new Kantor cover and promising a more “cinematic path” and “darker atmosphere,” I’m hoping Celestial Death will give me another reason to believe that thrash is still alive and well.

Thrash was a basis for Bionic Swarm, but here it’s used more as a color on Cryptosis’ palette. The boundary-pushing sounds of Vektor are still present here, but they’re joined by Gothenburg melodeath (“Ascending”) and expansive post-metal instrumentals (“The Silent Call,” “Coda-Wander Into The Light”). Even as they widen their stylistic pool, Cryptosis retain a high level of musicianship and execution. Marco Prij’s drumming is still blisteringly fast, and added creativity in the cymbal-work (“Static Horizon,” “Ascending”) and decidedly non-thrash blasting (“The Silent Call,” “Cryptosphere”) makes it a great listen for the rhythmically inclined. Frank te Riet’s synths are much more present this go-around, and paired with his mellotron work, they achieve a void-wrapped atmosphere worthy of the album’s title. Frontman Laurens Houvert reminds us this album is still rooted in furious thrash, though, and his gruff barks paired with maniacally dancing riffs make Celestial Death an entertaining and, at times, challenging record.

Thrash is known for burning hot and dying fast, but that’s not the case with Celestial Death. Although only 42 minutes, a perfectly adequate runtime, there’s lots of heady material packed into these 11 tracks. Bookended and bisected by instrumentals, there’s an erudite symmetry to Celestial Death’s structure. The front half features 4 experimental non-thrash compositions, while the back half’s 4 are more concerned with kicking ass and taking names. Though I applaud Cryptosis for their willingness to color outside the lines, not everything sticks its landing. Sweeping, half-time sections showcase te Riet’s droning synths but lose precious potential energy (“The Silent Call,” “Motionless Balance”). Tracks in this half are well performed, but the songwriting feels less focused, holding onto riffs and instrumental sections a bit too long (“Static Horizon”). With the exception of proper opener “Faceless Matter” which is a successful composite of Cryptosis’ past and future, the album’s front thoughtfully meanders when it should be gripping throats.

A trio of songs in the album’s B-side reminds us of why Cryptosis deserves to be in the conversation for compelling, modern thrash. Out of the transitory warblings of “Motionless Balance” comes an absolute ripper of a track in “Reign Of Infinite.” Houvert’s opening riff sets fire to his fretboard, and the double-kick battering is a welcome backing for the most headbangable moment on the album. The instrumental in the album’s bridge, including a beautiful rising lead melody in the guitars, gives just enough time away from the sturm und drang to clear the air before plunging earthward again. “In Between Realities” pairs the album’s sole sing-along chorus with choppy rhythms and extended tremolos, and closer “Cryptosphere” makes the case for Symphony X-style thrash. My attention snapped back into place in this section of Celestial Death, ending the album on a high note and earning the place of zoom-out closer “Coda-Wander Into The Light.”

Celestial Death doesn’t give up its astral secrets easily and will rebuff the casual listener. What at first feels like a wall of riffs and washy synths eventually finds definition and reveals a burgeoning voice in extreme metal. Even the instrumentals, which are so often shoehorned into “progressive” pieces, earn their keep after repeated listens. While I don’t share the enthusiasm gene of our dear Holden, I think Cryptosis have a solid addition to their discography here and are on the verge of synthesizing their own take on modern thrash. At times viciously thrash, twistingly prog, or tantalizingly atmospheric, Celestial Death has a little something for everybody and has successfully avoided, at least in this writer’s opinion, the modern thrash trap.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: STREAM | Format Reviewed: STREAM
Label: Century Media
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 7th, 2025

#2025 #30 #CelestialDeath #CenturyMedia #Cryptosis #DeathMetal #Demoniac #DutchMetal #Mar25 #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #SpaceMetal #SymphonyX #ThrashMetal #Vektor

Cryptosis – Celestial Death Review

By Iceberg

When it comes to evolving past its lean, mean beginnings, thrash has had a rough go of it. Modern iterations shoot for a return-to-roots approach, which feels doomed to fall short in the shadow of the genre’s titans or augment the style with increasingly odd bedfellows (I’m looking at you Demoniac). Dutch trio Cryptosis fell firmly in the latter camp with their 2021 debut, Bionic Swarm, and they’ve continued to march away from their Teutonic roots with follow-up Celestial Death. Bionic Swarm passed 4.0ldeneye’s questionably positioned bar for admittance to “Great” status, and being the scholar and gentleman that he is, he was gracious enough to allow little ol’ me to sink my teeth into Cryptosis’ sophomore effort. Sporting a spiffy new Kantor cover and promising a more “cinematic path” and “darker atmosphere,” I’m hoping Celestial Death will give me another reason to believe that thrash is still alive and well.

