#mar26 — Public Fediverse posts

Without question, Friday is my favorite day of the week. Even more tantalizing than the conclusion to an often grueling gauntlet of meetings, feedback, and GSD,1 I’m blessed with metal’s new releases. Trying to listen to everything that comes out is a fool’s errand—luckily, I’m a fool. During one of my customary Friday excursions, fortune smiled upon me when I stumbled onto Graufar’s sophomore opus, Via Necropolis. As I listened, the album’s grooves, riffs, and passions bathed me in blackened deathly glory. My luck persisted through the morning—Graufar’s promo still lurked unclaimed in the bin. Yoink! Though I discovered Via Necropolis late, I was powerless to resist the call of a review, especially given the band’s unsigned/independent status. Thus saddled with an unplanned bit of writing and a pocketful of tunes, let us sojourn down Necropolis way.

Too many blackened death metal bands present a mixed bag of half-measures.2 To me, the peak allure of the subgenre promises the brutality and technicality of death metal united with black metal’s icy atmospherics and raw aesthetics. The quintessentially boilerplate BDM band brews a tepid concoction featuring a death metal base with black metal spices; fortunately, Graufar averts getting mired in pedestrian trappings. Honing a sound established on debut Scordalus, Via Necropolis flaunts chilly trems, grating rasps, and a coat of corpse paint that betrays their blackened heart, and it beats with the blood of Dissection, Necrophobic, and Rimfrost. Death metal’s influence is more subtle, skulking in chugging grooves and vicious growls that blend in seamlessly.

Via Necropolis by Graufar

Though Graufar’s performances across Via Necropolis merit praise, vocalist Gernot Graf deserves special recognition. His scathing vocals loose misery and malevolence that arouse a primal reflex, making my throat twinge at the thought of snarling along. Tracks like “Blizzard and Blaze” and “Foltertrog” exhibit Graf’s penchant for wringing out every ounce of emotion, from vitriol to agony. Black metal rasps aren’t his only trick, though. Graf roars with an insatiable fire on “Charon” and “Buried in Flames,” devolving into bestial throes within “Heralds of Doom” and “Via Necropolis” and ensuring that his versatile performance never lacks conviction or fervor. Graf also plays guitar alongside Michael Herber, and together they fashion a glittering heap of licks, leads, and grooves. And it’s the latter that stands out the most, because while death metal regularly brandishes them, black metal rarely deigns to approve the groove. Meanwhile, “Buried in Flames” and “On Your Knees” demonstrate Graufar’s shrewd understanding of songwriting, and bolstered by Thomas Buchmeier’s slinky bass and René Hinum’s precision drumming, Via Necropolis positively thrums.

Throughout Via Necropolis, Graufar dazzles with their ability to conjure dynamic arrangements informed by influences. Kicking off with a Dissection-coded intro on “Blizzard and Blaze,” Graufar mingles with mellow cleans, slithers through second-wave savagery reminiscent of Mayhem,3 and even dabbles in throat-singing before ending back on the cleans. “Heralds of Doom” features a fiery solo that cedes to a pit-ready sway, “Via Necropolis” starts with a sleek Necrophobic-meets-Watain riff that builds to a doomy chorus played over rabid trems, and “On Your Knees” bashes you in the face with a potent Sepultura groove.4 Despite Graufar’s administration of reference points galore, they never linger overlong on any one. The songwriting is deceptively understated, and although this works in Graufar’s favor as a whole, over repeated listens I find my engagement more attuned to Via Necropolis’s back half. Reordering the tracks (“Buried in Flames” would make a fantastic opener) and slightly trimming the longer ones would add an immediacy that brings some of the back-end boom up front.

All told, Graufar delivers a vibrant outing that boasts a refreshing take on blackened death teeming with wonderfully wicked ideas. Via Necropolis sizzles throughout its forty-two minutes and distinguishes the band as an act to watch. Considering both Graufar’s albums have been released independently, the band displays remarkable song craft and self-editing, and Via Necropolis gleams with talented musicians who forge well-crafted metal bangers. Better late than never, I’m glad this gem didn’t slip by.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: NA | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 20th, 2026

I am writing this review with tequila and lime salt still oozing out of my pores. My eyeballs each have a different heartbeat, and I am honestly amazed (if not a little disappointed) that I began the day with my pants still on. And yet the call of the promo pit continues, as I was shaken out of my birthday-shenanigans-induced stupor by the smell of gorilla breath outside my lion’s den, and something rancid chucked at its entrance. The Ape being pleased post-album release usually means great news for hopeful bands and an increased labor for those under his watchful and merciless eye, and one peep at this moldy art spelled out the whole mission statement from the get-go. Denmark’s Foetorem are a very young outfit, having just penned their sole demo last year1 before unleashing their debut full-length Incongruous Forms of Evergrowing Rot on the unsuspecting masses. I hope you’re hungry, because we’ve got some leftovers from rotsgiving waiting for you!

Foetorem specialize in a refreshingly energetic breed of death/doom. Blasts feature aplenty, but are typically used as points of transition or introduction/outro to songs. Most of Incongruous Forms of Evergrowing Rot operates on second and third gear, with the sustained open chords you’d expect often molding into mid-paced chugging savagery. Indeed, if you’re a sucker for mid-paced chuggathons, this will be a euphoric experience for you as the overwhelming backbone of most of the songs rely on such a trope. Imagine the most downtempo moments of Cannibal Corpse with a lot of atmospheric high-trem plucking for atmospherics and run through some extra fresh grave soil—something between Phobophilic and SEDIMENTUM—and you have a good idea of what’s waiting. The high note musings are a great addition, giving whiffs of melancholy and gloom to the proceedings, which might otherwise threaten to be an overly simplistic sound with their engaging melodies (“Mors Viaturis – The Death Traveler”) before collapsing into the next jackhammer assault.

Incongruous Forms Of Evergrowing Rot by Foetorem

And boy howdy, jackhammers are aplenty. Despite the relative simplicity of the approach, a great deal of thought has gone into each arrangement to keep one concrete-burrowing assault after another fresh and engaging. “Tapestries of Misery” commands with a gripping 6/8 time signature and a whiff of unexpected SKRONK, while “Oozing with Pustulent Fluids” keeps burrowing into the earth’s crust with a classic Vader riff played at half speed while drummer Geistaz keeps things engaging with an ever-shifting focus between creative bass fills and high-hat ting-and-tangs. His drumming is part of what keeps the Foetorem recipe so engaging (“Rebirth in Morbid Disgust”) as no chug sounds exactly the same despite the band drawing so deeply from what is a usually very narrowly defined well.

If you’re about that chug life, the death here is excellent; the only real stumbling block comes from some of the doomier elements. Foetorem have improved on the Sanctuarium formula of sandwiching their blasts and chugs between sudden slowdowns, but there’s no escaping that some moments are real momentum killers. “Oozing…” drops down to bare-minimum quarter note walks lacking any weight to carry the empty space, while “Decay of the Flesh” throws in some harmonized leads that don’t quite overcome the lack of progression in the songs. Not every doom element is poor, by any means, but it happens enough to degrade decompose Incongruous Forms of Evergrowing Rot” to an album more memorable by its moments than by the wholeness of its songs. And yet, those highlights are plenty, and it’s great to hear when the band really stick the landing, like in album finale “Peeled Face Mask”. This is a contender for the top of the song pile, with the most ruthless chugs, groovy riffing, great doomy moments, and even a major dollop of leads sounding pulled from Gates of Ishtar.2 This track shows the band have a great grasp of what makes their sound a success, and more of this across the whole body of work would lead to a real RotM contender.

Incongruous Forms of Evergrowing Rot is less an excellent debut and more an excellent debut. It shows a band with a clear purpose and musical vision, but a vision not free of warts and rough edges. When it hits, though, it hits. Foetorem have erupted from the grave, covered in fluid and mold, ready to make their deathly mark on the world. With enough force to change cave structure and a grasp of atmosphere beyond their youth, the band have announced their presence in style, and I believe the best is yet to come for their cemetery anthems. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get myself some coffee and some food. Preferably, something a little extra raw and rotted…

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Everlasting Spew Records
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

Osmium Gate – Cannibal Universe Review

Of all the discouraging and difficult elements contributing to people having appallingly bad taste not being into metal,…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2026 #3.0 #AmericanMetal #AnimalsasLeaders #BlackMetal #CannibalUniverse #Entertainment #InstrumentalMetal #Intervals #Mar26 #MorbidAngel #OdiousMortem #OsmiumGate #Plini #Possessed #review #reviews #ScaletheSummit #SelfRelase
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/579956/

Osmium Gate – Cannibal Universe Review

Of all the discouraging and difficult elements contributing to people having appallingly bad taste not being into metal,…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2026 #3.0 #AmericanMetal #AnimalsasLeaders #BlackMetal #CannibalUniverse #Entertainment #InstrumentalMetal #Intervals #Mar26 #MorbidAngel #OdiousMortem #OsmiumGate #Plini #Possessed #review #reviews #ScaletheSummit #SelfRelase
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/579956/

https://www.europesays.com/ie/432114/ Osmium Gate – Cannibal Universe Review #2026 #30 #AmericanMetal #AnimalsAsLeaders #BlackMetal #CannibalUniverse #Éire #Entertainment #IE #InstrumentalMetal #Intervals #Ireland #Mar26 #MorbidAngel #Music #OdiousMortem #OsmiumGate #Plini #Possessed #Review #Reviews #ScaleTheSummit #SelfRelase

Of all the discouraging and difficult elements contributing to people having appallingly bad taste not being into metal, the biggest sticking point has got to be the vocals. As inoffensive as we might find, for example, vintage Dave Vincent (Morbid Angel) or early Possessed, going all the way back to the genre roots, casual listeners find themselves appalled by what started out as gravely growls and has evolved into full retching and intestinal spew. While desensitization through repeated listens is the obvious solution, some bands solve the problem wholesale by eschewing vocals at all. I’ve been let down lately by some of my favorite genres, and while perusing the almost picked-clean promo pit, my eyes were caught by a bit of a rare tag around these parts: “Instrumental black metal.” Osmium Gate have arrived with a platter devoid of any vocals, a curious name, and some gorgeous artwork to emphasize the atmospheres within. Let’s strap in for a carnivorous adventure!

Cannibal Universe is a melodic release, heavy on atmosphere and beauty filtered through the requisite heavy sheen. Though ostensibly described as black metal, the overall production and tone sidesteps fuzzed-out tropes or crystalline polish with a sound more reminiscent of modern death metal but utilizing black metal composition techniques. This imparts a thicker flavor to the requite snare-and-bass trem heavy riffing (“Booming Dunes”, “Blood Rain”) while adding extra brass knuckles to some atypically chug-heavy movements (“Waters of Natron”). A heavy focus on sustained open chords for big mood and pathos is a major tool in Osmium Gate’s wheelhouse, with slower, emptier sections that feel tailor-made for amphitheater reverb rather than the blistering assault typically found in blackened wares.

Cannibal Galaxy by Osmium Gate

Instrumental music needs to have a dollop of “busyness” to justify the lack of vocals, and at their best Osmium Gate have the chops to get the job done. “Sailing Stone” features a fantastic spot of noodlage where a lead runs interlocked with a separate rhythm for a full and complex emotive experience. Cannibal Universe spots a decent amount of such highlights, where fun leads and overlapping time signatures summon the spirit of Scale the Summit or Plini. Fret not, the occasional thunderous blast or vintage Intervals chug is never far away to remind you that there’s nothing “post” about this album. Title track “Cannibal Universe” throws everything into the kitchen sink, sculpting doom-tempo’d plods into an avalanche of chord progressions which immediately scale back into a dollop of Odious Mortem melody with infinitely better production. But the real climax comes in mid-album cut “Nacreous.” This is the jewel of the album, running a wistful, melancholic lead under blast beats, which are worked in more atmospheric conjuncture with the slow-moving melodies. Such a highlight is an easy contender for song of the year, channeling genuine catharsis and summoning up enough feelings to bring some mist to even Tyme‘s crusty, battle-hardened eyes.

It may be a strange critique given the genre, but the only real stumbling block facing Osmium Gate is that not all the songs warrant an instrumental presentation. There’s no cut across this album that is bad, and much that is quite enjoyable, perfect for stargazing or late-night drives under the moon. But the band’s insistence on using large open chord structures across the album leaves a great deal of unbusy, open space where I found myself instinctively expecting vocal lines to fill the void. These particular cuts (“Waters of Natron”) aren’t definitively poor in any real sense as much as feeling incomplete, with the chord structures telling a partial story and lacking a sense of fullness elsewhere in the album. Bands like Animals As Leaders and their ilk nail the instrumental presentation by ushering the listener from one passage to the next without leaving any space for extra flair, where literally and metaphorically the music does all the talking. Here, Osmium Gate make real effort and grasp the goal more than once, but not consistently across the album. Tellingly, the tracks that throw off such restrictions are the least traditionally black metal sounding, as it’s when the songs sound the most typical that they sound the most unfinished.

Still, I’ve enjoyed my time with Cannibal Universe as a nice detour from my usual brutal and blackened fare. There’s genuine chops and promise here, and you owe it to yourself to at least listen to “Nacreous”. Osmium Gate have offered up a delicious platter of melodic black metal with limitations entirely surmountable. I’m not necessarily encouraging them to go out and get a vocalist (though I have no doubt they’d be capable of making a good album with one), but to push their songwriting to match the highlights here across an entire platter. Nevertheless, this album has moments worthy of note and any lover of instrumental metal should find something worthy of interest to be devoured…

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 13th 2025

Of all the discouraging and difficult elements contributing to people having appallingly bad taste not being into metal, the biggest sticking point has got to be the vocals. As inoffensive as we might find, for example, vintage Dave Vincent (Morbid Angel) or early Possessed, going all the way back to the genre roots, casual listeners find themselves appalled by what started out as gravely growls and has evolved into full retching and intestinal spew. While desensitization through repeated listens is the obvious solution, some bands solve the problem wholesale by eschewing vocals at all. I’ve been let down lately by some of my favorite genres, and while perusing the almost picked-clean promo pit, my eyes were caught by a bit of a rare tag around these parts: “Instrumental black metal.” Osmium Gate have arrived with a platter devoid of any vocals, a curious name, and some gorgeous artwork to emphasize the atmospheres within. Let’s strap in for a carnivorous adventure!

Cannibal Universe is a melodic release, heavy on atmosphere and beauty filtered through the requisite heavy sheen. Though ostensibly described as black metal, the overall production and tone sidesteps fuzzed-out tropes or crystalline polish with a sound more reminiscent of modern death metal but utilizing black metal composition techniques. This imparts a thicker flavor to the requite snare-and-bass trem heavy riffing (“Booming Dunes”, “Blood Rain”) while adding extra brass knuckles to some atypically chug-heavy movements (“Waters of Natron”). A heavy focus on sustained open chords for big mood and pathos is a major tool in Osmium Gate’s wheelhouse, with slower, emptier sections that feel tailor-made for amphitheater reverb rather than the blistering assault typically found in blackened wares.

Cannibal Galaxy by Osmium Gate

Instrumental music needs to have a dollop of “busyness” to justify the lack of vocals, and at their best Osmium Gate have the chops to get the job done. “Sailing Stone” features a fantastic spot of noodlage where a lead runs interlocked with a separate rhythm for a full and complex emotive experience. Cannibal Universe spots a decent amount of such highlights, where fun leads and overlapping time signatures summon the spirit of Scale the Summit or Plini. Fret not, the occasional thunderous blast or vintage Intervals chug is never far away to remind you that there’s nothing “post” about this album. Title track “Cannibal Universe” throws everything into the kitchen sink, sculpting doom-tempo’d plods into an avalanche of chord progressions which immediately scale back into a dollop of Odious Mortem melody with infinitely better production. But the real climax comes in mid-album cut “Nacreous.” This is the jewel of the album, running a wistful, melancholic lead under blast beats, which are worked in more atmospheric conjuncture with the slow-moving melodies. Such a highlight is an easy contender for song of the year, channeling genuine catharsis and summoning up enough feelings to bring some mist to even Tyme‘s crusty, battle-hardened eyes.

It may be a strange critique given the genre, but the only real stumbling block facing Osmium Gate is that not all the songs warrant an instrumental presentation. There’s no cut across this album that is bad, and much that is quite enjoyable, perfect for stargazing or late-night drives under the moon. But the band’s insistence on using large open chord structures across the album leaves a great deal of unbusy, open space where I found myself instinctively expecting vocal lines to fill the void. These particular cuts (“Waters of Natron”) aren’t definitively poor in any real sense as much as feeling incomplete, with the chord structures telling a partial story and lacking a sense of fullness elsewhere in the album. Bands like Animals As Leaders and their ilk nail the instrumental presentation by ushering the listener from one passage to the next without leaving any space for extra flair, where literally and metaphorically the music does all the talking. Here, Osmium Gate make real effort and grasp the goal more than once, but not consistently across the album. Tellingly, the tracks that throw off such restrictions are the least traditionally black metal sounding, as it’s when the songs sound the most typical that they sound the most unfinished.

Still, I’ve enjoyed my time with Cannibal Universe as a nice detour from my usual brutal and blackened fare. There’s genuine chops and promise here, and you owe it to yourself to at least listen to “Nacreous”. Osmium Gate have offered up a delicious platter of melodic black metal with limitations entirely surmountable. I’m not necessarily encouraging them to go out and get a vocalist (though I have no doubt they’d be capable of making a good album with one), but to push their songwriting to match the highlights here across an entire platter. Nevertheless, this album has moments worthy of note and any lover of instrumental metal should find something worthy of interest to be devoured…

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 13th 2025

Of all the discouraging and difficult elements contributing to people having appallingly bad taste not being into metal, the biggest sticking point has got to be the vocals. As inoffensive as we might find, for example, vintage Dave Vincent (Morbid Angel) or early Possessed, going all the way back to the genre roots, casual listeners find themselves appalled by what started out as gravely growls and has evolved into full retching and intestinal spew. While desensitization through repeated listens is the obvious solution, some bands solve the problem wholesale by eschewing vocals at all. I’ve been let down lately by some of my favorite genres, and while perusing the almost picked-clean promo pit, my eyes were caught by a bit of a rare tag around these parts: “Instrumental black metal.” Osmium Gate have arrived with a platter devoid of any vocals, a curious name, and some gorgeous artwork to emphasize the atmospheres within. Let’s strap in for a carnivorous adventure!

