#may26 — Public Fediverse posts

New Jersey’s marshlands and hospital waste pits have long concealed one of America’s best death metal acts. Formed in 2000, Funebrarum leaked from the Garden State with a sound steeped in early 90s acts like Incantation and Immolation. Their Beneath the Columns of Abandoned Gods debut was a cavernous, monolithic ode to all things extreme and vile. Though it was crushingly heavy, there was a deft hand at work compositionally that made it all go down like greased tripe. It’s a classic of the death metal genre that, for whatever reason, never seems to get the respect it deserves. After 2009s excellent The Sleep of Morbid Dreams, the band went into a kind of extended hibernation, rising only occasionally to drop splits and EPs every few years, the last of which arrived in 2016. After 16 long years (and 10 of complete inactivity), they finally rise from the grave and deign to release a new full-length upon the world with Beckoning the Void of Eternal Silence. The good news is that multi-instrument wizard Phil Tougas of Worm, First Fragment, EXXÛL, and 50 other bands is on board to provide extra fretboard-busting insanity. After such a lengthy absence, what can one expect from Funebrarum? Will their usual caveman cavern-core antics still feel as terrifying and oppressive in this new age of death? Let’s drag the Jersey swamps for answers and dead mobsters.

After an overlong intro that sounds like it was stolen from a late 90s symphonic black metal album, we get dropped into the title track, which starts out equally moody and ominous before eventually shifting into cavern-core pummeling and blasting. Once this occurs, references to Incantation and Cruciamentum are inevitable, but this is a mellower beast with a lighter vibe to the music, as a classic 90s death metal gallop surfaces again and again amid stretches of doom slog and hyper-blastery. Guttural death vox and crazed blackened screams dot the landscape, and newish axe Sam Osbourne (ex-Undergang) joins Phil Tougas in dropping classic death leads and exploring other melodic spaces when solo time arrives. It’s a convincingly heavy, dense song, and it feels fairly inspired. Some of the momentum gained here is lost during the nearly 7 minutes of follow-up “ša nagba amāru,” which opts for a doomier direction and ends up a bit less convincing and forceful despite some interesting guitar work and appropriately dark moods. A big moment arrives with “Into Dark Domains,” where some of the classic Funebrarum energy sparks into being. It offers nods to classic 90s death platters like Onward to Golgotha, and some pieces even remind me of early grind days Carcass.

“From Rotting Burial Shrouds” delivers an immediately satisfying, few-frills beat down of foaming-at-the-mouth caveman death, and I love it, but it makes me wish for more lead pipe intensity from the rest of the material. And while nothing here could be labeled as wholly bad or filler (minus the short mid-album interlude), not every song puts the pimp hand down and bashes my brain into mind jelly. Penultimate track “Turning the Stones of Torment” is fairly generic and doesn’t do much for me. The nearly 9-minute finale, “The Whispering Cathedral – Epilogue,” is also underwhelming. It has interesting moments and segments, but by the 6th minute, I’m ready to settle my bill and check out. At 49 minutes, Beckoning feels significantly longer, and there’s noticeable bloat on several tracks that weigh things down in unfortunate ways.

There’s a garbage truck full of raw talent involved in the making of this album, even without the contributions from Mr. Tougas. Charles Koryn (Ascended Dead, ex-Ghoulgotha) is an impressive drummer, and he supplies a steady stream of gallops, blasts, rolls, and fills that keep things moving and shaking. Daryl Kahan (ex-Disma) is a true throat terror, shaking the ground with phlegmy, repellent croaks, and harsh screams. He sounds very inhuman and very reanimated. Now add the Tougas factor, and the guitar work goes from wow to WOW. The man can play and play he does. The only criticism I’d make is that some of the fretboard gymnastics make the vibe shift from death metal to melodeath and cause the album to feel less rancid and diseased.

I wasn’t expecting to see another album from Funebraum, and while I’m happy to have it, I’m a bit let down that it doesn’t approach the heights of their established discography. It’s definitely good with very good moments, but after so long in the void of eternal silence, it’s hard not to expect MOAR. I suppose part of the problem is that what they’re doing here has now been done so many times before, so some of the shock and awe has worn off. Still, there are loads of quality noise to be found for the patient death heads. New Jersey still has some disgusting tricks up its sleeve after all, besides Newark. Worth a loud blast, then go and visit their early stuff post-haste.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Pulverized Records
Websites: funebrarum-death-metal.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/funebrarumofficial | instagram.com/funebrarum_official
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

New Jersey’s marshlands and hospital waste pits have long concealed one of America’s best death metal acts. Formed in 2000, Funebrarum leaked from the Garden State with a sound steeped in early 90s acts like Incantation and Immolation. Their Beneath the Columns of Abandoned Gods debut was a cavernous, monolithic ode to all things extreme and vile. Though it was crushingly heavy, there was a deft hand at work compositionally that made it all go down like greased tripe. It’s a classic of the death metal genre that, for whatever reason, never seems to get the respect it deserves. After 2009s excellent The Sleep of Morbid Dreams, the band went into a kind of extended hibernation, rising only occasionally to drop splits and EPs every few years, the last of which arrived in 2016. After 16 long years (and 10 of complete inactivity), they finally rise from the grave and deign to release a new full-length upon the world with Beckoning the Void of Eternal Silence. The good news is that multi-instrument wizard Phil Tougas of Worm, First Fragment, EXXÛL, and 50 other bands is on board to provide extra fretboard-busting insanity. After such a lengthy absence, what can one expect from Funebrarum? Will their usual caveman cavern-core antics still feel as terrifying and oppressive in this new age of death? Let’s drag the Jersey swamps for answers and dead mobsters.

After an overlong intro that sounds like it was stolen from a late 90s symphonic black metal album, we get dropped into the title track, which starts out equally moody and ominous before eventually shifting into cavern-core pummeling and blasting. Once this occurs, references to Incantation and Cruciamentum are inevitable, but this is a mellower beast with a lighter vibe to the music, as a classic 90s death metal gallop surfaces again and again amid stretches of doom slog and hyper-blastery. Guttural death vox and crazed blackened screams dot the landscape, and newish axe Sam Osbourne (ex-Undergang) joins Phil Tougas in dropping classic death leads and exploring other melodic spaces when solo time arrives. It’s a convincingly heavy, dense song, and it feels fairly inspired. Some of the momentum gained here is lost during the nearly 7 minutes of follow-up “ša nagba amāru,” which opts for a doomier direction and ends up a bit less convincing and forceful despite some interesting guitar work and appropriately dark moods. A big moment arrives with “Into Dark Domains,” where some of the classic Funebrarum energy sparks into being. It offers nods to classic 90s death platters like Onward to Golgotha, and some pieces even remind me of early grind days Carcass.

“From Rotting Burial Shrouds” delivers an immediately satisfying, few-frills beat down of foaming-at-the-mouth caveman death, and I love it, but it makes me wish for more lead pipe intensity from the rest of the material. And while nothing here could be labeled as wholly bad or filler (minus the short mid-album interlude), not every song puts the pimp hand down and bashes my brain into mind jelly. Penultimate track “Turning the Stones of Torment” is fairly generic and doesn’t do much for me. The nearly 9-minute finale, “The Whispering Cathedral – Epilogue,” is also underwhelming. It has interesting moments and segments, but by the 6th minute, I’m ready to settle my bill and check out. At 49 minutes, Beckoning feels significantly longer, and there’s noticeable bloat on several tracks that weigh things down in unfortunate ways.

There’s a garbage truck full of raw talent involved in the making of this album, even without the contributions from Mr. Tougas. Charles Koryn (Ascended Dead, ex-Ghoulgotha) is an impressive drummer, and he supplies a steady stream of gallops, blasts, rolls, and fills that keep things moving and shaking. Daryl Kahan (ex-Disma) is a true throat terror, shaking the ground with phlegmy, repellent croaks, and harsh screams. He sounds very inhuman and very reanimated. Now add the Tougas factor, and the guitar work goes from wow to WOW. The man can play and play he does. The only criticism I’d make is that some of the fretboard gymnastics make the vibe shift from death metal to melodeath and cause the album to feel less rancid and diseased.

I wasn’t expecting to see another album from Funebraum, and while I’m happy to have it, I’m a bit let down that it doesn’t approach the heights of their established discography. It’s definitely good with very good moments, but after so long in the void of eternal silence, it’s hard not to expect MOAR. I suppose part of the problem is that what they’re doing here has now been done so many times before, so some of the shock and awe has worn off. Still, there are loads of quality noise to be found for the patient death heads. New Jersey still has some disgusting tricks up its sleeve after all, besides Newark. Worth a loud blast, then go and visit their early stuff post-haste.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Pulverized Records
Websites: funebrarum-death-metal.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/funebrarumofficial | instagram.com/funebrarum_official
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

New Jersey’s marshlands and hospital waste pits have long concealed one of America’s best death metal acts. Formed in 2000, Funebrarum leaked from the Garden State with a sound steeped in early 90s acts like Incantation and Immolation. Their Beneath the Columns of Abandoned Gods debut was a cavernous, monolithic ode to all things extreme and vile. Though it was crushingly heavy, there was a deft hand at work compositionally that made it all go down like greased tripe. It’s a classic of the death metal genre that, for whatever reason, never seems to get the respect it deserves. After 2009s excellent The Sleep of Morbid Dreams, the band went into a kind of extended hibernation, rising only occasionally to drop splits and EPs every few years, the last of which arrived in 2016. After 16 long years (and 10 of complete inactivity), they finally rise from the grave and deign to release a new full-length upon the world with Beckoning the Void of Eternal Silence. The good news is that multi-instrument wizard Phil Tougas of Worm, First Fragment, EXXÛL, and 50 other bands is on board to provide extra fretboard-busting insanity. After such a lengthy absence, what can one expect from Funebrarum? Will their usual caveman cavern-core antics still feel as terrifying and oppressive in this new age of death? Let’s drag the Jersey swamps for answers and dead mobsters.

After an overlong intro that sounds like it was stolen from a late 90s symphonic black metal album, we get dropped into the title track, which starts out equally moody and ominous before eventually shifting into cavern-core pummeling and blasting. Once this occurs, references to Incantation and Cruciamentum are inevitable, but this is a mellower beast with a lighter vibe to the music, as a classic 90s death metal gallop surfaces again and again amid stretches of doom slog and hyper-blastery. Guttural death vox and crazed blackened screams dot the landscape, and newish axe Sam Osbourne (ex-Undergang) joins Phil Tougas in dropping classic death leads and exploring other melodic spaces when solo time arrives. It’s a convincingly heavy, dense song, and it feels fairly inspired. Some of the momentum gained here is lost during the nearly 7 minutes of follow-up “ša nagba amāru,” which opts for a doomier direction and ends up a bit less convincing and forceful despite some interesting guitar work and appropriately dark moods. A big moment arrives with “Into Dark Domains,” where some of the classic Funebrarum energy sparks into being. It offers nods to classic 90s death platters like Onward to Golgotha, and some pieces even remind me of early grind days Carcass.

“From Rotting Burial Shrouds” delivers an immediately satisfying, few-frills beat down of foaming-at-the-mouth caveman death, and I love it, but it makes me wish for more lead pipe intensity from the rest of the material. And while nothing here could be labeled as wholly bad or filler (minus the short mid-album interlude), not every song puts the pimp hand down and bashes my brain into mind jelly. Penultimate track “Turning the Stones of Torment” is fairly generic and doesn’t do much for me. The nearly 9-minute finale, “The Whispering Cathedral – Epilogue,” is also underwhelming. It has interesting moments and segments, but by the 6th minute, I’m ready to settle my bill and check out. At 49 minutes, Beckoning feels significantly longer, and there’s noticeable bloat on several tracks that weigh things down in unfortunate ways.

There’s a garbage truck full of raw talent involved in the making of this album, even without the contributions from Mr. Tougas. Charles Koryn (Ascended Dead, ex-Ghoulgotha) is an impressive drummer, and he supplies a steady stream of gallops, blasts, rolls, and fills that keep things moving and shaking. Daryl Kahan (ex-Disma) is a true throat terror, shaking the ground with phlegmy, repellent croaks, and harsh screams. He sounds very inhuman and very reanimated. Now add the Tougas factor, and the guitar work goes from wow to WOW. The man can play and play he does. The only criticism I’d make is that some of the fretboard gymnastics make the vibe shift from death metal to melodeath and cause the album to feel less rancid and diseased.

I wasn’t expecting to see another album from Funebraum, and while I’m happy to have it, I’m a bit let down that it doesn’t approach the heights of their established discography. It’s definitely good with very good moments, but after so long in the void of eternal silence, it’s hard not to expect MOAR. I suppose part of the problem is that what they’re doing here has now been done so many times before, so some of the shock and awe has worn off. Still, there are loads of quality noise to be found for the patient death heads. New Jersey still has some disgusting tricks up its sleeve after all, besides Newark. Worth a loud blast, then go and visit their early stuff post-haste.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Pulverized Records
Websites: funebrarum-death-metal.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/funebrarumofficial | instagram.com/funebrarum_official
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

New Jersey’s marshlands and hospital waste pits have long concealed one of America’s best death metal acts. Formed in 2000, Funebrarum leaked from the Garden State with a sound steeped in early 90s acts like Incantation and Immolation. Their Beneath the Columns of Abandoned Gods debut was a cavernous, monolithic ode to all things extreme and vile. Though it was crushingly heavy, there was a deft hand at work compositionally that made it all go down like greased tripe. It’s a classic of the death metal genre that, for whatever reason, never seems to get the respect it deserves. After 2009s excellent The Sleep of Morbid Dreams, the band went into a kind of extended hibernation, rising only occasionally to drop splits and EPs every few years, the last of which arrived in 2016. After 16 long years (and 10 of complete inactivity), they finally rise from the grave and deign to release a new full-length upon the world with Beckoning the Void of Eternal Silence. The good news is that multi-instrument wizard Phil Tougas of Worm, First Fragment, EXXÛL, and 50 other bands is on board to provide extra fretboard-busting insanity. After such a lengthy absence, what can one expect from Funebrarum? Will their usual caveman cavern-core antics still feel as terrifying and oppressive in this new age of death? Let’s drag the Jersey swamps for answers and dead mobsters.