Thrash was a basis for Bionic Swarm, but here it’s used more as a color on Cryptosis’ palette. The boundary-pushing sounds of Vektor are still present here, but they’re joined by Gothenburg melodeath (“Ascending”) and expansive post-metal instrumentals (“The Silent Call,” “Coda-Wander Into The Light”). Even as they widen their stylistic pool, Cryptosis retain a high level of musicianship and execution. Marco Prij’s drumming is still blisteringly fast, and added creativity in the cymbal-work (“Static Horizon,” “Ascending”) and decidedly non-thrash blasting (“The Silent Call,” “Cryptosphere”) makes it a great listen for the rhythmically inclined. Frank te Riet’s synths are much more present this go-around, and paired with his mellotron work, they achieve a void-wrapped atmosphere worthy of the album’s title. Frontman Laurens Houvert reminds us this album is still rooted in furious thrash, though, and his gruff barks paired with maniacally dancing riffs make Celestial Death an entertaining and, at times, challenging record.

Thrash is known for burning hot and dying fast, but that’s not the case with Celestial Death. Although only 42 minutes, a perfectly adequate runtime, there’s lots of heady material packed into these 11 tracks. Bookended and bisected by instrumentals, there’s an erudite symmetry to Celestial Death’s structure. The front half features 4 experimental non-thrash compositions, while the back half’s 4 are more concerned with kicking ass and taking names. Though I applaud Cryptosis for their willingness to color outside the lines, not everything sticks its landing. Sweeping, half-time sections showcase te Riet’s droning synths but lose precious potential energy (“The Silent Call,” “Motionless Balance”). Tracks in this half are well performed, but the songwriting feels less focused, holding onto riffs and instrumental sections a bit too long (“Static Horizon”). With the exception of proper opener “Faceless Matter” which is a successful composite of Cryptosis’ past and future, the album’s front thoughtfully meanders when it should be gripping throats.

A trio of songs in the album’s B-side reminds us of why Cryptosis deserves to be in the conversation for compelling, modern thrash. Out of the transitory warblings of “Motionless Balance” comes an absolute ripper of a track in “Reign Of Infinite.” Houvert’s opening riff sets fire to his fretboard, and the double-kick battering is a welcome backing for the most headbangable moment on the album. The instrumental in the album’s bridge, including a beautiful rising lead melody in the guitars, gives just enough time away from the sturm und drang to clear the air before plunging earthward again. “In Between Realities” pairs the album’s sole sing-along chorus with choppy rhythms and extended tremolos, and closer “Cryptosphere” makes the case for Symphony X-style thrash. My attention snapped back into place in this section of Celestial Death, ending the album on a high note and earning the place of zoom-out closer “Coda-Wander Into The Light.”

Celestial Death doesn’t give up its astral secrets easily and will rebuff the casual listener. What at first feels like a wall of riffs and washy synths eventually finds definition and reveals a burgeoning voice in extreme metal. Even the instrumentals, which are so often shoehorned into “progressive” pieces, earn their keep after repeated listens. While I don’t share the enthusiasm gene of our dear Holden, I think Cryptosis have a solid addition to their discography here and are on the verge of synthesizing their own take on modern thrash. At times viciously thrash, twistingly prog, or tantalizingly atmospheric, Celestial Death has a little something for everybody and has successfully avoided, at least in this writer’s opinion, the modern thrash trap.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: STREAM | Format Reviewed: STREAM
Label: Century Media
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 7th, 2025

#2025 #30 #CelestialDeath #CenturyMedia #Cryptosis #DeathMetal #Demoniac #DutchMetal #Mar25 #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #SpaceMetal #SymphonyX #ThrashMetal #Vektor

Shrine of Denial – I, Moloch Review

By Thus Spoke

I’m starting to think there might be something in the water over in Turkey. Not two full years after Serpent of Old and their phenomenal debut Ensemble Under the Dark Sun blew my tiny mind, Shrine of Denial threaten to do the same. Sharing a home country and a label and implying a similar sound to Serpent of Old in their one-sheet, it was easy to go in expecting a carbon-copy of the former. While certain quirks suggest the idea of a native style, Shrine of Denial have more than enough personality of their own, forming I, Moloch with blackened death metal channeled through a sound that feels as old and trve as it does fresh and unique.