Cannibal Universe is a melodic release, heavy on atmosphere and beauty filtered through the requisite heavy sheen. Though ostensibly described as black metal, the overall production and tone sidesteps fuzzed-out tropes or crystalline polish with a sound more reminiscent of modern death metal but utilizing black metal composition techniques. This imparts a thicker flavor to the requite snare-and-bass trem heavy riffing (“Booming Dunes”, “Blood Rain”) while adding extra brass knuckles to some atypically chug-heavy movements (“Waters of Natron”). A heavy focus on sustained open chords for big mood and pathos is a major tool in Osmium Gate’s wheelhouse, with slower, emptier sections that feel tailor-made for amphitheater reverb rather than the blistering assault typically found in blackened wares.

Cannibal Galaxy by Osmium Gate

Instrumental music needs to have a dollop of “busyness” to justify the lack of vocals, and at their best Osmium Gate have the chops to get the job done. “Sailing Stone” features a fantastic spot of noodlage where a lead runs interlocked with a separate rhythm for a full and complex emotive experience. Cannibal Universe spots a decent amount of such highlights, where fun leads and overlapping time signatures summon the spirit of Scale the Summit or Plini. Fret not, the occasional thunderous blast or vintage Intervals chug is never far away to remind you that there’s nothing “post” about this album. Title track “Cannibal Universe” throws everything into the kitchen sink, sculpting doom-tempo’d plods into an avalanche of chord progressions which immediately scale back into a dollop of Odious Mortem melody with infinitely better production. But the real climax comes in mid-album cut “Nacreous.” This is the jewel of the album, running a wistful, melancholic lead under blast beats, which are worked in more atmospheric conjuncture with the slow-moving melodies. Such a highlight is an easy contender for song of the year, channeling genuine catharsis and summoning up enough feelings to bring some mist to even Tyme‘s crusty, battle-hardened eyes.

It may be a strange critique given the genre, but the only real stumbling block facing Osmium Gate is that not all the songs warrant an instrumental presentation. There’s no cut across this album that is bad, and much that is quite enjoyable, perfect for stargazing or late-night drives under the moon. But the band’s insistence on using large open chord structures across the album leaves a great deal of unbusy, open space where I found myself instinctively expecting vocal lines to fill the void. These particular cuts (“Waters of Natron”) aren’t definitively poor in any real sense as much as feeling incomplete, with the chord structures telling a partial story and lacking a sense of fullness elsewhere in the album. Bands like Animals As Leaders and their ilk nail the instrumental presentation by ushering the listener from one passage to the next without leaving any space for extra flair, where literally and metaphorically the music does all the talking. Here, Osmium Gate make real effort and grasp the goal more than once, but not consistently across the album. Tellingly, the tracks that throw off such restrictions are the least traditionally black metal sounding, as it’s when the songs sound the most typical that they sound the most unfinished.

Still, I’ve enjoyed my time with Cannibal Universe as a nice detour from my usual brutal and blackened fare. There’s genuine chops and promise here, and you owe it to yourself to at least listen to “Nacreous”. Osmium Gate have offered up a delicious platter of melodic black metal with limitations entirely surmountable. I’m not necessarily encouraging them to go out and get a vocalist (though I have no doubt they’d be capable of making a good album with one), but to push their songwriting to match the highlights here across an entire platter. Nevertheless, this album has moments worthy of note and any lover of instrumental metal should find something worthy of interest to be devoured…

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 13th 2025

Of all the discouraging and difficult elements contributing to people having appallingly bad taste not being into metal, the biggest sticking point has got to be the vocals. As inoffensive as we might find, for example, vintage Dave Vincent (Morbid Angel) or early Possessed, going all the way back to the genre roots, casual listeners find themselves appalled by what started out as gravely growls and has evolved into full retching and intestinal spew. While desensitization through repeated listens is the obvious solution, some bands solve the problem wholesale by eschewing vocals at all. I’ve been let down lately by some of my favorite genres, and while perusing the almost picked-clean promo pit, my eyes were caught by a bit of a rare tag around these parts: “Instrumental black metal.” Osmium Gate have arrived with a platter devoid of any vocals, a curious name, and some gorgeous artwork to emphasize the atmospheres within. Let’s strap in for a carnivorous adventure!

Cannibal Universe is a melodic release, heavy on atmosphere and beauty filtered through the requisite heavy sheen. Though ostensibly described as black metal, the overall production and tone sidesteps fuzzed-out tropes or crystalline polish with a sound more reminiscent of modern death metal but utilizing black metal composition techniques. This imparts a thicker flavor to the requite snare-and-bass trem heavy riffing (“Booming Dunes”, “Blood Rain”) while adding extra brass knuckles to some atypically chug-heavy movements (“Waters of Natron”). A heavy focus on sustained open chords for big mood and pathos is a major tool in Osmium Gate’s wheelhouse, with slower, emptier sections that feel tailor-made for amphitheater reverb rather than the blistering assault typically found in blackened wares.

Cannibal Galaxy by Osmium Gate

Instrumental music needs to have a dollop of “busyness” to justify the lack of vocals, and at their best Osmium Gate have the chops to get the job done. “Sailing Stone” features a fantastic spot of noodlage where a lead runs interlocked with a separate rhythm for a full and complex emotive experience. Cannibal Universe spots a decent amount of such highlights, where fun leads and overlapping time signatures summon the spirit of Scale the Summit or Plini. Fret not, the occasional thunderous blast or vintage Intervals chug is never far away to remind you that there’s nothing “post” about this album. Title track “Cannibal Universe” throws everything into the kitchen sink, sculpting doom-tempo’d plods into an avalanche of chord progressions which immediately scale back into a dollop of Odious Mortem melody with infinitely better production. But the real climax comes in mid-album cut “Nacreous.” This is the jewel of the album, running a wistful, melancholic lead under blast beats, which are worked in more atmospheric conjuncture with the slow-moving melodies. Such a highlight is an easy contender for song of the year, channeling genuine catharsis and summoning up enough feelings to bring some mist to even Tyme‘s crusty, battle-hardened eyes.

It may be a strange critique given the genre, but the only real stumbling block facing Osmium Gate is that not all the songs warrant an instrumental presentation. There’s no cut across this album that is bad, and much that is quite enjoyable, perfect for stargazing or late-night drives under the moon. But the band’s insistence on using large open chord structures across the album leaves a great deal of unbusy, open space where I found myself instinctively expecting vocal lines to fill the void. These particular cuts (“Waters of Natron”) aren’t definitively poor in any real sense as much as feeling incomplete, with the chord structures telling a partial story and lacking a sense of fullness elsewhere in the album. Bands like Animals As Leaders and their ilk nail the instrumental presentation by ushering the listener from one passage to the next without leaving any space for extra flair, where literally and metaphorically the music does all the talking. Here, Osmium Gate make real effort and grasp the goal more than once, but not consistently across the album. Tellingly, the tracks that throw off such restrictions are the least traditionally black metal sounding, as it’s when the songs sound the most typical that they sound the most unfinished.

Still, I’ve enjoyed my time with Cannibal Universe as a nice detour from my usual brutal and blackened fare. There’s genuine chops and promise here, and you owe it to yourself to at least listen to “Nacreous”. Osmium Gate have offered up a delicious platter of melodic black metal with limitations entirely surmountable. I’m not necessarily encouraging them to go out and get a vocalist (though I have no doubt they’d be capable of making a good album with one), but to push their songwriting to match the highlights here across an entire platter. Nevertheless, this album has moments worthy of note and any lover of instrumental metal should find something worthy of interest to be devoured…

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 13th 2025

Of all the discouraging and difficult elements contributing to people having appallingly bad taste not being into metal, the biggest sticking point has got to be the vocals. As inoffensive as we might find, for example, vintage Dave Vincent (Morbid Angel) or early Possessed, going all the way back to the genre roots, casual listeners find themselves appalled by what started out as gravely growls and has evolved into full retching and intestinal spew. While desensitization through repeated listens is the obvious solution, some bands solve the problem wholesale by eschewing vocals at all. I’ve been let down lately by some of my favorite genres, and while perusing the almost picked-clean promo pit, my eyes were caught by a bit of a rare tag around these parts: “Instrumental black metal.” Osmium Gate have arrived with a platter devoid of any vocals, a curious name, and some gorgeous artwork to emphasize the atmospheres within. Let’s strap in for a carnivorous adventure!

Cannibal Universe is a melodic release, heavy on atmosphere and beauty filtered through the requisite heavy sheen. Though ostensibly described as black metal, the overall production and tone sidesteps fuzzed-out tropes or crystalline polish with a sound more reminiscent of modern death metal but utilizing black metal composition techniques. This imparts a thicker flavor to the requite snare-and-bass trem heavy riffing (“Booming Dunes”, “Blood Rain”) while adding extra brass knuckles to some atypically chug-heavy movements (“Waters of Natron”). A heavy focus on sustained open chords for big mood and pathos is a major tool in Osmium Gate’s wheelhouse, with slower, emptier sections that feel tailor-made for amphitheater reverb rather than the blistering assault typically found in blackened wares.

Cannibal Galaxy by Osmium Gate

Instrumental music needs to have a dollop of “busyness” to justify the lack of vocals, and at their best Osmium Gate have the chops to get the job done. “Sailing Stone” features a fantastic spot of noodlage where a lead runs interlocked with a separate rhythm for a full and complex emotive experience. Cannibal Universe spots a decent amount of such highlights, where fun leads and overlapping time signatures summon the spirit of Scale the Summit or Plini. Fret not, the occasional thunderous blast or vintage Intervals chug is never far away to remind you that there’s nothing “post” about this album. Title track “Cannibal Universe” throws everything into the kitchen sink, sculpting doom-tempo’d plods into an avalanche of chord progressions which immediately scale back into a dollop of Odious Mortem melody with infinitely better production. But the real climax comes in mid-album cut “Nacreous.” This is the jewel of the album, running a wistful, melancholic lead under blast beats, which are worked in more atmospheric conjuncture with the slow-moving melodies. Such a highlight is an easy contender for song of the year, channeling genuine catharsis and summoning up enough feelings to bring some mist to even Tyme‘s crusty, battle-hardened eyes.

It may be a strange critique given the genre, but the only real stumbling block facing Osmium Gate is that not all the songs warrant an instrumental presentation. There’s no cut across this album that is bad, and much that is quite enjoyable, perfect for stargazing or late-night drives under the moon. But the band’s insistence on using large open chord structures across the album leaves a great deal of unbusy, open space where I found myself instinctively expecting vocal lines to fill the void. These particular cuts (“Waters of Natron”) aren’t definitively poor in any real sense as much as feeling incomplete, with the chord structures telling a partial story and lacking a sense of fullness elsewhere in the album. Bands like Animals As Leaders and their ilk nail the instrumental presentation by ushering the listener from one passage to the next without leaving any space for extra flair, where literally and metaphorically the music does all the talking. Here, Osmium Gate make real effort and grasp the goal more than once, but not consistently across the album. Tellingly, the tracks that throw off such restrictions are the least traditionally black metal sounding, as it’s when the songs sound the most typical that they sound the most unfinished.

Still, I’ve enjoyed my time with Cannibal Universe as a nice detour from my usual brutal and blackened fare. There’s genuine chops and promise here, and you owe it to yourself to at least listen to “Nacreous”. Osmium Gate have offered up a delicious platter of melodic black metal with limitations entirely surmountable. I’m not necessarily encouraging them to go out and get a vocalist (though I have no doubt they’d be capable of making a good album with one), but to push their songwriting to match the highlights here across an entire platter. Nevertheless, this album has moments worthy of note and any lover of instrumental metal should find something worthy of interest to be devoured…

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 13th 2025

Mirror of Deception – Transience Review

As much as metal is a niche interest (at least in my part of the world), it is…
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https://www.newsbeep.com/au/600316/

Mirror of Deception – Transience Review

As much as metal is a niche interest (at least in my part of the world), it is…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2.5 #2026 #AU #Australia #DoomMetal #Entertainment #GermanMetal #Mar26 #MirrorofDeception #review #reviews #SelfRelease #Transcience
https://www.newsbeep.com/au/600316/

As much as metal is a niche interest (at least in my part of the world), it is a vast ecosystem. Following it is a joy, but it’s always a bit humbling to come across a group you’ve never heard of with a long history. Mirror of Deception have been around since 1993. Transience is their sixth full-length release, and even this blog has not heard their name up until this point. That can be a bit daunting as a reviewer, lacking context and missing a big element of what makes a band their band. On the other hand, I get an opportunity to listen to some classic-style doom metal and just kind of say what I think and see how this review ends up from there. So that’s the plan! Let’s listen to some doom metal.

Transience treads an interesting line between doom and more traditional metal. Conceptually, it’s a fairly bleak listen, with intense riffs driving urgency, despair, and anger. Michael Siffermann and Jochen Fopp are strong guitarists, whether channeling dramatic endings, as in the bleak “Haven,” or broader, slower peaks in “The Sands.” On the other hand, their music is lively; Uwe Kurz’s drumming is dynamic and animated, Pascal Schrade’s bass comparatively bright across Transience’s gritty, aggrieved sound. The aforementioned “The Sands” is a good example; for four minutes, Mirror of Deception play a dramatic, slow-build, mid-tempo song that then transforms with a lively, almost bright riff that jumps up that tempo and really gets the head nodding. It all fits, and it all works—an often-woeful, sometimes brighter skip across doom themes with a lively backdrop that comes from confidence and experience.

Transience by Mirror of Deception

What fit less well, I’m sad to say, are the vocal melodies. I’m not sure who, between Schrade and Siffermann, is the lead vocalist, but his singing is over-produced and at odds with the music behind him. Opener “Death, Deliver Us,” for example, is a dark, heavy, distorted soundscape of anguish, but the singing consistently fails to match that atmosphere. I was surprised to read the lyrics to the song, in fact, and discover the singer is seemingly meant to be a sea captain fighting a losing battle against stormy seas. I got none of that from the way those words are sung, and while I wouldn’t argue that the singing is bad by any stretch, I would say the performance lacks the gravitas that the rest of the band and production are aiming for, and the effects layered on that performance further remove it from where I’d want it to be. On slower, calmer songs, this is much less of an issue. “Slow Winds,” for example, effectively captures a feeling of uneasiness that benefits from a straightforward vocal performance.

Transience is only forty-three minutes long, but I feel there isn’t enough variety from song to song for it to avoid feeling a touch overlong. This may be another offshoot of the vocal performance—all of the hooks I can recall offhand are riffs—or it may just be that Mirror of Deception play a fairly straightforward brand of doom metal, one that enjoys a bleak, if upbeat, atmosphere and doesn’t focus so much on catchiness1 in any form. The result is an album that is generally enjoyable in the moment, but doesn’t make a big enough impact for genuine memorability.

On Transience, Mirror of Deception do a lot of good things and play a lot of good music. But I can’t help feeling it doesn’t quite come together as an album. I can see myself returning to individual songs more than Transience itself, and that’s a shame. I can hear the experience of the players, feel the maturity of the group, but the music just isn’t resonating like I know it should. The result, for me at least, is a mixed experience and a new band worth keeping an eye on.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Self release
Websites: mirrorofdeception-doom.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/pages/mirror-of-deception
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

As much as metal is a niche interest (at least in my part of the world), it is a vast ecosystem. Following it is a joy, but it’s always a bit humbling to come across a group you’ve never heard of with a long history. Mirror of Deception have been around since 1993. Transience is their sixth full-length release, and even this blog has not heard their name up until this point. That can be a bit daunting as a reviewer, lacking context and missing a big element of what makes a band their band. On the other hand, I get an opportunity to listen to some classic-style doom metal and just kind of say what I think and see how this review ends up from there. So that’s the plan! Let’s listen to some doom metal.

Transience treads an interesting line between doom and more traditional metal. Conceptually, it’s a fairly bleak listen, with intense riffs driving urgency, despair, and anger. Michael Siffermann and Jochen Fopp are strong guitarists, whether channeling dramatic endings, as in the bleak “Haven,” or broader, slower peaks in “The Sands.” On the other hand, their music is lively; Uwe Kurz’s drumming is dynamic and animated, Pascal Schrade’s bass comparatively bright across Transience’s gritty, aggrieved sound. The aforementioned “The Sands” is a good example; for four minutes, Mirror of Deception play a dramatic, slow-build, mid-tempo song that then transforms with a lively, almost bright riff that jumps up that tempo and really gets the head nodding. It all fits, and it all works—an often-woeful, sometimes brighter skip across doom themes with a lively backdrop that comes from confidence and experience.

Transience by Mirror of Deception

What fit less well, I’m sad to say, are the vocal melodies. I’m not sure who, between Schrade and Siffermann, is the lead vocalist, but his singing is over-produced and at odds with the music behind him. Opener “Death, Deliver Us,” for example, is a dark, heavy, distorted soundscape of anguish, but the singing consistently fails to match that atmosphere. I was surprised to read the lyrics to the song, in fact, and discover the singer is seemingly meant to be a sea captain fighting a losing battle against stormy seas. I got none of that from the way those words are sung, and while I wouldn’t argue that the singing is bad by any stretch, I would say the performance lacks the gravitas that the rest of the band and production are aiming for, and the effects layered on that performance further remove it from where I’d want it to be. On slower, calmer songs, this is much less of an issue. “Slow Winds,” for example, effectively captures a feeling of uneasiness that benefits from a straightforward vocal performance.