After an overlong intro that sounds like it was stolen from a late 90s symphonic black metal album, we get dropped into the title track, which starts out equally moody and ominous before eventually shifting into cavern-core pummeling and blasting. Once this occurs, references to Incantation and Cruciamentum are inevitable, but this is a mellower beast with a lighter vibe to the music, as a classic 90s death metal gallop surfaces again and again amid stretches of doom slog and hyper-blastery. Guttural death vox and crazed blackened screams dot the landscape, and newish axe Sam Osbourne (ex-Undergang) joins Phil Tougas in dropping classic death leads and exploring other melodic spaces when solo time arrives. It’s a convincingly heavy, dense song, and it feels fairly inspired. Some of the momentum gained here is lost during the nearly 7 minutes of follow-up “ša nagba amāru,” which opts for a doomier direction and ends up a bit less convincing and forceful despite some interesting guitar work and appropriately dark moods. A big moment arrives with “Into Dark Domains,” where some of the classic Funebrarum energy sparks into being. It offers nods to classic 90s death platters like Onward to Golgotha, and some pieces even remind me of early grind days Carcass.

“From Rotting Burial Shrouds” delivers an immediately satisfying, few-frills beat down of foaming-at-the-mouth caveman death, and I love it, but it makes me wish for more lead pipe intensity from the rest of the material. And while nothing here could be labeled as wholly bad or filler (minus the short mid-album interlude), not every song puts the pimp hand down and bashes my brain into mind jelly. Penultimate track “Turning the Stones of Torment” is fairly generic and doesn’t do much for me. The nearly 9-minute finale, “The Whispering Cathedral – Epilogue,” is also underwhelming. It has interesting moments and segments, but by the 6th minute, I’m ready to settle my bill and check out. At 49 minutes, Beckoning feels significantly longer, and there’s noticeable bloat on several tracks that weigh things down in unfortunate ways.

There’s a garbage truck full of raw talent involved in the making of this album, even without the contributions from Mr. Tougas. Charles Koryn (Ascended Dead, ex-Ghoulgotha) is an impressive drummer, and he supplies a steady stream of gallops, blasts, rolls, and fills that keep things moving and shaking. Daryl Kahan (ex-Disma) is a true throat terror, shaking the ground with phlegmy, repellent croaks, and harsh screams. He sounds very inhuman and very reanimated. Now add the Tougas factor, and the guitar work goes from wow to WOW. The man can play and play he does. The only criticism I’d make is that some of the fretboard gymnastics make the vibe shift from death metal to melodeath and cause the album to feel less rancid and diseased.

I wasn’t expecting to see another album from Funebraum, and while I’m happy to have it, I’m a bit let down that it doesn’t approach the heights of their established discography. It’s definitely good with very good moments, but after so long in the void of eternal silence, it’s hard not to expect MOAR. I suppose part of the problem is that what they’re doing here has now been done so many times before, so some of the shock and awe has worn off. Still, there are loads of quality noise to be found for the patient death heads. New Jersey still has some disgusting tricks up its sleeve after all, besides Newark. Worth a loud blast, then go and visit their early stuff post-haste.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Pulverized Records
Websites: funebrarum-death-metal.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/funebrarumofficial | instagram.com/funebrarum_official
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

New Jersey’s marshlands and hospital waste pits have long concealed one of America’s best death metal acts. Formed in 2000, Funebrarum leaked from the Garden State with a sound steeped in early 90s acts like Incantation and Immolation. Their Beneath the Columns of Abandoned Gods debut was a cavernous, monolithic ode to all things extreme and vile. Though it was crushingly heavy, there was a deft hand at work compositionally that made it all go down like greased tripe. It’s a classic of the death metal genre that, for whatever reason, never seems to get the respect it deserves. After 2009s excellent The Sleep of Morbid Dreams, the band went into a kind of extended hibernation, rising only occasionally to drop splits and EPs every few years, the last of which arrived in 2016. After 16 long years (and 10 of complete inactivity), they finally rise from the grave and deign to release a new full-length upon the world with Beckoning the Void of Eternal Silence. The good news is that multi-instrument wizard Phil Tougas of Worm, First Fragment, EXXÛL, and 50 other bands is on board to provide extra fretboard-busting insanity. After such a lengthy absence, what can one expect from Funebrarum? Will their usual caveman cavern-core antics still feel as terrifying and oppressive in this new age of death? Let’s drag the Jersey swamps for answers and dead mobsters.

After an overlong intro that sounds like it was stolen from a late 90s symphonic black metal album, we get dropped into the title track, which starts out equally moody and ominous before eventually shifting into cavern-core pummeling and blasting. Once this occurs, references to Incantation and Cruciamentum are inevitable, but this is a mellower beast with a lighter vibe to the music, as a classic 90s death metal gallop surfaces again and again amid stretches of doom slog and hyper-blastery. Guttural death vox and crazed blackened screams dot the landscape, and newish axe Sam Osbourne (ex-Undergang) joins Phil Tougas in dropping classic death leads and exploring other melodic spaces when solo time arrives. It’s a convincingly heavy, dense song, and it feels fairly inspired. Some of the momentum gained here is lost during the nearly 7 minutes of follow-up “ša nagba amāru,” which opts for a doomier direction and ends up a bit less convincing and forceful despite some interesting guitar work and appropriately dark moods. A big moment arrives with “Into Dark Domains,” where some of the classic Funebrarum energy sparks into being. It offers nods to classic 90s death platters like Onward to Golgotha, and some pieces even remind me of early grind days Carcass.

“From Rotting Burial Shrouds” delivers an immediately satisfying, few-frills beat down of foaming-at-the-mouth caveman death, and I love it, but it makes me wish for more lead pipe intensity from the rest of the material. And while nothing here could be labeled as wholly bad or filler (minus the short mid-album interlude), not every song puts the pimp hand down and bashes my brain into mind jelly. Penultimate track “Turning the Stones of Torment” is fairly generic and doesn’t do much for me. The nearly 9-minute finale, “The Whispering Cathedral – Epilogue,” is also underwhelming. It has interesting moments and segments, but by the 6th minute, I’m ready to settle my bill and check out. At 49 minutes, Beckoning feels significantly longer, and there’s noticeable bloat on several tracks that weigh things down in unfortunate ways.

There’s a garbage truck full of raw talent involved in the making of this album, even without the contributions from Mr. Tougas. Charles Koryn (Ascended Dead, ex-Ghoulgotha) is an impressive drummer, and he supplies a steady stream of gallops, blasts, rolls, and fills that keep things moving and shaking. Daryl Kahan (ex-Disma) is a true throat terror, shaking the ground with phlegmy, repellent croaks, and harsh screams. He sounds very inhuman and very reanimated. Now add the Tougas factor, and the guitar work goes from wow to WOW. The man can play and play he does. The only criticism I’d make is that some of the fretboard gymnastics make the vibe shift from death metal to melodeath and cause the album to feel less rancid and diseased.

I wasn’t expecting to see another album from Funebraum, and while I’m happy to have it, I’m a bit let down that it doesn’t approach the heights of their established discography. It’s definitely good with very good moments, but after so long in the void of eternal silence, it’s hard not to expect MOAR. I suppose part of the problem is that what they’re doing here has now been done so many times before, so some of the shock and awe has worn off. Still, there are loads of quality noise to be found for the patient death heads. New Jersey still has some disgusting tricks up its sleeve after all, besides Newark. Worth a loud blast, then go and visit their early stuff post-haste.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Pulverized Records
Websites: funebrarum-death-metal.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/funebrarumofficial | instagram.com/funebrarum_official
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

UK doom metal saviors Godthrymm are a damn good band. If you’ve had a chance to listen to either their full-length debut Reflections or their follow-up in 2023’s mighty Distortions, you already know just how talented and outright heavy their brand of doom and traditional metal can get. Then again, you’d also know that their pedigree (with stints in Vallenfyre, Solstice, and of course My Dying Bride, among others) pretty much guaranteed a rock-solid backdrop to their sound. With all that said, I’ve awaited Projections, their final piece to their Visions, for as long as it was announced. Now that it’s upon us, and I’ve had a chance to spend a good, solid week with it, I’ve got some major concerns.

Before I get into the reasons why, let’s focus on the good. There are no poor performances on the album from anybody. Lead-off single “Truth in My Own” is classic Godthrymm through and through, with Hamish Glencross and newcomer Kris McLaughlin throwing down riff after heavy riff, and Hamish’s voice is once again in fine form, especially when he sings alongside his wife, keyboardist Catherine Glencross. Elsewhere, “Endure My Skin” features a fine performance by former My Dying Bride (and current High Parasite) vocalist, Aaron Stainthorpe, reuniting him with Hamish and fellow MDB alumni, drummer Shaun Taylor-Steels. Those two songs are Godthrymm personified.

Sadly, there are four other songs on here,1 and that’s where the concerns lie. Opener “Trenches Deep,” which features Adie Bailey (English Dogs) and Jay Walsh (Xentrix) providing additional vocals, starts off promising enough, but for whatever reason, transitions into a thrash tune that sounds eerily like MDB’s “The Forever People,” and the way it was shoehorned in is anything but natural. At the other end, closer “Hope is Eternal” starts off with an impressive drum fill by Taylor-Steels, and a somber performance by Catherine, until we get to the chorus, which features Catherine wailing “MEEEEEEeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeee…” repeatedly. In fact, Catherine features more vocally on this album than Hamish, which isn’t a bad thing at all. I just wish the songs were better, with the other two songs, “Jewels” and “The Sun Never Fell,” not making an impact with me no matter how many times I listen, and no matter who is singing.

It doesn’t help that there are production issues as well. For some inexplicable reason, about halfway through the thrash portion of “Trenches Deep,” there’s a noticeable volume dip, as well as some major compression. I don’t know if this was intentional, but it’s highly off-putting. That volume dip would later reverse itself as “The Sun Never Fell” jacks the volume back up for no reason at all. On my first listen, I thought I was imagining things when it came to the production side, but on repeated listens, they’re right there, and they’re distracting on an album that’s already having a tough time winning me over on a songwriting level. And that absolutely sucks to say, especially since Godthrymm, up until now, has been delivering nothing but slam dunks on each of their preceding albums.

This is not how I envisioned reviewing Projections. In what should have been a hat trick, I’m left baffled and more than a little disappointed. I’m hoping this is just a hiccup, as Godthrymm stand toe-to-toe with the absolute best in British doom metal, rivaling the best that many of the heroes of that genre. With Reflections, they channeled the very best love letter to the classics of yore. On Distortions, they added their own flavor and punch to that sound, resulting in my favorite album of 2023. Sadly, on Projections, I’m listening to this solely for writing this review, and little else. This is not how I wanted things to transpire.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Profound Lore
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Stenahoria roughly translates to “sorrow” in Greek, a fitting title for The Fifth Alliance’s fourth full-length, which centers on the “shared human experience of sorrow, fear, and confinement.”1 The Dutch group—appropriately a five-piece—are in some sense starting anew despite their longevity, with a new vocalist, Natalya Thelen, and a new drummer, Peter Scheffer. In another sense, they are unchanged and remain a slightly morbid-leaning2 post/black/sludge entity armed with viciousness and vivacity. A seven-year interval is not nothing, however, and The Fifth Alliance show aspects of themselves that diverge in more ways than one.

Stenahoria feels strikingly heftier than prior releases. The Fifth Alliance lean harder into sludge and occasionally stoner (“Battle of Barnet”), with long riffs caked in feedback. The heaviness is of a weightier, battering sort, approaching Pilori at its peak (“Phoenix”), never forsaking the blackened influence that sees tremolos shiver violently against the crunching backdrop and drums erupt out of their crawl. There is also a slight tilt in favor of clean vocals, lending the groovier, smoother passages a Chelsea Wolfe air. Like her predecessor, Natalya provides both the sung and the screamed narration, and her range is impressive, her harsh vocals particularly potent. But her cleans take center-stage in roughly equal measure, a more grounded presence that works in tandem with the blunter edge of the riffs and denser rhythms for an oddly fortifying experience.

The Fifth Alliance create just as much of an atmosphere with their new approach, and it’s one full of feeling. The way “Phoenix” explodes into existence with a maniacal roar had me grinning from ear to ear, and this passionate vitriol is what drives some of Stenahoria’s best moments. Powerful singing morphs into burning screams layering over one another, escalating with the pitch of the guitars (“Benandanti,” “Jakob”). This translates to the instrumentation, which matches the intensity by tipping over into blackened-death-coded tumult led by frenetic tremolos and wild percussion (“The Fool…,” “Jakob”). The drumming in general is stellar in this regard,3 restlessly shuffling and adding layers of dynamism (“The Fool….,” “Battle of Barnet”) even in the quieter sections, where a lesser band or performer in the subgenre would be content with simplicity. Rhythm plays into the power of the vocals and riffs just as much as it does the percussion when Stenahoria reaches its apexes. It heightens the mournfulness and drama of the suddenly descending melodies (“The Fool…,” “Jakob”) as they stutter and surge in step with cymbals and emphatically-delivered lyrics. It propels the punch of repeated lyrics, sung then roared over and over (“Phoenix,” “Benandanti”). It creates groove and rippling energy throughout.

It’s only a few missteps that hold Stenahoria back, but they’re not all trivial. The Fifth Alliance have a tendency to weaken a great song with an aspect that doesn’t serve it, usually the insertion of cleans or a more post-hardcore or stoner vibe between the driving melodic and otherwise stirring soundscapes (“Phoenix,” “Benandanti,” “Jakob”). In drifting towards a cleaner sound, the group are evidently experimenting, and it does often pay off, but the diversion into full stoner—save very final movement—”Battle of Barnet” four-fifths of the way through remains at odds with neighbours “The Fool on the Hill” and “Jakob,” where these elements are much better integrated and are quite dull in comparison. More egregious to some will be the clean vocals themselves, which possess a polarizing, half-shouted haughtiness I personally could only forgive on the all-round brilliant centerpiece “The Fool on the Hill,” where their chestiness runs seamlessly into the catharsis of the screams and fantastic compositional climaxes.

Over repeated listens, Stenahoria won me over to the point where I truly enjoyed it in spite of my personal distaste for the singing and its uneven brilliance. The Fifth Alliance don’t rewrite the rulebook, but they have reinvented their sound to a degree and with overall success, maintaining their heaviness and adding depth. If this is the start of a new era for the band, they have a solid future ahead.

