#may26 — Public Fediverse posts

Restless Spirit – Restless Spirit Review

When one thinks of Long Island, stoner doom may not be the first musical variant that comes to…
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https://www.newsbeep.com/ca/669383/

Crown Lands – Apocalypse Review

Rush is my all-time favorite band, so their 2015 hiatus, brought on by Neil Peart’s declining health hit…
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https://www.newsbeep.com/ca/668995/

Rush is my all-time favorite band, so their 2015 hiatus, brought on by Neil Peart’s declining health hit me hard. Peart’s passing in 2020 made it permanent, slamming the door on the Rush I grew up loving. That’s why stumbling across Crown Lands’ 2023 sophomore album Fearless—courtesy of this very blog—felt like a hemispherian void had been filled. The dynamic duo from Oshawa, Ontario, tapped into the essence of prime ’70s Rush better than anyone I’ve heard, much like Greta Van Fleet’s revival of the mighty Led Zeppelin. Naturally, when I learned their third LP, Apocalypse, was on the way, I rushed to the promo sump to claim dibs faster than you can say 2112.

Apocalypse expands the Fearless Chronology that began with “The Oracle” from 2022’s White Buffalo with the same sonic and aesthetic bombast longtime fans expect, while stretching Crown Lands’ sound into territory occupied by other classic rock titans. Taking place a century before the events of Fearless and once again rooted in the spirit of Rush’s “Cygnus X-1” series, Apocalypse often feels like a natural progression of its predecessor even if it doesn’t quite reach the same heights. Through straightforward, radio-friendly anthems, as well as the mammoth self-titled closer, the album’s narrative charts a manipulative, oppressive force that weaponizes fear (“Foot Soldiers of the Syndicate”), then spirals outward into dragons, warriors and interstellar tyrants plunging the world into chaos (“Blackstar”). Amid the destruction, more intimate threads of loss and longing surface in crestfallen ballads (“The Revenant,” “Through the Looking Glass”). Where Fearless opened with its longest track, Apocalypse flips the script, saving its epic for the finale. The 19-minute cut matches the ambition and scope of “The Oracle” and “Starlifter: Fearless Pt. II,” though the record’s bottom-heavy makeup leaves less to uncover in the tracks leading up to it.

It’s unusual to devote an entire paragraph to a single track, but “Apocalypse” earns the word count as its reach accounts for nearly half of the record’s runtime. The piece opens in classic Rush fashion as celestial synths, cascading tom rolls, and shifting syncopation give way to shimmering arpeggios and warm, fluid vocal lines. At first, the track feels poised to deliver on its promise, and as it unfolds, Crown Lands weaves in a myriad of compelling touches, including Pink Floyd’s patented stoner-rock solos and a gorgeous arpeggiated, space-drifting movement with a flute-laden motif that nods to the duo’s Indigenous roots. But the track’s momentum falters at several points, and the songwriting begins to feel choppy as the track progresses. The choral bridge at the six-minute mark is a great idea, yet it’s followed by an overly hectic section where Crown Lands’ instrumental prowess shines but the vocals grate, undercutting what could have become a more transcendent phase. Similarly, the astral section at eleven minutes, with its galactic, vocal harmonies and tribal tom flourishes, is another moment that is abrasive. Although it ends on a high note, “Apocalypse” feels like it needed more time to bake to fully come together.

The unevenness of the self-titled epic would be forgivable if Apocalypse’s remaining tracks consistently picked up the slack. But they don’t. Stronger songs like “Through the Looking Glass” and “The Revenant” rely on Led Zeppelin-esque refrains to cohere into some of their best material to date, while Bowles’ vocal approach primarily hampers “Foot Soldiers of the Syndicate”, “Blackstar,” and “The Fall.” Bowles’ high-register singing—which will no doubt remain as divisive as Geddy Lee’s—can feel forced or strained at times, pulling me out of the otherwise strong songwriting rather than deepening the immersion. Across several key moments, Bowles doesn’t feel fully locked in, leaning instead on playful, almost taunting huffs and puffs (“The Fall”) or siren-like shrills (“Apocalypse”) that never quite find their place. Still, while Crown Lands’ execution isn’t as consistently sharp as Fearless, Apocalypse still offers plenty of quality material for fans to latch onto.

I’ve enjoyed my time with Apocalypse, yet I can’t help but feel somewhat disappointed. Maybe it speaks to the consistency and appeal of Fearless, but this record simply doesn’t resonate in the same way its predecessor did. To their credit, Crown Lands takes risks and pushes into some new territory here, and some of those choices pay off. Nevertheless, Apocalypse lacks the cohesion to keep me coming back, outside of a couple tracks that have burrowed their way into my psyche. It’s a letdown, but one I’m inclined to chalk up to growing pains for now.

Rating: Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: InsideOut Music
Websites: crownlands.bandcamp.com | crownlandsmusic.com | facebook.com/crownlandsmusic
Releases Worldwide: May 15th, 2026

Rush is my all-time favorite band, so their 2015 hiatus, brought on by Neil Peart’s declining health hit me hard. Peart’s passing in 2020 made it permanent, slamming the door on the Rush I grew up loving. That’s why stumbling across Crown Lands’ 2023 sophomore album Fearless—courtesy of this very blog—felt like a hemispherian void had been filled. The dynamic duo from Oshawa, Ontario, tapped into the essence of prime ’70s Rush better than anyone I’ve heard, much like Greta Van Fleet’s revival of the mighty Led Zeppelin. Naturally, when I learned their third LP, Apocalypse, was on the way, I rushed to the promo sump to claim dibs faster than you can say 2112.

Apocalypse expands the Fearless Chronology that began with “The Oracle” from 2022’s White Buffalo with the same sonic and aesthetic bombast longtime fans expect, while stretching Crown Lands’ sound into territory occupied by other classic rock titans. Taking place a century before the events of Fearless and once again rooted in the spirit of Rush’s “Cygnus X-1” series, Apocalypse often feels like a natural progression of its predecessor even if it doesn’t quite reach the same heights. Through straightforward, radio-friendly anthems, as well as the mammoth self-titled closer, the album’s narrative charts a manipulative, oppressive force that weaponizes fear (“Foot Soldiers of the Syndicate”), then spirals outward into dragons, warriors and interstellar tyrants plunging the world into chaos (“Blackstar”). Amid the destruction, more intimate threads of loss and longing surface in crestfallen ballads (“The Revenant,” “Through the Looking Glass”). Where Fearless opened with its longest track, Apocalypse flips the script, saving its epic for the finale. The 19-minute cut matches the ambition and scope of “The Oracle” and “Starlifter: Fearless Pt. II,” though the record’s bottom-heavy makeup leaves less to uncover in the tracks leading up to it.

It’s unusual to devote an entire paragraph to a single track, but “Apocalypse” earns the word count as its reach accounts for nearly half of the record’s runtime. The piece opens in classic Rush fashion as celestial synths, cascading tom rolls, and shifting syncopation give way to shimmering arpeggios and warm, fluid vocal lines. At first, the track feels poised to deliver on its promise, and as it unfolds, Crown Lands weaves in a myriad of compelling touches, including Pink Floyd’s patented stoner-rock solos and a gorgeous arpeggiated, space-drifting movement with a flute-laden motif that nods to the duo’s Indigenous roots. But the track’s momentum falters at several points, and the songwriting begins to feel choppy as the track progresses. The choral bridge at the six-minute mark is a great idea, yet it’s followed by an overly hectic section where Crown Lands’ instrumental prowess shines but the vocals grate, undercutting what could have become a more transcendent phase. Similarly, the astral section at eleven minutes, with its galactic, vocal harmonies and tribal tom flourishes, is another moment that is abrasive. Although it ends on a high note, “Apocalypse” feels like it needed more time to bake to fully come together.

The unevenness of the self-titled epic would be forgivable if Apocalypse’s remaining tracks consistently picked up the slack. But they don’t. Stronger songs like “Through the Looking Glass” and “The Revenant” rely on Led Zeppelin-esque refrains to cohere into some of their best material to date, while Bowles’ vocal approach primarily hampers “Foot Soldiers of the Syndicate”, “Blackstar,” and “The Fall.” Bowles’ high-register singing—which will no doubt remain as divisive as Geddy Lee’s—can feel forced or strained at times, pulling me out of the otherwise strong songwriting rather than deepening the immersion. Across several key moments, Bowles doesn’t feel fully locked in, leaning instead on playful, almost taunting huffs and puffs (“The Fall”) or siren-like shrills (“Apocalypse”) that never quite find their place. Still, while Crown Lands’ execution isn’t as consistently sharp as Fearless, Apocalypse still offers plenty of quality material for fans to latch onto.

I’ve enjoyed my time with Apocalypse, yet I can’t help but feel somewhat disappointed. Maybe it speaks to the consistency and appeal of Fearless, but this record simply doesn’t resonate in the same way its predecessor did. To their credit, Crown Lands takes risks and pushes into some new territory here, and some of those choices pay off. Nevertheless, Apocalypse lacks the cohesion to keep me coming back, outside of a couple tracks that have burrowed their way into my psyche. It’s a letdown, but one I’m inclined to chalk up to growing pains for now.

Rating: Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: InsideOut Music
Websites: crownlands.bandcamp.com | crownlandsmusic.com | facebook.com/crownlandsmusic
Releases Worldwide: May 15th, 2026

Rush is my all-time favorite band, so their 2015 hiatus, brought on by Neil Peart’s declining health hit me hard. Peart’s passing in 2020 made it permanent, slamming the door on the Rush I grew up loving. That’s why stumbling across Crown Lands’ 2023 sophomore album Fearless—courtesy of this very blog—felt like a hemispherian void had been filled. The dynamic duo from Oshawa, Ontario, tapped into the essence of prime ’70s Rush better than anyone I’ve heard, much like Greta Van Fleet’s revival of the mighty Led Zeppelin. Naturally, when I learned their third LP, Apocalypse, was on the way, I rushed to the promo sump to claim dibs faster than you can say 2112.

Apocalypse expands the Fearless Chronology that began with “The Oracle” from 2022’s White Buffalo with the same sonic and aesthetic bombast longtime fans expect, while stretching Crown Lands’ sound into territory occupied by other classic rock titans. Taking place a century before the events of Fearless and once again rooted in the spirit of Rush’s “Cygnus X-1” series, Apocalypse often feels like a natural progression of its predecessor even if it doesn’t quite reach the same heights. Through straightforward, radio-friendly anthems, as well as the mammoth self-titled closer, the album’s narrative charts a manipulative, oppressive force that weaponizes fear (“Foot Soldiers of the Syndicate”), then spirals outward into dragons, warriors and interstellar tyrants plunging the world into chaos (“Blackstar”). Amid the destruction, more intimate threads of loss and longing surface in crestfallen ballads (“The Revenant,” “Through the Looking Glass”). Where Fearless opened with its longest track, Apocalypse flips the script, saving its epic for the finale. The 19-minute cut matches the ambition and scope of “The Oracle” and “Starlifter: Fearless Pt. II,” though the record’s bottom-heavy makeup leaves less to uncover in the tracks leading up to it.

It’s unusual to devote an entire paragraph to a single track, but “Apocalypse” earns the word count as its reach accounts for nearly half of the record’s runtime. The piece opens in classic Rush fashion as celestial synths, cascading tom rolls, and shifting syncopation give way to shimmering arpeggios and warm, fluid vocal lines. At first, the track feels poised to deliver on its promise, and as it unfolds, Crown Lands weaves in a myriad of compelling touches, including Pink Floyd’s patented stoner-rock solos and a gorgeous arpeggiated, space-drifting movement with a flute-laden motif that nods to the duo’s Indigenous roots. But the track’s momentum falters at several points, and the songwriting begins to feel choppy as the track progresses. The choral bridge at the six-minute mark is a great idea, yet it’s followed by an overly hectic section where Crown Lands’ instrumental prowess shines but the vocals grate, undercutting what could have become a more transcendent phase. Similarly, the astral section at eleven minutes, with its galactic, vocal harmonies and tribal tom flourishes, is another moment that is abrasive. Although it ends on a high note, “Apocalypse” feels like it needed more time to bake to fully come together.