I, Moloch is gritty, fast, and technical. Punchily-delivered vocals and fast, off-beat tempos that almost recall The Black Dahlia Murder, meet with menacing riffwork that mimics a faster Morbid Angel, and is most closely akin to last years’ Keres, and throaty growls barked or roared, often in unison. Lurking about the compositions are tones and some pretensions to atmospheric dissonance that sound—yes—a bit like Serpent of Old (“Climbing Through Nothingness,” “The Mesmer”). But Shrine of Denial eschew eerie ambiguity in favour of straightforward meanness, delivering their discordant harmonies through spidery fretwork and the occasional twisting, piercing line. The low-DR, new-school-old-school production that wraps guitar solos in delicious echo, pushes the percussion to the front and into the golden zone of satisfyingly crisp crashy-bangyness, and emphasises the roughness of the vocals is the perfect packaging. This sounds bloody fantastic.

Shrine of Denial excel at elevating the elements of their music in a way that injects new vitality and intrigue into old styles, but doesn’t denigrate their unvarnished heaviness. There is much that feels vaguely familiar on I, Moloch, but it is reinterpreted and reinvigorated through impressive performances and idiosyncratic habits that give Shrine of Denial instant individuality. Guitar lines threading through compositions are immediate and hooky (“Oneiros,” “Headless Idol”), but subtly they spin a more complex web that gives the songs depth, and take you almost by surprise as thematic reprise bursts into a thrilling solo (“I, Moloch,” “Pillars of Ice”). The drumwork is far more complex than it needed to be, but the effort pays off in spades, with the compositions becoming exhilaratingly energetic; my jaw was frequently on the floor in appreciation of the flicky precision and kicky fills (especially “A Sanctuary In The Depths Of The Realms,” “Pillars of Ice,” and “Oneiros”). Further, the way Shrine of Denial use syncopation between percussion, vocal delivery, and on-off riff patterns gives them that much more impact, where otherwise they might have shrunken under their technicality (“I, Moloch,” “Temple of the Corpse Misuser”). What few truly melodious passages there are shine when they do appear in the aforementioned solos, or in the hints of grace to certain quite OSDM-sounding refrains; the beauty of their high, cavernous resonance makes it that much more heartbreaking that they are so rare.

There is precious little wastage on I, Moloch. With a runtime this swift, but songs this compelling, it’s clear that Shrine of Denial are smart songwriters, knowing that to win over their listener, it’s better to leave them a little hungry. These 31 minutes are bursting with slick, thrilling, downright gnarly musicianship, and a presence that belies this brevity. Everything exudes a fresh and snappy approach to disso-death, and blackened death, and whatever subgenres they incorporate, that makes them more approachable, but keeps just enough conventionality, and more than enough brutality and technicality, to satisfy. The main problems, therefore, with I, Moloch are: a) I would like more, and b) I would like them to let their extreme tendencies play out a little further; that is to say—there aren’t any real problems. In seriousness, I, Moloch’s abbreviation and slight camouflage of seeming more straightforward than it is does let Shrine of Denial down a tad; but it’s early days, and I’m more than happy to wait for them to really let loose.

Really, I, Moloch does everything you could ask it to. It’s punchy and slick, with clear signs of powerful promise waiting to be capitalised upon once Shrine of Denial fully lock in. It’s a bite-sized helping of top-shelf blackened death that gets me very excited for the band’s future career, and it’s another impressive debut to come from a country with a growing reputation of fostering extreme metal talent.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity
Websites: shrineofdenial.bandcamp | facebook.com/shrineofdenial
Releases Worldwide: March 7th, 2025

#2025 #35 #BlackMetal #BlackenedDeathMetal #BlackenedThrashMetal #DeathMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #IMoloch #Keres #Mar25 #MorbidAngel #Review #Reviews #SerpentOfOld #ShrineOfDenial #TheBlackDahliaMurder #TranscendingObscurityRecords #TurkishMetal

Shrine of Denial – I, Moloch Review

By Thus Spoke

I’m starting to think there might be something in the water over in Turkey. Not two full years after Serpent of Old and their phenomenal debut Ensemble Under the Dark Sun blew my tiny mind, Shrine of Denial threaten to do the same. Sharing a home country and a label and implying a similar sound to Serpent of Old in their one-sheet, it was easy to go in expecting a carbon-copy of the former. While certain quirks suggest the idea of a native style, Shrine of Denial have more than enough personality of their own, forming I, Moloch with blackened death metal channeled through a sound that feels as old and trve as it does fresh and unique.