Rating: Good
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Tartarus Records | Breathe Plastic | Ardua Music
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

https://www.europesays.com/uk/989403/ Sabotør – Første Aksjon Review #2026 #30 #BrocasHelm #DarkEssenceRecords #Deathhammer #Entertainment #FørsteAksjon #HeavyMetal #Kvelertak #May26 #Metallica #music #NorwegianMetal #Punk #Review #Reviews #Sabotør #ThrashMetal #UK #UnitedKingdom

Sabotør – Første Aksjon Review

Among the foundations of heavy metal are resistance and counterculture. Thus, it makes sense that a young Norwegian…
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Among the foundations of heavy metal are resistance and counterculture. Thus, it makes sense that a young Norwegian band, Sabotør, decided to create a record regaling tales of the Norwegian resistance against Nazi Germany. This period birthed the term Quisling as synonymous for traitor when Vidkun Quisling attempted to take Norway down a path of Nazism. The Norwegian resistance thwarted his plans by using tactics such as an underground press, “ice fronts” that served to alienate Germans from Norwegian society, and anti-Nazi jokes meant to make the Nazis look foolish. It wasn’t all non-violence, either. They managed to sink a German cruiser called the Bluecher.1 This all sounds like great material for an album, and I’m only saddened I don’t speak Norwegian to understand what these lads are singing about. While I don’t know the words, I can appreciate the music as raucous, fun, and a little deranged.

True to its themes of resistance, Første Aksjon (roughly translated as first action or first strike) features a collection of old school abrasive punk/thrash tunes sure to stir the rebel in you. The raw, high-energy sound brings to mind Kill ’em All era Metallica, and opening song “Jerngrepets Inntog,” could almost be a lost track from that classic debut. There’s a hunger and passion that echoes those early Metallica years, and it brings a freshness and earnestness to the music. I also hear some early Kvelertak, and Sabotør cites the obscure Brocas Helm as a major influence. Like any good resistance movement, the music is unpredictable yet incessantly energetic. This means non-stop riffs, solos, and blasts of the snare drum. Sabotør are not above hooks, with a catchy chorus that appears out of nowhere on “Skyggens Frekvens” and makes you want to sing/shout along with it. Rasmus Strømberg also catches listeners off guard with sudden leaps into vocal harmonizations that just add to the catchiness (“Jerngrepets Inntog”, “Sabotør,” “Flagget”). In all, Første Aksjon is pure fun.

The musicians display a show of raw power and passion that makes Første Aksjon constantly exciting. Strømberg’s deranged vocal performance leads the way. He mixes the abrasion of Kvelertak’s Ivar Nikolaisen, the mania of Sergeant Salsten (Deathhammer), and even some touches of a young James Hetfield, particularly those pre-pubescent screeches. He screeches, shouts, screams, and growls through more than 30 minutes of intense music, and that’s not all. He has an entertaining cadence that proves him to be a superb raconteur. He’s full of surprises, turning the speed to 11 on “Brente Jords Taktikk” and then turning in a raucous bit on “Jevnet Med Jorden” where he sounds like an auctioneer speaking in tongues. The other musicians also contribute to the mania, particularly drummer Mathilde Solemdal. He ensures a non-stop energy with his frequent snare hits, cymbal blasts, and frenetic blast beats. Guitarist Andreas Remmen provides a semblance of sanity with controlled yet energetic riffs. He provides plenty of melody, thrashy riffs, and even some cool arpeggios (“Flagget”).

The only thing holding Sabotør back is the production. This is an instance where the high DR score (12) seems at odds with how the record sounds. In some ways, it sounds great, with crisp and clear instrumentation, including the bass. The lower quality of my promo copy probably contributed to my sound issues. I found the album to be on the quiet side and had to turn the volume up to hear it properly. However, the snare tone is too loud, and its incessant presence proves a headache. While the brief album length makes for easier repeat spins, the mix will make you want to give your ears a rest before long. There are a couple of other distracting bits, including a section on “Flagget,” where a plane engine sounds more like rumbling flatulence. While the rawness is appropriate, Første Aksjon could benefit from better balance in their mixing.

As Sabotør’s own bit of first action, Første Aksjon proves to be an impressive debut. As the Indiana Jones flicks demonstrate, it’s fun to defeat Nazis. These guys continue that tradition, while also demonstrating the effectiveness of resistance in the face of authoritarianism. Sabotør also exhibit the joy of listening to hungry young musicians who just want to play what they love. There’s plenty to love here, and plenty to look forward to as these musicians mature in their songwriting.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 12 | Format Reviewed: ~165 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Essence Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Among the foundations of heavy metal are resistance and counterculture. Thus, it makes sense that a young Norwegian band, Sabotør, decided to create a record regaling tales of the Norwegian resistance against Nazi Germany. This period birthed the term Quisling as synonymous for traitor when Vidkun Quisling attempted to take Norway down a path of Nazism. The Norwegian resistance thwarted his plans by using tactics such as an underground press, “ice fronts” that served to alienate Germans from Norwegian society, and anti-Nazi jokes meant to make the Nazis look foolish. It wasn’t all non-violence, either. They managed to sink a German cruiser called the Bluecher.1 This all sounds like great material for an album, and I’m only saddened I don’t speak Norwegian to understand what these lads are singing about. While I don’t know the words, I can appreciate the music as raucous, fun, and a little deranged.

True to its themes of resistance, Første Aksjon (roughly translated as first action or first strike) features a collection of old school abrasive punk/thrash tunes sure to stir the rebel in you. The raw, high-energy sound brings to mind Kill ’em All era Metallica, and opening song “Jerngrepets Inntog,” could almost be a lost track from that classic debut. There’s a hunger and passion that echoes those early Metallica years, and it brings a freshness and earnestness to the music. I also hear some early Kvelertak, and Sabotør cites the obscure Brocas Helm as a major influence. Like any good resistance movement, the music is unpredictable yet incessantly energetic. This means non-stop riffs, solos, and blasts of the snare drum. Sabotør are not above hooks, with a catchy chorus that appears out of nowhere on “Skyggens Frekvens” and makes you want to sing/shout along with it. Rasmus Strømberg also catches listeners off guard with sudden leaps into vocal harmonizations that just add to the catchiness (“Jerngrepets Inntog”, “Sabotør,” “Flagget”). In all, Første Aksjon is pure fun.

The musicians display a show of raw power and passion that makes Første Aksjon constantly exciting. Strømberg’s deranged vocal performance leads the way. He mixes the abrasion of Kvelertak’s Ivar Nikolaisen, the mania of Sergeant Salsten (Deathhammer), and even some touches of a young James Hetfield, particularly those pre-pubescent screeches. He screeches, shouts, screams, and growls through more than 30 minutes of intense music, and that’s not all. He has an entertaining cadence that proves him to be a superb raconteur. He’s full of surprises, turning the speed to 11 on “Brente Jords Taktikk” and then turning in a raucous bit on “Jevnet Med Jorden” where he sounds like an auctioneer speaking in tongues. The other musicians also contribute to the mania, particularly drummer Mathilde Solemdal. He ensures a non-stop energy with his frequent snare hits, cymbal blasts, and frenetic blast beats. Guitarist Andreas Remmen provides a semblance of sanity with controlled yet energetic riffs. He provides plenty of melody, thrashy riffs, and even some cool arpeggios (“Flagget”).

The only thing holding Sabotør back is the production. This is an instance where the high DR score (12) seems at odds with how the record sounds. In some ways, it sounds great, with crisp and clear instrumentation, including the bass. The lower quality of my promo copy probably contributed to my sound issues. I found the album to be on the quiet side and had to turn the volume up to hear it properly. However, the snare tone is too loud, and its incessant presence proves a headache. While the brief album length makes for easier repeat spins, the mix will make you want to give your ears a rest before long. There are a couple of other distracting bits, including a section on “Flagget,” where a plane engine sounds more like rumbling flatulence. While the rawness is appropriate, Første Aksjon could benefit from better balance in their mixing.

As Sabotør’s own bit of first action, Første Aksjon proves to be an impressive debut. As the Indiana Jones flicks demonstrate, it’s fun to defeat Nazis. These guys continue that tradition, while also demonstrating the effectiveness of resistance in the face of authoritarianism. Sabotør also exhibit the joy of listening to hungry young musicians who just want to play what they love. There’s plenty to love here, and plenty to look forward to as these musicians mature in their songwriting.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 12 | Format Reviewed: ~165 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Essence Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Among the foundations of heavy metal are resistance and counterculture. Thus, it makes sense that a young Norwegian band, Sabotør, decided to create a record regaling tales of the Norwegian resistance against Nazi Germany. This period birthed the term Quisling as synonymous for traitor when Vidkun Quisling attempted to take Norway down a path of Nazism. The Norwegian resistance thwarted his plans by using tactics such as an underground press, “ice fronts” that served to alienate Germans from Norwegian society, and anti-Nazi jokes meant to make the Nazis look foolish. It wasn’t all non-violence, either. They managed to sink a German cruiser called the Bluecher.1 This all sounds like great material for an album, and I’m only saddened I don’t speak Norwegian to understand what these lads are singing about. While I don’t know the words, I can appreciate the music as raucous, fun, and a little deranged.

True to its themes of resistance, Første Aksjon (roughly translated as first action or first strike) features a collection of old school abrasive punk/thrash tunes sure to stir the rebel in you. The raw, high-energy sound brings to mind Kill ’em All era Metallica, and opening song “Jerngrepets Inntog,” could almost be a lost track from that classic debut. There’s a hunger and passion that echoes those early Metallica years, and it brings a freshness and earnestness to the music. I also hear some early Kvelertak, and Sabotør cites the obscure Brocas Helm as a major influence. Like any good resistance movement, the music is unpredictable yet incessantly energetic. This means non-stop riffs, solos, and blasts of the snare drum. Sabotør are not above hooks, with a catchy chorus that appears out of nowhere on “Skyggens Frekvens” and makes you want to sing/shout along with it. Rasmus Strømberg also catches listeners off guard with sudden leaps into vocal harmonizations that just add to the catchiness (“Jerngrepets Inntog”, “Sabotør,” “Flagget”). In all, Første Aksjon is pure fun.

The musicians display a show of raw power and passion that makes Første Aksjon constantly exciting. Strømberg’s deranged vocal performance leads the way. He mixes the abrasion of Kvelertak’s Ivar Nikolaisen, the mania of Sergeant Salsten (Deathhammer), and even some touches of a young James Hetfield, particularly those pre-pubescent screeches. He screeches, shouts, screams, and growls through more than 30 minutes of intense music, and that’s not all. He has an entertaining cadence that proves him to be a superb raconteur. He’s full of surprises, turning the speed to 11 on “Brente Jords Taktikk” and then turning in a raucous bit on “Jevnet Med Jorden” where he sounds like an auctioneer speaking in tongues. The other musicians also contribute to the mania, particularly drummer Mathilde Solemdal. He ensures a non-stop energy with his frequent snare hits, cymbal blasts, and frenetic blast beats. Guitarist Andreas Remmen provides a semblance of sanity with controlled yet energetic riffs. He provides plenty of melody, thrashy riffs, and even some cool arpeggios (“Flagget”).

The only thing holding Sabotør back is the production. This is an instance where the high DR score (12) seems at odds with how the record sounds. In some ways, it sounds great, with crisp and clear instrumentation, including the bass. The lower quality of my promo copy probably contributed to my sound issues. I found the album to be on the quiet side and had to turn the volume up to hear it properly. However, the snare tone is too loud, and its incessant presence proves a headache. While the brief album length makes for easier repeat spins, the mix will make you want to give your ears a rest before long. There are a couple of other distracting bits, including a section on “Flagget,” where a plane engine sounds more like rumbling flatulence. While the rawness is appropriate, Første Aksjon could benefit from better balance in their mixing.

As Sabotør’s own bit of first action, Første Aksjon proves to be an impressive debut. As the Indiana Jones flicks demonstrate, it’s fun to defeat Nazis. These guys continue that tradition, while also demonstrating the effectiveness of resistance in the face of authoritarianism. Sabotør also exhibit the joy of listening to hungry young musicians who just want to play what they love. There’s plenty to love here, and plenty to look forward to as these musicians mature in their songwriting.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 12 | Format Reviewed: ~165 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Essence Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Among the foundations of heavy metal are resistance and counterculture. Thus, it makes sense that a young Norwegian band, Sabotør, decided to create a record regaling tales of the Norwegian resistance against Nazi Germany. This period birthed the term Quisling as synonymous for traitor when Vidkun Quisling attempted to take Norway down a path of Nazism. The Norwegian resistance thwarted his plans by using tactics such as an underground press, “ice fronts” that served to alienate Germans from Norwegian society, and anti-Nazi jokes meant to make the Nazis look foolish. It wasn’t all non-violence, either. They managed to sink a German cruiser called the Bluecher.1 This all sounds like great material for an album, and I’m only saddened I don’t speak Norwegian to understand what these lads are singing about. While I don’t know the words, I can appreciate the music as raucous, fun, and a little deranged.

True to its themes of resistance, Første Aksjon (roughly translated as first action or first strike) features a collection of old school abrasive punk/thrash tunes sure to stir the rebel in you. The raw, high-energy sound brings to mind Kill ’em All era Metallica, and opening song “Jerngrepets Inntog,” could almost be a lost track from that classic debut. There’s a hunger and passion that echoes those early Metallica years, and it brings a freshness and earnestness to the music. I also hear some early Kvelertak, and Sabotør cites the obscure Brocas Helm as a major influence. Like any good resistance movement, the music is unpredictable yet incessantly energetic. This means non-stop riffs, solos, and blasts of the snare drum. Sabotør are not above hooks, with a catchy chorus that appears out of nowhere on “Skyggens Frekvens” and makes you want to sing/shout along with it. Rasmus Strømberg also catches listeners off guard with sudden leaps into vocal harmonizations that just add to the catchiness (“Jerngrepets Inntog”, “Sabotør,” “Flagget”). In all, Første Aksjon is pure fun.