The unevenness of the self-titled epic would be forgivable if Apocalypse’s remaining tracks consistently picked up the slack. But they don’t. Stronger songs like “Through the Looking Glass” and “The Revenant” rely on Led Zeppelin-esque refrains to cohere into some of their best material to date, while Bowles’ vocal approach primarily hampers “Foot Soldiers of the Syndicate”, “Blackstar,” and “The Fall.” Bowles’ high-register singing—which will no doubt remain as divisive as Geddy Lee’s—can feel forced or strained at times, pulling me out of the otherwise strong songwriting rather than deepening the immersion. Across several key moments, Bowles doesn’t feel fully locked in, leaning instead on playful, almost taunting huffs and puffs (“The Fall”) or siren-like shrills (“Apocalypse”) that never quite find their place. Still, while Crown Lands’ execution isn’t as consistently sharp as Fearless, Apocalypse still offers plenty of quality material for fans to latch onto.

I’ve enjoyed my time with Apocalypse, yet I can’t help but feel somewhat disappointed. Maybe it speaks to the consistency and appeal of Fearless, but this record simply doesn’t resonate in the same way its predecessor did. To their credit, Crown Lands takes risks and pushes into some new territory here, and some of those choices pay off. Nevertheless, Apocalypse lacks the cohesion to keep me coming back, outside of a couple tracks that have burrowed their way into my psyche. It’s a letdown, but one I’m inclined to chalk up to growing pains for now.

Rating: Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: InsideOut Music
Websites: crownlands.bandcamp.com | crownlandsmusic.com | facebook.com/crownlandsmusic
Releases Worldwide: May 15th, 2026

Rush is my all-time favorite band, so their 2015 hiatus, brought on by Neil Peart’s declining health hit me hard. Peart’s passing in 2020 made it permanent, slamming the door on the Rush I grew up loving. That’s why stumbling across Crown Lands’ 2023 sophomore album Fearless—courtesy of this very blog—felt like a hemispherian void had been filled. The dynamic duo from Oshawa, Ontario, tapped into the essence of prime ’70s Rush better than anyone I’ve heard, much like Greta Van Fleet’s revival of the mighty Led Zeppelin. Naturally, when I learned their third LP, Apocalypse, was on the way, I rushed to the promo sump to claim dibs faster than you can say 2112.

Apocalypse expands the Fearless Chronology that began with “The Oracle” from 2022’s White Buffalo with the same sonic and aesthetic bombast longtime fans expect, while stretching Crown Lands’ sound into territory occupied by other classic rock titans. Taking place a century before the events of Fearless and once again rooted in the spirit of Rush’s “Cygnus X-1” series, Apocalypse often feels like a natural progression of its predecessor even if it doesn’t quite reach the same heights. Through straightforward, radio-friendly anthems, as well as the mammoth self-titled closer, the album’s narrative charts a manipulative, oppressive force that weaponizes fear (“Foot Soldiers of the Syndicate”), then spirals outward into dragons, warriors and interstellar tyrants plunging the world into chaos (“Blackstar”). Amid the destruction, more intimate threads of loss and longing surface in crestfallen ballads (“The Revenant,” “Through the Looking Glass”). Where Fearless opened with its longest track, Apocalypse flips the script, saving its epic for the finale. The 19-minute cut matches the ambition and scope of “The Oracle” and “Starlifter: Fearless Pt. II,” though the record’s bottom-heavy makeup leaves less to uncover in the tracks leading up to it.

It’s unusual to devote an entire paragraph to a single track, but “Apocalypse” earns the word count as its reach accounts for nearly half of the record’s runtime. The piece opens in classic Rush fashion as celestial synths, cascading tom rolls, and shifting syncopation give way to shimmering arpeggios and warm, fluid vocal lines. At first, the track feels poised to deliver on its promise, and as it unfolds, Crown Lands weaves in a myriad of compelling touches, including Pink Floyd’s patented stoner-rock solos and a gorgeous arpeggiated, space-drifting movement with a flute-laden motif that nods to the duo’s Indigenous roots. But the track’s momentum falters at several points, and the songwriting begins to feel choppy as the track progresses. The choral bridge at the six-minute mark is a great idea, yet it’s followed by an overly hectic section where Crown Lands’ instrumental prowess shines but the vocals grate, undercutting what could have become a more transcendent phase. Similarly, the astral section at eleven minutes, with its galactic, vocal harmonies and tribal tom flourishes, is another moment that is abrasive. Although it ends on a high note, “Apocalypse” feels like it needed more time to bake to fully come together.

The unevenness of the self-titled epic would be forgivable if Apocalypse’s remaining tracks consistently picked up the slack. But they don’t. Stronger songs like “Through the Looking Glass” and “The Revenant” rely on Led Zeppelin-esque refrains to cohere into some of their best material to date, while Bowles’ vocal approach primarily hampers “Foot Soldiers of the Syndicate”, “Blackstar,” and “The Fall.” Bowles’ high-register singing—which will no doubt remain as divisive as Geddy Lee’s—can feel forced or strained at times, pulling me out of the otherwise strong songwriting rather than deepening the immersion. Across several key moments, Bowles doesn’t feel fully locked in, leaning instead on playful, almost taunting huffs and puffs (“The Fall”) or siren-like shrills (“Apocalypse”) that never quite find their place. Still, while Crown Lands’ execution isn’t as consistently sharp as Fearless, Apocalypse still offers plenty of quality material for fans to latch onto.

I’ve enjoyed my time with Apocalypse, yet I can’t help but feel somewhat disappointed. Maybe it speaks to the consistency and appeal of Fearless, but this record simply doesn’t resonate in the same way its predecessor did. To their credit, Crown Lands takes risks and pushes into some new territory here, and some of those choices pay off. Nevertheless, Apocalypse lacks the cohesion to keep me coming back, outside of a couple tracks that have burrowed their way into my psyche. It’s a letdown, but one I’m inclined to chalk up to growing pains for now.

Rating: Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: InsideOut Music
Websites: crownlands.bandcamp.com | crownlandsmusic.com | facebook.com/crownlandsmusic
Releases Worldwide: May 15th, 2026

Rush is my all-time favorite band, so their 2015 hiatus, brought on by Neil Peart’s declining health hit me hard. Peart’s passing in 2020 made it permanent, slamming the door on the Rush I grew up loving. That’s why stumbling across Crown Lands’ 2023 sophomore album Fearless—courtesy of this very blog—felt like a hemispherian void had been filled. The dynamic duo from Oshawa, Ontario, tapped into the essence of prime ’70s Rush better than anyone I’ve heard, much like Greta Van Fleet’s revival of the mighty Led Zeppelin. Naturally, when I learned their third LP, Apocalypse, was on the way, I rushed to the promo sump to claim dibs faster than you can say 2112.

Apocalypse expands the Fearless Chronology that began with “The Oracle” from 2022’s White Buffalo with the same sonic and aesthetic bombast longtime fans expect, while stretching Crown Lands’ sound into territory occupied by other classic rock titans. Taking place a century before the events of Fearless and once again rooted in the spirit of Rush’s “Cygnus X-1” series, Apocalypse often feels like a natural progression of its predecessor even if it doesn’t quite reach the same heights. Through straightforward, radio-friendly anthems, as well as the mammoth self-titled closer, the album’s narrative charts a manipulative, oppressive force that weaponizes fear (“Foot Soldiers of the Syndicate”), then spirals outward into dragons, warriors and interstellar tyrants plunging the world into chaos (“Blackstar”). Amid the destruction, more intimate threads of loss and longing surface in crestfallen ballads (“The Revenant,” “Through the Looking Glass”). Where Fearless opened with its longest track, Apocalypse flips the script, saving its epic for the finale. The 19-minute cut matches the ambition and scope of “The Oracle” and “Starlifter: Fearless Pt. II,” though the record’s bottom-heavy makeup leaves less to uncover in the tracks leading up to it.

It’s unusual to devote an entire paragraph to a single track, but “Apocalypse” earns the word count as its reach accounts for nearly half of the record’s runtime. The piece opens in classic Rush fashion as celestial synths, cascading tom rolls, and shifting syncopation give way to shimmering arpeggios and warm, fluid vocal lines. At first, the track feels poised to deliver on its promise, and as it unfolds, Crown Lands weaves in a myriad of compelling touches, including Pink Floyd’s patented stoner-rock solos and a gorgeous arpeggiated, space-drifting movement with a flute-laden motif that nods to the duo’s Indigenous roots. But the track’s momentum falters at several points, and the songwriting begins to feel choppy as the track progresses. The choral bridge at the six-minute mark is a great idea, yet it’s followed by an overly hectic section where Crown Lands’ instrumental prowess shines but the vocals grate, undercutting what could have become a more transcendent phase. Similarly, the astral section at eleven minutes, with its galactic, vocal harmonies and tribal tom flourishes, is another moment that is abrasive. Although it ends on a high note, “Apocalypse” feels like it needed more time to bake to fully come together.

The unevenness of the self-titled epic would be forgivable if Apocalypse’s remaining tracks consistently picked up the slack. But they don’t. Stronger songs like “Through the Looking Glass” and “The Revenant” rely on Led Zeppelin-esque refrains to cohere into some of their best material to date, while Bowles’ vocal approach primarily hampers “Foot Soldiers of the Syndicate”, “Blackstar,” and “The Fall.” Bowles’ high-register singing—which will no doubt remain as divisive as Geddy Lee’s—can feel forced or strained at times, pulling me out of the otherwise strong songwriting rather than deepening the immersion. Across several key moments, Bowles doesn’t feel fully locked in, leaning instead on playful, almost taunting huffs and puffs (“The Fall”) or siren-like shrills (“Apocalypse”) that never quite find their place. Still, while Crown Lands’ execution isn’t as consistently sharp as Fearless, Apocalypse still offers plenty of quality material for fans to latch onto.

I’ve enjoyed my time with Apocalypse, yet I can’t help but feel somewhat disappointed. Maybe it speaks to the consistency and appeal of Fearless, but this record simply doesn’t resonate in the same way its predecessor did. To their credit, Crown Lands takes risks and pushes into some new territory here, and some of those choices pay off. Nevertheless, Apocalypse lacks the cohesion to keep me coming back, outside of a couple tracks that have burrowed their way into my psyche. It’s a letdown, but one I’m inclined to chalk up to growing pains for now.

Rating: Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: InsideOut Music
Websites: crownlands.bandcamp.com | crownlandsmusic.com | facebook.com/crownlandsmusic
Releases Worldwide: May 15th, 2026

Draconian is an institution. Since Where Lovers Mourn dropped 23 years ago, the Swedish death doom sextet upheld an unflappable standard of quality across seven records, marking a legendary discography matched by precious few. Everyone has their favorite out of those seven tomes, but it’s fairly uncommon to find a shared preference. This not only speaks to the diversity of Draconian’s sound despite their tried and true template, but also to the reliable nature of their compositions, capable of striking at the heart of anyone who might encounter them. I, just as susceptible to Draconian’s hooded charm, miraculously came into possession of their eighth outing, In Somnolent Ruin, albeit quite late. However, it took no time whatsoever to recognize that it was special.

As if in celebration of their reunion with original siren Lisa Johansson, Draconian amplified both the beautiful and the beastly sides of their trademark sound for In Somnolent Ruin. Heavy as Arcane Rain Fell and A Rose for the Apocalypse (“The Monochrome Blade”) and delicate as Sovran and Under a Godless Veil (“Lethe”), In Somnolent Ruin trudges inexorably through an unknowable pall with desperate fury and earnest sorrow. A dichotomy of intensity and grace embodies this hour-long funereal march, gloom and mist gently grazing the skin as the earth churns underfoot and a clouded sky thunders above. The emotions conjured through Draconian’s gothic spell, deep ripples that oscillate between tension and release in overwhelming concentrations, black out my vision and light up my synapses. This is what Draconian is known for, and what they do so well they’ve rarely done better than on In Somnolent Ruin.