Transience is only forty-three minutes long, but I feel there isn’t enough variety from song to song for it to avoid feeling a touch overlong. This may be another offshoot of the vocal performance—all of the hooks I can recall offhand are riffs—or it may just be that Mirror of Deception play a fairly straightforward brand of doom metal, one that enjoys a bleak, if upbeat, atmosphere and doesn’t focus so much on catchiness1 in any form. The result is an album that is generally enjoyable in the moment, but doesn’t make a big enough impact for genuine memorability.

On Transience, Mirror of Deception do a lot of good things and play a lot of good music. But I can’t help feeling it doesn’t quite come together as an album. I can see myself returning to individual songs more than Transience itself, and that’s a shame. I can hear the experience of the players, feel the maturity of the group, but the music just isn’t resonating like I know it should. The result, for me at least, is a mixed experience and a new band worth keeping an eye on.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Self release
Websites: mirrorofdeception-doom.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/pages/mirror-of-deception
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

As much as metal is a niche interest (at least in my part of the world), it is a vast ecosystem. Following it is a joy, but it’s always a bit humbling to come across a group you’ve never heard of with a long history. Mirror of Deception have been around since 1993. Transience is their sixth full-length release, and even this blog has not heard their name up until this point. That can be a bit daunting as a reviewer, lacking context and missing a big element of what makes a band their band. On the other hand, I get an opportunity to listen to some classic-style doom metal and just kind of say what I think and see how this review ends up from there. So that’s the plan! Let’s listen to some doom metal.

Transience treads an interesting line between doom and more traditional metal. Conceptually, it’s a fairly bleak listen, with intense riffs driving urgency, despair, and anger. Michael Siffermann and Jochen Fopp are strong guitarists, whether channeling dramatic endings, as in the bleak “Haven,” or broader, slower peaks in “The Sands.” On the other hand, their music is lively; Uwe Kurz’s drumming is dynamic and animated, Pascal Schrade’s bass comparatively bright across Transience’s gritty, aggrieved sound. The aforementioned “The Sands” is a good example; for four minutes, Mirror of Deception play a dramatic, slow-build, mid-tempo song that then transforms with a lively, almost bright riff that jumps up that tempo and really gets the head nodding. It all fits, and it all works—an often-woeful, sometimes brighter skip across doom themes with a lively backdrop that comes from confidence and experience.

Transience by Mirror of Deception

What fit less well, I’m sad to say, are the vocal melodies. I’m not sure who, between Schrade and Siffermann, is the lead vocalist, but his singing is over-produced and at odds with the music behind him. Opener “Death, Deliver Us,” for example, is a dark, heavy, distorted soundscape of anguish, but the singing consistently fails to match that atmosphere. I was surprised to read the lyrics to the song, in fact, and discover the singer is seemingly meant to be a sea captain fighting a losing battle against stormy seas. I got none of that from the way those words are sung, and while I wouldn’t argue that the singing is bad by any stretch, I would say the performance lacks the gravitas that the rest of the band and production are aiming for, and the effects layered on that performance further remove it from where I’d want it to be. On slower, calmer songs, this is much less of an issue. “Slow Winds,” for example, effectively captures a feeling of uneasiness that benefits from a straightforward vocal performance.

Transience is only forty-three minutes long, but I feel there isn’t enough variety from song to song for it to avoid feeling a touch overlong. This may be another offshoot of the vocal performance—all of the hooks I can recall offhand are riffs—or it may just be that Mirror of Deception play a fairly straightforward brand of doom metal, one that enjoys a bleak, if upbeat, atmosphere and doesn’t focus so much on catchiness1 in any form. The result is an album that is generally enjoyable in the moment, but doesn’t make a big enough impact for genuine memorability.

On Transience, Mirror of Deception do a lot of good things and play a lot of good music. But I can’t help feeling it doesn’t quite come together as an album. I can see myself returning to individual songs more than Transience itself, and that’s a shame. I can hear the experience of the players, feel the maturity of the group, but the music just isn’t resonating like I know it should. The result, for me at least, is a mixed experience and a new band worth keeping an eye on.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Self release
Websites: mirrorofdeception-doom.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/pages/mirror-of-deception
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

As much as metal is a niche interest (at least in my part of the world), it is a vast ecosystem. Following it is a joy, but it’s always a bit humbling to come across a group you’ve never heard of with a long history. Mirror of Deception have been around since 1993. Transience is their sixth full-length release, and even this blog has not heard their name up until this point. That can be a bit daunting as a reviewer, lacking context and missing a big element of what makes a band their band. On the other hand, I get an opportunity to listen to some classic-style doom metal and just kind of say what I think and see how this review ends up from there. So that’s the plan! Let’s listen to some doom metal.

Transience treads an interesting line between doom and more traditional metal. Conceptually, it’s a fairly bleak listen, with intense riffs driving urgency, despair, and anger. Michael Siffermann and Jochen Fopp are strong guitarists, whether channeling dramatic endings, as in the bleak “Haven,” or broader, slower peaks in “The Sands.” On the other hand, their music is lively; Uwe Kurz’s drumming is dynamic and animated, Pascal Schrade’s bass comparatively bright across Transience’s gritty, aggrieved sound. The aforementioned “The Sands” is a good example; for four minutes, Mirror of Deception play a dramatic, slow-build, mid-tempo song that then transforms with a lively, almost bright riff that jumps up that tempo and really gets the head nodding. It all fits, and it all works—an often-woeful, sometimes brighter skip across doom themes with a lively backdrop that comes from confidence and experience.

Transience by Mirror of Deception

What fit less well, I’m sad to say, are the vocal melodies. I’m not sure who, between Schrade and Siffermann, is the lead vocalist, but his singing is over-produced and at odds with the music behind him. Opener “Death, Deliver Us,” for example, is a dark, heavy, distorted soundscape of anguish, but the singing consistently fails to match that atmosphere. I was surprised to read the lyrics to the song, in fact, and discover the singer is seemingly meant to be a sea captain fighting a losing battle against stormy seas. I got none of that from the way those words are sung, and while I wouldn’t argue that the singing is bad by any stretch, I would say the performance lacks the gravitas that the rest of the band and production are aiming for, and the effects layered on that performance further remove it from where I’d want it to be. On slower, calmer songs, this is much less of an issue. “Slow Winds,” for example, effectively captures a feeling of uneasiness that benefits from a straightforward vocal performance.

Transience is only forty-three minutes long, but I feel there isn’t enough variety from song to song for it to avoid feeling a touch overlong. This may be another offshoot of the vocal performance—all of the hooks I can recall offhand are riffs—or it may just be that Mirror of Deception play a fairly straightforward brand of doom metal, one that enjoys a bleak, if upbeat, atmosphere and doesn’t focus so much on catchiness1 in any form. The result is an album that is generally enjoyable in the moment, but doesn’t make a big enough impact for genuine memorability.

On Transience, Mirror of Deception do a lot of good things and play a lot of good music. But I can’t help feeling it doesn’t quite come together as an album. I can see myself returning to individual songs more than Transience itself, and that’s a shame. I can hear the experience of the players, feel the maturity of the group, but the music just isn’t resonating like I know it should. The result, for me at least, is a mixed experience and a new band worth keeping an eye on.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Self release
Websites: mirrorofdeception-doom.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/pages/mirror-of-deception
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

As much as metal is a niche interest (at least in my part of the world), it is a vast ecosystem. Following it is a joy, but it’s always a bit humbling to come across a group you’ve never heard of with a long history. Mirror of Deception have been around since 1993. Transience is their sixth full-length release, and even this blog has not heard their name up until this point. That can be a bit daunting as a reviewer, lacking context and missing a big element of what makes a band their band. On the other hand, I get an opportunity to listen to some classic-style doom metal and just kind of say what I think and see how this review ends up from there. So that’s the plan! Let’s listen to some doom metal.

Transience treads an interesting line between doom and more traditional metal. Conceptually, it’s a fairly bleak listen, with intense riffs driving urgency, despair, and anger. Michael Siffermann and Jochen Fopp are strong guitarists, whether channeling dramatic endings, as in the bleak “Haven,” or broader, slower peaks in “The Sands.” On the other hand, their music is lively; Uwe Kurz’s drumming is dynamic and animated, Pascal Schrade’s bass comparatively bright across Transience’s gritty, aggrieved sound. The aforementioned “The Sands” is a good example; for four minutes, Mirror of Deception play a dramatic, slow-build, mid-tempo song that then transforms with a lively, almost bright riff that jumps up that tempo and really gets the head nodding. It all fits, and it all works—an often-woeful, sometimes brighter skip across doom themes with a lively backdrop that comes from confidence and experience.

Transience by Mirror of Deception

What fit less well, I’m sad to say, are the vocal melodies. I’m not sure who, between Schrade and Siffermann, is the lead vocalist, but his singing is over-produced and at odds with the music behind him. Opener “Death, Deliver Us,” for example, is a dark, heavy, distorted soundscape of anguish, but the singing consistently fails to match that atmosphere. I was surprised to read the lyrics to the song, in fact, and discover the singer is seemingly meant to be a sea captain fighting a losing battle against stormy seas. I got none of that from the way those words are sung, and while I wouldn’t argue that the singing is bad by any stretch, I would say the performance lacks the gravitas that the rest of the band and production are aiming for, and the effects layered on that performance further remove it from where I’d want it to be. On slower, calmer songs, this is much less of an issue. “Slow Winds,” for example, effectively captures a feeling of uneasiness that benefits from a straightforward vocal performance.

Transience is only forty-three minutes long, but I feel there isn’t enough variety from song to song for it to avoid feeling a touch overlong. This may be another offshoot of the vocal performance—all of the hooks I can recall offhand are riffs—or it may just be that Mirror of Deception play a fairly straightforward brand of doom metal, one that enjoys a bleak, if upbeat, atmosphere and doesn’t focus so much on catchiness1 in any form. The result is an album that is generally enjoyable in the moment, but doesn’t make a big enough impact for genuine memorability.

On Transience, Mirror of Deception do a lot of good things and play a lot of good music. But I can’t help feeling it doesn’t quite come together as an album. I can see myself returning to individual songs more than Transience itself, and that’s a shame. I can hear the experience of the players, feel the maturity of the group, but the music just isn’t resonating like I know it should. The result, for me at least, is a mixed experience and a new band worth keeping an eye on.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Self release
Websites: mirrorofdeception-doom.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/pages/mirror-of-deception
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

Miserere Luminis – Sidera Review

Montreal atmoblack trio Miserere Luminis returns with third album, Sidera, boasting lush atmospheres and enormous feels. Formed back…
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https://www.newsbeep.com/ca/596017/

Montreal atmoblack trio Miserere Luminis returns with third album, Sidera, boasting lush atmospheres and enormous feels. Formed back in 2008, Miserere Luminis dropped their eponymous debut in 2009, then disappeared from the studio for fourteen years. The triumvirate stepped out from the shadows and unleashed Ordalie in 2023, heralding a triumphant reemergence and one of the most exquisite album covers I’ve ever laid eyes on. The tunes delivered, too, are replete with more mature compositions than Miserere Luminis and a tighter runtime to boot. With their third album, can Miserere Luminis maintain their trajectory of mounting improvement, or does Sidera fall into dark, merciless obscurity?

Anyone who has supped on Miserere Luminis’ music can confidently sink their teeth into Sidera’s similarly sumptuous sounds with satisfaction. Rich and vibrant textures blanket its fifty-one minutes, eliciting nods to Wolves in the Throne Room and Der Weg einer Freiheit while never losing their own distinct identity. Restrained, controlled paces reign supreme across Sidera, where jangling guitars and implacable drums unfurl at Miserere Luminis’ leisure. Entwined with the traditional guitar, bass, and drum attack, piano and strings impart a classical zest across Sidera’s five tracks. The recipe delivers a potent concoction, flaunting an embarrassment of moments swollen with opulence and grandeur.

Sidera by Miserere Luminis

Sidera presents a complex tangle to unwind, stuffed with stunning passages that twist and meander with a menacing edge. The darkness within the music averts the malice pervading second wave-informed black metal, and instead adopts a contemplative restlessness that churns with forlorn melancholy. “Aux Vras des Vagues & des Vomissures” supplies excellently heart-wrenching pathos, where strings dance and swirl before fading in deference to the despondent bass plucks that close out the song. Follow-up “À la Douleur de l’Aube” resonates with equal poignancy, while opening duo “Les Fleurs de l’Exil” and “De Cris & de Cendres” offer a (relatively) more frantic anguish than what’s heard on subsequent tracks. Miserere Luminis not only channels their woebegone mystique with grace and aplomb, but they do so with an uncanny knack for commanding tension, augmented by Icare’s deft drumming. Neptune’s piano sources another highlight, and his interplay with Icare’s string compositions sizzle with stoic solemnity. Through it all, Annatar’s vocals cut with a raw edge that perfectly embody the stark emotions he conveys.

Though Sidera hypnotizes with its beauty from minute to minute, its entirety lacks the diversity required to support its length. Despite Miserere Luminis’ firm grasp of mood and tension, repeated listens expose the album’s monotonous elegance. After my third spin through Sidera, I couldn’t differentiate any of the tracks. Another fifteen listens on, and I’m not faring much better. To be clear, atmospheric black metal often falls into this dilemma, where the music is oriented to temperaments and feelings rather than carving out singles rife with hooks. There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with this approach, and individual passages drip with gorgeous orchestrations, subtle interplays of dissonance and melody, and tortured vocals. Yet the final impression is that a uniformity persists throughout the album that inhibits breakout moments; because of this, Sidera’s runtime suffers from bloat (the shortest track clocks in at eight-and-a-half minutes). On the other hand, Miserere Luminis resolutely owns their sound, and Sidera’s production wisely puts the spotlight on the strings and piano—classical accompaniment rarely sounds this good in black metal.

It’s impossible to deny Sidera’s power as I marinate in the swaying transitions between guitar and piano or the jazz-informed drumming. Miserere Luminis writes transportive music that seethes with agony and hope, yet lacks a dimension to separate its densely-packed glamor into the highs and lows I long for. Sidera acts as a prime example of an album that will doubtlessly please fans of the genre, but won’t change anyone’s mind about it. Hell, I delighted in my time with Miserere Luminis, even though I doubt I’ll return with regularity. The possibilities introduced on Sidera excite me more than the album itself, and while I recommend a listen if you’re even a casual fan of the genre, I mostly look forward to what Miserere Luminis does next.

Rating: Good!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026

Montreal atmoblack trio Miserere Luminis returns with third album, Sidera, boasting lush atmospheres and enormous feels. Formed back in 2008, Miserere Luminis dropped their eponymous debut in 2009, then disappeared from the studio for fourteen years. The triumvirate stepped out from the shadows and unleashed Ordalie in 2023, heralding a triumphant reemergence and one of the most exquisite album covers I’ve ever laid eyes on. The tunes delivered, too, are replete with more mature compositions than Miserere Luminis and a tighter runtime to boot. With their third album, can Miserere Luminis maintain their trajectory of mounting improvement, or does Sidera fall into dark, merciless obscurity?

Anyone who has supped on Miserere Luminis’ music can confidently sink their teeth into Sidera’s similarly sumptuous sounds with satisfaction. Rich and vibrant textures blanket its fifty-one minutes, eliciting nods to Wolves in the Throne Room and Der Weg einer Freiheit while never losing their own distinct identity. Restrained, controlled paces reign supreme across Sidera, where jangling guitars and implacable drums unfurl at Miserere Luminis’ leisure. Entwined with the traditional guitar, bass, and drum attack, piano and strings impart a classical zest across Sidera’s five tracks. The recipe delivers a potent concoction, flaunting an embarrassment of moments swollen with opulence and grandeur.

Sidera by Miserere Luminis

Sidera presents a complex tangle to unwind, stuffed with stunning passages that twist and meander with a menacing edge. The darkness within the music averts the malice pervading second wave-informed black metal, and instead adopts a contemplative restlessness that churns with forlorn melancholy. “Aux Vras des Vagues & des Vomissures” supplies excellently heart-wrenching pathos, where strings dance and swirl before fading in deference to the despondent bass plucks that close out the song. Follow-up “À la Douleur de l’Aube” resonates with equal poignancy, while opening duo “Les Fleurs de l’Exil” and “De Cris & de Cendres” offer a (relatively) more frantic anguish than what’s heard on subsequent tracks. Miserere Luminis not only channels their woebegone mystique with grace and aplomb, but they do so with an uncanny knack for commanding tension, augmented by Icare’s deft drumming. Neptune’s piano sources another highlight, and his interplay with Icare’s string compositions sizzle with stoic solemnity. Through it all, Annatar’s vocals cut with a raw edge that perfectly embody the stark emotions he conveys.

Though Sidera hypnotizes with its beauty from minute to minute, its entirety lacks the diversity required to support its length. Despite Miserere Luminis’ firm grasp of mood and tension, repeated listens expose the album’s monotonous elegance. After my third spin through Sidera, I couldn’t differentiate any of the tracks. Another fifteen listens on, and I’m not faring much better. To be clear, atmospheric black metal often falls into this dilemma, where the music is oriented to temperaments and feelings rather than carving out singles rife with hooks. There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with this approach, and individual passages drip with gorgeous orchestrations, subtle interplays of dissonance and melody, and tortured vocals. Yet the final impression is that a uniformity persists throughout the album that inhibits breakout moments; because of this, Sidera’s runtime suffers from bloat (the shortest track clocks in at eight-and-a-half minutes). On the other hand, Miserere Luminis resolutely owns their sound, and Sidera’s production wisely puts the spotlight on the strings and piano—classical accompaniment rarely sounds this good in black metal.

It’s impossible to deny Sidera’s power as I marinate in the swaying transitions between guitar and piano or the jazz-informed drumming. Miserere Luminis writes transportive music that seethes with agony and hope, yet lacks a dimension to separate its densely-packed glamor into the highs and lows I long for. Sidera acts as a prime example of an album that will doubtlessly please fans of the genre, but won’t change anyone’s mind about it. Hell, I delighted in my time with Miserere Luminis, even though I doubt I’ll return with regularity. The possibilities introduced on Sidera excite me more than the album itself, and while I recommend a listen if you’re even a casual fan of the genre, I mostly look forward to what Miserere Luminis does next.