The musicians display a show of raw power and passion that makes Første Aksjon constantly exciting. Strømberg’s deranged vocal performance leads the way. He mixes the abrasion of Kvelertak’s Ivar Nikolaisen, the mania of Sergeant Salsten (Deathhammer), and even some touches of a young James Hetfield, particularly those pre-pubescent screeches. He screeches, shouts, screams, and growls through more than 30 minutes of intense music, and that’s not all. He has an entertaining cadence that proves him to be a superb raconteur. He’s full of surprises, turning the speed to 11 on “Brente Jords Taktikk” and then turning in a raucous bit on “Jevnet Med Jorden” where he sounds like an auctioneer speaking in tongues. The other musicians also contribute to the mania, particularly drummer Mathilde Solemdal. He ensures a non-stop energy with his frequent snare hits, cymbal blasts, and frenetic blast beats. Guitarist Andreas Remmen provides a semblance of sanity with controlled yet energetic riffs. He provides plenty of melody, thrashy riffs, and even some cool arpeggios (“Flagget”).

The only thing holding Sabotør back is the production. This is an instance where the high DR score (12) seems at odds with how the record sounds. In some ways, it sounds great, with crisp and clear instrumentation, including the bass. The lower quality of my promo copy probably contributed to my sound issues. I found the album to be on the quiet side and had to turn the volume up to hear it properly. However, the snare tone is too loud, and its incessant presence proves a headache. While the brief album length makes for easier repeat spins, the mix will make you want to give your ears a rest before long. There are a couple of other distracting bits, including a section on “Flagget,” where a plane engine sounds more like rumbling flatulence. While the rawness is appropriate, Første Aksjon could benefit from better balance in their mixing.

As Sabotør’s own bit of first action, Første Aksjon proves to be an impressive debut. As the Indiana Jones flicks demonstrate, it’s fun to defeat Nazis. These guys continue that tradition, while also demonstrating the effectiveness of resistance in the face of authoritarianism. Sabotør also exhibit the joy of listening to hungry young musicians who just want to play what they love. There’s plenty to love here, and plenty to look forward to as these musicians mature in their songwriting.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 12 | Format Reviewed: ~165 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Essence Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Among the foundations of heavy metal are resistance and counterculture. Thus, it makes sense that a young Norwegian band, Sabotør, decided to create a record regaling tales of the Norwegian resistance against Nazi Germany. This period birthed the term Quisling as synonymous for traitor when Vidkun Quisling attempted to take Norway down a path of Nazism. The Norwegian resistance thwarted his plans by using tactics such as an underground press, “ice fronts” that served to alienate Germans from Norwegian society, and anti-Nazi jokes meant to make the Nazis look foolish. It wasn’t all non-violence, either. They managed to sink a German cruiser called the Bluecher.1 This all sounds like great material for an album, and I’m only saddened I don’t speak Norwegian to understand what these lads are singing about. While I don’t know the words, I can appreciate the music as raucous, fun, and a little deranged.

True to its themes of resistance, Første Aksjon (roughly translated as first action or first strike) features a collection of old school abrasive punk/thrash tunes sure to stir the rebel in you. The raw, high-energy sound brings to mind Kill ’em All era Metallica, and opening song “Jerngrepets Inntog,” could almost be a lost track from that classic debut. There’s a hunger and passion that echoes those early Metallica years, and it brings a freshness and earnestness to the music. I also hear some early Kvelertak, and Sabotør cites the obscure Brocas Helm as a major influence. Like any good resistance movement, the music is unpredictable yet incessantly energetic. This means non-stop riffs, solos, and blasts of the snare drum. Sabotør are not above hooks, with a catchy chorus that appears out of nowhere on “Skyggens Frekvens” and makes you want to sing/shout along with it. Rasmus Strømberg also catches listeners off guard with sudden leaps into vocal harmonizations that just add to the catchiness (“Jerngrepets Inntog”, “Sabotør,” “Flagget”). In all, Første Aksjon is pure fun.

The musicians display a show of raw power and passion that makes Første Aksjon constantly exciting. Strømberg’s deranged vocal performance leads the way. He mixes the abrasion of Kvelertak’s Ivar Nikolaisen, the mania of Sergeant Salsten (Deathhammer), and even some touches of a young James Hetfield, particularly those pre-pubescent screeches. He screeches, shouts, screams, and growls through more than 30 minutes of intense music, and that’s not all. He has an entertaining cadence that proves him to be a superb raconteur. He’s full of surprises, turning the speed to 11 on “Brente Jords Taktikk” and then turning in a raucous bit on “Jevnet Med Jorden” where he sounds like an auctioneer speaking in tongues. The other musicians also contribute to the mania, particularly drummer Mathilde Solemdal. He ensures a non-stop energy with his frequent snare hits, cymbal blasts, and frenetic blast beats. Guitarist Andreas Remmen provides a semblance of sanity with controlled yet energetic riffs. He provides plenty of melody, thrashy riffs, and even some cool arpeggios (“Flagget”).

The only thing holding Sabotør back is the production. This is an instance where the high DR score (12) seems at odds with how the record sounds. In some ways, it sounds great, with crisp and clear instrumentation, including the bass. The lower quality of my promo copy probably contributed to my sound issues. I found the album to be on the quiet side and had to turn the volume up to hear it properly. However, the snare tone is too loud, and its incessant presence proves a headache. While the brief album length makes for easier repeat spins, the mix will make you want to give your ears a rest before long. There are a couple of other distracting bits, including a section on “Flagget,” where a plane engine sounds more like rumbling flatulence. While the rawness is appropriate, Første Aksjon could benefit from better balance in their mixing.

As Sabotør’s own bit of first action, Første Aksjon proves to be an impressive debut. As the Indiana Jones flicks demonstrate, it’s fun to defeat Nazis. These guys continue that tradition, while also demonstrating the effectiveness of resistance in the face of authoritarianism. Sabotør also exhibit the joy of listening to hungry young musicians who just want to play what they love. There’s plenty to love here, and plenty to look forward to as these musicians mature in their songwriting.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 12 | Format Reviewed: ~165 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Essence Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Sorry, but I can’t resist: It was in the month of May that I sat down to review the newest album by the British folk-rockers Albion, titled It Was In The Month of May I.1 This gaggle of self-declared whippersnappers blew this reviewer away with their 2024 album Lakesongs of Elbid. What started as an unassuming filter piece grew on me more and more to the point it made my (and my co-conspirator Killjoy’s) end-of-year list. Albion’s timeless, joyful folk-rock music has enjoyed constant rotations in the Hugebeard tower since then, and so a new album has been a hotly anticipated affair. Now that it’s in our hands, has Albion continued their trend for quality?

For those unfamiliar with Albion, they play a flute-heavy, wistful sort of progressive folk-rock that draws an obvious comparison to Jethro Tull and reminds me a great deal of Big Big Train. For those a little more familiar, it’s worth mentioning that It Was In The Month of May has somewhat toned down the already limited metal crunch that graced Lakesongs of Elbid. Rest assured, this is no criticism, as this album remains energetic and adventurous in all the right ways. The opening prelude, “Mis Mai,” followed by the first true foray into the album’s essence, “The Green Knight,” demonstrate Albion’s sonic strengths right out of the gates. “Mis Mai” highlights the dulcet pipes of Joe Parrish-James as he lathers the song’s Welsh lyrics in decadent velvet, while “The Green Knight” starts the album in usual Albion fashion with grandiose flute melodies explored atop galloping guitar strumming.

What I love about Albion’s music, and what they maintain in It Was In The Month of May, is a sense of effortlessness. The music is fun, it’s accessible, it’s breezy, it’s comfortably warm and full of well-crafted little moments so crisp and yet so obvious it almost makes you wonder how no one else thought of it first. The pub-rock verse of “Down With The Hero” and the epic call-and-response between the flutes and guitars in the middle of “Calan Mai” come especially to mind. In the album’s longer songs, Albion are quite eager to just let the music run free through the meadow in spacious explorations of riffs and solos, but it never feels aimless. The melodies of “The Green Knight” and “Eldest” in particular see the guitars and flutes bounce merrily along in an endless up-and-down like the rolling hills stretching before you as you prepare for adventure. The closer, “Calan Mai,” is the longest at ten minutes, but even at its most unrestrained, the song’s melodies wield graceful finality in a way that always feels satisfying.

It Was In The Month of May is almost 20 minutes shorter than its predecessor, Lakesongs, which makes for an overall cleaner listening experience. However, the album’s pacing does waver a little by over-saturating the latter half with lower-energy tunes. I really quite love “Hymn to Elbereth,” as it has this gently twisting nature to it that happily makes me think of Glass Hammer, but it’s misplaced between the otherwise pleasantly acoustic “She Is The River” and the ballad “Cherry Hill,” making for an overly languid sequence of songs. “Cherry Hill” in particular leans a bit too heavily on chorus repetition for its six-minute runtime. Still, the album ends on the right note with “Calan Mai,” and there are no other noteworthy structural issues or damaging patterns affecting the album. However, I simply must mention the “la-da-da’s” and “doo-do-do’s” in the chorus of “Down With The Hero.” I don’t mind vocalizations at all and they work perfectly well as little interstitial passages like in “Eldest,” but I find it to be a heavily misguided choice for them to carry the chorus of the album’s most upbeat song.

It Was In The Month of May is warm, adventurous, inviting, and once again, and I simply cannot stress this enough, extraordinarily British. While this album never gripped me quite like Lakesongs of Elbid did, the final word on this review is nevertheless one of eager positivity. Albion is a band I tend to think of no matter the musical flavor I’m looking for, and It Was In The Month of May only furthers that trend. This is music that is just so pleasant to listen to, no matter the day, and there are some damn good bangers to be found here for any fan of folk, British rock, or prog.

Rating: Good!
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: FLAC
Label: Self-Release
Websites: official | facebook | bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: May 26th, 2026

Killjoy

In the year 2021, I unexpectedly became acquainted with the debut EP of a very special folk rock group from England. The potential that Albion showed on Pryderi was immediately obvious, and I longed for more. My wish was granted in 2024 by the whopping 70-minute full-length debut Lakesongs of Elbid, for which my esteemed colleague (and now review partner), Mystikus Hugebeard, wrote a splendid filter piece. Albion has wasted no time since then, here to regale our ears again with cheery tunes. It Was in the Month of May seeks to honor the magical time of year when spring sunsets and will soon cede to warmer temperatures.

Albion’s music is wholesome for the soul, whispering to the part of human consciousness that yearns for carefree meadows and being in nature. They primarily achieve this through the exquisite pairing of flute and guitars (both acoustic and electric). This, of course, invites comparisons to Jethro Tull,2 although Albion perhaps hews a bit closer to folk music. Take, for example, the beautiful acoustic guitar fingerpicking and Welsh singing3 in “Mis Mai.” Further, Albion plays a more modernized style of rock than Jethro Tull. “Down with the Hero” is a rousing, ultra-catchy pub rock number and the guitarwork in “The Green Knight” is elaborate, sounding like a slightly slower and proggier Dark Forest. The way that Albion harmoniously blends the old with the new is genuinely refreshing.

It Was in the Month of May similarly succeeds in striking a balance between humble and epic. In both the quiet and upbeat moments, there is an air of unassuming regality. Therefore, it makes perfect sense that Albion composed a pair of songs about Tolkien’s characters Tom Bombadil and his wife, Goldberry. “Eldest (Tom Bombadil)” contains gorgeous guitar and flute swells evoking endless verdant hillsides, as well as a Celtic folk-influenced jig reminiscent of Tuatha de Danann or Braia. “She Is the River (Goldberry)” is entirely acoustic and percussion-less (save for hand claps), with sunny guitar strumming and pleasantly poetic lyrics. Continuing with Tolkien subject matters, “Hymn to Elbereth” features vocal harmonization by Joe and Rhiannon Parrish-James which is as fair as the elves who Frodo, Sam, and Pippin overheard singing these very words in The Fellowship of the Ring. Rhiannon adds her voice to Joe’s at various other times throughout the record, and I would love to hear her take center stage in the future.

Overall, It Was in the Month of May is sharper and more focused than its predecessor. As much as I loved Lakesongs of Elbid, opening with a 9-and-a-half minute instrumental track didn’t help it find its footing. “The Green Knight,” the first full song here, isn’t much shorter but its structure is more disciplined, never wavering from its gallant, galloping theme. The other 8+ minute songs, “Eldest (Tom Bombadil)” and “Calan Mai,” also mostly justify their lengths, although the latter feels a bit meandering towards the end. But the larger issue with “Calan Mai” has to do with the track that precedes it. “Cherry Hill (Maya II)” hits like a lullaby, which might have been okay if it were 3 minutes instead of 6, so it ends up stifling the momentum leading into the ornate concluding track. I do appreciate that, with a total runtime of 52 minutes, It Was in the Month of May is easier to listen to in one sitting.

It Was in the Month of May is great for drifting away and forgetting one’s troubles for a while. The uplifting compositions are easy on the ears while offering bountiful details to uncover during return visits. “Cherry Hill (Maya II)” is the main thing holding it back from unqualified greatness. That said, if Albion continues refining their songcraft at this pace, the next album will surely shatter our score safety counter. So, kick back and enjoy time outside with loved ones. It Was in the Month of May is an excellent way to ring in summer in the Northern Hemisphere.

Rating: 3.5/5.0

I always thought Monolord could level up by favoring hooky bangers. So too did Roquentin, who, in evaluating Vænir back in 2015, saw in these long-form Sabbathians the potential for memorable songs. In picking up Monolord reviewing duties, Huck N Roll began charting a consistently Good stoner/doom career that flirted with evolution but consistently maintained a tried-and-true formula. I would have added the adjectival modifier to Your Time to Shine (2021)—its five distinctive tracks strike a Very Good balance of droniness and catchiness across a sensible 39 minutes.1 My revisionism notwithstanding, Monolord has come to embody the AMG Good, with four branches now on the beloved 3.0tree. As the third Monolord reviewer, the odds suggest I will slap another 3.0 on Neverending and call it a day, especially if album six continues to innovate only around the edges.

Fortunately, Monolord agrees that hooky bangers would reinvigorate Monolord. To help sculpt what they describe as ‘more succinct and immediate songs’ and a ‘sharper album,’ the band enlisted the legendary Sylvia Massy to record, produce, and mix Neverending.2 Monolord credit Massy for significantly influencing their editing, but this isn’t to say she radically altered the band’s stoner/doom sound. Sonically, Massy beefs up the already thick n’ fuzzy tones of this Swedish power trio. Indeed, the guitar of Thomas Jäger and bass of Mika Häkki continue to combine for some of the fattest, tastiest riffage in the game, with a signature chromaticism hard to achieve in the genre.3 As on prior records, Jäger’s vocals sit back in the mix, making his mid-to-upper range croon ethereally prominent. The metronomic drums of Esben Willems also sit back, making every crash, fill, and cowbell monumental. Like previous outings, Neverending sounds invitingly warm, with some welcome heft this time around.