Whereas Draconian routinely succeeds in songwriting across all of their records, In Somnolent Ruin blossoms primarily because of the striking performances it houses. Lisa and Anders Jacobsson shine here, each pouring every fiber of their being into their vocals (“The Monochrome Blade,” “The Face of God,” “Cold Heavens”). Anders sounds particularly venomous, his serrated growls and screaming rasps curdling my blood and melting my bones with every utterance (“I Gave You Wings”). Lisa belts like never before, showcasing a range and power I didn’t realize she possessed (“Cold Heavens”). Not to be outclassed, guitarists Johan Ericson and Niklas Nord shove thunderous riffs against each other and in concert with only the most bleeding-heart lead melodies (“I Welcome Thy Arrow,” “Misanthrope River”), creating a wonderful miasma of textures and tones that swirl with the deadly grace of smoke. Drummer Daniel Johansson and Bassist Daniel Arvidsson form a formidable rhythm section to bolster In Somnolent Ruin with great heft and shrewd patterns. Daniel Johansson in particular impresses with beats and fills that almost refuse to mimic Niklas’ riffs, instead forging his own path weaving in and out of the spaces between guitars and vocals with powerful muscularity. Working as a finely tuned machine, Draconian’s performance on In Somnolent Ruin is a rare coalescence that elevates every crest and crescendo beyond greatness.

That greatness nonetheless extends to songwriting, as In Somnolent Ruin showcases some of Draconian’s coolest pieces in their discography. With no fewer than four contenders for my Songs o’ the Year playlist (“The Monochrome Blade,” “The Face of God,” “I Gave You Wings,” “Cold Heavens”), the impact of these nine songs, both isolated from and integrated with the whole, leaves nothing but dust and rubble at my feet. Emotionally devastating, richly detailed, and imposing in stature, only one word approaches adequacy when intimating my impressions: majestic. Towering arcs that connect poignant storytelling to heartfelt expressiveness personify In Somnolent Ruin’s transition from the riff-laden challenge “I Welcome Thy Arrow” to the bitter death of “Lethe.” As I traverse that arc, marvelous transitions guide my way through twists and gnarls as beautiful in form as they are lethal to the touch. Draconian created something familiar enough to caress and comfort but surprising in its vitality and charisma, such that each fresh spin feels as compelling and impactful as the first.

I’m left astounded, alone in a clearing of brush and fog. So few discographies boast such reliable and recognizable greatness, but even fewer offer late-stage monoliths of this scale. To critique small nitpicks like the relative innocuousness of interlude “Asteria Beneath the Tranquil Sea” or the slightly less impressive “Anima” feels disingenuous—as if to do so is merely to make up for a perceived neglect of my responsibility to evaluation. Yet even accounting for this internal debate, In Somnolent Ruin is a rare triumph. A love letter to Draconian’s storied past and a celebration of their modern era, refined to staggering excellence.

Rating: Excellent!
DR: Buried Under 6 Feet of Bandwidth | Format Reviewed: Misanthrope Stream
Label: Napalm Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

After four years of studio silence, Kenoshan cavemen Jungle Rot emerge from the bush with twelfth platter, Cruel Face of War. For the uninitiated, Jungle Rot plays groovy death metal that’s hostile, bludgeoning, and never dares to overthink anything. Their output has been more reliable than our coverage, and reviewing every other album since 2011’s Kill on Command, each has earned a ‘Mixed’ rating. Interestingly, the two albums we missed reviewing, Terror Regime and Jungle Rot, are the best of that group, particularly their self-titled effort. Now faced with our first consecutive Jungle Rot evaluation, can Cruel Face of War break the mold, or does it run through the Jungle on cruise control?

‘Consistency is key’ perseveres as a pillar of advice I mete out and live by,1 and this lesson sticks with Jungle Rot like flies on a decomposing carcass. After three decades of mouth-breathing death jams, the band still delivers freshly forged OSDM every two to four years that reeks of Obituary and Bolt Thrower. While the hardcore and deathcore vestiges have diminished,2 trace amounts of Hatebreed and Slaughter to Prevail lurk within Jungle Rot’s fetid funk, especially Dave Matrise’s vocals. To be fair, any fluctuations in their sound become conversations of degrees, and since Fueled by Hate dropped in 2004, Jungle Rot has been lodged in a groove so deep they haven’t pulled out from it yet.

Jungle Rot sounds best when they inject a bit of melody into their formula, and those crumbs unerringly serve as the best morsels on Cruel Face of War. Maybe that’s because only those moments break up the monotony of an otherwise wearisome chuggathon, where an unvarying landscape of riffs and grooves blur together into an indistinct sea of homogenous death metal. For instance, the riffs on “When the Elders Rise” and “Rot Riffs” carry just enough character to help differentiate themselves from the rest of the pack, but otherwise, I can’t distinguish between most others without playing them back-to-back. To Jungle Rot’s credit, they possess a sound uniquely their own. But like a painter who only uses a single color, they lock themselves into a self-imposed prison of uniformity that undercuts any notion of tension or contrast.

Despite the detractors, Jungle Rot’s adherence to convention pays dividends as well. Pit-ready grooves and stank-inducing verses make great fodder for good ol’ fashioned head-banging, and while the simplicity limits Cruel Face of War’s upside, it also ensures a stable foundation to build upon. Regarding pacing, Jungle Rot plays with two speeds: a menacing, mid-paced skulk and a faster, more predatory trot. Though they never commit to woebegone plods or balls-out blitzes, there’s just enough variety to keep things engaging without moving too far away from Jungle Rot’s established sonic ideal. Additionally, Cruel Face of War merits praise for the efficient yet expressive solos, particularly on “Cruel Face of War” and “Horrors Vile,” with Geoff Bub and David Matrise credited for guitars.3 Bassist James Genenz rumbles and groans alongside, supplying a meaty dimension to Cruel Face of War, and drummer Spenser Syphers pounds and pummels as needed. Dan “The Man” Swanö even handles mixing and mastering, granting the immediate boost he bestows to nearly everything he touches.

Cruel Face of War never outright errs, yet Jungle Rot proves so reticent to stray from the path oft-traveled that I wonder why they recorded new material. Jungle Rot felt like a promising step forward, infusing wicked melodies into the band’s brutish brand of death metal. Since then, Jungle Rot seems content to churn out mildly different flavors of the same core recipe with rapidly diminishing returns. After thirty years of staying the course, I’m not hopeful that Jungle Rot will venture into unfamiliar territory, but without stepping outside their comfort zone, I don’t foresee them bursting free from their Jungle Rut.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 224 kbps mp3
Label: Unique Leader Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 15th, 20264

Texan five-banger Frozen Soul crept into my promo pile back in 2021 with their glacially imposing Crypt of Ice. Unfortunately, I missed covering the improved follow-up Glacial Domination properly, relegating it to a Filter blurb instead. But that’s no excuse for Century Media to withhold No Place of Warmth from me when it was time. No matter, because Frozen Soul deserve a full-bodied tongue bath from this hot-blooded sponge, and I intend to give it with great relish.

The Frozen Soul formula carries over into No Place of Warmth, but evolves incrementally just as Glacial Domination did three years prior. As these homo glaciali continue their ascent into a full upright stance, their Bolt Thrower-meets-Sanguisugabogg-meets-Rotpit riff orgy enters a new realm of ferocity, carrying a murderous momentum and relentless grooves across a dick-skin-tight 35 minutes. Vocalist Chad Green puts down a vicious performance of caveman roars, rancid rasps, and infectious barks. Matt Dennard pounds the mammoth skins with a single-minded bludgeoning that oozes blood, pus, and attitude. Bassist Samantha Mobley, always rumbling beneath these well-tread tundras, anchors the affair in muscular heft and scalpel precision (though the unforgiving compression in the mix makes her great work difficult to make out in many listening environments). Most importantly, however, are guitarists Chris Bonner’s and Michael Munday’s unflappable riffs and infectious hooks. Familiar perhaps to a fault but nonetheless brutally effective, Frozen Soul’s guitar work crests a summit on No Place of Warmth, generating heaps of energy with minimal tooling and using it to slam skulls into each other with devastating impact.

What more could you ask for in a stripped-down, meat-and-potatoes death metal record? A better mix, sure, but not much else. “Invoke War (ft. Machine Head)” brings Bolt Thrower aggression, anvils, and icepicks to my cranium with cold prejudice, leaving me a drooling mess whose only joy in life demands MOAR RIFFS. Thankfully, the slamtastic “Absolute Zero,” “Dreadnought (ft. Sanguisugabogg),” and “Skinned by the Wind,” along with mid-paced stompers “Chaos Will Reign,” “DEATHWEAVER,” and “Frost Forged” shoot overdoses of riff-laced adrenaline directly into my veins, reducing me to animalistic mindlessness. As that progresses, the urge to zoom becomes a new inconvenience in daily life, but Frozen Soul prepared for that. Rippers “No Place of Warmth (ft. Gerard Way),” “Eyes of Despair,” “Ethereal Dreams,” and “Killin Time (Until It’s Time to Kill)” roar and rage through flesh and bone with sleazy grooves that fit right at home at any local bar brawl, giving my overflowing energy reserves an outlet through fist and boot.

You might notice a rare occurrence in the preceding paragraph: I highlighted every song on No Place of Warmth to extol their virtues. This was no accident, as every track has something memorable and engaging to take away, but No Place of Warmth isn’t perfect. As mentioned earlier, No Place of Warmth is crushed pretty heavily. Consequently, Samantha’s bass struggles for audibility—despite offering ample textural heft—behind chunky guitars and ferocious roars. With a little less compression and a few tweaks to instrumental positioning, her input would be heard more fully and thereby make even greater impact. Additionally, Matt Dennard’s bass kick feels a bit plastic, creating a bit of tactile unpleasantness during initial spins. In other areas, the album’s various guest spots don’t stand out as distinctly as a guest spot should. It took a few spins to nail down Machine Head’s contributions to “Invoke War,” especially, and Gerard Way’s unexpected blackened rasps deserve greater presence, too. I still can’t confidently pick out Sanguisugabogg in “Dreadnought,” though it is a killer tune. As a criticism, this mostly points to a thoughtfulness in features that Frozen Soul neglected, but that they might easily rectify with more intentional writing that gives those features more significance and definition going forward.

All told, No Place of Warmth is more than just rock-solid Bolt Thrower worship. It is a consistently entertaining record tailor-made to ensure gains in the gym, incite massive mosh pits in any given venue, and cause spinal trauma to any receptive passers-by. It’s nothing new, and nothing groundbreaking, but its tectonic grooves and boundless vitality crack the crust regardless. Should you be in need of more quality death metal this year—and we all know you can never have too much—No Place of Warmth is a worthy part of a balanced breakfast rotation.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Texan five-banger Frozen Soul crept into my promo pile back in 2021 with their glacially imposing Crypt of Ice. Unfortunately, I missed covering the improved follow-up Glacial Domination properly, relegating it to a Filter blurb instead. But that’s no excuse for Century Media to withhold No Place of Warmth from me when it was time. No matter, because Frozen Soul deserve a full-bodied tongue bath from this hot-blooded sponge, and I intend to give it with great relish.