Rating: Good!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026

Montreal atmoblack trio Miserere Luminis returns with third album, Sidera, boasting lush atmospheres and enormous feels. Formed back in 2008, Miserere Luminis dropped their eponymous debut in 2009, then disappeared from the studio for fourteen years. The triumvirate stepped out from the shadows and unleashed Ordalie in 2023, heralding a triumphant reemergence and one of the most exquisite album covers I’ve ever laid eyes on. The tunes delivered, too, are replete with more mature compositions than Miserere Luminis and a tighter runtime to boot. With their third album, can Miserere Luminis maintain their trajectory of mounting improvement, or does Sidera fall into dark, merciless obscurity?

Anyone who has supped on Miserere Luminis’ music can confidently sink their teeth into Sidera’s similarly sumptuous sounds with satisfaction. Rich and vibrant textures blanket its fifty-one minutes, eliciting nods to Wolves in the Throne Room and Der Weg einer Freiheit while never losing their own distinct identity. Restrained, controlled paces reign supreme across Sidera, where jangling guitars and implacable drums unfurl at Miserere Luminis’ leisure. Entwined with the traditional guitar, bass, and drum attack, piano and strings impart a classical zest across Sidera’s five tracks. The recipe delivers a potent concoction, flaunting an embarrassment of moments swollen with opulence and grandeur.

Sidera by Miserere Luminis

Sidera presents a complex tangle to unwind, stuffed with stunning passages that twist and meander with a menacing edge. The darkness within the music averts the malice pervading second wave-informed black metal, and instead adopts a contemplative restlessness that churns with forlorn melancholy. “Aux Vras des Vagues & des Vomissures” supplies excellently heart-wrenching pathos, where strings dance and swirl before fading in deference to the despondent bass plucks that close out the song. Follow-up “À la Douleur de l’Aube” resonates with equal poignancy, while opening duo “Les Fleurs de l’Exil” and “De Cris & de Cendres” offer a (relatively) more frantic anguish than what’s heard on subsequent tracks. Miserere Luminis not only channels their woebegone mystique with grace and aplomb, but they do so with an uncanny knack for commanding tension, augmented by Icare’s deft drumming. Neptune’s piano sources another highlight, and his interplay with Icare’s string compositions sizzle with stoic solemnity. Through it all, Annatar’s vocals cut with a raw edge that perfectly embody the stark emotions he conveys.

Though Sidera hypnotizes with its beauty from minute to minute, its entirety lacks the diversity required to support its length. Despite Miserere Luminis’ firm grasp of mood and tension, repeated listens expose the album’s monotonous elegance. After my third spin through Sidera, I couldn’t differentiate any of the tracks. Another fifteen listens on, and I’m not faring much better. To be clear, atmospheric black metal often falls into this dilemma, where the music is oriented to temperaments and feelings rather than carving out singles rife with hooks. There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with this approach, and individual passages drip with gorgeous orchestrations, subtle interplays of dissonance and melody, and tortured vocals. Yet the final impression is that a uniformity persists throughout the album that inhibits breakout moments; because of this, Sidera’s runtime suffers from bloat (the shortest track clocks in at eight-and-a-half minutes). On the other hand, Miserere Luminis resolutely owns their sound, and Sidera’s production wisely puts the spotlight on the strings and piano—classical accompaniment rarely sounds this good in black metal.

It’s impossible to deny Sidera’s power as I marinate in the swaying transitions between guitar and piano or the jazz-informed drumming. Miserere Luminis writes transportive music that seethes with agony and hope, yet lacks a dimension to separate its densely-packed glamor into the highs and lows I long for. Sidera acts as a prime example of an album that will doubtlessly please fans of the genre, but won’t change anyone’s mind about it. Hell, I delighted in my time with Miserere Luminis, even though I doubt I’ll return with regularity. The possibilities introduced on Sidera excite me more than the album itself, and while I recommend a listen if you’re even a casual fan of the genre, I mostly look forward to what Miserere Luminis does next.

Rating: Good!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026

Montreal atmoblack trio Miserere Luminis returns with third album, Sidera, boasting lush atmospheres and enormous feels. Formed back in 2008, Miserere Luminis dropped their eponymous debut in 2009, then disappeared from the studio for fourteen years. The triumvirate stepped out from the shadows and unleashed Ordalie in 2023, heralding a triumphant reemergence and one of the most exquisite album covers I’ve ever laid eyes on. The tunes delivered, too, are replete with more mature compositions than Miserere Luminis and a tighter runtime to boot. With their third album, can Miserere Luminis maintain their trajectory of mounting improvement, or does Sidera fall into dark, merciless obscurity?

Anyone who has supped on Miserere Luminis’ music can confidently sink their teeth into Sidera’s similarly sumptuous sounds with satisfaction. Rich and vibrant textures blanket its fifty-one minutes, eliciting nods to Wolves in the Throne Room and Der Weg einer Freiheit while never losing their own distinct identity. Restrained, controlled paces reign supreme across Sidera, where jangling guitars and implacable drums unfurl at Miserere Luminis’ leisure. Entwined with the traditional guitar, bass, and drum attack, piano and strings impart a classical zest across Sidera’s five tracks. The recipe delivers a potent concoction, flaunting an embarrassment of moments swollen with opulence and grandeur.

Sidera by Miserere Luminis

Sidera presents a complex tangle to unwind, stuffed with stunning passages that twist and meander with a menacing edge. The darkness within the music averts the malice pervading second wave-informed black metal, and instead adopts a contemplative restlessness that churns with forlorn melancholy. “Aux Vras des Vagues & des Vomissures” supplies excellently heart-wrenching pathos, where strings dance and swirl before fading in deference to the despondent bass plucks that close out the song. Follow-up “À la Douleur de l’Aube” resonates with equal poignancy, while opening duo “Les Fleurs de l’Exil” and “De Cris & de Cendres” offer a (relatively) more frantic anguish than what’s heard on subsequent tracks. Miserere Luminis not only channels their woebegone mystique with grace and aplomb, but they do so with an uncanny knack for commanding tension, augmented by Icare’s deft drumming. Neptune’s piano sources another highlight, and his interplay with Icare’s string compositions sizzle with stoic solemnity. Through it all, Annatar’s vocals cut with a raw edge that perfectly embody the stark emotions he conveys.

Though Sidera hypnotizes with its beauty from minute to minute, its entirety lacks the diversity required to support its length. Despite Miserere Luminis’ firm grasp of mood and tension, repeated listens expose the album’s monotonous elegance. After my third spin through Sidera, I couldn’t differentiate any of the tracks. Another fifteen listens on, and I’m not faring much better. To be clear, atmospheric black metal often falls into this dilemma, where the music is oriented to temperaments and feelings rather than carving out singles rife with hooks. There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with this approach, and individual passages drip with gorgeous orchestrations, subtle interplays of dissonance and melody, and tortured vocals. Yet the final impression is that a uniformity persists throughout the album that inhibits breakout moments; because of this, Sidera’s runtime suffers from bloat (the shortest track clocks in at eight-and-a-half minutes). On the other hand, Miserere Luminis resolutely owns their sound, and Sidera’s production wisely puts the spotlight on the strings and piano—classical accompaniment rarely sounds this good in black metal.

It’s impossible to deny Sidera’s power as I marinate in the swaying transitions between guitar and piano or the jazz-informed drumming. Miserere Luminis writes transportive music that seethes with agony and hope, yet lacks a dimension to separate its densely-packed glamor into the highs and lows I long for. Sidera acts as a prime example of an album that will doubtlessly please fans of the genre, but won’t change anyone’s mind about it. Hell, I delighted in my time with Miserere Luminis, even though I doubt I’ll return with regularity. The possibilities introduced on Sidera excite me more than the album itself, and while I recommend a listen if you’re even a casual fan of the genre, I mostly look forward to what Miserere Luminis does next.

Rating: Good!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026

Montreal atmoblack trio Miserere Luminis returns with third album, Sidera, boasting lush atmospheres and enormous feels. Formed back in 2008, Miserere Luminis dropped their eponymous debut in 2009, then disappeared from the studio for fourteen years. The triumvirate stepped out from the shadows and unleashed Ordalie in 2023, heralding a triumphant reemergence and one of the most exquisite album covers I’ve ever laid eyes on. The tunes delivered, too, are replete with more mature compositions than Miserere Luminis and a tighter runtime to boot. With their third album, can Miserere Luminis maintain their trajectory of mounting improvement, or does Sidera fall into dark, merciless obscurity?

Anyone who has supped on Miserere Luminis’ music can confidently sink their teeth into Sidera’s similarly sumptuous sounds with satisfaction. Rich and vibrant textures blanket its fifty-one minutes, eliciting nods to Wolves in the Throne Room and Der Weg einer Freiheit while never losing their own distinct identity. Restrained, controlled paces reign supreme across Sidera, where jangling guitars and implacable drums unfurl at Miserere Luminis’ leisure. Entwined with the traditional guitar, bass, and drum attack, piano and strings impart a classical zest across Sidera’s five tracks. The recipe delivers a potent concoction, flaunting an embarrassment of moments swollen with opulence and grandeur.

Sidera by Miserere Luminis

Sidera presents a complex tangle to unwind, stuffed with stunning passages that twist and meander with a menacing edge. The darkness within the music averts the malice pervading second wave-informed black metal, and instead adopts a contemplative restlessness that churns with forlorn melancholy. “Aux Vras des Vagues & des Vomissures” supplies excellently heart-wrenching pathos, where strings dance and swirl before fading in deference to the despondent bass plucks that close out the song. Follow-up “À la Douleur de l’Aube” resonates with equal poignancy, while opening duo “Les Fleurs de l’Exil” and “De Cris & de Cendres” offer a (relatively) more frantic anguish than what’s heard on subsequent tracks. Miserere Luminis not only channels their woebegone mystique with grace and aplomb, but they do so with an uncanny knack for commanding tension, augmented by Icare’s deft drumming. Neptune’s piano sources another highlight, and his interplay with Icare’s string compositions sizzle with stoic solemnity. Through it all, Annatar’s vocals cut with a raw edge that perfectly embody the stark emotions he conveys.

Though Sidera hypnotizes with its beauty from minute to minute, its entirety lacks the diversity required to support its length. Despite Miserere Luminis’ firm grasp of mood and tension, repeated listens expose the album’s monotonous elegance. After my third spin through Sidera, I couldn’t differentiate any of the tracks. Another fifteen listens on, and I’m not faring much better. To be clear, atmospheric black metal often falls into this dilemma, where the music is oriented to temperaments and feelings rather than carving out singles rife with hooks. There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with this approach, and individual passages drip with gorgeous orchestrations, subtle interplays of dissonance and melody, and tortured vocals. Yet the final impression is that a uniformity persists throughout the album that inhibits breakout moments; because of this, Sidera’s runtime suffers from bloat (the shortest track clocks in at eight-and-a-half minutes). On the other hand, Miserere Luminis resolutely owns their sound, and Sidera’s production wisely puts the spotlight on the strings and piano—classical accompaniment rarely sounds this good in black metal.

It’s impossible to deny Sidera’s power as I marinate in the swaying transitions between guitar and piano or the jazz-informed drumming. Miserere Luminis writes transportive music that seethes with agony and hope, yet lacks a dimension to separate its densely-packed glamor into the highs and lows I long for. Sidera acts as a prime example of an album that will doubtlessly please fans of the genre, but won’t change anyone’s mind about it. Hell, I delighted in my time with Miserere Luminis, even though I doubt I’ll return with regularity. The possibilities introduced on Sidera excite me more than the album itself, and while I recommend a listen if you’re even a casual fan of the genre, I mostly look forward to what Miserere Luminis does next.

Rating: Good!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026

Black metal’s wide-ranging milieu encompasses many sub-genres—1st wave, 2nd wave, raw, symphonic, atmospheric, post—the list goes on. One niche of the black metalsphere, with neither a large sample size nor a large following, is black metal smashed hip-hop. Sure, some artists come to mind: Ghostemane, for one; then there’s what Zeal & Ardor is doing, as well as Déhà’s project NADDDIR, which melds flashes of black metal with trap beats and cloud rap.1 Tossing his spliff in the ashtray as it were is the mysterious Berliner, Foghazer, with his Hypnotic Dirge debut, He Left the Temple, an album comprised of nine, singularly titled tracks that cumulatively read “‘He’ ‘Left’ ‘The’ ‘Temple’ ‘And’ ‘Fog’ ‘Followed’ ‘Him’ ‘Out,”‘ and described by the artist as “low-visibility sound: slow beats, distorted memory and fog as both space and emotion.” Will Foghazer open the floodgates to a new sub-sub-sub-genre, or be just another basement-dwelling one-man band exiting his parents’ lowest-level ‘temple’ in a haze of pot smoke and lo-fi tuneage in search of munchies.

If Moderator2 and Portishead got down and “black metal” dirty with Burzum in some hole in the wall no-tell motel, the offspring of that union would sound like Foghazer. Eschewing nearly all vocals, He Left the Temple employs trip-hoppy drum beats with occasional blasts and jazz fills, moody-smooth bass lines, and eerily plucked or Filosofem-level reverb-drenched guitars to armor the majority of its aural palette.3 Toss in some scratchy, Portishead-style turntablism, operatic female soprano warblings, Master Boot Record-type bleepity-bloops (“He,” “Followed”) amidst other random sounds, and you’ve got the gist of what’s happening here. He Left the Temple strikes a decent cinematic chord, evoking a lo-res film noir experience that, at least in my mind’s movie, follows Foghazer and his gang of corpse-painted black metal beatniks as they roam the harsh streets of an “every-city” looking for trouble.

He Left The Temple by Foghazer

Laid-back and gloomy, Foghazer does a good job of setting a mood; He Left the Temple would serve equally well as a lounge-lizard soundtrack looping endlessly in an edgy, urban underground cigar-and-whiskey bar as it would a score for some Werner Herzog black metal remake of the movie Kids. “Left” has a slow, eerie build that transitions from creepy, singular guitar plucks to a double-bass rolling foundation that supports some nice, melodic riff patterns. “Fog” is another standout; its trippy bass line and trap beats trade punches with passages of doomy tremolos and double bass rolls, and had me thinking, ‘this is what Darkthrone might sound like if they took a stab at this kind of thing.’ There were many moments where I found myself slipping comfortably into the groove that Foghazer was laying down, my rollin’-through-Oslo-in-my-tricked-out-hearse head bob in full effect. Unfortunately, not all of the fog in the temple envelops completely.

There is a dark thread of similitude running through nearly all of He Left the Temple that impacted my overall experience. Foghazer rinses and repeats his compositional formula such that, if you were to cycle through the first five seconds of every track from “He” to “Fog,” each begins in much the same way, which cumulatively has a hypnotizing effect that takes you out of what’s happening more than it draws you in. I kept checking the track number every so often to see if I’d mistakenly played the same song over again. The other demerit I must levy against He Left the Temple occurs when Foghazer leans heaviest into his black metal. “Temple” is the most glaring example of this as it begins pensively, with some brooding bass tones and spindly guitar plucks before settling into its trip-hop beat section, which gets rudely interrupted at the 1:25 mark by an obnoxious blast beat that continuously pulses under those creepy guitars. This track also contains Foghazer’s only vocals, which, for us, is a blessing in disguise since I find his particular brand of shriek rather grating.

There’s some cool stuff going on in He Left the Temple, but this is nothing that’s going to put Foghazer on the map. I appreciate the groove and mood he’s able to create at times, but as a mostly instrumental album, the lack of any additional engaging dynamics left me wanting more from Foghazer. As it stands, He Left the Temple makes for some entertaining background music, but not much more.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 192kbps mp3
Label: Hypnotic Dirge Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

Black metal’s wide-ranging milieu encompasses many sub-genres—1st wave, 2nd wave, raw, symphonic, atmospheric, post—the list goes on. One niche of the black metalsphere, with neither a large sample size nor a large following, is black metal smashed hip-hop. Sure, some artists come to mind: Ghostemane, for one; then there’s what Zeal & Ardor is doing, as well as Déhà’s project NADDDIR, which melds flashes of black metal with trap beats and cloud rap.1 Tossing his spliff in the ashtray as it were is the mysterious Berliner, Foghazer, with his Hypnotic Dirge debut, He Left the Temple, an album comprised of nine, singularly titled tracks that cumulatively read “‘He’ ‘Left’ ‘The’ ‘Temple’ ‘And’ ‘Fog’ ‘Followed’ ‘Him’ ‘Out,”‘ and described by the artist as “low-visibility sound: slow beats, distorted memory and fog as both space and emotion.” Will Foghazer open the floodgates to a new sub-sub-sub-genre, or be just another basement-dwelling one-man band exiting his parents’ lowest-level ‘temple’ in a haze of pot smoke and lo-fi tuneage in search of munchies.

If Moderator2 and Portishead got down and “black metal” dirty with Burzum in some hole in the wall no-tell motel, the offspring of that union would sound like Foghazer. Eschewing nearly all vocals, He Left the Temple employs trip-hoppy drum beats with occasional blasts and jazz fills, moody-smooth bass lines, and eerily plucked or Filosofem-level reverb-drenched guitars to armor the majority of its aural palette.3 Toss in some scratchy, Portishead-style turntablism, operatic female soprano warblings, Master Boot Record-type bleepity-bloops (“He,” “Followed”) amidst other random sounds, and you’ve got the gist of what’s happening here. He Left the Temple strikes a decent cinematic chord, evoking a lo-res film noir experience that, at least in my mind’s movie, follows Foghazer and his gang of corpse-painted black metal beatniks as they roam the harsh streets of an “every-city” looking for trouble.