Under Massy’s guidance, Neverending shakes up the Monolord formula for the first time. Whereas previous records are 5–6 tracks with an average song-length of 8 minutes, 5 of 8 tracks here sit between 3–5 minutes. Exemplifying this new approach is the opening one-two punch of “Iodine,”—which feels like a miniature YOB meets the noise-groove of Killdozer—and “You Bastard,”—the album’s strongest Minilord song. The latter propels an infectious verse-chorus cycle, supplemented by shimmying shakers, with a Riff o’ the Year candidate. Later, “The Masque” and “Invisible” hit the spot; the former has a fun blues stomp and delightfully dark verses, but the song would’ve benefitted from three iterations of its (terrific) chorus. Minilord falters, however, on “Crystal Bridge,” which actually feels too short. Excellent CoC-style sludgery gives way to Jäger alone, laying plaintive vocals atop clean chords. It seems to set up something expansive, but once the sludge riffing returns as a capper, “Crystal Bridge” ends up sounding like a song without a chorus.

Despite their emphasis on succinctness, Monolord lace ‘classic’ longer jams throughout Neverending. ”Oozing Wound” is the darling in this regard, typifying the winning chemistry Jäger, Häkki, and Willems possess when they lock in on a simple riff and give it enough space, turns, and melodic character to make it interesting yet still hypnotic. On “It’s Neverending,” Jäger vocally collaborates with Jörgen Sandström, the former bassist of Entombed, which gives Monolord its first flavoring of death-doom via Sandström’s growls. Though I’m less enthusiastic about the Sandström-led portions, the song’s gentle, melancholic dénouement makes it an exceptional eponymous closer. Speaking of closers, “Inside a Collider” weirdly feels like one at track three. It drones on a hooky riff/vocal combo for a while, but it also contains a killer doom descent I wish happened more than once.

After careful analysis, I have arrived at the same score Monolord has been achieving at AMG for over a decade. In 2019, Huck described No Comfort as the band’s transition album, which was true at the time. But as it currently stands, Neverending is Monolord’s transition album, and it’s a transition not without its growing pains. Though the songwriting falters more than it should on a ‘sharp’ album, holistically, Neverending is an enjoyable 43 minutes, making it a more-than-worthy branch on the 3.0tree.4 In the promo materials, Häkki shares that the collaboration with Massy ‘makes [him] curious about what the next chapter will be’ for Monolord. I count myself among the curious—Neverending isn’t the fully-realized version of Minilord I was hoping for, but it plants the seed.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Relapse Records
Websites: Official | Instagram | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

I always thought Monolord could level up by favoring hooky bangers. So too did Roquentin, who, in evaluating Vænir back in 2015, saw in these long-form Sabbathians the potential for memorable songs. In picking up Monolord reviewing duties, Huck N Roll began charting a consistently Good stoner/doom career that flirted with evolution but consistently maintained a tried-and-true formula. I would have added the adjectival modifier to Your Time to Shine (2021)—its five distinctive tracks strike a Very Good balance of droniness and catchiness across a sensible 39 minutes.1 My revisionism notwithstanding, Monolord has come to embody the AMG Good, with four branches now on the beloved 3.0tree. As the third Monolord reviewer, the odds suggest I will slap another 3.0 on Neverending and call it a day, especially if album six continues to innovate only around the edges.

Fortunately, Monolord agrees that hooky bangers would reinvigorate Monolord. To help sculpt what they describe as ‘more succinct and immediate songs’ and a ‘sharper album,’ the band enlisted the legendary Sylvia Massy to record, produce, and mix Neverending.2 Monolord credit Massy for significantly influencing their editing, but this isn’t to say she radically altered the band’s stoner/doom sound. Sonically, Massy beefs up the already thick n’ fuzzy tones of this Swedish power trio. Indeed, the guitar of Thomas Jäger and bass of Mika Häkki continue to combine for some of the fattest, tastiest riffage in the game, with a signature chromaticism hard to achieve in the genre.3 As on prior records, Jäger’s vocals sit back in the mix, making his mid-to-upper range croon ethereally prominent. The metronomic drums of Esben Willems also sit back, making every crash, fill, and cowbell monumental. Like previous outings, Neverending sounds invitingly warm, with some welcome heft this time around.

Under Massy’s guidance, Neverending shakes up the Monolord formula for the first time. Whereas previous records are 5–6 tracks with an average song-length of 8 minutes, 5 of 8 tracks here sit between 3–5 minutes. Exemplifying this new approach is the opening one-two punch of “Iodine,”—which feels like a miniature YOB meets the noise-groove of Killdozer—and “You Bastard,”—the album’s strongest Minilord song. The latter propels an infectious verse-chorus cycle, supplemented by shimmying shakers, with a Riff o’ the Year candidate. Later, “The Masque” and “Invisible” hit the spot; the former has a fun blues stomp and delightfully dark verses, but the song would’ve benefitted from three iterations of its (terrific) chorus. Minilord falters, however, on “Crystal Bridge,” which actually feels too short. Excellent CoC-style sludgery gives way to Jäger alone, laying plaintive vocals atop clean chords. It seems to set up something expansive, but once the sludge riffing returns as a capper, “Crystal Bridge” ends up sounding like a song without a chorus.

Despite their emphasis on succinctness, Monolord lace ‘classic’ longer jams throughout Neverending. ”Oozing Wound” is the darling in this regard, typifying the winning chemistry Jäger, Häkki, and Willems possess when they lock in on a simple riff and give it enough space, turns, and melodic character to make it interesting yet still hypnotic. On “It’s Neverending,” Jäger vocally collaborates with Jörgen Sandström, the former bassist of Entombed, which gives Monolord its first flavoring of death-doom via Sandström’s growls. Though I’m less enthusiastic about the Sandström-led portions, the song’s gentle, melancholic dénouement makes it an exceptional eponymous closer. Speaking of closers, “Inside a Collider” weirdly feels like one at track three. It drones on a hooky riff/vocal combo for a while, but it also contains a killer doom descent I wish happened more than once.

After careful analysis, I have arrived at the same score Monolord has been achieving at AMG for over a decade. In 2019, Huck described No Comfort as the band’s transition album, which was true at the time. But as it currently stands, Neverending is Monolord’s transition album, and it’s a transition not without its growing pains. Though the songwriting falters more than it should on a ‘sharp’ album, holistically, Neverending is an enjoyable 43 minutes, making it a more-than-worthy branch on the 3.0tree.4 In the promo materials, Häkki shares that the collaboration with Massy ‘makes [him] curious about what the next chapter will be’ for Monolord. I count myself among the curious—Neverending isn’t the fully-realized version of Minilord I was hoping for, but it plants the seed.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Relapse Records
Websites: Official | Instagram | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

I always thought Monolord could level up by favoring hooky bangers. So too did Roquentin, who, in evaluating Vænir back in 2015, saw in these long-form Sabbathians the potential for memorable songs. In picking up Monolord reviewing duties, Huck N Roll began charting a consistently Good stoner/doom career that flirted with evolution but consistently maintained a tried-and-true formula. I would have added the adjectival modifier to Your Time to Shine (2021)—its five distinctive tracks strike a Very Good balance of droniness and catchiness across a sensible 39 minutes.1 My revisionism notwithstanding, Monolord has come to embody the AMG Good, with four branches now on the beloved 3.0tree. As the third Monolord reviewer, the odds suggest I will slap another 3.0 on Neverending and call it a day, especially if album six continues to innovate only around the edges.

Fortunately, Monolord agrees that hooky bangers would reinvigorate Monolord. To help sculpt what they describe as ‘more succinct and immediate songs’ and a ‘sharper album,’ the band enlisted the legendary Sylvia Massy to record, produce, and mix Neverending.2 Monolord credit Massy for significantly influencing their editing, but this isn’t to say she radically altered the band’s stoner/doom sound. Sonically, Massy beefs up the already thick n’ fuzzy tones of this Swedish power trio. Indeed, the guitar of Thomas Jäger and bass of Mika Häkki continue to combine for some of the fattest, tastiest riffage in the game, with a signature chromaticism hard to achieve in the genre.3 As on prior records, Jäger’s vocals sit back in the mix, making his mid-to-upper range croon ethereally prominent. The metronomic drums of Esben Willems also sit back, making every crash, fill, and cowbell monumental. Like previous outings, Neverending sounds invitingly warm, with some welcome heft this time around.

Under Massy’s guidance, Neverending shakes up the Monolord formula for the first time. Whereas previous records are 5–6 tracks with an average song-length of 8 minutes, 5 of 8 tracks here sit between 3–5 minutes. Exemplifying this new approach is the opening one-two punch of “Iodine,”—which feels like a miniature YOB meets the noise-groove of Killdozer—and “You Bastard,”—the album’s strongest Minilord song. The latter propels an infectious verse-chorus cycle, supplemented by shimmying shakers, with a Riff o’ the Year candidate. Later, “The Masque” and “Invisible” hit the spot; the former has a fun blues stomp and delightfully dark verses, but the song would’ve benefitted from three iterations of its (terrific) chorus. Minilord falters, however, on “Crystal Bridge,” which actually feels too short. Excellent CoC-style sludgery gives way to Jäger alone, laying plaintive vocals atop clean chords. It seems to set up something expansive, but once the sludge riffing returns as a capper, “Crystal Bridge” ends up sounding like a song without a chorus.

Despite their emphasis on succinctness, Monolord lace ‘classic’ longer jams throughout Neverending. ”Oozing Wound” is the darling in this regard, typifying the winning chemistry Jäger, Häkki, and Willems possess when they lock in on a simple riff and give it enough space, turns, and melodic character to make it interesting yet still hypnotic. On “It’s Neverending,” Jäger vocally collaborates with Jörgen Sandström, the former bassist of Entombed, which gives Monolord its first flavoring of death-doom via Sandström’s growls. Though I’m less enthusiastic about the Sandström-led portions, the song’s gentle, melancholic dénouement makes it an exceptional eponymous closer. Speaking of closers, “Inside a Collider” weirdly feels like one at track three. It drones on a hooky riff/vocal combo for a while, but it also contains a killer doom descent I wish happened more than once.

After careful analysis, I have arrived at the same score Monolord has been achieving at AMG for over a decade. In 2019, Huck described No Comfort as the band’s transition album, which was true at the time. But as it currently stands, Neverending is Monolord’s transition album, and it’s a transition not without its growing pains. Though the songwriting falters more than it should on a ‘sharp’ album, holistically, Neverending is an enjoyable 43 minutes, making it a more-than-worthy branch on the 3.0tree.4 In the promo materials, Häkki shares that the collaboration with Massy ‘makes [him] curious about what the next chapter will be’ for Monolord. I count myself among the curious—Neverending isn’t the fully-realized version of Minilord I was hoping for, but it plants the seed.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Relapse Records
Websites: Official | Instagram | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

I always thought Monolord could level up by favoring hooky bangers. So too did Roquentin, who, in evaluating Vænir back in 2015, saw in these long-form Sabbathians the potential for memorable songs. In picking up Monolord reviewing duties, Huck N Roll began charting a consistently Good stoner/doom career that flirted with evolution but consistently maintained a tried-and-true formula. I would have added the adjectival modifier to Your Time to Shine (2021)—its five distinctive tracks strike a Very Good balance of droniness and catchiness across a sensible 39 minutes.1 My revisionism notwithstanding, Monolord has come to embody the AMG Good, with four branches now on the beloved 3.0tree. As the third Monolord reviewer, the odds suggest I will slap another 3.0 on Neverending and call it a day, especially if album six continues to innovate only around the edges.

Fortunately, Monolord agrees that hooky bangers would reinvigorate Monolord. To help sculpt what they describe as ‘more succinct and immediate songs’ and a ‘sharper album,’ the band enlisted the legendary Sylvia Massy to record, produce, and mix Neverending.2 Monolord credit Massy for significantly influencing their editing, but this isn’t to say she radically altered the band’s stoner/doom sound. Sonically, Massy beefs up the already thick n’ fuzzy tones of this Swedish power trio. Indeed, the guitar of Thomas Jäger and bass of Mika Häkki continue to combine for some of the fattest, tastiest riffage in the game, with a signature chromaticism hard to achieve in the genre.3 As on prior records, Jäger’s vocals sit back in the mix, making his mid-to-upper range croon ethereally prominent. The metronomic drums of Esben Willems also sit back, making every crash, fill, and cowbell monumental. Like previous outings, Neverending sounds invitingly warm, with some welcome heft this time around.

Under Massy’s guidance, Neverending shakes up the Monolord formula for the first time. Whereas previous records are 5–6 tracks with an average song-length of 8 minutes, 5 of 8 tracks here sit between 3–5 minutes. Exemplifying this new approach is the opening one-two punch of “Iodine,”—which feels like a miniature YOB meets the noise-groove of Killdozer—and “You Bastard,”—the album’s strongest Minilord song. The latter propels an infectious verse-chorus cycle, supplemented by shimmying shakers, with a Riff o’ the Year candidate. Later, “The Masque” and “Invisible” hit the spot; the former has a fun blues stomp and delightfully dark verses, but the song would’ve benefitted from three iterations of its (terrific) chorus. Minilord falters, however, on “Crystal Bridge,” which actually feels too short. Excellent CoC-style sludgery gives way to Jäger alone, laying plaintive vocals atop clean chords. It seems to set up something expansive, but once the sludge riffing returns as a capper, “Crystal Bridge” ends up sounding like a song without a chorus.

Despite their emphasis on succinctness, Monolord lace ‘classic’ longer jams throughout Neverending. ”Oozing Wound” is the darling in this regard, typifying the winning chemistry Jäger, Häkki, and Willems possess when they lock in on a simple riff and give it enough space, turns, and melodic character to make it interesting yet still hypnotic. On “It’s Neverending,” Jäger vocally collaborates with Jörgen Sandström, the former bassist of Entombed, which gives Monolord its first flavoring of death-doom via Sandström’s growls. Though I’m less enthusiastic about the Sandström-led portions, the song’s gentle, melancholic dénouement makes it an exceptional eponymous closer. Speaking of closers, “Inside a Collider” weirdly feels like one at track three. It drones on a hooky riff/vocal combo for a while, but it also contains a killer doom descent I wish happened more than once.