The Frozen Soul formula carries over into No Place of Warmth, but evolves incrementally just as Glacial Domination did three years prior. As these homo glaciali continue their ascent into a full upright stance, their Bolt Thrower-meets-Sanguisugabogg-meets-Rotpit riff orgy enters a new realm of ferocity, carrying a murderous momentum and relentless grooves across a dick-skin-tight 35 minutes. Vocalist Chad Green puts down a vicious performance of caveman roars, rancid rasps, and infectious barks. Matt Dennard pounds the mammoth skins with a single-minded bludgeoning that oozes blood, pus, and attitude. Bassist Samantha Mobley, always rumbling beneath these well-tread tundras, anchors the affair in muscular heft and scalpel precision (though the unforgiving compression in the mix makes her great work difficult to make out in many listening environments). Most importantly, however, are guitarists Chris Bonner’s and Michael Munday’s unflappable riffs and infectious hooks. Familiar perhaps to a fault but nonetheless brutally effective, Frozen Soul’s guitar work crests a summit on No Place of Warmth, generating heaps of energy with minimal tooling and using it to slam skulls into each other with devastating impact.

What more could you ask for in a stripped-down, meat-and-potatoes death metal record? A better mix, sure, but not much else. “Invoke War (ft. Machine Head)” brings Bolt Thrower aggression, anvils, and icepicks to my cranium with cold prejudice, leaving me a drooling mess whose only joy in life demands MOAR RIFFS. Thankfully, the slamtastic “Absolute Zero,” “Dreadnought (ft. Sanguisugabogg),” and “Skinned by the Wind,” along with mid-paced stompers “Chaos Will Reign,” “DEATHWEAVER,” and “Frost Forged” shoot overdoses of riff-laced adrenaline directly into my veins, reducing me to animalistic mindlessness. As that progresses, the urge to zoom becomes a new inconvenience in daily life, but Frozen Soul prepared for that. Rippers “No Place of Warmth (ft. Gerard Way),” “Eyes of Despair,” “Ethereal Dreams,” and “Killin Time (Until It’s Time to Kill)” roar and rage through flesh and bone with sleazy grooves that fit right at home at any local bar brawl, giving my overflowing energy reserves an outlet through fist and boot.

You might notice a rare occurrence in the preceding paragraph: I highlighted every song on No Place of Warmth to extol their virtues. This was no accident, as every track has something memorable and engaging to take away, but No Place of Warmth isn’t perfect. As mentioned earlier, No Place of Warmth is crushed pretty heavily. Consequently, Samantha’s bass struggles for audibility—despite offering ample textural heft—behind chunky guitars and ferocious roars. With a little less compression and a few tweaks to instrumental positioning, her input would be heard more fully and thereby make even greater impact. Additionally, Matt Dennard’s bass kick feels a bit plastic, creating a bit of tactile unpleasantness during initial spins. In other areas, the album’s various guest spots don’t stand out as distinctly as a guest spot should. It took a few spins to nail down Machine Head’s contributions to “Invoke War,” especially, and Gerard Way’s unexpected blackened rasps deserve greater presence, too. I still can’t confidently pick out Sanguisugabogg in “Dreadnought,” though it is a killer tune. As a criticism, this mostly points to a thoughtfulness in features that Frozen Soul neglected, but that they might easily rectify with more intentional writing that gives those features more significance and definition going forward.

All told, No Place of Warmth is more than just rock-solid Bolt Thrower worship. It is a consistently entertaining record tailor-made to ensure gains in the gym, incite massive mosh pits in any given venue, and cause spinal trauma to any receptive passers-by. It’s nothing new, and nothing groundbreaking, but its tectonic grooves and boundless vitality crack the crust regardless. Should you be in need of more quality death metal this year—and we all know you can never have too much—No Place of Warmth is a worthy part of a balanced breakfast rotation.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Texan five-banger Frozen Soul crept into my promo pile back in 2021 with their glacially imposing Crypt of Ice. Unfortunately, I missed covering the improved follow-up Glacial Domination properly, relegating it to a Filter blurb instead. But that’s no excuse for Century Media to withhold No Place of Warmth from me when it was time. No matter, because Frozen Soul deserve a full-bodied tongue bath from this hot-blooded sponge, and I intend to give it with great relish.

The Frozen Soul formula carries over into No Place of Warmth, but evolves incrementally just as Glacial Domination did three years prior. As these homo glaciali continue their ascent into a full upright stance, their Bolt Thrower-meets-Sanguisugabogg-meets-Rotpit riff orgy enters a new realm of ferocity, carrying a murderous momentum and relentless grooves across a dick-skin-tight 35 minutes. Vocalist Chad Green puts down a vicious performance of caveman roars, rancid rasps, and infectious barks. Matt Dennard pounds the mammoth skins with a single-minded bludgeoning that oozes blood, pus, and attitude. Bassist Samantha Mobley, always rumbling beneath these well-tread tundras, anchors the affair in muscular heft and scalpel precision (though the unforgiving compression in the mix makes her great work difficult to make out in many listening environments). Most importantly, however, are guitarists Chris Bonner’s and Michael Munday’s unflappable riffs and infectious hooks. Familiar perhaps to a fault but nonetheless brutally effective, Frozen Soul’s guitar work crests a summit on No Place of Warmth, generating heaps of energy with minimal tooling and using it to slam skulls into each other with devastating impact.

What more could you ask for in a stripped-down, meat-and-potatoes death metal record? A better mix, sure, but not much else. “Invoke War (ft. Machine Head)” brings Bolt Thrower aggression, anvils, and icepicks to my cranium with cold prejudice, leaving me a drooling mess whose only joy in life demands MOAR RIFFS. Thankfully, the slamtastic “Absolute Zero,” “Dreadnought (ft. Sanguisugabogg),” and “Skinned by the Wind,” along with mid-paced stompers “Chaos Will Reign,” “DEATHWEAVER,” and “Frost Forged” shoot overdoses of riff-laced adrenaline directly into my veins, reducing me to animalistic mindlessness. As that progresses, the urge to zoom becomes a new inconvenience in daily life, but Frozen Soul prepared for that. Rippers “No Place of Warmth (ft. Gerard Way),” “Eyes of Despair,” “Ethereal Dreams,” and “Killin Time (Until It’s Time to Kill)” roar and rage through flesh and bone with sleazy grooves that fit right at home at any local bar brawl, giving my overflowing energy reserves an outlet through fist and boot.

You might notice a rare occurrence in the preceding paragraph: I highlighted every song on No Place of Warmth to extol their virtues. This was no accident, as every track has something memorable and engaging to take away, but No Place of Warmth isn’t perfect. As mentioned earlier, No Place of Warmth is crushed pretty heavily. Consequently, Samantha’s bass struggles for audibility—despite offering ample textural heft—behind chunky guitars and ferocious roars. With a little less compression and a few tweaks to instrumental positioning, her input would be heard more fully and thereby make even greater impact. Additionally, Matt Dennard’s bass kick feels a bit plastic, creating a bit of tactile unpleasantness during initial spins. In other areas, the album’s various guest spots don’t stand out as distinctly as a guest spot should. It took a few spins to nail down Machine Head’s contributions to “Invoke War,” especially, and Gerard Way’s unexpected blackened rasps deserve greater presence, too. I still can’t confidently pick out Sanguisugabogg in “Dreadnought,” though it is a killer tune. As a criticism, this mostly points to a thoughtfulness in features that Frozen Soul neglected, but that they might easily rectify with more intentional writing that gives those features more significance and definition going forward.

All told, No Place of Warmth is more than just rock-solid Bolt Thrower worship. It is a consistently entertaining record tailor-made to ensure gains in the gym, incite massive mosh pits in any given venue, and cause spinal trauma to any receptive passers-by. It’s nothing new, and nothing groundbreaking, but its tectonic grooves and boundless vitality crack the crust regardless. Should you be in need of more quality death metal this year—and we all know you can never have too much—No Place of Warmth is a worthy part of a balanced breakfast rotation.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Texan five-banger Frozen Soul crept into my promo pile back in 2021 with their glacially imposing Crypt of Ice. Unfortunately, I missed covering the improved follow-up Glacial Domination properly, relegating it to a Filter blurb instead. But that’s no excuse for Century Media to withhold No Place of Warmth from me when it was time. No matter, because Frozen Soul deserve a full-bodied tongue bath from this hot-blooded sponge, and I intend to give it with great relish.

The Frozen Soul formula carries over into No Place of Warmth, but evolves incrementally just as Glacial Domination did three years prior. As these homo glaciali continue their ascent into a full upright stance, their Bolt Thrower-meets-Sanguisugabogg-meets-Rotpit riff orgy enters a new realm of ferocity, carrying a murderous momentum and relentless grooves across a dick-skin-tight 35 minutes. Vocalist Chad Green puts down a vicious performance of caveman roars, rancid rasps, and infectious barks. Matt Dennard pounds the mammoth skins with a single-minded bludgeoning that oozes blood, pus, and attitude. Bassist Samantha Mobley, always rumbling beneath these well-tread tundras, anchors the affair in muscular heft and scalpel precision (though the unforgiving compression in the mix makes her great work difficult to make out in many listening environments). Most importantly, however, are guitarists Chris Bonner’s and Michael Munday’s unflappable riffs and infectious hooks. Familiar perhaps to a fault but nonetheless brutally effective, Frozen Soul’s guitar work crests a summit on No Place of Warmth, generating heaps of energy with minimal tooling and using it to slam skulls into each other with devastating impact.

What more could you ask for in a stripped-down, meat-and-potatoes death metal record? A better mix, sure, but not much else. “Invoke War (ft. Machine Head)” brings Bolt Thrower aggression, anvils, and icepicks to my cranium with cold prejudice, leaving me a drooling mess whose only joy in life demands MOAR RIFFS. Thankfully, the slamtastic “Absolute Zero,” “Dreadnought (ft. Sanguisugabogg),” and “Skinned by the Wind,” along with mid-paced stompers “Chaos Will Reign,” “DEATHWEAVER,” and “Frost Forged” shoot overdoses of riff-laced adrenaline directly into my veins, reducing me to animalistic mindlessness. As that progresses, the urge to zoom becomes a new inconvenience in daily life, but Frozen Soul prepared for that. Rippers “No Place of Warmth (ft. Gerard Way),” “Eyes of Despair,” “Ethereal Dreams,” and “Killin Time (Until It’s Time to Kill)” roar and rage through flesh and bone with sleazy grooves that fit right at home at any local bar brawl, giving my overflowing energy reserves an outlet through fist and boot.

You might notice a rare occurrence in the preceding paragraph: I highlighted every song on No Place of Warmth to extol their virtues. This was no accident, as every track has something memorable and engaging to take away, but No Place of Warmth isn’t perfect. As mentioned earlier, No Place of Warmth is crushed pretty heavily. Consequently, Samantha’s bass struggles for audibility—despite offering ample textural heft—behind chunky guitars and ferocious roars. With a little less compression and a few tweaks to instrumental positioning, her input would be heard more fully and thereby make even greater impact. Additionally, Matt Dennard’s bass kick feels a bit plastic, creating a bit of tactile unpleasantness during initial spins. In other areas, the album’s various guest spots don’t stand out as distinctly as a guest spot should. It took a few spins to nail down Machine Head’s contributions to “Invoke War,” especially, and Gerard Way’s unexpected blackened rasps deserve greater presence, too. I still can’t confidently pick out Sanguisugabogg in “Dreadnought,” though it is a killer tune. As a criticism, this mostly points to a thoughtfulness in features that Frozen Soul neglected, but that they might easily rectify with more intentional writing that gives those features more significance and definition going forward.

All told, No Place of Warmth is more than just rock-solid Bolt Thrower worship. It is a consistently entertaining record tailor-made to ensure gains in the gym, incite massive mosh pits in any given venue, and cause spinal trauma to any receptive passers-by. It’s nothing new, and nothing groundbreaking, but its tectonic grooves and boundless vitality crack the crust regardless. Should you be in need of more quality death metal this year—and we all know you can never have too much—No Place of Warmth is a worthy part of a balanced breakfast rotation.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Texan five-banger Frozen Soul crept into my promo pile back in 2021 with their glacially imposing Crypt of Ice. Unfortunately, I missed covering the improved follow-up Glacial Domination properly, relegating it to a Filter blurb instead. But that’s no excuse for Century Media to withhold No Place of Warmth from me when it was time. No matter, because Frozen Soul deserve a full-bodied tongue bath from this hot-blooded sponge, and I intend to give it with great relish.