He Left The Temple by Foghazer

Laid-back and gloomy, Foghazer does a good job of setting a mood; He Left the Temple would serve equally well as a lounge-lizard soundtrack looping endlessly in an edgy, urban underground cigar-and-whiskey bar as it would a score for some Werner Herzog black metal remake of the movie Kids. “Left” has a slow, eerie build that transitions from creepy, singular guitar plucks to a double-bass rolling foundation that supports some nice, melodic riff patterns. “Fog” is another standout; its trippy bass line and trap beats trade punches with passages of doomy tremolos and double bass rolls, and had me thinking, ‘this is what Darkthrone might sound like if they took a stab at this kind of thing.’ There were many moments where I found myself slipping comfortably into the groove that Foghazer was laying down, my rollin’-through-Oslo-in-my-tricked-out-hearse head bob in full effect. Unfortunately, not all of the fog in the temple envelops completely.

There is a dark thread of similitude running through nearly all of He Left the Temple that impacted my overall experience. Foghazer rinses and repeats his compositional formula such that, if you were to cycle through the first five seconds of every track from “He” to “Fog,” each begins in much the same way, which cumulatively has a hypnotizing effect that takes you out of what’s happening more than it draws you in. I kept checking the track number every so often to see if I’d mistakenly played the same song over again. The other demerit I must levy against He Left the Temple occurs when Foghazer leans heaviest into his black metal. “Temple” is the most glaring example of this as it begins pensively, with some brooding bass tones and spindly guitar plucks before settling into its trip-hop beat section, which gets rudely interrupted at the 1:25 mark by an obnoxious blast beat that continuously pulses under those creepy guitars. This track also contains Foghazer’s only vocals, which, for us, is a blessing in disguise since I find his particular brand of shriek rather grating.

There’s some cool stuff going on in He Left the Temple, but this is nothing that’s going to put Foghazer on the map. I appreciate the groove and mood he’s able to create at times, but as a mostly instrumental album, the lack of any additional engaging dynamics left me wanting more from Foghazer. As it stands, He Left the Temple makes for some entertaining background music, but not much more.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 192kbps mp3
Label: Hypnotic Dirge Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

Black metal’s wide-ranging milieu encompasses many sub-genres—1st wave, 2nd wave, raw, symphonic, atmospheric, post—the list goes on. One niche of the black metalsphere, with neither a large sample size nor a large following, is black metal smashed hip-hop. Sure, some artists come to mind: Ghostemane, for one; then there’s what Zeal & Ardor is doing, as well as Déhà’s project NADDDIR, which melds flashes of black metal with trap beats and cloud rap.1 Tossing his spliff in the ashtray as it were is the mysterious Berliner, Foghazer, with his Hypnotic Dirge debut, He Left the Temple, an album comprised of nine, singularly titled tracks that cumulatively read “‘He’ ‘Left’ ‘The’ ‘Temple’ ‘And’ ‘Fog’ ‘Followed’ ‘Him’ ‘Out,”‘ and described by the artist as “low-visibility sound: slow beats, distorted memory and fog as both space and emotion.” Will Foghazer open the floodgates to a new sub-sub-sub-genre, or be just another basement-dwelling one-man band exiting his parents’ lowest-level ‘temple’ in a haze of pot smoke and lo-fi tuneage in search of munchies.

If Moderator2 and Portishead got down and “black metal” dirty with Burzum in some hole in the wall no-tell motel, the offspring of that union would sound like Foghazer. Eschewing nearly all vocals, He Left the Temple employs trip-hoppy drum beats with occasional blasts and jazz fills, moody-smooth bass lines, and eerily plucked or Filosofem-level reverb-drenched guitars to armor the majority of its aural palette.3 Toss in some scratchy, Portishead-style turntablism, operatic female soprano warblings, Master Boot Record-type bleepity-bloops (“He,” “Followed”) amidst other random sounds, and you’ve got the gist of what’s happening here. He Left the Temple strikes a decent cinematic chord, evoking a lo-res film noir experience that, at least in my mind’s movie, follows Foghazer and his gang of corpse-painted black metal beatniks as they roam the harsh streets of an “every-city” looking for trouble.

He Left The Temple by Foghazer

Laid-back and gloomy, Foghazer does a good job of setting a mood; He Left the Temple would serve equally well as a lounge-lizard soundtrack looping endlessly in an edgy, urban underground cigar-and-whiskey bar as it would a score for some Werner Herzog black metal remake of the movie Kids. “Left” has a slow, eerie build that transitions from creepy, singular guitar plucks to a double-bass rolling foundation that supports some nice, melodic riff patterns. “Fog” is another standout; its trippy bass line and trap beats trade punches with passages of doomy tremolos and double bass rolls, and had me thinking, ‘this is what Darkthrone might sound like if they took a stab at this kind of thing.’ There were many moments where I found myself slipping comfortably into the groove that Foghazer was laying down, my rollin’-through-Oslo-in-my-tricked-out-hearse head bob in full effect. Unfortunately, not all of the fog in the temple envelops completely.

There is a dark thread of similitude running through nearly all of He Left the Temple that impacted my overall experience. Foghazer rinses and repeats his compositional formula such that, if you were to cycle through the first five seconds of every track from “He” to “Fog,” each begins in much the same way, which cumulatively has a hypnotizing effect that takes you out of what’s happening more than it draws you in. I kept checking the track number every so often to see if I’d mistakenly played the same song over again. The other demerit I must levy against He Left the Temple occurs when Foghazer leans heaviest into his black metal. “Temple” is the most glaring example of this as it begins pensively, with some brooding bass tones and spindly guitar plucks before settling into its trip-hop beat section, which gets rudely interrupted at the 1:25 mark by an obnoxious blast beat that continuously pulses under those creepy guitars. This track also contains Foghazer’s only vocals, which, for us, is a blessing in disguise since I find his particular brand of shriek rather grating.

There’s some cool stuff going on in He Left the Temple, but this is nothing that’s going to put Foghazer on the map. I appreciate the groove and mood he’s able to create at times, but as a mostly instrumental album, the lack of any additional engaging dynamics left me wanting more from Foghazer. As it stands, He Left the Temple makes for some entertaining background music, but not much more.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 192kbps mp3
Label: Hypnotic Dirge Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

Black metal’s wide-ranging milieu encompasses many sub-genres—1st wave, 2nd wave, raw, symphonic, atmospheric, post—the list goes on. One niche of the black metalsphere, with neither a large sample size nor a large following, is black metal smashed hip-hop. Sure, some artists come to mind: Ghostemane, for one; then there’s what Zeal & Ardor is doing, as well as Déhà’s project NADDDIR, which melds flashes of black metal with trap beats and cloud rap.1 Tossing his spliff in the ashtray as it were is the mysterious Berliner, Foghazer, with his Hypnotic Dirge debut, He Left the Temple, an album comprised of nine, singularly titled tracks that cumulatively read “‘He’ ‘Left’ ‘The’ ‘Temple’ ‘And’ ‘Fog’ ‘Followed’ ‘Him’ ‘Out,”‘ and described by the artist as “low-visibility sound: slow beats, distorted memory and fog as both space and emotion.” Will Foghazer open the floodgates to a new sub-sub-sub-genre, or be just another basement-dwelling one-man band exiting his parents’ lowest-level ‘temple’ in a haze of pot smoke and lo-fi tuneage in search of munchies.

If Moderator2 and Portishead got down and “black metal” dirty with Burzum in some hole in the wall no-tell motel, the offspring of that union would sound like Foghazer. Eschewing nearly all vocals, He Left the Temple employs trip-hoppy drum beats with occasional blasts and jazz fills, moody-smooth bass lines, and eerily plucked or Filosofem-level reverb-drenched guitars to armor the majority of its aural palette.3 Toss in some scratchy, Portishead-style turntablism, operatic female soprano warblings, Master Boot Record-type bleepity-bloops (“He,” “Followed”) amidst other random sounds, and you’ve got the gist of what’s happening here. He Left the Temple strikes a decent cinematic chord, evoking a lo-res film noir experience that, at least in my mind’s movie, follows Foghazer and his gang of corpse-painted black metal beatniks as they roam the harsh streets of an “every-city” looking for trouble.

He Left The Temple by Foghazer

Laid-back and gloomy, Foghazer does a good job of setting a mood; He Left the Temple would serve equally well as a lounge-lizard soundtrack looping endlessly in an edgy, urban underground cigar-and-whiskey bar as it would a score for some Werner Herzog black metal remake of the movie Kids. “Left” has a slow, eerie build that transitions from creepy, singular guitar plucks to a double-bass rolling foundation that supports some nice, melodic riff patterns. “Fog” is another standout; its trippy bass line and trap beats trade punches with passages of doomy tremolos and double bass rolls, and had me thinking, ‘this is what Darkthrone might sound like if they took a stab at this kind of thing.’ There were many moments where I found myself slipping comfortably into the groove that Foghazer was laying down, my rollin’-through-Oslo-in-my-tricked-out-hearse head bob in full effect. Unfortunately, not all of the fog in the temple envelops completely.

There is a dark thread of similitude running through nearly all of He Left the Temple that impacted my overall experience. Foghazer rinses and repeats his compositional formula such that, if you were to cycle through the first five seconds of every track from “He” to “Fog,” each begins in much the same way, which cumulatively has a hypnotizing effect that takes you out of what’s happening more than it draws you in. I kept checking the track number every so often to see if I’d mistakenly played the same song over again. The other demerit I must levy against He Left the Temple occurs when Foghazer leans heaviest into his black metal. “Temple” is the most glaring example of this as it begins pensively, with some brooding bass tones and spindly guitar plucks before settling into its trip-hop beat section, which gets rudely interrupted at the 1:25 mark by an obnoxious blast beat that continuously pulses under those creepy guitars. This track also contains Foghazer’s only vocals, which, for us, is a blessing in disguise since I find his particular brand of shriek rather grating.

There’s some cool stuff going on in He Left the Temple, but this is nothing that’s going to put Foghazer on the map. I appreciate the groove and mood he’s able to create at times, but as a mostly instrumental album, the lack of any additional engaging dynamics left me wanting more from Foghazer. As it stands, He Left the Temple makes for some entertaining background music, but not much more.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 192kbps mp3
Label: Hypnotic Dirge Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

Black metal’s wide-ranging milieu encompasses many sub-genres—1st wave, 2nd wave, raw, symphonic, atmospheric, post—the list goes on. One niche of the black metalsphere, with neither a large sample size nor a large following, is black metal smashed hip-hop. Sure, some artists come to mind: Ghostemane, for one; then there’s what Zeal & Ardor is doing, as well as Déhà’s project NADDDIR, which melds flashes of black metal with trap beats and cloud rap.1 Tossing his spliff in the ashtray as it were is the mysterious Berliner, Foghazer, with his Hypnotic Dirge debut, He Left the Temple, an album comprised of nine, singularly titled tracks that cumulatively read “‘He’ ‘Left’ ‘The’ ‘Temple’ ‘And’ ‘Fog’ ‘Followed’ ‘Him’ ‘Out,”‘ and described by the artist as “low-visibility sound: slow beats, distorted memory and fog as both space and emotion.” Will Foghazer open the floodgates to a new sub-sub-sub-genre, or be just another basement-dwelling one-man band exiting his parents’ lowest-level ‘temple’ in a haze of pot smoke and lo-fi tuneage in search of munchies.

If Moderator2 and Portishead got down and “black metal” dirty with Burzum in some hole in the wall no-tell motel, the offspring of that union would sound like Foghazer. Eschewing nearly all vocals, He Left the Temple employs trip-hoppy drum beats with occasional blasts and jazz fills, moody-smooth bass lines, and eerily plucked or Filosofem-level reverb-drenched guitars to armor the majority of its aural palette.3 Toss in some scratchy, Portishead-style turntablism, operatic female soprano warblings, Master Boot Record-type bleepity-bloops (“He,” “Followed”) amidst other random sounds, and you’ve got the gist of what’s happening here. He Left the Temple strikes a decent cinematic chord, evoking a lo-res film noir experience that, at least in my mind’s movie, follows Foghazer and his gang of corpse-painted black metal beatniks as they roam the harsh streets of an “every-city” looking for trouble.

He Left The Temple by Foghazer

Laid-back and gloomy, Foghazer does a good job of setting a mood; He Left the Temple would serve equally well as a lounge-lizard soundtrack looping endlessly in an edgy, urban underground cigar-and-whiskey bar as it would a score for some Werner Herzog black metal remake of the movie Kids. “Left” has a slow, eerie build that transitions from creepy, singular guitar plucks to a double-bass rolling foundation that supports some nice, melodic riff patterns. “Fog” is another standout; its trippy bass line and trap beats trade punches with passages of doomy tremolos and double bass rolls, and had me thinking, ‘this is what Darkthrone might sound like if they took a stab at this kind of thing.’ There were many moments where I found myself slipping comfortably into the groove that Foghazer was laying down, my rollin’-through-Oslo-in-my-tricked-out-hearse head bob in full effect. Unfortunately, not all of the fog in the temple envelops completely.

There is a dark thread of similitude running through nearly all of He Left the Temple that impacted my overall experience. Foghazer rinses and repeats his compositional formula such that, if you were to cycle through the first five seconds of every track from “He” to “Fog,” each begins in much the same way, which cumulatively has a hypnotizing effect that takes you out of what’s happening more than it draws you in. I kept checking the track number every so often to see if I’d mistakenly played the same song over again. The other demerit I must levy against He Left the Temple occurs when Foghazer leans heaviest into his black metal. “Temple” is the most glaring example of this as it begins pensively, with some brooding bass tones and spindly guitar plucks before settling into its trip-hop beat section, which gets rudely interrupted at the 1:25 mark by an obnoxious blast beat that continuously pulses under those creepy guitars. This track also contains Foghazer’s only vocals, which, for us, is a blessing in disguise since I find his particular brand of shriek rather grating.

There’s some cool stuff going on in He Left the Temple, but this is nothing that’s going to put Foghazer on the map. I appreciate the groove and mood he’s able to create at times, but as a mostly instrumental album, the lack of any additional engaging dynamics left me wanting more from Foghazer. As it stands, He Left the Temple makes for some entertaining background music, but not much more.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 192kbps mp3
Label: Hypnotic Dirge Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

Somehow, Këkht Aräkh is one of the most popular black metal artists in the game right now. Since the release of sophomore album Pale Swordsman in 2021, the solo project of one Crying Orc (Dimitry Marchenko) has garnered serious momentum outside of the typical metal fandom with its melody-forward, “romantic” black metal sound. That record showcased a solid and surprisingly listenable, DSBM-informed, almost folksy take on classic ’90s blackened tropes, but more importantly, it felt emotionally honest without being cheesy. With album art like that, heartfelt, sadboy lyrics about love and isolation, and a raw, tape-inspired sonic landscape, it was an impressive achievement that the earnest pathos of Pale Swordsman managed to eclipse the potential corpse-paint cringe. Five years later, with a memetic cover referencing an infamous, dorky Varg photo and a string of singles that seem equally indebted to modern cloud rap and black metal, one can’t help but wonder whether Morning Star has tipped the delicate balance between sincerity and self-parody. As a cloud rap enjoyer and black metal nerd, I might be the only staff member not to laugh this latest Këkht Aräkh out of the schoolyard. Is this long-anticipated follow-up actually worth the wait?

On Morning Star, Crying Orc hasn’t lost his ear for blackened melody that made earlier Këkht Aräkh material engaging; he’s just found new ways to package it. Tracks like opener “Wänderer” take the familiar black metal elements, but re-purpose them to mimic the patterns of hazy SoundCloud beats. The central bedroom guitar motif operates on a two-bar loop, with layers of distorted tremolos added and stripped back across verses and hooks like a hip-hop producer might use synths. A warm, syncopated bass supplies rhythmic variation as the drums blastbeat away. Crying Orc shifts between shrieks and whispers, both delivered in a clipped, almost percussive flow, peppered with ad-libs. This formula is surprisingly effective and allows the layers of haunting melodies to shine alongside more straightforward 2nd-wave riffing (“Castle,” “Land av evig natt II”) or with a greater emphasis on sung vocal lines (“Mörker över mörker,” “Gates”). Bladee himself even appears on “Eternal Martyr” to lend his signature autotuned anti-charisma to an earworm hook, resulting in a genuine blackened banger. The cloud rap influence pans out better than I could’ve expected and leads to several highlights across the tracklist.

Of course, this is only one side of the Këkht Aräkh coin, as many of the songs on Morning Star forgo black metal altogether in favor of indie-tinged folk ballads. “Genom sorgen,” “Drömsång” and “Trollsång” are composed of minimalistic clean guitars, subtle synth layers, and softly sung vocals. These tracks are serviceable and understandable in the context of a longer album, but they lack the sense of progression and movement that makes the black metal material enjoyable. Crying Orc’s singing has an amateur charm that conveys a sorrowful gravitas when deployed, and it’s often pleasant in short bursts, but many of the softer moments fail to capitalize on it for maximum effect—and they make up a significant portion of the album. Even outside of the dedicated slower tracks, songs like “Lament,” “Raven King” and “Vigil” bookend their runtimes with extended minimalism that does little to further the greater piece. The title track “Morning Star” is an exception to this rule: led by a mournful string melody, it expands and contrasts brilliantly, whereas the others remain static.

One area where Këkht Aräkh should have diverged from his rap peers is in Morning Star’s bloated tracklist of 17 songs. With each track firmly in the 2-3 minute range, many feel like half-finished ideas that end abruptly before anything interesting happens. As a result, the more engaging black metal tracks lose some of their power when they’re buried next to underwhelming ballads. This ends up emphasizing an ephemeral “vibe” as the record’s strongest trait rather than any individual track. A combination of the lo-fi, tape-inspired soundscape and the persistent melancholic melodies makes Morning Star a very easy album to throw on and just bathe in its atmosphere. The whole thing exudes a pervasive sense of emotional honesty that’s enticing. It’s a record that sounds amazing on a car ride or in the background, when conjuring a certain mood, but falls a bit short upon closer inspection.