After careful analysis, I have arrived at the same score Monolord has been achieving at AMG for over a decade. In 2019, Huck described No Comfort as the band’s transition album, which was true at the time. But as it currently stands, Neverending is Monolord’s transition album, and it’s a transition not without its growing pains. Though the songwriting falters more than it should on a ‘sharp’ album, holistically, Neverending is an enjoyable 43 minutes, making it a more-than-worthy branch on the 3.0tree.4 In the promo materials, Häkki shares that the collaboration with Massy ‘makes [him] curious about what the next chapter will be’ for Monolord. I count myself among the curious—Neverending isn’t the fully-realized version of Minilord I was hoping for, but it plants the seed.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Relapse Records
Websites: Official | Instagram | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

I always thought Monolord could level up by favoring hooky bangers. So too did Roquentin, who, in evaluating Vænir back in 2015, saw in these long-form Sabbathians the potential for memorable songs. In picking up Monolord reviewing duties, Huck N Roll began charting a consistently Good stoner/doom career that flirted with evolution but consistently maintained a tried-and-true formula. I would have added the adjectival modifier to Your Time to Shine (2021)—its five distinctive tracks strike a Very Good balance of droniness and catchiness across a sensible 39 minutes.1 My revisionism notwithstanding, Monolord has come to embody the AMG Good, with four branches now on the beloved 3.0tree. As the third Monolord reviewer, the odds suggest I will slap another 3.0 on Neverending and call it a day, especially if album six continues to innovate only around the edges.

Fortunately, Monolord agrees that hooky bangers would reinvigorate Monolord. To help sculpt what they describe as ‘more succinct and immediate songs’ and a ‘sharper album,’ the band enlisted the legendary Sylvia Massy to record, produce, and mix Neverending.2 Monolord credit Massy for significantly influencing their editing, but this isn’t to say she radically altered the band’s stoner/doom sound. Sonically, Massy beefs up the already thick n’ fuzzy tones of this Swedish power trio. Indeed, the guitar of Thomas Jäger and bass of Mika Häkki continue to combine for some of the fattest, tastiest riffage in the game, with a signature chromaticism hard to achieve in the genre.3 As on prior records, Jäger’s vocals sit back in the mix, making his mid-to-upper range croon ethereally prominent. The metronomic drums of Esben Willems also sit back, making every crash, fill, and cowbell monumental. Like previous outings, Neverending sounds invitingly warm, with some welcome heft this time around.

Under Massy’s guidance, Neverending shakes up the Monolord formula for the first time. Whereas previous records are 5–6 tracks with an average song-length of 8 minutes, 5 of 8 tracks here sit between 3–5 minutes. Exemplifying this new approach is the opening one-two punch of “Iodine,”—which feels like a miniature YOB meets the noise-groove of Killdozer—and “You Bastard,”—the album’s strongest Minilord song. The latter propels an infectious verse-chorus cycle, supplemented by shimmying shakers, with a Riff o’ the Year candidate. Later, “The Masque” and “Invisible” hit the spot; the former has a fun blues stomp and delightfully dark verses, but the song would’ve benefitted from three iterations of its (terrific) chorus. Minilord falters, however, on “Crystal Bridge,” which actually feels too short. Excellent CoC-style sludgery gives way to Jäger alone, laying plaintive vocals atop clean chords. It seems to set up something expansive, but once the sludge riffing returns as a capper, “Crystal Bridge” ends up sounding like a song without a chorus.

Despite their emphasis on succinctness, Monolord lace ‘classic’ longer jams throughout Neverending. ”Oozing Wound” is the darling in this regard, typifying the winning chemistry Jäger, Häkki, and Willems possess when they lock in on a simple riff and give it enough space, turns, and melodic character to make it interesting yet still hypnotic. On “It’s Neverending,” Jäger vocally collaborates with Jörgen Sandström, the former bassist of Entombed, which gives Monolord its first flavoring of death-doom via Sandström’s growls. Though I’m less enthusiastic about the Sandström-led portions, the song’s gentle, melancholic dénouement makes it an exceptional eponymous closer. Speaking of closers, “Inside a Collider” weirdly feels like one at track three. It drones on a hooky riff/vocal combo for a while, but it also contains a killer doom descent I wish happened more than once.

After careful analysis, I have arrived at the same score Monolord has been achieving at AMG for over a decade. In 2019, Huck described No Comfort as the band’s transition album, which was true at the time. But as it currently stands, Neverending is Monolord’s transition album, and it’s a transition not without its growing pains. Though the songwriting falters more than it should on a ‘sharp’ album, holistically, Neverending is an enjoyable 43 minutes, making it a more-than-worthy branch on the 3.0tree.4 In the promo materials, Häkki shares that the collaboration with Massy ‘makes [him] curious about what the next chapter will be’ for Monolord. I count myself among the curious—Neverending isn’t the fully-realized version of Minilord I was hoping for, but it plants the seed.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Relapse Records
Websites: Official | Instagram | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Galvanist – The Silence Between Stars Review

I was initially surprised that Galvanist hailed from Bozeman, Montana, but I really have no right to feel…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #4.5 #AnimalsasLeaders #BellWitch #BlackMetal #CA #Canada #DoomMetal #Entertainment #Galvanist #Huntsmen #Insomnium #May26 #ProgressiveDeath #Ragana #review #reviews #TheSilenceBetweenStars #Thou #Ulcerate
https://www.newsbeep.com/ca/696323/

Atavistia – Old Gods Awaken Review

Melodic death metal had a banner year in 2025, brandishing outstanding releases from Aephanemer,…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #3.5 #Aephanemer #AttheGates #Atavistia #Aversed #BlackMetal #BuriedRealm #CanadianMetal #ChildrenofBodom #Ensiferum #Entertainment #FolkMetal #Kalmah #May26 #MelodicDeathMetal #OldGodsAwaken #review #Reviews #SelfRelease #SelfReleased #Self-Releases #UK #UnitedKingdom #VikingMetal #Vittra #Wintersun
https://www.newsbeep.com/uk/605623/

It's world 🌍 #ScottDisick Day 🍭🥧🍬🍾

A𝒈𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓🍷🍿🍬🎈🎉 #Celebrities #hbd #may
🥧 Grow stronger and wax stronger ❤️ #bahdlex
#Bahdlexbirthday #May26th #May26 #congrate #bahdlexempire
#Bahdlexblog #birthdaycelebration #Bahd #Lex

It's world 🌍 #Stevienicks Day 🍭🥧🍬🍾

A𝒈𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓🍷🍿🍬🎈🎉 #Celebrities #hbd #may
🥧 Grow stronger and wax stronger ❤️ #bahdlex
#Bahdlexbirthday #May26th #May26 #congrate #bahdlexempire
#Bahdlexblog #birthdaycelebration #Bahd #Lex

It's world 🌍 #MikeMeyers Day 🍭🥧🍬🍾

A𝒈𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓🍷🍿🍬🎈🎉 #Celebrities #hbd #may
🥧 Grow stronger and wax stronger ❤️ #bahdlex
#Bahdlexbirthday #May26th #May26 #congrate #bahdlexempire
#Bahdlexblog #birthdaycelebration #Bahd #Lex

It's world 🌍 #LennyKravitz Day 🍭🥧🍬🍾

A𝒈𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓🍷🍿🍬🎈🎉 #Celebrities #hbd #may
🥧 Grow stronger and wax stronger ❤️ #bahdlex
#Bahdlexbirthday #May26th #May26 #congrate #bahdlexempire
#Bahdlexblog #birthdaycelebration #Bahd #Lex

It's world 🌍 #Richard Day 🍷💙🍬🍭🥧

Happy #birthday 🎉🎀✨🎈 to my beloved #Nephew
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I was initially surprised that Galvanist hailed from Bozeman, Montana, but I really have no right to feel that way. Based on its proximity to major outdoor destinations, I thought Bozeman would be like Jackson, Wyoming, where I briefly lived, but Google quickly disabused me of that notion. Suffice it to say, I have no idea what Bozeman’s music scene is like. But I’ll tell you what I do know. I know that Galvanist released debut Connection in 2022 and split Hollowtop with Ulm in 2024. I know they’re returning now with sophomore effort The Silence Between Stars. And after spinning this album every day for weeks, I know that all my expectations, like so much dust beneath the heel of an eldritch god, have been casually and utterly annihilated.

The promo material describes Galvanist as “blackened doom metal, progressive death metal, and experimental textures.” That may outline the canvas upon which Galvanist paints, but it does them little justice. Throughout The Silence Between Stars, I hear Animals as Leaders drowning in sludge (“Atrophy”) and Huntsmen channeling Thou (“Dreich,”1 “Spiorad”2). Woven into the fiber of their sound, I hear the swirling chaos of Ulcerate (“Hauntology”), creating a shifting maelstrom that denies me any safe or solid ground. Synths and keys, courtesy of lead guitarist Micah Tippit, lend Galvanist a threatening, extraterrestrial edge. Over it all, vocalist Tanner Erhart bellows with the raw intensity of acts like Ragana. Galvanist takes these ingredients and filters them through a clear and singular identity to create something entirely their own. Orders of magnitude greater than its descriptors, The Silence Between Stars is a journey by turns and at once deeply rooted in the homestead and violently flung to the darkest reaches of space.3

With every track but the 63-second intro4 clocking in at roughly 8–11 minutes, I worried The Silence Between Stars would suffer from bloat or overly aggressive proggery. My fears were unfounded. The Silence Between Stars demands my attention front to back, and at an easily digestible 40 minutes, I frequently find myself looping back for another spin. This isn’t so singular a work as Winter’s Gate or Mirror Reaper—there’s little need for gapless playback here—but each track flows so naturally into the next that I struggle to start anywhere but the beginning or stop anywhere but the end. I don’t know if this is a concept album, but it’s heady, interconnected subject matter5 demands more than just lyrical exposition. Galvanist is plenty capable, wielding mystifying time signature shifts (“Atrophy,” “Hauntology”), abrupt—but never jarring—compositional transitions, and mid-melody key changes (“Spiorad”) with aplomb. Galvanist adeptly handles such progressive elements to bake their storytelling directly into the music itself.

Even beyond its total disregard for my expectations, The Silence Between Stars continues to awe. Galvanist uses the soundstage to further cultivate that sense of being both grounded and in freefall. Bassist Kevin George’s mix leaves room for each instrument to breathe, but in a good way, only just. With a little added reverb, the result fosters that contradictory atmosphere even more, like suffocating in open air. Erhart’s rhythm guitars hang out on the wings, where microtonal variances between left and right ears create an incredible dissonance, a feeling of infinite liminality. Elements float in and out of the spotlight—like George’s bass at the midpoint of “Atrophy,” Chris Navarro’s drums at the end of “Hauntology,” or Tippit’s astounding leads on the back half of “Spiorad”—constantly redirecting my attention and driving me further into Galvanist’s labyrinth.

It is not often I have no complaints about an album, and rarer still, I have more praise than I can fit on the page. Had I time and space enough, I would still be raving about The Silence Between Stars long after the final keys of “Spiorad” fade to silence. From the cosmic violence of “Atrophy” to the striking bookends of “Dreich,” and from the spine-tingling keys of “Hauntology” to the magnificent, delirious climax of “Spiorad,” Galvanist has created something truly special. Like a will-o’-wisp or a foxfire trail coaxing you into the dark, The Silence Between Stars is disquieting yet tempting, unnerving yet comforting. I didn’t know what I was in for when I picked up Galvanist, but to shamelessly adapt my favorite line from the album,6 I crossed the threshold, and I found myself amidst worlds strange and wonderful.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Aeternitas Tenebrarum Musicae Fundamentum
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 27th, 2026

I was initially surprised that Galvanist hailed from Bozeman, Montana, but I really have no right to feel that way. Based on its proximity to major outdoor destinations, I thought Bozeman would be like Jackson, Wyoming, where I briefly lived, but Google quickly disabused me of that notion. Suffice it to say, I have no idea what Bozeman’s music scene is like. But I’ll tell you what I do know. I know that Galvanist released debut Connection in 2022 and split Hollowtop with Ulm in 2024. I know they’re returning now with sophomore effort The Silence Between Stars. And after spinning this album every day for weeks, I know that all my expectations, like so much dust beneath the heel of an eldritch god, have been casually and utterly annihilated.

The promo material describes Galvanist as “blackened doom metal, progressive death metal, and experimental textures.” That may outline the canvas upon which Galvanist paints, but it does them little justice. Throughout The Silence Between Stars, I hear Animals as Leaders drowning in sludge (“Atrophy”) and Huntsmen channeling Thou (“Dreich,”1 “Spiorad”2). Woven into the fiber of their sound, I hear the swirling chaos of Ulcerate (“Hauntology”), creating a shifting maelstrom that denies me any safe or solid ground. Synths and keys, courtesy of lead guitarist Micah Tippit, lend Galvanist a threatening, extraterrestrial edge. Over it all, vocalist Tanner Erhart bellows with the raw intensity of acts like Ragana. Galvanist takes these ingredients and filters them through a clear and singular identity to create something entirely their own. Orders of magnitude greater than its descriptors, The Silence Between Stars is a journey by turns and at once deeply rooted in the homestead and violently flung to the darkest reaches of space.3

With every track but the 63-second intro4 clocking in at roughly 8–11 minutes, I worried The Silence Between Stars would suffer from bloat or overly aggressive proggery. My fears were unfounded. The Silence Between Stars demands my attention front to back, and at an easily digestible 40 minutes, I frequently find myself looping back for another spin. This isn’t so singular a work as Winter’s Gate or Mirror Reaper—there’s little need for gapless playback here—but each track flows so naturally into the next that I struggle to start anywhere but the beginning or stop anywhere but the end. I don’t know if this is a concept album, but it’s heady, interconnected subject matter5 demands more than just lyrical exposition. Galvanist is plenty capable, wielding mystifying time signature shifts (“Atrophy,” “Hauntology”), abrupt—but never jarring—compositional transitions, and mid-melody key changes (“Spiorad”) with aplomb. Galvanist adeptly handles such progressive elements to bake their storytelling directly into the music itself.