The Frozen Soul formula carries over into No Place of Warmth, but evolves incrementally just as Glacial Domination did three years prior. As these homo glaciali continue their ascent into a full upright stance, their Bolt Thrower-meets-Sanguisugabogg-meets-Rotpit riff orgy enters a new realm of ferocity, carrying a murderous momentum and relentless grooves across a dick-skin-tight 35 minutes. Vocalist Chad Green puts down a vicious performance of caveman roars, rancid rasps, and infectious barks. Matt Dennard pounds the mammoth skins with a single-minded bludgeoning that oozes blood, pus, and attitude. Bassist Samantha Mobley, always rumbling beneath these well-tread tundras, anchors the affair in muscular heft and scalpel precision (though the unforgiving compression in the mix makes her great work difficult to make out in many listening environments). Most importantly, however, are guitarists Chris Bonner’s and Michael Munday’s unflappable riffs and infectious hooks. Familiar perhaps to a fault but nonetheless brutally effective, Frozen Soul’s guitar work crests a summit on No Place of Warmth, generating heaps of energy with minimal tooling and using it to slam skulls into each other with devastating impact.

What more could you ask for in a stripped-down, meat-and-potatoes death metal record? A better mix, sure, but not much else. “Invoke War (ft. Machine Head)” brings Bolt Thrower aggression, anvils, and icepicks to my cranium with cold prejudice, leaving me a drooling mess whose only joy in life demands MOAR RIFFS. Thankfully, the slamtastic “Absolute Zero,” “Dreadnought (ft. Sanguisugabogg),” and “Skinned by the Wind,” along with mid-paced stompers “Chaos Will Reign,” “DEATHWEAVER,” and “Frost Forged” shoot overdoses of riff-laced adrenaline directly into my veins, reducing me to animalistic mindlessness. As that progresses, the urge to zoom becomes a new inconvenience in daily life, but Frozen Soul prepared for that. Rippers “No Place of Warmth (ft. Gerard Way),” “Eyes of Despair,” “Ethereal Dreams,” and “Killin Time (Until It’s Time to Kill)” roar and rage through flesh and bone with sleazy grooves that fit right at home at any local bar brawl, giving my overflowing energy reserves an outlet through fist and boot.

You might notice a rare occurrence in the preceding paragraph: I highlighted every song on No Place of Warmth to extol their virtues. This was no accident, as every track has something memorable and engaging to take away, but No Place of Warmth isn’t perfect. As mentioned earlier, No Place of Warmth is crushed pretty heavily. Consequently, Samantha’s bass struggles for audibility—despite offering ample textural heft—behind chunky guitars and ferocious roars. With a little less compression and a few tweaks to instrumental positioning, her input would be heard more fully and thereby make even greater impact. Additionally, Matt Dennard’s bass kick feels a bit plastic, creating a bit of tactile unpleasantness during initial spins. In other areas, the album’s various guest spots don’t stand out as distinctly as a guest spot should. It took a few spins to nail down Machine Head’s contributions to “Invoke War,” especially, and Gerard Way’s unexpected blackened rasps deserve greater presence, too. I still can’t confidently pick out Sanguisugabogg in “Dreadnought,” though it is a killer tune. As a criticism, this mostly points to a thoughtfulness in features that Frozen Soul neglected, but that they might easily rectify with more intentional writing that gives those features more significance and definition going forward.

All told, No Place of Warmth is more than just rock-solid Bolt Thrower worship. It is a consistently entertaining record tailor-made to ensure gains in the gym, incite massive mosh pits in any given venue, and cause spinal trauma to any receptive passers-by. It’s nothing new, and nothing groundbreaking, but its tectonic grooves and boundless vitality crack the crust regardless. Should you be in need of more quality death metal this year—and we all know you can never have too much—No Place of Warmth is a worthy part of a balanced breakfast rotation.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

What feelings come with an ending? Grief? Gratitude? Hope? As the Laurentian Trilogy comes to a close with Det Hjemsøkte Hjertet,1 the reflections on things passed which each album casts in a different light are at their most poignant. Panopticon turns from personal catharsis (…And Again into the Light) to metaphorical mirroring of individual crisis with that which devastates the natural world (The Rime of Memory), and now the very fabric of every one of us as people—bound inextricably to our experiences and environment. Mourning the loss of a loved one; memories of a people left behind by industrialisation; vanished caribou who once roamed the forests and the trees that grew old before the saw; a losing battle with time; isolation, love, joy. These fragmented, vivid, impressions of The Haunted Heart masterfully draw together an opus as potent musically as it is emotionally, five years almost to the date since it began.

Det Hjemsøkte Hjertet’s conclusiveness is tangible, its every note suffused with nostalgia and closure—even opener, “Woodland Caribou,” feels like a resolution. Drums boil and crash with anguish, tremolos are effervescent with feeling, and strings are more prominent and more stirring than ever before. But even in its finality of reprising themes and devastating climaxes, Det Hjemsøkte Hjertet reveals that everything does not truly end after all. With a chorus of guest vocalists,2 Austin Lunn tells a story of a life coming to a close in chapters that reflect not only on one person’s experiences, but those of a culture and a wilderness extending beyond them. It’s the most immediate Panopticon has ever been: lacking any preamble, moving faster and with assured ardour through every blackened arc, reaching deeper into your soul with every singing string refrain. Det Hjemsøkte Hjertet sees an infusion of characteristic folk, black metal, and magical atmosphere in a way that’s at once so heart-wrenchingly intimate and viscerally overwhelming it can hardly be described as less than perfection.

From the moment it begins, Det Hjemsøkte Hjertet has hold of you, most strikingly because of how breath-catchingly gorgeous it is. Some of the saddest, most profound melodies of Panopticon’s career (“Woodland Caribou,” “Blood and Fur Upon the Melting Snow,” “Ghost Eyes in the Firelight”) combine with some of the wildest (“The Great Silence, Extinct,” “The White Cedars,” “A Culture of Wilderness”). Even the heaviest moments dazzle in their dissonant devastation with mournful urgency (“The Great Silence…,” “A Culture…”). But what takes this beauty and rage into transcendence is how these tides of emotion are so tightly wound together, referencing one another, the refrains of The Laurentian Trilogy, and even all of Panopticon up until this moment. The soft sigh of a violin refrain (“Woodland Caribou”) sobs in precipitating a mid-album climax (“Blood and Fur…”), and the dancing tremolo-string swoops of “The Great Silence…” are mirrored in “Blood and Fur,…” and “The White Cedars.” The shuddering heaviness of “A Culture…” reawakens the gravity of “Moth-Eaten Soul”3 while untamed exuberance (“A Culture…,” “Blood and Fur…”) revives “An Autumn Storm”4 and the spirit of Roads to the North, and flute—accompanied only by the crackling of a fire—brings the acoustic introspection of the trilogy firmly to the forefront (“Lyset”).

But it’s the final act, “Ghost Eyes in the Firelight,” that pulls these threads—and one’s heartstrings—taut. Gracefully drawing in the elements from throughout the trilogy, it then softly and assuredly builds to a conclusion that hums ever more with familiarity. As the shimmering tremolos rise to a steady beat, you realise it’s the central theme of “…And Again into the Light” lifting upwards on their featherlight wings. All the lyrics on Det Hjemsøkte Hjertet sing with poignancy, but in this ascent that poignancy peaks,

The light from the window fades like the winter recently past.
Free of this mortal coil, free at last.
A slight pain in his chest grew as he laid down upon the melting snow.
Gazing upward into the night sky, he closed his eyes to the dark night,
but behind the blackness of his eyelids,
the stars remained
but behind the blackness of his eyelids,
the stars remained

…and again into the light

As cymbals judder and guitars perform a final flourish, the haunting calls of loons signal the completion of this circle, the spilling in of the light to the serenade of violins to a devastating reprise, filling your chest with its warmth and your eyes with tears.5 A more perfect way to end things could not exist. My heart clings longingly to the place evoked by Det Hjemsøkte Hjertet‘s consuming atmosphere and touching humanity. I cry with the empathy of its creator, crying for time gone, for those no longer here, for the lost wilderness, for the empty homes and hearts and the silent forests. But I also cry with a kind of transcendent joy. Because in closing, things begin anew. Just as the final whining strings lead into the beginning of …And Again into the Light, they blur too into that of “Woodland Caribou.” A ring, the renewal of hope. The darkness does not last. The fire will not burn out.

Rating: Iconic
DR: ? | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Bindrune Recordings | Nordvis Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

There’s a lot of weird shit floating around the metalsphere, and that includes Voidthrone’s newest addition, Dreaming Rat. The Seattle quartet has been kicking around for a decade, and in that time have released three prior platters of escalating lunacy. Without question, Dreaming Rat is Voidthrone’s most unhinged concoction to date, and a quick look at their Bandcamp credits gives prospective listeners a window into the alchemical ingredients they cook with, including Otamatone, conch shell, jaw harp, vibraslap, digeridoo, spoons, and a fretless bass. Throw in vocalist Zhenya Frolov’s deranged vocal stylings, and you’ve got yourself a bona fide manic expression of dissonant blackened death metal. With so many disparate components in Dreaming Rat’s stew, does Voidthrone soothe the savage beast or unleash a waking nightmare?

Listening to Dreaming Rat is a bit like experiencing an auditory fever dream, where disconnected fragments congeal into lurid, atonal anarchy. Voidthrone didn’t arrive at this sound overnight, though. Debut Spiritual War Tactics whipped and frothed with the restrained vitality of Krallice, and follow-up Kur added jazz-informed touches in the vein of Imperial Triumphant. Physical Degradation evolved Voidthrone’s sound, integrating more unconventional instrumentation and pushing the band’s songwriting past its comfort zone. On Dreaming Rat, Voidthrone takes the blueprint laid out on Physical Degradation and indiscriminately expands the range for strange. The result sees Frolov stretching his vocal performance into frenzied tirades, covering the gamut from Replicant’s vomitous barks to Sigh’s oddball deliveries. The instrumentation also gets exponentially wackier, as it conjures the rabid wrath of Pyrrhon along with the chaotic instincts of Afterbirth, resulting in an unpredictable romp to the end of the world.

At Dreaming Rat’s core, Voidthrone details the life and death of a solar system through bleak eras, segmenting the album into present, past, and future. The arcs are presented in that order, with each one comprised of three songs. The present describes the apex of a civilization, harnessing the promises forged upon the hopes and chaos of the past. Meanwhile, Voidthrone paints a grim outlook for the future, specifically calling out ‘an extinguished, lonely death of the physical, spiritual, and cognitive.’1 The lyrics throughout Dreaming Rat read like the demented ravings of a madman’s manifesto,2 and while I don’t think I could have divined the album’s overarching concept from them alone, reading them amplifies the bedlam Voidthrone has crafted on Dreaming Rat.

Writing music this lawless may seem haphazard, but over repeated listens, I’ve begun to glimpse the method to Dreaming Rat’s madness. Without question, everyone in Voidthrone earns their stripes. Ronald Foodsack’s guitars drench Dreaming Rat with warbling dissonance, perpetually in flux so that there’s never a riff or refrain to inhibit the music’s incessant lurch. Whether moving at frantic paces (“III-I. Surfing the Abyss”) or decelerating to a plodding crawl (“II-II. Morbid Seagull”), Ron’s six-stringed blitz never stalls. Additionally, Gavin Brooks contributes acoustic guitar and solos while manning the glorious fretless bass.3 Technical death metal has hogged the fretless bass for too long, and I’m glad Voidthrone has the stones to add it to disso metal’s tool chest. Tracks like “I-I. Bergen” and “II-I. Homeless Animal” showcase the character the instrument offers, bolstering the ever-shifting nature of Dreaming Rat. Drummer Josh Keifer grounds the band ably, locked into a supporting role that allows the other instruments to take center stage while he keeps things on the rails. Frolov’s feral vocals and the host of unconventional instruments further enrich Voidthrone’s distinctive identity, establishing what sounds like it could be the death throes of the universe.