Morning Star is a difficult record to evaluate. There’s a lot here to like, from the shockingly adept integration of cloud rap elements to the enticing layered melodies and lo-fi production, but these strengths are ultimately undercut by an overstuffed tracklist and songs that fail to develop. In a certain light, this could be a strength for listeners who prioritize musical “vibes” over substance, but to this metalhead, it comes across as underbaked.



Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Sacred Bones
Websites: kekhtarakh.bandcamp.com | Instagram.com/kekht_arakh
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

3.300 km in Q1! Mein Brompton #GSpot ist der absolute Kilometer-König. 🚲💨
#warumichradfahre #lifestyle65 #apr26 #warumichradfahreblog #mar26 #HeimatEntdecker

https://warumichradfahre.blog/2026/04/03/q1-check-3-300-kilometer-und-ein-brompton-als-champion/?utm_source=mastodon&utm_medium=jetpack_social

This year has already kicked off in thrash-tastic fashion. We’ve seen new releases from the likes of Megadeth, Exodus, and Kreator, with Anthrax and more on the way. A quick check of my thrash bingo card shows that, by the end of the year, at least half of the “Big 4”1 will have dropped new records, with many of the honorable-mention heavyweights joining the fray. While we wait for the next boot to drop, we turn our attention to Würzburg, Germany’s Zerre, one of modern thrash’s promising upstarts. Their debut, Scorched Souls, was a Metallica-meets-Municipal Waste slab of old-school aggression loaded with crossover, beer-chugging grooves. Taking the foundations of their debut, Rotting on a Golden Throne finds Zerre tearing through nine tracks with a sharpened sense of purpose—more aggressive, more political, and more sadistic than its predecessor. And let me tell you, it delivers in spades. I hope you’re thirsty for some tallboys, because thrash is still on the menu.

Forging their songwriting into material that’s meaner, tighter, and far more assured, Rotting on a Golden Throne shines with the violently tempered alloy of classic thrash and modern crossover’s street-level grit that never lets its energy wane. Heavily steeped in Municipal Waste’s party chaos and …And Justice for All’s rapid, surgical picking, Zerre also imbues the album with Power Trip’s coarseness, Anthrax’s stomping swagger (“Killing Taste”) and the frantic wails of Slayer (“No Alibi,” “Deception of the Weak”). Riffs hit in relentless waves, with raw aggression spilling over into massive, replay-ready grooves, while strategically placed interludes are woven directly into the album’s 40-minute runtime rather than sliced off as filler (“Mental Vacation,” “Rotting on a Golden Throne”). This smart choice gives Rotting on a Golden Throne a more cohesive flow and breaks up the record’s accelerated attack just enough to keep things elastic. Zerre delivers it all seamlessly, with a dialed‑up piss‑and‑vinegar attitude that hits you right between the eyes.

Rotting on a Golden Throne by Zerre

Neck-snapping riffs abound on Rotting on a Golden Throne, driven by Zerre’s full-throttle dual axe attack of Dominik Bertelt and Rocco Lepore. The two throw their weight around effortlessly with hyperspeed picking mixed with trilling, power cord syncopations, whammy dives, and a metric ton of technical solos. After the “Battery”-inspired acoustic intro, “Pigs will be Pigs” fires the first shot with blistering runs that give way to a soaring melodic solo, while “Deception of the Weak” counters with sharp twin harmonies and nimble hammer‑ons and pull‑offs. Even the slower approach of “Concrete Hell” packs a punch and “Tin God” seals the deal with a squealing, tapping frenzy that illustrates how purposefully Zerre uses solos—coupled with keen songwriting—to drive the record’s peaks. The Nordic folk lick stretching out into intertwining leads in “Mental Vacation” is also a pleasant surprise, as is the power metal riff in the self-titled track, proving that when these guys branch out of their comfort zone, they do so tastefully and with restraint rather than veering off into left field.

Vocalist Nick Ziska2 brings a feral edge to Zerre’s sound. His performance swings between Tom Araya‑styled screams (“No Alibi”) and a Riley Gale-esque snarling mid‑range, anchoring Rotting on a Golden Throne’s songs with a serrated bark that sounds abrasive and weathered, yet still clear enough to slice through the chaos. Zerre’s songwriting leans heavily on gang vocals, and while they’re a clear fallback move, they inject a sense of rowdy fun that magnifies Ziska’s lyrics and makes the choruses instantly hooky. Ziska takes the lead, and the rest of the crew pile in behind him, creating shout-along moments that demand listener participation. Lyrically, Rotting on a Golden Throne sticks to thrash’s customary grievances—anti-police sentiment, prison system disdain and broad political ire—but these tropes feel less like a crutch and more like part of the total package, reinforcing the album’s scrappy, kinetic energy.

Talking about this album in the staff lounge, our resident Reaper categorized Rotting on a Golden Throne as one of the best straight-up thrash records of the year so far, and I couldn’t agree more. Detractors may point to Zerre’s stylistic touchstones as a mere recombination of established genre language, and while they wouldn’t be wrong, I don’t care. Zerre has dropped an album that embodies everything I want my thrash to be. Rotting on a Golden Throne is bursting with energy, aggression, groove, and a sense of unfiltered fun. It’s a combination that’s hard to find in today’s thrash metal landscape, and it’s one that’s worth raising a beer for.

Rating: Great!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: dyingvictimsproductions.bandcamp.com/album/rotting-on-a-golden-throne | facebook.com/zerre.thrash
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

This year has already kicked off in thrash-tastic fashion. We’ve seen new releases from the likes of Megadeth, Exodus, and Kreator, with Anthrax and more on the way. A quick check of my thrash bingo card shows that, by the end of the year, at least half of the “Big 4”1 will have dropped new records, with many of the honorable-mention heavyweights joining the fray. While we wait for the next boot to drop, we turn our attention to Würzburg, Germany’s Zerre, one of modern thrash’s promising upstarts. Their debut, Scorched Souls, was a Metallica-meets-Municipal Waste slab of old-school aggression loaded with crossover, beer-chugging grooves. Taking the foundations of their debut, Rotting on a Golden Throne finds Zerre tearing through nine tracks with a sharpened sense of purpose—more aggressive, more political, and more sadistic than its predecessor. And let me tell you, it delivers in spades. I hope you’re thirsty for some tallboys, because thrash is still on the menu.

Forging their songwriting into material that’s meaner, tighter, and far more assured, Rotting on a Golden Throne shines with the violently tempered alloy of classic thrash and modern crossover’s street-level grit that never lets its energy wane. Heavily steeped in Municipal Waste’s party chaos and …And Justice for All’s rapid, surgical picking, Zerre also imbues the album with Power Trip’s coarseness, Anthrax’s stomping swagger (“Killing Taste”) and the frantic wails of Slayer (“No Alibi,” “Deception of the Weak”). Riffs hit in relentless waves, with raw aggression spilling over into massive, replay-ready grooves, while strategically placed interludes are woven directly into the album’s 40-minute runtime rather than sliced off as filler (“Mental Vacation,” “Rotting on a Golden Throne”). This smart choice gives Rotting on a Golden Throne a more cohesive flow and breaks up the record’s accelerated attack just enough to keep things elastic. Zerre delivers it all seamlessly, with a dialed‑up piss‑and‑vinegar attitude that hits you right between the eyes.

Rotting on a Golden Throne by Zerre

Neck-snapping riffs abound on Rotting on a Golden Throne, driven by Zerre’s full-throttle dual axe attack of Dominik Bertelt and Rocco Lepore. The two throw their weight around effortlessly with hyperspeed picking mixed with trilling, power cord syncopations, whammy dives, and a metric ton of technical solos. After the “Battery”-inspired acoustic intro, “Pigs will be Pigs” fires the first shot with blistering runs that give way to a soaring melodic solo, while “Deception of the Weak” counters with sharp twin harmonies and nimble hammer‑ons and pull‑offs. Even the slower approach of “Concrete Hell” packs a punch and “Tin God” seals the deal with a squealing, tapping frenzy that illustrates how purposefully Zerre uses solos—coupled with keen songwriting—to drive the record’s peaks. The Nordic folk lick stretching out into intertwining leads in “Mental Vacation” is also a pleasant surprise, as is the power metal riff in the self-titled track, proving that when these guys branch out of their comfort zone, they do so tastefully and with restraint rather than veering off into left field.

Vocalist Nick Ziska2 brings a feral edge to Zerre’s sound. His performance swings between Tom Araya‑styled screams (“No Alibi”) and a Riley Gale-esque snarling mid‑range, anchoring Rotting on a Golden Throne’s songs with a serrated bark that sounds abrasive and weathered, yet still clear enough to slice through the chaos. Zerre’s songwriting leans heavily on gang vocals, and while they’re a clear fallback move, they inject a sense of rowdy fun that magnifies Ziska’s lyrics and makes the choruses instantly hooky. Ziska takes the lead, and the rest of the crew pile in behind him, creating shout-along moments that demand listener participation. Lyrically, Rotting on a Golden Throne sticks to thrash’s customary grievances—anti-police sentiment, prison system disdain and broad political ire—but these tropes feel less like a crutch and more like part of the total package, reinforcing the album’s scrappy, kinetic energy.

Talking about this album in the staff lounge, our resident Reaper categorized Rotting on a Golden Throne as one of the best straight-up thrash records of the year so far, and I couldn’t agree more. Detractors may point to Zerre’s stylistic touchstones as a mere recombination of established genre language, and while they wouldn’t be wrong, I don’t care. Zerre has dropped an album that embodies everything I want my thrash to be. Rotting on a Golden Throne is bursting with energy, aggression, groove, and a sense of unfiltered fun. It’s a combination that’s hard to find in today’s thrash metal landscape, and it’s one that’s worth raising a beer for.

Rating: Great!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: dyingvictimsproductions.bandcamp.com/album/rotting-on-a-golden-throne | facebook.com/zerre.thrash
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

This year has already kicked off in thrash-tastic fashion. We’ve seen new releases from the likes of Megadeth, Exodus, and Kreator, with Anthrax and more on the way. A quick check of my thrash bingo card shows that, by the end of the year, at least half of the “Big 4”1 will have dropped new records, with many of the honorable-mention heavyweights joining the fray. While we wait for the next boot to drop, we turn our attention to Würzburg, Germany’s Zerre, one of modern thrash’s promising upstarts. Their debut, Scorched Souls, was a Metallica-meets-Municipal Waste slab of old-school aggression loaded with crossover, beer-chugging grooves. Taking the foundations of their debut, Rotting on a Golden Throne finds Zerre tearing through nine tracks with a sharpened sense of purpose—more aggressive, more political, and more sadistic than its predecessor. And let me tell you, it delivers in spades. I hope you’re thirsty for some tallboys, because thrash is still on the menu.

Forging their songwriting into material that’s meaner, tighter, and far more assured, Rotting on a Golden Throne shines with the violently tempered alloy of classic thrash and modern crossover’s street-level grit that never lets its energy wane. Heavily steeped in Municipal Waste’s party chaos and …And Justice for All’s rapid, surgical picking, Zerre also imbues the album with Power Trip’s coarseness, Anthrax’s stomping swagger (“Killing Taste”) and the frantic wails of Slayer (“No Alibi,” “Deception of the Weak”). Riffs hit in relentless waves, with raw aggression spilling over into massive, replay-ready grooves, while strategically placed interludes are woven directly into the album’s 40-minute runtime rather than sliced off as filler (“Mental Vacation,” “Rotting on a Golden Throne”). This smart choice gives Rotting on a Golden Throne a more cohesive flow and breaks up the record’s accelerated attack just enough to keep things elastic. Zerre delivers it all seamlessly, with a dialed‑up piss‑and‑vinegar attitude that hits you right between the eyes.

Rotting on a Golden Throne by Zerre

Neck-snapping riffs abound on Rotting on a Golden Throne, driven by Zerre’s full-throttle dual axe attack of Dominik Bertelt and Rocco Lepore. The two throw their weight around effortlessly with hyperspeed picking mixed with trilling, power cord syncopations, whammy dives, and a metric ton of technical solos. After the “Battery”-inspired acoustic intro, “Pigs will be Pigs” fires the first shot with blistering runs that give way to a soaring melodic solo, while “Deception of the Weak” counters with sharp twin harmonies and nimble hammer‑ons and pull‑offs. Even the slower approach of “Concrete Hell” packs a punch and “Tin God” seals the deal with a squealing, tapping frenzy that illustrates how purposefully Zerre uses solos—coupled with keen songwriting—to drive the record’s peaks. The Nordic folk lick stretching out into intertwining leads in “Mental Vacation” is also a pleasant surprise, as is the power metal riff in the self-titled track, proving that when these guys branch out of their comfort zone, they do so tastefully and with restraint rather than veering off into left field.

Vocalist Nick Ziska2 brings a feral edge to Zerre’s sound. His performance swings between Tom Araya‑styled screams (“No Alibi”) and a Riley Gale-esque snarling mid‑range, anchoring Rotting on a Golden Throne’s songs with a serrated bark that sounds abrasive and weathered, yet still clear enough to slice through the chaos. Zerre’s songwriting leans heavily on gang vocals, and while they’re a clear fallback move, they inject a sense of rowdy fun that magnifies Ziska’s lyrics and makes the choruses instantly hooky. Ziska takes the lead, and the rest of the crew pile in behind him, creating shout-along moments that demand listener participation. Lyrically, Rotting on a Golden Throne sticks to thrash’s customary grievances—anti-police sentiment, prison system disdain and broad political ire—but these tropes feel less like a crutch and more like part of the total package, reinforcing the album’s scrappy, kinetic energy.

Talking about this album in the staff lounge, our resident Reaper categorized Rotting on a Golden Throne as one of the best straight-up thrash records of the year so far, and I couldn’t agree more. Detractors may point to Zerre’s stylistic touchstones as a mere recombination of established genre language, and while they wouldn’t be wrong, I don’t care. Zerre has dropped an album that embodies everything I want my thrash to be. Rotting on a Golden Throne is bursting with energy, aggression, groove, and a sense of unfiltered fun. It’s a combination that’s hard to find in today’s thrash metal landscape, and it’s one that’s worth raising a beer for.

Rating: Great!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: dyingvictimsproductions.bandcamp.com/album/rotting-on-a-golden-throne | facebook.com/zerre.thrash
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

This year has already kicked off in thrash-tastic fashion. We’ve seen new releases from the likes of Megadeth, Exodus, and Kreator, with Anthrax and more on the way. A quick check of my thrash bingo card shows that, by the end of the year, at least half of the “Big 4”1 will have dropped new records, with many of the honorable-mention heavyweights joining the fray. While we wait for the next boot to drop, we turn our attention to Würzburg, Germany’s Zerre, one of modern thrash’s promising upstarts. Their debut, Scorched Souls, was a Metallica-meets-Municipal Waste slab of old-school aggression loaded with crossover, beer-chugging grooves. Taking the foundations of their debut, Rotting on a Golden Throne finds Zerre tearing through nine tracks with a sharpened sense of purpose—more aggressive, more political, and more sadistic than its predecessor. And let me tell you, it delivers in spades. I hope you’re thirsty for some tallboys, because thrash is still on the menu.

Forging their songwriting into material that’s meaner, tighter, and far more assured, Rotting on a Golden Throne shines with the violently tempered alloy of classic thrash and modern crossover’s street-level grit that never lets its energy wane. Heavily steeped in Municipal Waste’s party chaos and …And Justice for All’s rapid, surgical picking, Zerre also imbues the album with Power Trip’s coarseness, Anthrax’s stomping swagger (“Killing Taste”) and the frantic wails of Slayer (“No Alibi,” “Deception of the Weak”). Riffs hit in relentless waves, with raw aggression spilling over into massive, replay-ready grooves, while strategically placed interludes are woven directly into the album’s 40-minute runtime rather than sliced off as filler (“Mental Vacation,” “Rotting on a Golden Throne”). This smart choice gives Rotting on a Golden Throne a more cohesive flow and breaks up the record’s accelerated attack just enough to keep things elastic. Zerre delivers it all seamlessly, with a dialed‑up piss‑and‑vinegar attitude that hits you right between the eyes.

Rotting on a Golden Throne by Zerre

Neck-snapping riffs abound on Rotting on a Golden Throne, driven by Zerre’s full-throttle dual axe attack of Dominik Bertelt and Rocco Lepore. The two throw their weight around effortlessly with hyperspeed picking mixed with trilling, power cord syncopations, whammy dives, and a metric ton of technical solos. After the “Battery”-inspired acoustic intro, “Pigs will be Pigs” fires the first shot with blistering runs that give way to a soaring melodic solo, while “Deception of the Weak” counters with sharp twin harmonies and nimble hammer‑ons and pull‑offs. Even the slower approach of “Concrete Hell” packs a punch and “Tin God” seals the deal with a squealing, tapping frenzy that illustrates how purposefully Zerre uses solos—coupled with keen songwriting—to drive the record’s peaks. The Nordic folk lick stretching out into intertwining leads in “Mental Vacation” is also a pleasant surprise, as is the power metal riff in the self-titled track, proving that when these guys branch out of their comfort zone, they do so tastefully and with restraint rather than veering off into left field.

Vocalist Nick Ziska2 brings a feral edge to Zerre’s sound. His performance swings between Tom Araya‑styled screams (“No Alibi”) and a Riley Gale-esque snarling mid‑range, anchoring Rotting on a Golden Throne’s songs with a serrated bark that sounds abrasive and weathered, yet still clear enough to slice through the chaos. Zerre’s songwriting leans heavily on gang vocals, and while they’re a clear fallback move, they inject a sense of rowdy fun that magnifies Ziska’s lyrics and makes the choruses instantly hooky. Ziska takes the lead, and the rest of the crew pile in behind him, creating shout-along moments that demand listener participation. Lyrically, Rotting on a Golden Throne sticks to thrash’s customary grievances—anti-police sentiment, prison system disdain and broad political ire—but these tropes feel less like a crutch and more like part of the total package, reinforcing the album’s scrappy, kinetic energy.