Even beyond its total disregard for my expectations, The Silence Between Stars continues to awe. Galvanist uses the soundstage to further cultivate that sense of being both grounded and in freefall. Bassist Kevin George’s mix leaves room for each instrument to breathe, but in a good way, only just. With a little added reverb, the result fosters that contradictory atmosphere even more, like suffocating in open air. Erhart’s rhythm guitars hang out on the wings, where microtonal variances between left and right ears create an incredible dissonance, a feeling of infinite liminality. Elements float in and out of the spotlight—like George’s bass at the midpoint of “Atrophy,” Chris Navarro’s drums at the end of “Hauntology,” or Tippit’s astounding leads on the back half of “Spiorad”—constantly redirecting my attention and driving me further into Galvanist’s labyrinth.

It is not often I have no complaints about an album, and rarer still, I have more praise than I can fit on the page. Had I time and space enough, I would still be raving about The Silence Between Stars long after the final keys of “Spiorad” fade to silence. From the cosmic violence of “Atrophy” to the striking bookends of “Dreich,” and from the spine-tingling keys of “Hauntology” to the magnificent, delirious climax of “Spiorad,” Galvanist has created something truly special. Like a will-o’-wisp or a foxfire trail coaxing you into the dark, The Silence Between Stars is disquieting yet tempting, unnerving yet comforting. I didn’t know what I was in for when I picked up Galvanist, but to shamelessly adapt my favorite line from the album,6 I crossed the threshold, and I found myself amidst worlds strange and wonderful.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Aeternitas Tenebrarum Musicae Fundamentum
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 27th, 2026

I was initially surprised that Galvanist hailed from Bozeman, Montana, but I really have no right to feel that way. Based on its proximity to major outdoor destinations, I thought Bozeman would be like Jackson, Wyoming, where I briefly lived, but Google quickly disabused me of that notion. Suffice it to say, I have no idea what Bozeman’s music scene is like. But I’ll tell you what I do know. I know that Galvanist released debut Connection in 2022 and split Hollowtop with Ulm in 2024. I know they’re returning now with sophomore effort The Silence Between Stars. And after spinning this album every day for weeks, I know that all my expectations, like so much dust beneath the heel of an eldritch god, have been casually and utterly annihilated.

The promo material describes Galvanist as “blackened doom metal, progressive death metal, and experimental textures.” That may outline the canvas upon which Galvanist paints, but it does them little justice. Throughout The Silence Between Stars, I hear Animals as Leaders drowning in sludge (“Atrophy”) and Huntsmen channeling Thou (“Dreich,”1 “Spiorad”2). Woven into the fiber of their sound, I hear the swirling chaos of Ulcerate (“Hauntology”), creating a shifting maelstrom that denies me any safe or solid ground. Synths and keys, courtesy of lead guitarist Micah Tippit, lend Galvanist a threatening, extraterrestrial edge. Over it all, vocalist Tanner Erhart bellows with the raw intensity of acts like Ragana. Galvanist takes these ingredients and filters them through a clear and singular identity to create something entirely their own. Orders of magnitude greater than its descriptors, The Silence Between Stars is a journey by turns and at once deeply rooted in the homestead and violently flung to the darkest reaches of space.3

With every track but the 63-second intro4 clocking in at roughly 8–11 minutes, I worried The Silence Between Stars would suffer from bloat or overly aggressive proggery. My fears were unfounded. The Silence Between Stars demands my attention front to back, and at an easily digestible 40 minutes, I frequently find myself looping back for another spin. This isn’t so singular a work as Winter’s Gate or Mirror Reaper—there’s little need for gapless playback here—but each track flows so naturally into the next that I struggle to start anywhere but the beginning or stop anywhere but the end. I don’t know if this is a concept album, but it’s heady, interconnected subject matter5 demands more than just lyrical exposition. Galvanist is plenty capable, wielding mystifying time signature shifts (“Atrophy,” “Hauntology”), abrupt—but never jarring—compositional transitions, and mid-melody key changes (“Spiorad”) with aplomb. Galvanist adeptly handles such progressive elements to bake their storytelling directly into the music itself.

Even beyond its total disregard for my expectations, The Silence Between Stars continues to awe. Galvanist uses the soundstage to further cultivate that sense of being both grounded and in freefall. Bassist Kevin George’s mix leaves room for each instrument to breathe, but in a good way, only just. With a little added reverb, the result fosters that contradictory atmosphere even more, like suffocating in open air. Erhart’s rhythm guitars hang out on the wings, where microtonal variances between left and right ears create an incredible dissonance, a feeling of infinite liminality. Elements float in and out of the spotlight—like George’s bass at the midpoint of “Atrophy,” Chris Navarro’s drums at the end of “Hauntology,” or Tippit’s astounding leads on the back half of “Spiorad”—constantly redirecting my attention and driving me further into Galvanist’s labyrinth.

It is not often I have no complaints about an album, and rarer still, I have more praise than I can fit on the page. Had I time and space enough, I would still be raving about The Silence Between Stars long after the final keys of “Spiorad” fade to silence. From the cosmic violence of “Atrophy” to the striking bookends of “Dreich,” and from the spine-tingling keys of “Hauntology” to the magnificent, delirious climax of “Spiorad,” Galvanist has created something truly special. Like a will-o’-wisp or a foxfire trail coaxing you into the dark, The Silence Between Stars is disquieting yet tempting, unnerving yet comforting. I didn’t know what I was in for when I picked up Galvanist, but to shamelessly adapt my favorite line from the album,6 I crossed the threshold, and I found myself amidst worlds strange and wonderful.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Aeternitas Tenebrarum Musicae Fundamentum
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 27th, 2026

I was initially surprised that Galvanist hailed from Bozeman, Montana, but I really have no right to feel that way. Based on its proximity to major outdoor destinations, I thought Bozeman would be like Jackson, Wyoming, where I briefly lived, but Google quickly disabused me of that notion. Suffice it to say, I have no idea what Bozeman’s music scene is like. But I’ll tell you what I do know. I know that Galvanist released debut Connection in 2022 and split Hollowtop with Ulm in 2024. I know they’re returning now with sophomore effort The Silence Between Stars. And after spinning this album every day for weeks, I know that all my expectations, like so much dust beneath the heel of an eldritch god, have been casually and utterly annihilated.

The promo material describes Galvanist as “blackened doom metal, progressive death metal, and experimental textures.” That may outline the canvas upon which Galvanist paints, but it does them little justice. Throughout The Silence Between Stars, I hear Animals as Leaders drowning in sludge (“Atrophy”) and Huntsmen channeling Thou (“Dreich,”1 “Spiorad”2). Woven into the fiber of their sound, I hear the swirling chaos of Ulcerate (“Hauntology”), creating a shifting maelstrom that denies me any safe or solid ground. Synths and keys, courtesy of lead guitarist Micah Tippit, lend Galvanist a threatening, extraterrestrial edge. Over it all, vocalist Tanner Erhart bellows with the raw intensity of acts like Ragana. Galvanist takes these ingredients and filters them through a clear and singular identity to create something entirely their own. Orders of magnitude greater than its descriptors, The Silence Between Stars is a journey by turns and at once deeply rooted in the homestead and violently flung to the darkest reaches of space.3

With every track but the 63-second intro4 clocking in at roughly 8–11 minutes, I worried The Silence Between Stars would suffer from bloat or overly aggressive proggery. My fears were unfounded. The Silence Between Stars demands my attention front to back, and at an easily digestible 40 minutes, I frequently find myself looping back for another spin. This isn’t so singular a work as Winter’s Gate or Mirror Reaper—there’s little need for gapless playback here—but each track flows so naturally into the next that I struggle to start anywhere but the beginning or stop anywhere but the end. I don’t know if this is a concept album, but it’s heady, interconnected subject matter5 demands more than just lyrical exposition. Galvanist is plenty capable, wielding mystifying time signature shifts (“Atrophy,” “Hauntology”), abrupt—but never jarring—compositional transitions, and mid-melody key changes (“Spiorad”) with aplomb. Galvanist adeptly handles such progressive elements to bake their storytelling directly into the music itself.

Even beyond its total disregard for my expectations, The Silence Between Stars continues to awe. Galvanist uses the soundstage to further cultivate that sense of being both grounded and in freefall. Bassist Kevin George’s mix leaves room for each instrument to breathe, but in a good way, only just. With a little added reverb, the result fosters that contradictory atmosphere even more, like suffocating in open air. Erhart’s rhythm guitars hang out on the wings, where microtonal variances between left and right ears create an incredible dissonance, a feeling of infinite liminality. Elements float in and out of the spotlight—like George’s bass at the midpoint of “Atrophy,” Chris Navarro’s drums at the end of “Hauntology,” or Tippit’s astounding leads on the back half of “Spiorad”—constantly redirecting my attention and driving me further into Galvanist’s labyrinth.

It is not often I have no complaints about an album, and rarer still, I have more praise than I can fit on the page. Had I time and space enough, I would still be raving about The Silence Between Stars long after the final keys of “Spiorad” fade to silence. From the cosmic violence of “Atrophy” to the striking bookends of “Dreich,” and from the spine-tingling keys of “Hauntology” to the magnificent, delirious climax of “Spiorad,” Galvanist has created something truly special. Like a will-o’-wisp or a foxfire trail coaxing you into the dark, The Silence Between Stars is disquieting yet tempting, unnerving yet comforting. I didn’t know what I was in for when I picked up Galvanist, but to shamelessly adapt my favorite line from the album,6 I crossed the threshold, and I found myself amidst worlds strange and wonderful.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Aeternitas Tenebrarum Musicae Fundamentum
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 27th, 2026

I was initially surprised that Galvanist hailed from Bozeman, Montana, but I really have no right to feel that way. Based on its proximity to major outdoor destinations, I thought Bozeman would be like Jackson, Wyoming, where I briefly lived, but Google quickly disabused me of that notion. Suffice it to say, I have no idea what Bozeman’s music scene is like. But I’ll tell you what I do know. I know that Galvanist released debut Connection in 2022 and split Hollowtop with Ulm in 2024. I know they’re returning now with sophomore effort The Silence Between Stars. And after spinning this album every day for weeks, I know that all my expectations, like so much dust beneath the heel of an eldritch god, have been casually and utterly annihilated.

The promo material describes Galvanist as “blackened doom metal, progressive death metal, and experimental textures.” That may outline the canvas upon which Galvanist paints, but it does them little justice. Throughout The Silence Between Stars, I hear Animals as Leaders drowning in sludge (“Atrophy”) and Huntsmen channeling Thou (“Dreich,”1 “Spiorad”2). Woven into the fiber of their sound, I hear the swirling chaos of Ulcerate (“Hauntology”), creating a shifting maelstrom that denies me any safe or solid ground. Synths and keys, courtesy of lead guitarist Micah Tippit, lend Galvanist a threatening, extraterrestrial edge. Over it all, vocalist Tanner Erhart bellows with the raw intensity of acts like Ragana. Galvanist takes these ingredients and filters them through a clear and singular identity to create something entirely their own. Orders of magnitude greater than its descriptors, The Silence Between Stars is a journey by turns and at once deeply rooted in the homestead and violently flung to the darkest reaches of space.3

With every track but the 63-second intro4 clocking in at roughly 8–11 minutes, I worried The Silence Between Stars would suffer from bloat or overly aggressive proggery. My fears were unfounded. The Silence Between Stars demands my attention front to back, and at an easily digestible 40 minutes, I frequently find myself looping back for another spin. This isn’t so singular a work as Winter’s Gate or Mirror Reaper—there’s little need for gapless playback here—but each track flows so naturally into the next that I struggle to start anywhere but the beginning or stop anywhere but the end. I don’t know if this is a concept album, but it’s heady, interconnected subject matter5 demands more than just lyrical exposition. Galvanist is plenty capable, wielding mystifying time signature shifts (“Atrophy,” “Hauntology”), abrupt—but never jarring—compositional transitions, and mid-melody key changes (“Spiorad”) with aplomb. Galvanist adeptly handles such progressive elements to bake their storytelling directly into the music itself.

Even beyond its total disregard for my expectations, The Silence Between Stars continues to awe. Galvanist uses the soundstage to further cultivate that sense of being both grounded and in freefall. Bassist Kevin George’s mix leaves room for each instrument to breathe, but in a good way, only just. With a little added reverb, the result fosters that contradictory atmosphere even more, like suffocating in open air. Erhart’s rhythm guitars hang out on the wings, where microtonal variances between left and right ears create an incredible dissonance, a feeling of infinite liminality. Elements float in and out of the spotlight—like George’s bass at the midpoint of “Atrophy,” Chris Navarro’s drums at the end of “Hauntology,” or Tippit’s astounding leads on the back half of “Spiorad”—constantly redirecting my attention and driving me further into Galvanist’s labyrinth.

It is not often I have no complaints about an album, and rarer still, I have more praise than I can fit on the page. Had I time and space enough, I would still be raving about The Silence Between Stars long after the final keys of “Spiorad” fade to silence. From the cosmic violence of “Atrophy” to the striking bookends of “Dreich,” and from the spine-tingling keys of “Hauntology” to the magnificent, delirious climax of “Spiorad,” Galvanist has created something truly special. Like a will-o’-wisp or a foxfire trail coaxing you into the dark, The Silence Between Stars is disquieting yet tempting, unnerving yet comforting. I didn’t know what I was in for when I picked up Galvanist, but to shamelessly adapt my favorite line from the album,6 I crossed the threshold, and I found myself amidst worlds strange and wonderful.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Aeternitas Tenebrarum Musicae Fundamentum
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 27th, 2026

Melodic death metal had a banner year in 2025, brandishing outstanding releases from Aephanemer, Vittra, Buried Realm, Aversed, and others. Given that many of melodeth’s top tier releases came out in the back half of last year, there’s no cause for alarm yet, but with the exception of At the Gates’ opus The Ghost of a Future Dead, I can’t help feeling 2026 is off to a slow start.1 Throwing down the gauntlet with Old Gods Awaken, Vancouver collective Atavistia stakes their claim on this year’s melodeath throne. In his review of Cosmic Warfare, Doom_et_al noted that Atavistia made meaningful strides in songwriting since The Winter Way, but that plenty of room exists to further define an identity outside of Wintersun’s shadow. With the spotlight shining on folk metal influences throughout Old Gods Awaken, can Atavistia maintain their velocity after Cosmic Warfare, or would it have been better to let sleeping gods lie?