What Voidthrone accomplishes with Dreaming Rat is fascinating and unique, and merits everyone’s attention. Sure, some songs could be trimmed to make such a scathing album a bit shorter and more palatable, and the three arcs could use some musical cues to distinguish songs thematically from one another, but Dreaming Rat is a crowning achievement for the band. Voidthrone’s psychedelic psychosis makes bold promises on paper and completely delivers in fact, and when I’m in the mood to get really weird with it, this will be the album I reach for.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

It is hard to believe that Ingested is hitting their eighth record. A band that managed to bring slam to the relative mainstream, combining the grotesque, guttural brutality of extreme music with more core-infused elements. Their previous record, The Tide of Death and Fractured Dreams, leaned a little too hard into these elements. Losing much of the slam and focusing on simplified song structures to its detriment. Their latest release, Denigration, marks the first without founding vocalist Jason Evans, someone who defined the sound of Ingested. Unfortunately for the band, the album is also marked by tumult. With the departure of Evans, his replacement was quickly outed over sexual assault allegations, and at the last minute, guitarists Sean Haynes and Andrew Virrueta took over. The album was re-tooled to replace the vocals (something I commend the band for wholeheartedly), but was something excised in the process, or is it a return to form for a band that had seemingly lost its extreme roots?

I hate to break it to you, but Denigration is an album as messy as the story behind its creation. The album starts strongly, and unfortunately enough, with what is probably its best track. Half the band screams the opening line before the song drops into an absolute blast of destructive drumming. The track is simple but effective, and contains just enough variety and speed to keep things interesting. Haynes and Virrueta do an admirable job bringing heft and technical skill to each track, but they too often devolve into the same bouncing slam riffs to the point of bleeding together. Individual songs are hard to tell apart, and while founding drummer Lyn Jeffs has always been talented, the snare production basically kills his entire performance. This is nearly St. Anger levels of snare-tragedy, and the drums aren’t the only victim; production across the record is uniformly terrible.

Denigration’s Achilles heel is its soundscape. While dynamic range isn’t necessarily a surefire sign of quality, this album has songs that go as low as a 2 on the scale. Tracks are a cacophony in the worst way; the snare is downright grating and overly loud, while the rest blends into a miasma of noise and chuggery. This is an album with so little range between individual tracks that it can feel like one long song, which is grueling for a slam record. Top this with the fact that the last-minute fill-in vocalists are clearly amateurs, especially compared to Evans, and you get an album that sounds like a debut by a young band making early mistakes. I have to imagine replacing the vocals at the last minute did serious damage to their original mix, but Ingested has a history of production issues on top of this. Combining these two has made for an album that can hurt to listen to at times.

I don’t mean to disparage the band; in fact, this was a record I was genuinely hoping would be great. I have always had a soft spot for Ingested’s unique brand of slamcore. Evans vocals are top-tier, and they were always willing to take the genre to creative places. Julia Frau’s vocals on “Ashes Lie Still,” Kirk Windstein’s epic chorus on “Another Breath,” and Josh Middleton’s on “Expect to Fail” define the band’s willingness to explore their sound. On Denigration, the guests only work to divert from the monotony between tracks; even then, their addition feels perfunctory. This doesn’t feel like the band that wrote bangers like “Misery Leech,” “Skinned and Fucked,” or “The List.” At least they are trying to emulate their slam roots with a more streamlined sound built around the classic Chug & Guttural™ combo. There will be those who find this record more palatable than Ingested’s recent deathcore-adjacent trajectory, even if the production takes crushed and curb-stomps it.

When I originally started spinning Denigration for review, numerous elements kept coming to my attention that now feel obvious, seeing how many things changed at the last minute. What should have been a creative refresh for a band that felt like it was relying a little too much on vocal talent has turned into the exact opposite. Denigration fails to bring the hooks, a key to any good slam record, while also being hamstrung by terrible production, middling vocals, and a lack of creativity. Hopefully, Ingested can come back stronger from all this and make the great album I know they are capable of, but all Denigration did was send me straight to the band’s better records.

Rating: Bad
DR: 3| Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

It is hard to believe that Ingested is hitting their eighth record. A band that managed to bring slam to the relative mainstream, combining the grotesque, guttural brutality of extreme music with more core-infused elements. Their previous record, The Tide of Death and Fractured Dreams, leaned a little too hard into these elements. Losing much of the slam and focusing on simplified song structures to its detriment. Their latest release, Denigration, marks the first without founding vocalist Jason Evans, someone who defined the sound of Ingested. Unfortunately for the band, the album is also marked by tumult. With the departure of Evans, his replacement was quickly outed over sexual assault allegations, and at the last minute, guitarists Sean Haynes and Andrew Virrueta took over. The album was re-tooled to replace the vocals (something I commend the band for wholeheartedly), but was something excised in the process, or is it a return to form for a band that had seemingly lost its extreme roots?

I hate to break it to you, but Denigration is an album as messy as the story behind its creation. The album starts strongly, and unfortunately enough, with what is probably its best track. Half the band screams the opening line before the song drops into an absolute blast of destructive drumming. The track is simple but effective, and contains just enough variety and speed to keep things interesting. Haynes and Virrueta do an admirable job bringing heft and technical skill to each track, but they too often devolve into the same bouncing slam riffs to the point of bleeding together. Individual songs are hard to tell apart, and while founding drummer Lyn Jeffs has always been talented, the snare production basically kills his entire performance. This is nearly St. Anger levels of snare-tragedy, and the drums aren’t the only victim; production across the record is uniformly terrible.

Denigration’s Achilles heel is its soundscape. While dynamic range isn’t necessarily a surefire sign of quality, this album has songs that go as low as a 2 on the scale. Tracks are a cacophony in the worst way; the snare is downright grating and overly loud, while the rest blends into a miasma of noise and chuggery. This is an album with so little range between individual tracks that it can feel like one long song, which is grueling for a slam record. Top this with the fact that the last-minute fill-in vocalists are clearly amateurs, especially compared to Evans, and you get an album that sounds like a debut by a young band making early mistakes. I have to imagine replacing the vocals at the last minute did serious damage to their original mix, but Ingested has a history of production issues on top of this. Combining these two has made for an album that can hurt to listen to at times.

I don’t mean to disparage the band; in fact, this was a record I was genuinely hoping would be great. I have always had a soft spot for Ingested’s unique brand of slamcore. Evans vocals are top-tier, and they were always willing to take the genre to creative places. Julia Frau’s vocals on “Ashes Lie Still,” Kirk Windstein’s epic chorus on “Another Breath,” and Josh Middleton’s on “Expect to Fail” define the band’s willingness to explore their sound. On Denigration, the guests only work to divert from the monotony between tracks; even then, their addition feels perfunctory. This doesn’t feel like the band that wrote bangers like “Misery Leech,” “Skinned and Fucked,” or “The List.” At least they are trying to emulate their slam roots with a more streamlined sound built around the classic Chug & Guttural™ combo. There will be those who find this record more palatable than Ingested’s recent deathcore-adjacent trajectory, even if the production takes crushed and curb-stomps it.

When I originally started spinning Denigration for review, numerous elements kept coming to my attention that now feel obvious, seeing how many things changed at the last minute. What should have been a creative refresh for a band that felt like it was relying a little too much on vocal talent has turned into the exact opposite. Denigration fails to bring the hooks, a key to any good slam record, while also being hamstrung by terrible production, middling vocals, and a lack of creativity. Hopefully, Ingested can come back stronger from all this and make the great album I know they are capable of, but all Denigration did was send me straight to the band’s better records.

Rating: Bad
DR: 3| Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

It is hard to believe that Ingested is hitting their eighth record. A band that managed to bring slam to the relative mainstream, combining the grotesque, guttural brutality of extreme music with more core-infused elements. Their previous record, The Tide of Death and Fractured Dreams, leaned a little too hard into these elements. Losing much of the slam and focusing on simplified song structures to its detriment. Their latest release, Denigration, marks the first without founding vocalist Jason Evans, someone who defined the sound of Ingested. Unfortunately for the band, the album is also marked by tumult. With the departure of Evans, his replacement was quickly outed over sexual assault allegations, and at the last minute, guitarists Sean Haynes and Andrew Virrueta took over. The album was re-tooled to replace the vocals (something I commend the band for wholeheartedly), but was something excised in the process, or is it a return to form for a band that had seemingly lost its extreme roots?

I hate to break it to you, but Denigration is an album as messy as the story behind its creation. The album starts strongly, and unfortunately enough, with what is probably its best track. Half the band screams the opening line before the song drops into an absolute blast of destructive drumming. The track is simple but effective, and contains just enough variety and speed to keep things interesting. Haynes and Virrueta do an admirable job bringing heft and technical skill to each track, but they too often devolve into the same bouncing slam riffs to the point of bleeding together. Individual songs are hard to tell apart, and while founding drummer Lyn Jeffs has always been talented, the snare production basically kills his entire performance. This is nearly St. Anger levels of snare-tragedy, and the drums aren’t the only victim; production across the record is uniformly terrible.

Denigration’s Achilles heel is its soundscape. While dynamic range isn’t necessarily a surefire sign of quality, this album has songs that go as low as a 2 on the scale. Tracks are a cacophony in the worst way; the snare is downright grating and overly loud, while the rest blends into a miasma of noise and chuggery. This is an album with so little range between individual tracks that it can feel like one long song, which is grueling for a slam record. Top this with the fact that the last-minute fill-in vocalists are clearly amateurs, especially compared to Evans, and you get an album that sounds like a debut by a young band making early mistakes. I have to imagine replacing the vocals at the last minute did serious damage to their original mix, but Ingested has a history of production issues on top of this. Combining these two has made for an album that can hurt to listen to at times.

I don’t mean to disparage the band; in fact, this was a record I was genuinely hoping would be great. I have always had a soft spot for Ingested’s unique brand of slamcore. Evans vocals are top-tier, and they were always willing to take the genre to creative places. Julia Frau’s vocals on “Ashes Lie Still,” Kirk Windstein’s epic chorus on “Another Breath,” and Josh Middleton’s on “Expect to Fail” define the band’s willingness to explore their sound. On Denigration, the guests only work to divert from the monotony between tracks; even then, their addition feels perfunctory. This doesn’t feel like the band that wrote bangers like “Misery Leech,” “Skinned and Fucked,” or “The List.” At least they are trying to emulate their slam roots with a more streamlined sound built around the classic Chug & Guttural™ combo. There will be those who find this record more palatable than Ingested’s recent deathcore-adjacent trajectory, even if the production takes crushed and curb-stomps it.

When I originally started spinning Denigration for review, numerous elements kept coming to my attention that now feel obvious, seeing how many things changed at the last minute. What should have been a creative refresh for a band that felt like it was relying a little too much on vocal talent has turned into the exact opposite. Denigration fails to bring the hooks, a key to any good slam record, while also being hamstrung by terrible production, middling vocals, and a lack of creativity. Hopefully, Ingested can come back stronger from all this and make the great album I know they are capable of, but all Denigration did was send me straight to the band’s better records.

Rating: Bad
DR: 3| Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

It is hard to believe that Ingested is hitting their eighth record. A band that managed to bring slam to the relative mainstream, combining the grotesque, guttural brutality of extreme music with more core-infused elements. Their previous record, The Tide of Death and Fractured Dreams, leaned a little too hard into these elements. Losing much of the slam and focusing on simplified song structures to its detriment. Their latest release, Denigration, marks the first without founding vocalist Jason Evans, someone who defined the sound of Ingested. Unfortunately for the band, the album is also marked by tumult. With the departure of Evans, his replacement was quickly outed over sexual assault allegations, and at the last minute, guitarists Sean Haynes and Andrew Virrueta took over. The album was re-tooled to replace the vocals (something I commend the band for wholeheartedly), but was something excised in the process, or is it a return to form for a band that had seemingly lost its extreme roots?