Talking about this album in the staff lounge, our resident Reaper categorized Rotting on a Golden Throne as one of the best straight-up thrash records of the year so far, and I couldn’t agree more. Detractors may point to Zerre’s stylistic touchstones as a mere recombination of established genre language, and while they wouldn’t be wrong, I don’t care. Zerre has dropped an album that embodies everything I want my thrash to be. Rotting on a Golden Throne is bursting with energy, aggression, groove, and a sense of unfiltered fun. It’s a combination that’s hard to find in today’s thrash metal landscape, and it’s one that’s worth raising a beer for.

Rating: Great!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: dyingvictimsproductions.bandcamp.com/album/rotting-on-a-golden-throne | facebook.com/zerre.thrash
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

This year has already kicked off in thrash-tastic fashion. We’ve seen new releases from the likes of Megadeth, Exodus, and Kreator, with Anthrax and more on the way. A quick check of my thrash bingo card shows that, by the end of the year, at least half of the “Big 4”1 will have dropped new records, with many of the honorable-mention heavyweights joining the fray. While we wait for the next boot to drop, we turn our attention to Würzburg, Germany’s Zerre, one of modern thrash’s promising upstarts. Their debut, Scorched Souls, was a Metallica-meets-Municipal Waste slab of old-school aggression loaded with crossover, beer-chugging grooves. Taking the foundations of their debut, Rotting on a Golden Throne finds Zerre tearing through nine tracks with a sharpened sense of purpose—more aggressive, more political, and more sadistic than its predecessor. And let me tell you, it delivers in spades. I hope you’re thirsty for some tallboys, because thrash is still on the menu.

Forging their songwriting into material that’s meaner, tighter, and far more assured, Rotting on a Golden Throne shines with the violently tempered alloy of classic thrash and modern crossover’s street-level grit that never lets its energy wane. Heavily steeped in Municipal Waste’s party chaos and …And Justice for All’s rapid, surgical picking, Zerre also imbues the album with Power Trip’s coarseness, Anthrax’s stomping swagger (“Killing Taste”) and the frantic wails of Slayer (“No Alibi,” “Deception of the Weak”). Riffs hit in relentless waves, with raw aggression spilling over into massive, replay-ready grooves, while strategically placed interludes are woven directly into the album’s 40-minute runtime rather than sliced off as filler (“Mental Vacation,” “Rotting on a Golden Throne”). This smart choice gives Rotting on a Golden Throne a more cohesive flow and breaks up the record’s accelerated attack just enough to keep things elastic. Zerre delivers it all seamlessly, with a dialed‑up piss‑and‑vinegar attitude that hits you right between the eyes.

Rotting on a Golden Throne by Zerre

Neck-snapping riffs abound on Rotting on a Golden Throne, driven by Zerre’s full-throttle dual axe attack of Dominik Bertelt and Rocco Lepore. The two throw their weight around effortlessly with hyperspeed picking mixed with trilling, power cord syncopations, whammy dives, and a metric ton of technical solos. After the “Battery”-inspired acoustic intro, “Pigs will be Pigs” fires the first shot with blistering runs that give way to a soaring melodic solo, while “Deception of the Weak” counters with sharp twin harmonies and nimble hammer‑ons and pull‑offs. Even the slower approach of “Concrete Hell” packs a punch and “Tin God” seals the deal with a squealing, tapping frenzy that illustrates how purposefully Zerre uses solos—coupled with keen songwriting—to drive the record’s peaks. The Nordic folk lick stretching out into intertwining leads in “Mental Vacation” is also a pleasant surprise, as is the power metal riff in the self-titled track, proving that when these guys branch out of their comfort zone, they do so tastefully and with restraint rather than veering off into left field.

Vocalist Nick Ziska2 brings a feral edge to Zerre’s sound. His performance swings between Tom Araya‑styled screams (“No Alibi”) and a Riley Gale-esque snarling mid‑range, anchoring Rotting on a Golden Throne’s songs with a serrated bark that sounds abrasive and weathered, yet still clear enough to slice through the chaos. Zerre’s songwriting leans heavily on gang vocals, and while they’re a clear fallback move, they inject a sense of rowdy fun that magnifies Ziska’s lyrics and makes the choruses instantly hooky. Ziska takes the lead, and the rest of the crew pile in behind him, creating shout-along moments that demand listener participation. Lyrically, Rotting on a Golden Throne sticks to thrash’s customary grievances—anti-police sentiment, prison system disdain and broad political ire—but these tropes feel less like a crutch and more like part of the total package, reinforcing the album’s scrappy, kinetic energy.

Talking about this album in the staff lounge, our resident Reaper categorized Rotting on a Golden Throne as one of the best straight-up thrash records of the year so far, and I couldn’t agree more. Detractors may point to Zerre’s stylistic touchstones as a mere recombination of established genre language, and while they wouldn’t be wrong, I don’t care. Zerre has dropped an album that embodies everything I want my thrash to be. Rotting on a Golden Throne is bursting with energy, aggression, groove, and a sense of unfiltered fun. It’s a combination that’s hard to find in today’s thrash metal landscape, and it’s one that’s worth raising a beer for.

Rating: Great!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: dyingvictimsproductions.bandcamp.com/album/rotting-on-a-golden-throne | facebook.com/zerre.thrash
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

Be honest: what do you expect experimental blackened death metal steeped in Left-Hand-Path Occultism to sound like? Dissonant? Oppressively heavy? Rhythmically complex and meandering? You wouldn’t be entirely wrong—in general, or in the particular case of Ain Sof Aur. Stereotypes exist for a reason. But Theos-Vel-Samael—serves as a vessel not only for a ceremonial invocation of wisdom-bringing darkness,1 but also the interaction between musical identity and ideology. Our assumptions about the sound and style of heavy music associated with certain fringe spiritualities are a strange mirror of the demonisation heaped upon metal overall in mainstream media from the Satanic Panic onwards, though informed at least through experience and some degree of appreciation rather than ignorance and distaste. These ideas break down when we turn to extreme metal, where Ain Sof Aur and others like them sit: a sphere defined by pushing boundaries of complexity, intensity, and heaviness—itself a natural extension of the wider genre’s core trait of subversion. Theos-Vel-Samael is an extreme metal album expressing mysticisms at least adjacent to Luciferianism, and using any preconceived notion of these ideologies obscures the music’s actuality.

Theos-Vel-Samael prompts me to wax philosophical by its very essence. Its 45-minute runtime is divided into three movements simply labelled “I,” “II,” and “III”—though Ain Sof Aur explain that each respectively embody the progressive stages of the invocation: “vision,” “force,” and “action.” This itself is a kind of stereotype, and one could speculate on whether the steady contraction of song length across the record is saying anything about the significance placed on or effort required in each of “vision,” “force,” and “action”. The way these pieces enact their theme has more in common with a wonky, progressive strain of technical death metal than it does a diabolical, vehemently evil form of black metal; in many ways, it is weirdly reminiscent of Cryptic Shift in a Veilburner kind of setting, by way of Altar of the Horned God. “I” subverted my expectations entirely with its overwhelmingly exuberant tone—albeit in an odd key and time signature for much of the time—and “II” with lengthy passages of almost mellow atmospheric strumming. This isn’t a criticism but rather the point: The literal incantations that comprise the lyrics, and the artists’ say-so, are the tethers to the occult and so the almost Hathian melodeath charges and noodling amidst croaks and roars are to be taken at face value.

Theos-Vel-Samael by AIN SOF AUR

The other reason Theos-Vel-Samael causes me to wax philosophical is that it leaves me with strangely little else to say. There is much to appreciate: M.H.S’ gargling roars; L.B.W’s vivacious drum performance; the aforementioned creative approach to marrying discordant malice and melodiousness in such experimental, otherwise malevolent metal; Ain Sof Aur can turn a melodic phrase (“I,” “III”) and dramatic flourish (“II,” “III”). Yet it all feels somehow unfocused, and so less impactful. Moments of sanguinity are somehow bled dry—sometimes through repetition, but largely simply because they fade into the surrounding fluctuations of dissonance and harmony, choppy technical tempos, and the equal minimalism of pared-back stalks and full-speed double-bass (“I” is the worst offender here). “III” is possibly the strongest of the three tracks, arguably because of its superlative brevity2 condenses if not excises the detours from what is a solid, decisively unsettling extreme death metal composition. Indeed, taken piecemeal, Theos-Vel-Samael can captivate and swallow (just after “I”‘s midpoint, the minutes just before “II”s, “III”‘s closing act), but as a whole, it functions more as an enjoyably creepy, if hazily remembered, background soundscape.

And yet what is Ain Sof Aur’s objective with Theos-Vel-Samael other than to evoke some esoteric ceremony with their interpretive music? Should the freeform nature of this expression surprise or disappoint? Was I ever going to put one of these songs on a workout playlist? The writing could use some editing to be sure, but the musical elements themselves are stellar—everything from the eerie ambience to the most violent technicality is executed assertively. I enjoy my experience of the rite even if it doesn’t convert me.

To be brief—for the first time in this review—don’t let an intimidating subgenre label, theme, or I, Voidhanger’s reputation colour your feelings about Theos-Vel-Samael. It’s creepy and unusual, but with a firm grip on more familiar death metal stylings. It doesn’t waste (much) time meandering, but it does have room to breathe. You could do far worse when dabbling in the occult.

Rating: Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

Florida death thrash dealers Intoxicated came down the promo sump with a nest of surprises I didn’t anticipate. Learning that once again I selected promo from a forgotten 90s band shocked me. Finding out that not one but two of Intoxicated’s members also serve in known party rock entity Andrew W.K. bamboozled me even more. These little factoids all came to me long after I had imbibed deeply of their upcoming third LP The Dome, which sounds fresher and far more vicarious than what I might’ve expected otherwise. But can it compete with a modern thrash scene desperate to revitalize the glory days of olde?

If there’s one thing that Intoxicated do well, it’s finding and exploiting their references. Riffs sourced from the bloodied piles amassed by the likes of Destruction, Death Angel, Dark Angel, and Sodom abound, all laced with the deathly wiles of Death to give them extra oomph.1 Anthrax-esque drumming doubles down on speed and extremity as The Dome gallops and blasts through its lean 30-minute runtime.2 A lightly proggy songwriting bent, again reminiscent of Death’s more sophisticated fare, gives The Dome a bit more variety than your average thrash revival record. Nonetheless, Intoxicated feels most at home brawling at bars and swaggering down back alleys in head-to-toe leather.

The Dome by Intoxicated

When they double down on sleaze and hooks, Intoxicated shine brightest. High-octane cuts like “Carved in Stone,” “The Dome,” “War Club,” and “Drowning the Weak” ooze vitriol and gush piss and vinegar all over the place, making for one nasty arena in which to open up pits and push around posers. Sole original member Erik Payne’s raspy barks and serrated growls feel right at home in this pocket, spewing matter-of-fact verses in the classic thrash tradition with a consistency and effectiveness that belies his age (“It’s Dead”). While that vocal talent provides The Dome with a significant measure of personality, it’s Erik’s and John Sutton’s riffs/leads and Mike Radford’s multifaceted drumming that steal the show, routinely shoving great ideas and weaving durable stitching throughout remarkably tight runtimes (“Shifted Cross” and “Rake the Grate,” for example, feel far more substantial and meaty than their featherweight sub-3-minute lengths suggest).

There’s a lot to love in The Dome, but there’s also a lot of potential to go further. On the production front, The Dome is very clean and modern, which in some ways detracts from Intoxicated’s brutish delivery (though its clarity makes the drum tones stand out in fantastic fashion). Additionally, while you can hear Gregg Robert’s bass burbling underneath the surface, it lacks the prominence it needs for listeners to reliably nail down what unholy magic he’s doing with it. As far as songwriting goes, The Dome is quite strong but songs that lack punch instantly get lost in the sauce. In some cases, that’s the result of a lack of unique riffs or interesting ideas (“Sever the Strings,” “Tighten Your Eyes”). In others, it’s nothing more than a pacing or tracklist placing issue where The Dome’s momentum is slightly disrupted or impeded (“Unescaped”). And of course, the fact that multiple writers could so readily identify reference points from a number of classic acts speaks to the level of influence they had on Intoxicated’s current sound, which, for some, might make The Dome seem unoriginal or derivative.

Even so, The Dome is a wholly enjoyable and easily repeatable record by an unsung act hailing from the 90s era of thrash and death. The references they pull from are good company to keep, so if some of the material here borders on worship, at least Intoxicated have good taste. As the dust and rubble settle, The Dome is a fun, raucous, and feisty little gem, and it would be a shame for it to go unnoticed.

Rating: Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Redefining Darkness Records
Websites: intoxicatedflorida.bandcamp.com | intoxicatedfl.com | facebook.com/pg/intoxicatedFL
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

Lately, I’ve been listening to quite a bit of depressing music. Between Meadowlands, Qroba, and Exequiae, the themes of melancholy, death, and despair have been having quite the run ’round these parts. So it figures my review of the day is Embrace the Death—why turn away from a theme that’s doing well? This is the sophomore full-length release from U.S.-based Mother Crone, over a decade after their debut Awakening, and, if my research is accurate, with a completely different lineup. The topic of the day is clear, and Mother Crone approach it with a blend of doom, stoner, progressive, and groove metal. It’s always exciting to see what a band can do with a refreshed vision, lineup, and style, and apparently, grim topics are strong performers these days. How do Mother Crone compare to their contemporaries?

That my depend on how we define “contemporaries;” while Mother Crone share subject matter with the aforementioned groups, stylistically they have more in common with their own stated influences, Pink Floyd, Pantera, and Alcest (among others). As mentioned earlier, the sound on Embrace the Death is fairly well-rooted in stoner metal, with elements of doom, progressive, and groove naturally creeping in to fit the topic. Guitarists Edoardo Curatolo and Joe Frothingham (also vocals) oscillate between light, introspective play and a burlier, more aggressive approach, and Frothingham’s singing is the same. A lot of the album’s stoner and doom metal leanings actually owe to bassist Preston Wilson and drummer Charlier Romano, whose slower, grimier playing grounds the music in a progressive sort of styling. Together, the result is something at times aggressive, at times introspective, and always atmospheric in some way.

Embrace the Death by Mother Crone

But the best parts of “Embrace the Death” are unquestionably the album’s quieter moments, where Mother Crone embraces the doom and the atmosphere fully. The title track is the best example; here, Frothingham takes a break from what my father would affectionately call shouting in tune to do his best Mikael Åkerfeldt (Opeth) impression and guide the listener through a somber acceptance of the inevitable. The plaintive guitars, soft singing, and rumbling bass give way to subtle, beautiful melodies that grow organically. Not that the heavier moments are not welcome ones—”Fever Stone” is a more traditional, groove-led rocker that demonstrates a nearly opposite side of Mother Crone’s sound, the one that channels Pantera more than Opeth or Alcest. “Eye of Providence” is the middle track for the sound, best blending riffs, atmosphere, and heaviness. In all, Mother Crone don’t really sound like any of their influences, but bring forth something in the odd space between them all, something surprisingly affecting, sometimes heavy, sometimes airy, and often both at once.

Another thing I can say about Embrace the Death is that it is a fairly front-loaded album. In particular, the trio of “Fever Stone,” “Embrace the Death,” and “Unto the Dawn” is a powerful one-two-three hit of Mother Crone’s sound, from burly, melodic aggression to more plaintive, introspective atmospheres. Towards the end of Embrace the Death, however, I think Mother Crone loses sight of their strengths. “Inner Keep” in particular is an example of a song that could have used more editing than it received, clocking in at eleven minutes without making the impression I think it means to. “Celestial Light” is a beautiful closer for the album, but tonally feels a bit out of place. Perhaps if more of Embrace the Death leaned towards its title track sound it would fit better, but as is, it feels like the two extremes of the Mother Crone sound are more in competition with each other than blending into a unified listening experience. It’s all good music, but as a full album, I think there’s too much back and forth between aggressive and plaintive music to feel as “complete” as it could have felt.

Still, there is a clear journey through Embrace the Death, and, despite its grim title and concept, it’s a fun and reasonably thought-provoking listen. Mother Crone was not on my radar before now, but I’ll be paying attention to them for certain in the future. At best, this sophomore is a beautiful, compelling, and contemplative work of atmospheric metal; and otherwise, it is “only” good. Hopefully this new lineup sticks around for a bit—I’ll be looking forward to album three for sure.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Self-release
Websites: mothercrone.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/mothercronemusic
Releases Worldwide: March 4th, 2026

Clouds of smoke obscure your view of the stage, where amps are littered with empty glass bottles. The scents of sweat and spilled beer dance in your nostrils as five long-haired reprobates clad in denim and leather walk onto the stage, a swagger in their step and street tough bravado oozing from their pores. Looking to take in a show whilst sitting on your ass? Get fucked. Total Maniac expects you to be on your feet and moving, and if you’re not ready for that, why are you even here? These boys from Baltimore play a raucous brand of classic rock-meets-speed metal that lives somewhere between Motörhead, Mötley Crüe, and Ted Nugent, delivering no-frills cheap thrills on sophomore effort Love Overdrive. So slap on your battle vest and steel-toe boots—when adrenaline starts to flow, and you’re thrashing all around, you’ve gotta be prepared to act like a Total Maniac.

Compared to Total Maniac’s self-titled debut, Love Overdrive veers more into the trad metal/rock ‘n’ roll lane than Total Maniac’s thrash ‘n’ roll stylings. While both albums showcase Total Maniac’s snotty disregard for authority and decorum, Total Maniac dedicated more attention to thrashy chugs and barked vocals. On Love Overdrive, the focus centers on sticky leads and hooky riffs over palm-muted riffing and abrasive grit. Love Overdrive also tones down what passed for technicality on their debut. Not that Total Maniac doesn’t host capable musicians, but there are moments across the album where guitars and vocals sound like they’re pushing just past their ability. Despite that, Love Overdrive features an enthusiastic embrace of freewheeling sin-dealing that’s easy to appreciate.