I, Moloch is gritty, fast, and technical. Punchily-delivered vocals and fast, off-beat tempos that almost recall The Black Dahlia Murder, meet with menacing riffwork that mimics a faster Morbid Angel, and is most closely akin to last years’ Keres, and throaty growls barked or roared, often in unison. Lurking about the compositions are tones and some pretensions to atmospheric dissonance that sound—yes—a bit like Serpent of Old (“Climbing Through Nothingness,” “The Mesmer”). But Shrine of Denial eschew eerie ambiguity in favour of straightforward meanness, delivering their discordant harmonies through spidery fretwork and the occasional twisting, piercing line. The low-DR, new-school-old-school production that wraps guitar solos in delicious echo, pushes the percussion to the front and into the golden zone of satisfyingly crisp crashy-bangyness, and emphasises the roughness of the vocals is the perfect packaging. This sounds bloody fantastic.

Shrine of Denial excel at elevating the elements of their music in a way that injects new vitality and intrigue into old styles, but doesn’t denigrate their unvarnished heaviness. There is much that feels vaguely familiar on I, Moloch, but it is reinterpreted and reinvigorated through impressive performances and idiosyncratic habits that give Shrine of Denial instant individuality. Guitar lines threading through compositions are immediate and hooky (“Oneiros,” “Headless Idol”), but subtly they spin a more complex web that gives the songs depth, and take you almost by surprise as thematic reprise bursts into a thrilling solo (“I, Moloch,” “Pillars of Ice”). The drumwork is far more complex than it needed to be, but the effort pays off in spades, with the compositions becoming exhilaratingly energetic; my jaw was frequently on the floor in appreciation of the flicky precision and kicky fills (especially “A Sanctuary In The Depths Of The Realms,” “Pillars of Ice,” and “Oneiros”). Further, the way Shrine of Denial use syncopation between percussion, vocal delivery, and on-off riff patterns gives them that much more impact, where otherwise they might have shrunken under their technicality (“I, Moloch,” “Temple of the Corpse Misuser”). What few truly melodious passages there are shine when they do appear in the aforementioned solos, or in the hints of grace to certain quite OSDM-sounding refrains; the beauty of their high, cavernous resonance makes it that much more heartbreaking that they are so rare.

There is precious little wastage on I, Moloch. With a runtime this swift, but songs this compelling, it’s clear that Shrine of Denial are smart songwriters, knowing that to win over their listener, it’s better to leave them a little hungry. These 31 minutes are bursting with slick, thrilling, downright gnarly musicianship, and a presence that belies this brevity. Everything exudes a fresh and snappy approach to disso-death, and blackened death, and whatever subgenres they incorporate, that makes them more approachable, but keeps just enough conventionality, and more than enough brutality and technicality, to satisfy. The main problems, therefore, with I, Moloch are: a) I would like more, and b) I would like them to let their extreme tendencies play out a little further; that is to say—there aren’t any real problems. In seriousness, I, Moloch’s abbreviation and slight camouflage of seeming more straightforward than it is does let Shrine of Denial down a tad; but it’s early days, and I’m more than happy to wait for them to really let loose.

Really, I, Moloch does everything you could ask it to. It’s punchy and slick, with clear signs of powerful promise waiting to be capitalised upon once Shrine of Denial fully lock in. It’s a bite-sized helping of top-shelf blackened death that gets me very excited for the band’s future career, and it’s another impressive debut to come from a country with a growing reputation of fostering extreme metal talent.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity
Websites: shrineofdenial.bandcamp | facebook.com/shrineofdenial
Releases Worldwide: March 7th, 2025

#2025 #35 #BlackMetal #BlackenedDeathMetal #BlackenedThrashMetal #DeathMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #IMoloch #Keres #Mar25 #MorbidAngel #Review #Reviews #SerpentOfOld #ShrineOfDenial #TheBlackDahliaMurder #TranscendingObscurityRecords #TurkishMetal

Shrine of Denial – I, Moloch Review

By Thus Spoke

I’m starting to think there might be something in the water over in Turkey. Not two full years after Serpent of Old and their phenomenal debut Ensemble Under the Dark Sun blew my tiny mind, Shrine of Denial threaten to do the same. Sharing a home country and a label and implying a similar sound to Serpent of Old in their one-sheet, it was easy to go in expecting a carbon-copy of the former. While certain quirks suggest the idea of a native style, Shrine of Denial have more than enough personality of their own, forming I, Moloch with blackened death metal channeled through a sound that feels as old and trve as it does fresh and unique.