I hate to break it to you, but Denigration is an album as messy as the story behind its creation. The album starts strongly, and unfortunately enough, with what is probably its best track. Half the band screams the opening line before the song drops into an absolute blast of destructive drumming. The track is simple but effective, and contains just enough variety and speed to keep things interesting. Haynes and Virrueta do an admirable job bringing heft and technical skill to each track, but they too often devolve into the same bouncing slam riffs to the point of bleeding together. Individual songs are hard to tell apart, and while founding drummer Lyn Jeffs has always been talented, the snare production basically kills his entire performance. This is nearly St. Anger levels of snare-tragedy, and the drums aren’t the only victim; production across the record is uniformly terrible.

Denigration’s Achilles heel is its soundscape. While dynamic range isn’t necessarily a surefire sign of quality, this album has songs that go as low as a 2 on the scale. Tracks are a cacophony in the worst way; the snare is downright grating and overly loud, while the rest blends into a miasma of noise and chuggery. This is an album with so little range between individual tracks that it can feel like one long song, which is grueling for a slam record. Top this with the fact that the last-minute fill-in vocalists are clearly amateurs, especially compared to Evans, and you get an album that sounds like a debut by a young band making early mistakes. I have to imagine replacing the vocals at the last minute did serious damage to their original mix, but Ingested has a history of production issues on top of this. Combining these two has made for an album that can hurt to listen to at times.

I don’t mean to disparage the band; in fact, this was a record I was genuinely hoping would be great. I have always had a soft spot for Ingested’s unique brand of slamcore. Evans vocals are top-tier, and they were always willing to take the genre to creative places. Julia Frau’s vocals on “Ashes Lie Still,” Kirk Windstein’s epic chorus on “Another Breath,” and Josh Middleton’s on “Expect to Fail” define the band’s willingness to explore their sound. On Denigration, the guests only work to divert from the monotony between tracks; even then, their addition feels perfunctory. This doesn’t feel like the band that wrote bangers like “Misery Leech,” “Skinned and Fucked,” or “The List.” At least they are trying to emulate their slam roots with a more streamlined sound built around the classic Chug & Guttural™ combo. There will be those who find this record more palatable than Ingested’s recent deathcore-adjacent trajectory, even if the production takes crushed and curb-stomps it.

When I originally started spinning Denigration for review, numerous elements kept coming to my attention that now feel obvious, seeing how many things changed at the last minute. What should have been a creative refresh for a band that felt like it was relying a little too much on vocal talent has turned into the exact opposite. Denigration fails to bring the hooks, a key to any good slam record, while also being hamstrung by terrible production, middling vocals, and a lack of creativity. Hopefully, Ingested can come back stronger from all this and make the great album I know they are capable of, but all Denigration did was send me straight to the band’s better records.

Rating: Bad
DR: 3| Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

It is hard to believe that Ingested is hitting their eighth record. A band that managed to bring slam to the relative mainstream, combining the grotesque, guttural brutality of extreme music with more core-infused elements. Their previous record, The Tide of Death and Fractured Dreams, leaned a little too hard into these elements. Losing much of the slam and focusing on simplified song structures to its detriment. Their latest release, Denigration, marks the first without founding vocalist Jason Evans, someone who defined the sound of Ingested. Unfortunately for the band, the album is also marked by tumult. With the departure of Evans, his replacement was quickly outed over sexual assault allegations, and at the last minute, guitarists Sean Haynes and Andrew Virrueta took over. The album was re-tooled to replace the vocals (something I commend the band for wholeheartedly), but was something excised in the process, or is it a return to form for a band that had seemingly lost its extreme roots?

I hate to break it to you, but Denigration is an album as messy as the story behind its creation. The album starts strongly, and unfortunately enough, with what is probably its best track. Half the band screams the opening line before the song drops into an absolute blast of destructive drumming. The track is simple but effective, and contains just enough variety and speed to keep things interesting. Haynes and Virrueta do an admirable job bringing heft and technical skill to each track, but they too often devolve into the same bouncing slam riffs to the point of bleeding together. Individual songs are hard to tell apart, and while founding drummer Lyn Jeffs has always been talented, the snare production basically kills his entire performance. This is nearly St. Anger levels of snare-tragedy, and the drums aren’t the only victim; production across the record is uniformly terrible.

Denigration’s Achilles heel is its soundscape. While dynamic range isn’t necessarily a surefire sign of quality, this album has songs that go as low as a 2 on the scale. Tracks are a cacophony in the worst way; the snare is downright grating and overly loud, while the rest blends into a miasma of noise and chuggery. This is an album with so little range between individual tracks that it can feel like one long song, which is grueling for a slam record. Top this with the fact that the last-minute fill-in vocalists are clearly amateurs, especially compared to Evans, and you get an album that sounds like a debut by a young band making early mistakes. I have to imagine replacing the vocals at the last minute did serious damage to their original mix, but Ingested has a history of production issues on top of this. Combining these two has made for an album that can hurt to listen to at times.

I don’t mean to disparage the band; in fact, this was a record I was genuinely hoping would be great. I have always had a soft spot for Ingested’s unique brand of slamcore. Evans vocals are top-tier, and they were always willing to take the genre to creative places. Julia Frau’s vocals on “Ashes Lie Still,” Kirk Windstein’s epic chorus on “Another Breath,” and Josh Middleton’s on “Expect to Fail” define the band’s willingness to explore their sound. On Denigration, the guests only work to divert from the monotony between tracks; even then, their addition feels perfunctory. This doesn’t feel like the band that wrote bangers like “Misery Leech,” “Skinned and Fucked,” or “The List.” At least they are trying to emulate their slam roots with a more streamlined sound built around the classic Chug & Guttural™ combo. There will be those who find this record more palatable than Ingested’s recent deathcore-adjacent trajectory, even if the production takes crushed and curb-stomps it.

When I originally started spinning Denigration for review, numerous elements kept coming to my attention that now feel obvious, seeing how many things changed at the last minute. What should have been a creative refresh for a band that felt like it was relying a little too much on vocal talent has turned into the exact opposite. Denigration fails to bring the hooks, a key to any good slam record, while also being hamstrung by terrible production, middling vocals, and a lack of creativity. Hopefully, Ingested can come back stronger from all this and make the great album I know they are capable of, but all Denigration did was send me straight to the band’s better records.

Rating: Bad
DR: 3| Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Rexoria – Fallen Dimension Review

Typically, you can judge a cheesy power metal album just from its cover art. Look at the laser-powered…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2.5 #2026 #AngusMcSix #AxelRudiPell #BlackLodgeRecords #CA #Canada #Entertainment #FallenDimension #Fellowship #FrozenCrown #JoanJett #May26 #Mystfall #PowerMetal #PowerPaladin #review #reviews #Rexoria #Sabaton #SwedishMetal #UnleashtheArchers #Vanderlust #Victorius
https://www.newsbeep.com/ca/653915/

Rexoria – Fallen Dimension Review

Typically, you can judge a cheesy power metal album just from its cover art. Look at the laser-powered…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2.5 #2026 #AngusMcSix #AxelRudiPell #BlackLodgeRecords #Entertainment #FallenDimension #Fellowship #FrozenCrown #JoanJett #May26 #Mystfall #PowerMetal #PowerPaladin #review #Reviews #Rexoria #Sabaton #SwedishMetal #UK #UnitedKingdom #UnleashtheArchers #Vanderlust #Victorius
https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/571095/

Rexoria – Fallen Dimension Review

Typically, you can judge a cheesy power metal album just from its cover art. Look at the laser-powered…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2.5 #2026 #AngusMcSix #AxelRudiPell #BlackLodgeRecords #Entertainment #FallenDimension #fellowship #FrozenCrown #JoanJett #May26 #Mystfall #PowerMetal #PowerPaladin #review #reviews #Rexoria #Sabaton #SwedishMetal #UnleashtheArchers #Vanderlust #Victorius
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/628926/

Rexoria – Fallen Dimension Review

Typically, you can judge a cheesy power metal album just from its cover art. Look at the laser-powered…
#NewsBeep #News #US #USA #UnitedStates #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Music #2.5 #2026 #AngusMcSix #AxelRudiPell #BlackLodgeRecords #Entertainment #FallenDimension #fellowship #FrozenCrown #JoanJett #May26 #Mystfall #PowerMetal #PowerPaladin #review #reviews #Rexoria #Sabaton #SwedishMetal #UnleashtheArchers #Vanderlust #Victorius
https://www.newsbeep.com/us/628926/

Typically, you can judge a cheesy power metal album just from its cover art. Look at the laser-powered sharks/dinos from Victorius, the D&D fantasy elements of Power Paladin, or the stuffed assembly of characters on Angus McSix, and you know you’re getting yourself a heap of cheddar. The covers are busy, bombastic, and as brightly-colored as Frida Ohlin’s hair (see band photo below). Sweden’s Rexoria bucks that trend. The cover art for Fallen Dimension looks like it belongs on a work of dystopian prog like Vanderlust. They deliver something far more light-hearted, though—symphonic power metal. Rexoria deem themselves the birth of a genre called “Royal Metal”—it’s in their name. Rex means king, and Oria means gold. Royal metal. Get it? So just what is this new tag? More importantly, would you like your royale with cheese?

Fallen Dimension blends old school heavy metal with modern power metal and a dash of keyboard synths. While they boast of symphonics in their promo sheet, Rexoria have more in common with Unleash the Archers than Mystfall. They combine the joyful energy of Frozen Crown with the straightforward approach of Sabaton. With honed pop structures, Rexoria set aside the wankery of many power metal bands and dive quickly into their anthemic choruses. Blink, and you might miss the music that happens between the opening spoken word segment and hooky chorus on opener “Metallic Rain.” If you like the bop and energy of power metal without its often masturbatory shredding, then this is for you. Rexoria has solos, but they’re in and out in a flash, all to ensure songs end in a (mostly) tidy 3-4 minutes. The downside is that where bands like Frozen Crown and Unleash the Archers do some really cool stuff with their guitars, the guitars on Fallen Dimension sound generic and bland.

Frontwoman Frida Ohlin gives Rexoria a more distinctive sound relative to more recent power metal bands. She has a gritty voice akin to Joan Jett rather than the smooth and joyful tone of Frozen Crown’s Giada Etro. She delivers some really good choruses, bringing to life the likes of “Break the Wave” and “Running with the Stars” with her energetic delivery. She even shows a more tender side on the rock ballad, “Heart of Sorrow,” a duet with Johnny Gioeli (Axel Rudi Pell). Her grit keeps the bouncy, formulaic songs from going too far down the road of pop music. It’s not that the other players are incompetent—they just don’t have much to work with. The drums are standard, galloping blast beats, and the guitar riffs are competent if uninspired. Rexoria brought in a new bassist (Adam Nordquist) for Fallen Dimension, but I rarely heard him. Usually a record like this benefits from outside hooks, and the synths tend to be hit or miss. There are some good ones, such as those on “Metallic Rain,” but on follow-up “Awakening,” I couldn’t help but wonder if they started recycling synth lines.

In general, Fallen Dimension is a pleasant listen that’s also forgettable due to its jack-of-all-trades nature. Rexoria’s plug-and-chug approach allows for an enjoyable energy and choruses that hit the right notes. Yet there’s very little to distinguish them from the power metal pack. The opening riff on “Wasted Land” sounds a lot like something from a Fellowship record, while a majority of their other riffs are hardly more creative than your run-of-the-mill radio rock music. I didn’t dislike any of the songs, yet nothing really grabbed me either. Some of the choruses stuck in my head for a little while, but without any real emotional impact. Rexoria has all the pieces in place—they’re just missing that extra something to make them shine.