What Total Maniac lacks in virtuosic prowess, they make up in impish pluck. With only twenty-seven minutes on tap, Love Overdrive never feels phoned in. Each moment sounds crafted to maximize fist-pumping carnage, from the “Panama”-meets-“Wild Side” riffing in “Love Overdrive” to the Phil Campbell-inspired soloing toward the end of “Flatline.” It’s unclear which of Total Maniac’s guitarists takes the lead at any given point, but both Mike Brown and Nick Etson lay down earworm after earworm, frequently breaking away for a quick solo before snapping back to let vocalist Diamond Dustin regale you about hard living, hard loving, and hard rocking. Double-D doesn’t lack conviction, although his upper range sometimes gets away from him. It’s not a deal-breaker, as this sort of rowdy street metal lends itself to imperfect performances that enhance its DIY charm, but piercing falsettos occasionally hit like a sour King Diamond. As for the rhythm section, drummer Vaughn Volkman does a commendable job keeping Love Overdrive’s eight tracks on the rails, but it’s bassist Ben Martin who steals the show. His beefy grumbles and well-mixed countermelodies offset Total Maniac’s dual-guitar attack, creating a well-balanced stringed menace that defines my favorite aspect of Love Overdrive.

Though Total Maniac bleeds authenticity and fun, Love Overdrive does little to stake an identity that hasn’t already been claimed. Many of the riffs seem like variations on Mötley Crüe’s 80s heyday, with “Early Grave” echoing the main motif from “Kickstart My Heart” and the intro from “Set Fire to the Sun” hitting the same mid-paced groove and brief bass sustains as “Shout at the Devil.” The mid-song break in “Drinkin’ Our Way to Hell” even reminds me of Nugent’s crackpot rant towards the end of “Wango Tango.” In this way, Love Overdrive feels like a step back from Total Maniac, which was rougher around the edges, but better defined a unique voice for the band.

Total Maniac does a fantastic job of harnessing the spirit of the music I grew up listening to, but Love Overdrive rarely captures moments that achieve the promise of their inspirations. Fun abounds, and the music encourages beer-chugging shenanigans with a shit-eating grin, yet in the end Total Maniac leaves me wanting to revisit songs I already know rather than learn these new ones. Even so, it’s a quick listen worthy of a spin for anyone craving new material harkening to simpler times. I look forward to hearing where Total Maniac ventures next, and I hope they find a way to continue celebrating the glory of the past while sending their future into Overdrive.



Rating: Mixed
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

Power Paladin – Beyond the Reach of Enchantment Review

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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



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

UK disgusting death metal fiends Cryptworm have been quite prolific since 2022. Featuring members of Cryptic Shift and Rothadas, their Spewing Mephitic Putridity debut was a nauseating dose of raw sewagecore that made Autopsy seem hygienic by comparison. They followed that up barely a year later with Oozing Radioactive Vomition, and things felt a bit rushed and less impactful. They wisely took some time off thereafter, and now they return with third outing, Infectious Pathological Waste. While their overall approach hasn’t changed much from album to album, the quality of the writing has varied. This time, it feels like they put a bit more thought into the compositions, and some of the vile charm of the debut resurfaces through the slime and scuzz. Nothing does the heart good quite like seeing a happy Cryptworm!

Opener “Gallons of Molten Hominal Goo” greets you like a decaying old friend, and the gruesome, repulsive sounds contain the distinct aroma of early Carcass. This lump of excrement could have appeared on Symphonies of Sickness and fit like a maggot in a gunshot wound. The riffs are fairly rudimentary but have weight, and the vocals by Hanyi Tibor (Rothadas) are a cross between an industrial garbage disposal and a frat-house beer-belching contest. They are fucking disgusting, purulent, and utterly incomprehensible, but damn if they aren’t entertaining. “Maimed and Gutted” is a standout, going for a frantic thrashy panic attack with Cannibal Corpse-isms buried in the basement. It’s a road-grader of a brutal death song that veers into slam territory at times, and the riffs are greasy, sticky, and bellicose. My favorite macabre ditty is “Embedded with Parasitic Larvae,” where, intentionally or not, Tibor sounds like an undead version of the Swedish Chef from The Muppet Show. I cannot tell you why this enhances my enjoyment as much as it does, but fuck yes, Chef!

Infectious Pathological Waste by Cryptworm

On “Drowning in Purulent Excrementia,” they go extra slammy, and kitman Jamie Wintle starts to hit something that should be the pong snare, but it sounds like he’s beating on a skull or a femur. It’s weird, but I kinda like it, and it’s way better than that godawful PONG-PONG-PONG sound some tech and slam bands foist on you. Not every track is a sure-fire hit though, with “Gastrointestinal Seepage” feeling a bit too leaden and lethargic, though I appreciate Tibor’s extra nasty vocals where he seems to be coughing up a hairball full of razor blades and asbestos. I could complain that this feels like a very one-note album, but what death metal album isn’t really? At a tight 32 minutes, it goes by fast enough, though several tracks do have bloat issues that crimp enjoyment. The style Cryptworm opt to play necessitates keeping things in a 3-4 minute window, and when they push further, things get ropey and dopey.

Tibor does a tremendous, unpleasant job on vocals, sounding completely inhuman at all times. His unbelievably cartoonish subterranean croaks are a thing of hideous beauty, and I can’t get enough of them. His guitarwork is also to be applauded, borrowing the most objectionable bits of gristle from Autopsy, Cannibal Corpse, and Incantation to fuel the Cryptworm diet. Some of the leads are quite hooky, and I especially love the big beefy power chugs that dot the landscape. As on Oozing Radioactive Vomition, however, the songwriting can be inconsistent, and they don’t always know when enough is enough. There are some sick burners here to aggravate the savage altered beast, but a few tracks feel underbaked and deliver weaker tentacle slaps.

Cryptworm are a band I can’t help but root for as I root around in their repellant leavings, but I want them to be MOAR consistently deadly with their offal hammer. There’s plenty of fun stuff on Infectious Pathological Waste to marinate in, and it all reeks of the slaughterhouse. When it’s good, it’s rurl good. When it’s just okay, it’s still pretty fookin’ entertaining. Someday these chaps are gonna get their maggot larvae in a row and then, watch out! Until then, there are worse ways to kill brain cells than these odious odes to the grave.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Me Saco Un Ojo
Websites: cryptworm.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/cryptworm | instagram.com/cryptwormofficial
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

UK disgusting death metal fiends Cryptworm have been quite prolific since 2022. Featuring members of Cryptic Shift and Rothadas, their Spewing Mephitic Putridity debut was a nauseating dose of raw sewagecore that made Autopsy seem hygienic by comparison. They followed that up barely a year later with Oozing Radioactive Vomition, and things felt a bit rushed and less impactful. They wisely took some time off thereafter, and now they return with third outing, Infectious Pathological Waste. While their overall approach hasn’t changed much from album to album, the quality of the writing has varied. This time, it feels like they put a bit more thought into the compositions, and some of the vile charm of the debut resurfaces through the slime and scuzz. Nothing does the heart good quite like seeing a happy Cryptworm!

Opener “Gallons of Molten Hominal Goo” greets you like a decaying old friend, and the gruesome, repulsive sounds contain the distinct aroma of early Carcass. This lump of excrement could have appeared on Symphonies of Sickness and fit like a maggot in a gunshot wound. The riffs are fairly rudimentary but have weight, and the vocals by Hanyi Tibor (Rothadas) are a cross between an industrial garbage disposal and a frat-house beer-belching contest. They are fucking disgusting, purulent, and utterly incomprehensible, but damn if they aren’t entertaining. “Maimed and Gutted” is a standout, going for a frantic thrashy panic attack with Cannibal Corpse-isms buried in the basement. It’s a road-grader of a brutal death song that veers into slam territory at times, and the riffs are greasy, sticky, and bellicose. My favorite macabre ditty is “Embedded with Parasitic Larvae,” where, intentionally or not, Tibor sounds like an undead version of the Swedish Chef from The Muppet Show. I cannot tell you why this enhances my enjoyment as much as it does, but fuck yes, Chef!

Infectious Pathological Waste by Cryptworm

On “Drowning in Purulent Excrementia,” they go extra slammy, and kitman Jamie Wintle starts to hit something that should be the pong snare, but it sounds like he’s beating on a skull or a femur. It’s weird, but I kinda like it, and it’s way better than that godawful PONG-PONG-PONG sound some tech and slam bands foist on you. Not every track is a sure-fire hit though, with “Gastrointestinal Seepage” feeling a bit too leaden and lethargic, though I appreciate Tibor’s extra nasty vocals where he seems to be coughing up a hairball full of razor blades and asbestos. I could complain that this feels like a very one-note album, but what death metal album isn’t really? At a tight 32 minutes, it goes by fast enough, though several tracks do have bloat issues that crimp enjoyment. The style Cryptworm opt to play necessitates keeping things in a 3-4 minute window, and when they push further, things get ropey and dopey.

Tibor does a tremendous, unpleasant job on vocals, sounding completely inhuman at all times. His unbelievably cartoonish subterranean croaks are a thing of hideous beauty, and I can’t get enough of them. His guitarwork is also to be applauded, borrowing the most objectionable bits of gristle from Autopsy, Cannibal Corpse, and Incantation to fuel the Cryptworm diet. Some of the leads are quite hooky, and I especially love the big beefy power chugs that dot the landscape. As on Oozing Radioactive Vomition, however, the songwriting can be inconsistent, and they don’t always know when enough is enough. There are some sick burners here to aggravate the savage altered beast, but a few tracks feel underbaked and deliver weaker tentacle slaps.

Cryptworm are a band I can’t help but root for as I root around in their repellant leavings, but I want them to be MOAR consistently deadly with their offal hammer. There’s plenty of fun stuff on Infectious Pathological Waste to marinate in, and it all reeks of the slaughterhouse. When it’s good, it’s rurl good. When it’s just okay, it’s still pretty fookin’ entertaining. Someday these chaps are gonna get their maggot larvae in a row and then, watch out! Until then, there are worse ways to kill brain cells than these odious odes to the grave.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Me Saco Un Ojo
Websites: cryptworm.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/cryptworm | instagram.com/cryptwormofficial
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

UK disgusting death metal fiends Cryptworm have been quite prolific since 2022. Featuring members of Cryptic Shift and Rothadas, their Spewing Mephitic Putridity debut was a nauseating dose of raw sewagecore that made Autopsy seem hygienic by comparison. They followed that up barely a year later with Oozing Radioactive Vomition, and things felt a bit rushed and less impactful. They wisely took some time off thereafter, and now they return with third outing, Infectious Pathological Waste. While their overall approach hasn’t changed much from album to album, the quality of the writing has varied. This time, it feels like they put a bit more thought into the compositions, and some of the vile charm of the debut resurfaces through the slime and scuzz. Nothing does the heart good quite like seeing a happy Cryptworm!

Opener “Gallons of Molten Hominal Goo” greets you like a decaying old friend, and the gruesome, repulsive sounds contain the distinct aroma of early Carcass. This lump of excrement could have appeared on Symphonies of Sickness and fit like a maggot in a gunshot wound. The riffs are fairly rudimentary but have weight, and the vocals by Hanyi Tibor (Rothadas) are a cross between an industrial garbage disposal and a frat-house beer-belching contest. They are fucking disgusting, purulent, and utterly incomprehensible, but damn if they aren’t entertaining. “Maimed and Gutted” is a standout, going for a frantic thrashy panic attack with Cannibal Corpse-isms buried in the basement. It’s a road-grader of a brutal death song that veers into slam territory at times, and the riffs are greasy, sticky, and bellicose. My favorite macabre ditty is “Embedded with Parasitic Larvae,” where, intentionally or not, Tibor sounds like an undead version of the Swedish Chef from The Muppet Show. I cannot tell you why this enhances my enjoyment as much as it does, but fuck yes, Chef!

Infectious Pathological Waste by Cryptworm

On “Drowning in Purulent Excrementia,” they go extra slammy, and kitman Jamie Wintle starts to hit something that should be the pong snare, but it sounds like he’s beating on a skull or a femur. It’s weird, but I kinda like it, and it’s way better than that godawful PONG-PONG-PONG sound some tech and slam bands foist on you. Not every track is a sure-fire hit though, with “Gastrointestinal Seepage” feeling a bit too leaden and lethargic, though I appreciate Tibor’s extra nasty vocals where he seems to be coughing up a hairball full of razor blades and asbestos. I could complain that this feels like a very one-note album, but what death metal album isn’t really? At a tight 32 minutes, it goes by fast enough, though several tracks do have bloat issues that crimp enjoyment. The style Cryptworm opt to play necessitates keeping things in a 3-4 minute window, and when they push further, things get ropey and dopey.

Tibor does a tremendous, unpleasant job on vocals, sounding completely inhuman at all times. His unbelievably cartoonish subterranean croaks are a thing of hideous beauty, and I can’t get enough of them. His guitarwork is also to be applauded, borrowing the most objectionable bits of gristle from Autopsy, Cannibal Corpse, and Incantation to fuel the Cryptworm diet. Some of the leads are quite hooky, and I especially love the big beefy power chugs that dot the landscape. As on Oozing Radioactive Vomition, however, the songwriting can be inconsistent, and they don’t always know when enough is enough. There are some sick burners here to aggravate the savage altered beast, but a few tracks feel underbaked and deliver weaker tentacle slaps.

Cryptworm are a band I can’t help but root for as I root around in their repellant leavings, but I want them to be MOAR consistently deadly with their offal hammer. There’s plenty of fun stuff on Infectious Pathological Waste to marinate in, and it all reeks of the slaughterhouse. When it’s good, it’s rurl good. When it’s just okay, it’s still pretty fookin’ entertaining. Someday these chaps are gonna get their maggot larvae in a row and then, watch out! Until then, there are worse ways to kill brain cells than these odious odes to the grave.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Me Saco Un Ojo
Websites: cryptworm.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/cryptworm | instagram.com/cryptwormofficial
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

UK disgusting death metal fiends Cryptworm have been quite prolific since 2022. Featuring members of Cryptic Shift and Rothadas, their Spewing Mephitic Putridity debut was a nauseating dose of raw sewagecore that made Autopsy seem hygienic by comparison. They followed that up barely a year later with Oozing Radioactive Vomition, and things felt a bit rushed and less impactful. They wisely took some time off thereafter, and now they return with third outing, Infectious Pathological Waste. While their overall approach hasn’t changed much from album to album, the quality of the writing has varied. This time, it feels like they put a bit more thought into the compositions, and some of the vile charm of the debut resurfaces through the slime and scuzz. Nothing does the heart good quite like seeing a happy Cryptworm!

Opener “Gallons of Molten Hominal Goo” greets you like a decaying old friend, and the gruesome, repulsive sounds contain the distinct aroma of early Carcass. This lump of excrement could have appeared on Symphonies of Sickness and fit like a maggot in a gunshot wound. The riffs are fairly rudimentary but have weight, and the vocals by Hanyi Tibor (Rothadas) are a cross between an industrial garbage disposal and a frat-house beer-belching contest. They are fucking disgusting, purulent, and utterly incomprehensible, but damn if they aren’t entertaining. “Maimed and Gutted” is a standout, going for a frantic thrashy panic attack with Cannibal Corpse-isms buried in the basement. It’s a road-grader of a brutal death song that veers into slam territory at times, and the riffs are greasy, sticky, and bellicose. My favorite macabre ditty is “Embedded with Parasitic Larvae,” where, intentionally or not, Tibor sounds like an undead version of the Swedish Chef from The Muppet Show. I cannot tell you why this enhances my enjoyment as much as it does, but fuck yes, Chef!

Infectious Pathological Waste by Cryptworm

On “Drowning in Purulent Excrementia,” they go extra slammy, and kitman Jamie Wintle starts to hit something that should be the pong snare, but it sounds like he’s beating on a skull or a femur. It’s weird, but I kinda like it, and it’s way better than that godawful PONG-PONG-PONG sound some tech and slam bands foist on you. Not every track is a sure-fire hit though, with “Gastrointestinal Seepage” feeling a bit too leaden and lethargic, though I appreciate Tibor’s extra nasty vocals where he seems to be coughing up a hairball full of razor blades and asbestos. I could complain that this feels like a very one-note album, but what death metal album isn’t really? At a tight 32 minutes, it goes by fast enough, though several tracks do have bloat issues that crimp enjoyment. The style Cryptworm opt to play necessitates keeping things in a 3-4 minute window, and when they push further, things get ropey and dopey.

Tibor does a tremendous, unpleasant job on vocals, sounding completely inhuman at all times. His unbelievably cartoonish subterranean croaks are a thing of hideous beauty, and I can’t get enough of them. His guitarwork is also to be applauded, borrowing the most objectionable bits of gristle from Autopsy, Cannibal Corpse, and Incantation to fuel the Cryptworm diet. Some of the leads are quite hooky, and I especially love the big beefy power chugs that dot the landscape. As on Oozing Radioactive Vomition, however, the songwriting can be inconsistent, and they don’t always know when enough is enough. There are some sick burners here to aggravate the savage altered beast, but a few tracks feel underbaked and deliver weaker tentacle slaps.

Cryptworm are a band I can’t help but root for as I root around in their repellant leavings, but I want them to be MOAR consistently deadly with their offal hammer. There’s plenty of fun stuff on Infectious Pathological Waste to marinate in, and it all reeks of the slaughterhouse. When it’s good, it’s rurl good. When it’s just okay, it’s still pretty fookin’ entertaining. Someday these chaps are gonna get their maggot larvae in a row and then, watch out! Until then, there are worse ways to kill brain cells than these odious odes to the grave.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Me Saco Un Ojo
Websites: cryptworm.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/cryptworm | instagram.com/cryptwormofficial
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026