I, Moloch is gritty, fast, and technical. Punchily-delivered vocals and fast, off-beat tempos that almost recall The Black Dahlia Murder, meet with menacing riffwork that mimics a faster Morbid Angel, and is most closely akin to last years’ Keres, and throaty growls barked or roared, often in unison. Lurking about the compositions are tones and some pretensions to atmospheric dissonance that sound—yes—a bit like Serpent of Old (“Climbing Through Nothingness,” “The Mesmer”). But Shrine of Denial eschew eerie ambiguity in favour of straightforward meanness, delivering their discordant harmonies through spidery fretwork and the occasional twisting, piercing line. The low-DR, new-school-old-school production that wraps guitar solos in delicious echo, pushes the percussion to the front and into the golden zone of satisfyingly crisp crashy-bangyness, and emphasises the roughness of the vocals is the perfect packaging. This sounds bloody fantastic.

Shrine of Denial excel at elevating the elements of their music in a way that injects new vitality and intrigue into old styles, but doesn’t denigrate their unvarnished heaviness. There is much that feels vaguely familiar on I, Moloch, but it is reinterpreted and reinvigorated through impressive performances and idiosyncratic habits that give Shrine of Denial instant individuality. Guitar lines threading through compositions are immediate and hooky (“Oneiros,” “Headless Idol”), but subtly they spin a more complex web that gives the songs depth, and take you almost by surprise as thematic reprise bursts into a thrilling solo (“I, Moloch,” “Pillars of Ice”). The drumwork is far more complex than it needed to be, but the effort pays off in spades, with the compositions becoming exhilaratingly energetic; my jaw was frequently on the floor in appreciation of the flicky precision and kicky fills (especially “A Sanctuary In The Depths Of The Realms,” “Pillars of Ice,” and “Oneiros”). Further, the way Shrine of Denial use syncopation between percussion, vocal delivery, and on-off riff patterns gives them that much more impact, where otherwise they might have shrunken under their technicality (“I, Moloch,” “Temple of the Corpse Misuser”). What few truly melodious passages there are shine when they do appear in the aforementioned solos, or in the hints of grace to certain quite OSDM-sounding refrains; the beauty of their high, cavernous resonance makes it that much more heartbreaking that they are so rare.

There is precious little wastage on I, Moloch. With a runtime this swift, but songs this compelling, it’s clear that Shrine of Denial are smart songwriters, knowing that to win over their listener, it’s better to leave them a little hungry. These 31 minutes are bursting with slick, thrilling, downright gnarly musicianship, and a presence that belies this brevity. Everything exudes a fresh and snappy approach to disso-death, and blackened death, and whatever subgenres they incorporate, that makes them more approachable, but keeps just enough conventionality, and more than enough brutality and technicality, to satisfy. The main problems, therefore, with I, Moloch are: a) I would like more, and b) I would like them to let their extreme tendencies play out a little further; that is to say—there aren’t any real problems. In seriousness, I, Moloch’s abbreviation and slight camouflage of seeming more straightforward than it is does let Shrine of Denial down a tad; but it’s early days, and I’m more than happy to wait for them to really let loose.

Really, I, Moloch does everything you could ask it to. It’s punchy and slick, with clear signs of powerful promise waiting to be capitalised upon once Shrine of Denial fully lock in. It’s a bite-sized helping of top-shelf blackened death that gets me very excited for the band’s future career, and it’s another impressive debut to come from a country with a growing reputation of fostering extreme metal talent.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity
Websites: shrineofdenial.bandcamp | facebook.com/shrineofdenial
Releases Worldwide: March 7th, 2025

#2025 #35 #BlackMetal #BlackenedDeathMetal #BlackenedThrashMetal #DeathMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #IMoloch #Keres #Mar25 #MorbidAngel #Review #Reviews #SerpentOfOld #ShrineOfDenial #TheBlackDahliaMurder #TranscendingObscurityRecords #TurkishMetal

Shrine of Denial – I, Moloch Review

By Thus Spoke

I’m starting to think there might be something in the water over in Turkey. Not two full years after Serpent of Old and their phenomenal debut Ensemble Under the Dark Sun blew my tiny mind, Shrine of Denial threaten to do the same. Sharing a home country and a label and implying a similar sound to Serpent of Old in their one-sheet, it was easy to go in expecting a carbon-copy of the former. While certain quirks suggest the idea of a native style, Shrine of Denial have more than enough personality of their own, forming I, Moloch with blackened death metal channeled through a sound that feels as old and trve as it does fresh and unique.