Power metal serves as a bridge between extreme and popular music. It often contains pop structures that appeal to a wider audience, yet can still stretch the limits with exciting musical prose that can appeal to thrill-seeking extremists. The pitfall of flirting with more commercial styles is that it often leads to formulaic and watered-down music. Rexoria boasts in their promo sheet of millions of Spotify streams and half a million YouTube views, so clearly they are finding success. It would just be nice to see them take some risks. Too often, success gets in the way of art. I hope Rexoria can continue to find success while also developing the art of their music.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Black Lodge Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Typically, you can judge a cheesy power metal album just from its cover art. Look at the laser-powered sharks/dinos from Victorius, the D&D fantasy elements of Power Paladin, or the stuffed assembly of characters on Angus McSix, and you know you’re getting yourself a heap of cheddar. The covers are busy, bombastic, and as brightly-colored as Frida Ohlin’s hair (see band photo below). Sweden’s Rexoria bucks that trend. The cover art for Fallen Dimension looks like it belongs on a work of dystopian prog like Vanderlust. They deliver something far more light-hearted, though—symphonic power metal. Rexoria deem themselves the birth of a genre called “Royal Metal”—it’s in their name. Rex means king, and Oria means gold. Royal metal. Get it? So just what is this new tag? More importantly, would you like your royale with cheese?

Fallen Dimension blends old school heavy metal with modern power metal and a dash of keyboard synths. While they boast of symphonics in their promo sheet, Rexoria have more in common with Unleash the Archers than Mystfall. They combine the joyful energy of Frozen Crown with the straightforward approach of Sabaton. With honed pop structures, Rexoria set aside the wankery of many power metal bands and dive quickly into their anthemic choruses. Blink, and you might miss the music that happens between the opening spoken word segment and hooky chorus on opener “Metallic Rain.” If you like the bop and energy of power metal without its often masturbatory shredding, then this is for you. Rexoria has solos, but they’re in and out in a flash, all to ensure songs end in a (mostly) tidy 3-4 minutes. The downside is that where bands like Frozen Crown and Unleash the Archers do some really cool stuff with their guitars, the guitars on Fallen Dimension sound generic and bland.

Frontwoman Frida Ohlin gives Rexoria a more distinctive sound relative to more recent power metal bands. She has a gritty voice akin to Joan Jett rather than the smooth and joyful tone of Frozen Crown’s Giada Etro. She delivers some really good choruses, bringing to life the likes of “Break the Wave” and “Running with the Stars” with her energetic delivery. She even shows a more tender side on the rock ballad, “Heart of Sorrow,” a duet with Johnny Gioeli (Axel Rudi Pell). Her grit keeps the bouncy, formulaic songs from going too far down the road of pop music. It’s not that the other players are incompetent—they just don’t have much to work with. The drums are standard, galloping blast beats, and the guitar riffs are competent if uninspired. Rexoria brought in a new bassist (Adam Nordquist) for Fallen Dimension, but I rarely heard him. Usually a record like this benefits from outside hooks, and the synths tend to be hit or miss. There are some good ones, such as those on “Metallic Rain,” but on follow-up “Awakening,” I couldn’t help but wonder if they started recycling synth lines.

In general, Fallen Dimension is a pleasant listen that’s also forgettable due to its jack-of-all-trades nature. Rexoria’s plug-and-chug approach allows for an enjoyable energy and choruses that hit the right notes. Yet there’s very little to distinguish them from the power metal pack. The opening riff on “Wasted Land” sounds a lot like something from a Fellowship record, while a majority of their other riffs are hardly more creative than your run-of-the-mill radio rock music. I didn’t dislike any of the songs, yet nothing really grabbed me either. Some of the choruses stuck in my head for a little while, but without any real emotional impact. Rexoria has all the pieces in place—they’re just missing that extra something to make them shine.

Power metal serves as a bridge between extreme and popular music. It often contains pop structures that appeal to a wider audience, yet can still stretch the limits with exciting musical prose that can appeal to thrill-seeking extremists. The pitfall of flirting with more commercial styles is that it often leads to formulaic and watered-down music. Rexoria boasts in their promo sheet of millions of Spotify streams and half a million YouTube views, so clearly they are finding success. It would just be nice to see them take some risks. Too often, success gets in the way of art. I hope Rexoria can continue to find success while also developing the art of their music.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Black Lodge Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Typically, you can judge a cheesy power metal album just from its cover art. Look at the laser-powered sharks/dinos from Victorius, the D&D fantasy elements of Power Paladin, or the stuffed assembly of characters on Angus McSix, and you know you’re getting yourself a heap of cheddar. The covers are busy, bombastic, and as brightly-colored as Frida Ohlin’s hair (see band photo below). Sweden’s Rexoria bucks that trend. The cover art for Fallen Dimension looks like it belongs on a work of dystopian prog like Vanderlust. They deliver something far more light-hearted, though—symphonic power metal. Rexoria deem themselves the birth of a genre called “Royal Metal”—it’s in their name. Rex means king, and Oria means gold. Royal metal. Get it? So just what is this new tag? More importantly, would you like your royale with cheese?

Fallen Dimension blends old school heavy metal with modern power metal and a dash of keyboard synths. While they boast of symphonics in their promo sheet, Rexoria have more in common with Unleash the Archers than Mystfall. They combine the joyful energy of Frozen Crown with the straightforward approach of Sabaton. With honed pop structures, Rexoria set aside the wankery of many power metal bands and dive quickly into their anthemic choruses. Blink, and you might miss the music that happens between the opening spoken word segment and hooky chorus on opener “Metallic Rain.” If you like the bop and energy of power metal without its often masturbatory shredding, then this is for you. Rexoria has solos, but they’re in and out in a flash, all to ensure songs end in a (mostly) tidy 3-4 minutes. The downside is that where bands like Frozen Crown and Unleash the Archers do some really cool stuff with their guitars, the guitars on Fallen Dimension sound generic and bland.

Frontwoman Frida Ohlin gives Rexoria a more distinctive sound relative to more recent power metal bands. She has a gritty voice akin to Joan Jett rather than the smooth and joyful tone of Frozen Crown’s Giada Etro. She delivers some really good choruses, bringing to life the likes of “Break the Wave” and “Running with the Stars” with her energetic delivery. She even shows a more tender side on the rock ballad, “Heart of Sorrow,” a duet with Johnny Gioeli (Axel Rudi Pell). Her grit keeps the bouncy, formulaic songs from going too far down the road of pop music. It’s not that the other players are incompetent—they just don’t have much to work with. The drums are standard, galloping blast beats, and the guitar riffs are competent if uninspired. Rexoria brought in a new bassist (Adam Nordquist) for Fallen Dimension, but I rarely heard him. Usually a record like this benefits from outside hooks, and the synths tend to be hit or miss. There are some good ones, such as those on “Metallic Rain,” but on follow-up “Awakening,” I couldn’t help but wonder if they started recycling synth lines.

In general, Fallen Dimension is a pleasant listen that’s also forgettable due to its jack-of-all-trades nature. Rexoria’s plug-and-chug approach allows for an enjoyable energy and choruses that hit the right notes. Yet there’s very little to distinguish them from the power metal pack. The opening riff on “Wasted Land” sounds a lot like something from a Fellowship record, while a majority of their other riffs are hardly more creative than your run-of-the-mill radio rock music. I didn’t dislike any of the songs, yet nothing really grabbed me either. Some of the choruses stuck in my head for a little while, but without any real emotional impact. Rexoria has all the pieces in place—they’re just missing that extra something to make them shine.

Power metal serves as a bridge between extreme and popular music. It often contains pop structures that appeal to a wider audience, yet can still stretch the limits with exciting musical prose that can appeal to thrill-seeking extremists. The pitfall of flirting with more commercial styles is that it often leads to formulaic and watered-down music. Rexoria boasts in their promo sheet of millions of Spotify streams and half a million YouTube views, so clearly they are finding success. It would just be nice to see them take some risks. Too often, success gets in the way of art. I hope Rexoria can continue to find success while also developing the art of their music.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Black Lodge Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Typically, you can judge a cheesy power metal album just from its cover art. Look at the laser-powered sharks/dinos from Victorius, the D&D fantasy elements of Power Paladin, or the stuffed assembly of characters on Angus McSix, and you know you’re getting yourself a heap of cheddar. The covers are busy, bombastic, and as brightly-colored as Frida Ohlin’s hair (see band photo below). Sweden’s Rexoria bucks that trend. The cover art for Fallen Dimension looks like it belongs on a work of dystopian prog like Vanderlust. They deliver something far more light-hearted, though—symphonic power metal. Rexoria deem themselves the birth of a genre called “Royal Metal”—it’s in their name. Rex means king, and Oria means gold. Royal metal. Get it? So just what is this new tag? More importantly, would you like your royale with cheese?

Fallen Dimension blends old school heavy metal with modern power metal and a dash of keyboard synths. While they boast of symphonics in their promo sheet, Rexoria have more in common with Unleash the Archers than Mystfall. They combine the joyful energy of Frozen Crown with the straightforward approach of Sabaton. With honed pop structures, Rexoria set aside the wankery of many power metal bands and dive quickly into their anthemic choruses. Blink, and you might miss the music that happens between the opening spoken word segment and hooky chorus on opener “Metallic Rain.” If you like the bop and energy of power metal without its often masturbatory shredding, then this is for you. Rexoria has solos, but they’re in and out in a flash, all to ensure songs end in a (mostly) tidy 3-4 minutes. The downside is that where bands like Frozen Crown and Unleash the Archers do some really cool stuff with their guitars, the guitars on Fallen Dimension sound generic and bland.

Frontwoman Frida Ohlin gives Rexoria a more distinctive sound relative to more recent power metal bands. She has a gritty voice akin to Joan Jett rather than the smooth and joyful tone of Frozen Crown’s Giada Etro. She delivers some really good choruses, bringing to life the likes of “Break the Wave” and “Running with the Stars” with her energetic delivery. She even shows a more tender side on the rock ballad, “Heart of Sorrow,” a duet with Johnny Gioeli (Axel Rudi Pell). Her grit keeps the bouncy, formulaic songs from going too far down the road of pop music. It’s not that the other players are incompetent—they just don’t have much to work with. The drums are standard, galloping blast beats, and the guitar riffs are competent if uninspired. Rexoria brought in a new bassist (Adam Nordquist) for Fallen Dimension, but I rarely heard him. Usually a record like this benefits from outside hooks, and the synths tend to be hit or miss. There are some good ones, such as those on “Metallic Rain,” but on follow-up “Awakening,” I couldn’t help but wonder if they started recycling synth lines.

In general, Fallen Dimension is a pleasant listen that’s also forgettable due to its jack-of-all-trades nature. Rexoria’s plug-and-chug approach allows for an enjoyable energy and choruses that hit the right notes. Yet there’s very little to distinguish them from the power metal pack. The opening riff on “Wasted Land” sounds a lot like something from a Fellowship record, while a majority of their other riffs are hardly more creative than your run-of-the-mill radio rock music. I didn’t dislike any of the songs, yet nothing really grabbed me either. Some of the choruses stuck in my head for a little while, but without any real emotional impact. Rexoria has all the pieces in place—they’re just missing that extra something to make them shine.

Power metal serves as a bridge between extreme and popular music. It often contains pop structures that appeal to a wider audience, yet can still stretch the limits with exciting musical prose that can appeal to thrill-seeking extremists. The pitfall of flirting with more commercial styles is that it often leads to formulaic and watered-down music. Rexoria boasts in their promo sheet of millions of Spotify streams and half a million YouTube views, so clearly they are finding success. It would just be nice to see them take some risks. Too often, success gets in the way of art. I hope Rexoria can continue to find success while also developing the art of their music.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Black Lodge Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026