I, Moloch is gritty, fast, and technical. Punchily-delivered vocals and fast, off-beat tempos that almost recall The Black Dahlia Murder, meet with menacing riffwork that mimics a faster Morbid Angel, and is most closely akin to last years’ Keres, and throaty growls barked or roared, often in unison. Lurking about the compositions are tones and some pretensions to atmospheric dissonance that sound—yes—a bit like Serpent of Old (“Climbing Through Nothingness,” “The Mesmer”). But Shrine of Denial eschew eerie ambiguity in favour of straightforward meanness, delivering their discordant harmonies through spidery fretwork and the occasional twisting, piercing line. The low-DR, new-school-old-school production that wraps guitar solos in delicious echo, pushes the percussion to the front and into the golden zone of satisfyingly crisp crashy-bangyness, and emphasises the roughness of the vocals is the perfect packaging. This sounds bloody fantastic.

Shrine of Denial excel at elevating the elements of their music in a way that injects new vitality and intrigue into old styles, but doesn’t denigrate their unvarnished heaviness. There is much that feels vaguely familiar on I, Moloch, but it is reinterpreted and reinvigorated through impressive performances and idiosyncratic habits that give Shrine of Denial instant individuality. Guitar lines threading through compositions are immediate and hooky (“Oneiros,” “Headless Idol”), but subtly they spin a more complex web that gives the songs depth, and take you almost by surprise as thematic reprise bursts into a thrilling solo (“I, Moloch,” “Pillars of Ice”). The drumwork is far more complex than it needed to be, but the effort pays off in spades, with the compositions becoming exhilaratingly energetic; my jaw was frequently on the floor in appreciation of the flicky precision and kicky fills (especially “A Sanctuary In The Depths Of The Realms,” “Pillars of Ice,” and “Oneiros”). Further, the way Shrine of Denial use syncopation between percussion, vocal delivery, and on-off riff patterns gives them that much more impact, where otherwise they might have shrunken under their technicality (“I, Moloch,” “Temple of the Corpse Misuser”). What few truly melodious passages there are shine when they do appear in the aforementioned solos, or in the hints of grace to certain quite OSDM-sounding refrains; the beauty of their high, cavernous resonance makes it that much more heartbreaking that they are so rare.

There is precious little wastage on I, Moloch. With a runtime this swift, but songs this compelling, it’s clear that Shrine of Denial are smart songwriters, knowing that to win over their listener, it’s better to leave them a little hungry. These 31 minutes are bursting with slick, thrilling, downright gnarly musicianship, and a presence that belies this brevity. Everything exudes a fresh and snappy approach to disso-death, and blackened death, and whatever subgenres they incorporate, that makes them more approachable, but keeps just enough conventionality, and more than enough brutality and technicality, to satisfy. The main problems, therefore, with I, Moloch are: a) I would like more, and b) I would like them to let their extreme tendencies play out a little further; that is to say—there aren’t any real problems. In seriousness, I, Moloch’s abbreviation and slight camouflage of seeming more straightforward than it is does let Shrine of Denial down a tad; but it’s early days, and I’m more than happy to wait for them to really let loose.

Really, I, Moloch does everything you could ask it to. It’s punchy and slick, with clear signs of powerful promise waiting to be capitalised upon once Shrine of Denial fully lock in. It’s a bite-sized helping of top-shelf blackened death that gets me very excited for the band’s future career, and it’s another impressive debut to come from a country with a growing reputation of fostering extreme metal talent.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity
Websites: shrineofdenial.bandcamp | facebook.com/shrineofdenial
Releases Worldwide: March 7th, 2025

#2025 #35 #BlackMetal #BlackenedDeathMetal #BlackenedThrashMetal #DeathMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #IMoloch #Keres #Mar25 #MorbidAngel #Review #Reviews #SerpentOfOld #ShrineOfDenial #TheBlackDahliaMurder #TranscendingObscurityRecords #TurkishMetal

After two previous marches marked by assaults and other obstacles, civil rights activists, including Martin Luther King, Jr., complete a 4-day 50-mile march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama, under the protection of federally-mandated troops #OTD in 1965. These marches greatly increased the political pressure that led to the passage of the Voting Rights Act later that year.

Today's art is by John Hopkins: https://www.alabamanews.net/2015/02/27/max-credit-union-donates-selma-to-montgomery-march-painting/

#history #histodons #USA #CivilRights #HiaG #Mar25