For anyone who’s read about Atavistia at AMG before, you know there’s one band whose temple even these Old Gods pray at.2 If you expected that to change, shame on you. With their most flagrant foray into folk metal to date, Atavistia doubles down on Wintersun worship with Old Gods Awaken while succumbing to a feverish case of Ensiferumania. On the surface, this may sound like Atavistia regressing back towards The Winter Way, but instead the band continues to refine the overwrought compositions that Doomy dinged in that review and delivers a succinct forty-three minutes of symphonic melodeath. And though Wintersun and Ensiferum cast the longest shadows, shades of Children of Bodom and Kalmah broaden Old Gods Awaken’s footprint and enrich its well of influences.

Despite Atavistia’s new musical folk-us and turning over half the band since Cosmic Warfare, they submit well-conceived orchestrations and tight performances throughout Old Gods Awaken. Specifically, Atavistia bade farewell to guitarist Dalton Meaden and bassist D’wayne Murray in 2024, welcoming Elia Baghbaniyan and Spencer Budworth in their stead. The quality of instrumentation remains consistent with previous albums, where guitars and synths steal the show as they trade earwormy melodic lines (“Mystic Tavern,” “I Skogens Djup”) that lead into heartfelt solos (“Goddess of My Dreams,” “Ride the White Storm”) and stirring, rustic breaks (“To a New World”). The haunting choirs on Cosmic Warfare have also been replaced by viking gang chants, which makes sense stylistically, but loses some of the flair that helped the former stand out. Longtime drummer Max Sepulveda lays down a commendable performance as well, spicing songs up with well-crafted fills that never overpower Old Gods Awaken’s dense compositions. Besides contributing guitar and supplying his best vocal performance to date, Atavistia ringleader Matt Sippola weaves together a rousing album that stands beside its inspirations.

While Atavistia successfully plunges headlong into folk, the move erodes some of the identity they established previously. Tracks on Cosmic Warfare recalled Wintersun, but just as much reminded me of Brymir and the choral arrangements in The Phantom Menace. Old Gods Awaken forsakes these subtle nods, and though that isn’t bad on its own, the Ensiferum influence is a safer path that deteriorates some of Atavistia’s idiosyncrasies. Additionally, some of the melodies and song structures on Old Gods Awaken blur together. “Mystic Tavern,” “Seeker of Time,” and “Goddess of My Dreams”3 all have similar-sounding leads, and the first two also have somewhat predictable compositions that stand out since the songs are back-to-back, particularly in terms of pacing and the timing of more subdued moments. Ultimately, these are minor complaints on very well-executed material, but diversifying the song structures could unveil even greater heights.

Old Gods Awaken subverts my expectations of what I thought a new Atavistia record would sound like, and even though they lean into a well-defined arena, they do so capably. Monster hooks and intricate, engaging arrangements keep the replay value of Old Gods Awaken tantalizingly high, especially with tight songwriting across the album. I’m curious where Atavistia goes next, as there’s no clear indication of what direction they’ll take. Whatever it is, the persistent urge to evolve their songcraft proves Atavistia will make it interesting and fun, and that every once in a while, you can teach Old Gods new tricks.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 15th, 2026

Melodic death metal had a banner year in 2025, brandishing outstanding releases from Aephanemer, Vittra, Buried Realm, Aversed, and others. Given that many of melodeth’s top tier releases came out in the back half of last year, there’s no cause for alarm yet, but with the exception of At the Gates’ opus The Ghost of a Future Dead, I can’t help feeling 2026 is off to a slow start.1 Throwing down the gauntlet with Old Gods Awaken, Vancouver collective Atavistia stakes their claim on this year’s melodeath throne. In his review of Cosmic Warfare, Doom_et_al noted that Atavistia made meaningful strides in songwriting since The Winter Way, but that plenty of room exists to further define an identity outside of Wintersun’s shadow. With the spotlight shining on folk metal influences throughout Old Gods Awaken, can Atavistia maintain their velocity after Cosmic Warfare, or would it have been better to let sleeping gods lie?

For anyone who’s read about Atavistia at AMG before, you know there’s one band whose temple even these Old Gods pray at.2 If you expected that to change, shame on you. With their most flagrant foray into folk metal to date, Atavistia doubles down on Wintersun worship with Old Gods Awaken while succumbing to a feverish case of Ensiferumania. On the surface, this may sound like Atavistia regressing back towards The Winter Way, but instead the band continues to refine the overwrought compositions that Doomy dinged in that review and delivers a succinct forty-three minutes of symphonic melodeath. And though Wintersun and Ensiferum cast the longest shadows, shades of Children of Bodom and Kalmah broaden Old Gods Awaken’s footprint and enrich its well of influences.

Despite Atavistia’s new musical folk-us and turning over half the band since Cosmic Warfare, they submit well-conceived orchestrations and tight performances throughout Old Gods Awaken. Specifically, Atavistia bade farewell to guitarist Dalton Meaden and bassist D’wayne Murray in 2024, welcoming Elia Baghbaniyan and Spencer Budworth in their stead. The quality of instrumentation remains consistent with previous albums, where guitars and synths steal the show as they trade earwormy melodic lines (“Mystic Tavern,” “I Skogens Djup”) that lead into heartfelt solos (“Goddess of My Dreams,” “Ride the White Storm”) and stirring, rustic breaks (“To a New World”). The haunting choirs on Cosmic Warfare have also been replaced by viking gang chants, which makes sense stylistically, but loses some of the flair that helped the former stand out. Longtime drummer Max Sepulveda lays down a commendable performance as well, spicing songs up with well-crafted fills that never overpower Old Gods Awaken’s dense compositions. Besides contributing guitar and supplying his best vocal performance to date, Atavistia ringleader Matt Sippola weaves together a rousing album that stands beside its inspirations.

While Atavistia successfully plunges headlong into folk, the move erodes some of the identity they established previously. Tracks on Cosmic Warfare recalled Wintersun, but just as much reminded me of Brymir and the choral arrangements in The Phantom Menace. Old Gods Awaken forsakes these subtle nods, and though that isn’t bad on its own, the Ensiferum influence is a safer path that deteriorates some of Atavistia’s idiosyncrasies. Additionally, some of the melodies and song structures on Old Gods Awaken blur together. “Mystic Tavern,” “Seeker of Time,” and “Goddess of My Dreams”3 all have similar-sounding leads, and the first two also have somewhat predictable compositions that stand out since the songs are back-to-back, particularly in terms of pacing and the timing of more subdued moments. Ultimately, these are minor complaints on very well-executed material, but diversifying the song structures could unveil even greater heights.

Old Gods Awaken subverts my expectations of what I thought a new Atavistia record would sound like, and even though they lean into a well-defined arena, they do so capably. Monster hooks and intricate, engaging arrangements keep the replay value of Old Gods Awaken tantalizingly high, especially with tight songwriting across the album. I’m curious where Atavistia goes next, as there’s no clear indication of what direction they’ll take. Whatever it is, the persistent urge to evolve their songcraft proves Atavistia will make it interesting and fun, and that every once in a while, you can teach Old Gods new tricks.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 15th, 2026

Melodic death metal had a banner year in 2025, brandishing outstanding releases from Aephanemer, Vittra, Buried Realm, Aversed, and others. Given that many of melodeth’s top tier releases came out in the back half of last year, there’s no cause for alarm yet, but with the exception of At the Gates’ opus The Ghost of a Future Dead, I can’t help feeling 2026 is off to a slow start.1 Throwing down the gauntlet with Old Gods Awaken, Vancouver collective Atavistia stakes their claim on this year’s melodeath throne. In his review of Cosmic Warfare, Doom_et_al noted that Atavistia made meaningful strides in songwriting since The Winter Way, but that plenty of room exists to further define an identity outside of Wintersun’s shadow. With the spotlight shining on folk metal influences throughout Old Gods Awaken, can Atavistia maintain their velocity after Cosmic Warfare, or would it have been better to let sleeping gods lie?

For anyone who’s read about Atavistia at AMG before, you know there’s one band whose temple even these Old Gods pray at.2 If you expected that to change, shame on you. With their most flagrant foray into folk metal to date, Atavistia doubles down on Wintersun worship with Old Gods Awaken while succumbing to a feverish case of Ensiferumania. On the surface, this may sound like Atavistia regressing back towards The Winter Way, but instead the band continues to refine the overwrought compositions that Doomy dinged in that review and delivers a succinct forty-three minutes of symphonic melodeath. And though Wintersun and Ensiferum cast the longest shadows, shades of Children of Bodom and Kalmah broaden Old Gods Awaken’s footprint and enrich its well of influences.

Despite Atavistia’s new musical folk-us and turning over half the band since Cosmic Warfare, they submit well-conceived orchestrations and tight performances throughout Old Gods Awaken. Specifically, Atavistia bade farewell to guitarist Dalton Meaden and bassist D’wayne Murray in 2024, welcoming Elia Baghbaniyan and Spencer Budworth in their stead. The quality of instrumentation remains consistent with previous albums, where guitars and synths steal the show as they trade earwormy melodic lines (“Mystic Tavern,” “I Skogens Djup”) that lead into heartfelt solos (“Goddess of My Dreams,” “Ride the White Storm”) and stirring, rustic breaks (“To a New World”). The haunting choirs on Cosmic Warfare have also been replaced by viking gang chants, which makes sense stylistically, but loses some of the flair that helped the former stand out. Longtime drummer Max Sepulveda lays down a commendable performance as well, spicing songs up with well-crafted fills that never overpower Old Gods Awaken’s dense compositions. Besides contributing guitar and supplying his best vocal performance to date, Atavistia ringleader Matt Sippola weaves together a rousing album that stands beside its inspirations.

While Atavistia successfully plunges headlong into folk, the move erodes some of the identity they established previously. Tracks on Cosmic Warfare recalled Wintersun, but just as much reminded me of Brymir and the choral arrangements in The Phantom Menace. Old Gods Awaken forsakes these subtle nods, and though that isn’t bad on its own, the Ensiferum influence is a safer path that deteriorates some of Atavistia’s idiosyncrasies. Additionally, some of the melodies and song structures on Old Gods Awaken blur together. “Mystic Tavern,” “Seeker of Time,” and “Goddess of My Dreams”3 all have similar-sounding leads, and the first two also have somewhat predictable compositions that stand out since the songs are back-to-back, particularly in terms of pacing and the timing of more subdued moments. Ultimately, these are minor complaints on very well-executed material, but diversifying the song structures could unveil even greater heights.

Old Gods Awaken subverts my expectations of what I thought a new Atavistia record would sound like, and even though they lean into a well-defined arena, they do so capably. Monster hooks and intricate, engaging arrangements keep the replay value of Old Gods Awaken tantalizingly high, especially with tight songwriting across the album. I’m curious where Atavistia goes next, as there’s no clear indication of what direction they’ll take. Whatever it is, the persistent urge to evolve their songcraft proves Atavistia will make it interesting and fun, and that every once in a while, you can teach Old Gods new tricks.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 15th, 2026

Melodic death metal had a banner year in 2025, brandishing outstanding releases from Aephanemer, Vittra, Buried Realm, Aversed, and others. Given that many of melodeth’s top tier releases came out in the back half of last year, there’s no cause for alarm yet, but with the exception of At the Gates’ opus The Ghost of a Future Dead, I can’t help feeling 2026 is off to a slow start.1 Throwing down the gauntlet with Old Gods Awaken, Vancouver collective Atavistia stakes their claim on this year’s melodeath throne. In his review of Cosmic Warfare, Doom_et_al noted that Atavistia made meaningful strides in songwriting since The Winter Way, but that plenty of room exists to further define an identity outside of Wintersun’s shadow. With the spotlight shining on folk metal influences throughout Old Gods Awaken, can Atavistia maintain their velocity after Cosmic Warfare, or would it have been better to let sleeping gods lie?

For anyone who’s read about Atavistia at AMG before, you know there’s one band whose temple even these Old Gods pray at.2 If you expected that to change, shame on you. With their most flagrant foray into folk metal to date, Atavistia doubles down on Wintersun worship with Old Gods Awaken while succumbing to a feverish case of Ensiferumania. On the surface, this may sound like Atavistia regressing back towards The Winter Way, but instead the band continues to refine the overwrought compositions that Doomy dinged in that review and delivers a succinct forty-three minutes of symphonic melodeath. And though Wintersun and Ensiferum cast the longest shadows, shades of Children of Bodom and Kalmah broaden Old Gods Awaken’s footprint and enrich its well of influences.

Despite Atavistia’s new musical folk-us and turning over half the band since Cosmic Warfare, they submit well-conceived orchestrations and tight performances throughout Old Gods Awaken. Specifically, Atavistia bade farewell to guitarist Dalton Meaden and bassist D’wayne Murray in 2024, welcoming Elia Baghbaniyan and Spencer Budworth in their stead. The quality of instrumentation remains consistent with previous albums, where guitars and synths steal the show as they trade earwormy melodic lines (“Mystic Tavern,” “I Skogens Djup”) that lead into heartfelt solos (“Goddess of My Dreams,” “Ride the White Storm”) and stirring, rustic breaks (“To a New World”). The haunting choirs on Cosmic Warfare have also been replaced by viking gang chants, which makes sense stylistically, but loses some of the flair that helped the former stand out. Longtime drummer Max Sepulveda lays down a commendable performance as well, spicing songs up with well-crafted fills that never overpower Old Gods Awaken’s dense compositions. Besides contributing guitar and supplying his best vocal performance to date, Atavistia ringleader Matt Sippola weaves together a rousing album that stands beside its inspirations.

While Atavistia successfully plunges headlong into folk, the move erodes some of the identity they established previously. Tracks on Cosmic Warfare recalled Wintersun, but just as much reminded me of Brymir and the choral arrangements in The Phantom Menace. Old Gods Awaken forsakes these subtle nods, and though that isn’t bad on its own, the Ensiferum influence is a safer path that deteriorates some of Atavistia’s idiosyncrasies. Additionally, some of the melodies and song structures on Old Gods Awaken blur together. “Mystic Tavern,” “Seeker of Time,” and “Goddess of My Dreams”3 all have similar-sounding leads, and the first two also have somewhat predictable compositions that stand out since the songs are back-to-back, particularly in terms of pacing and the timing of more subdued moments. Ultimately, these are minor complaints on very well-executed material, but diversifying the song structures could unveil even greater heights.

Old Gods Awaken subverts my expectations of what I thought a new Atavistia record would sound like, and even though they lean into a well-defined arena, they do so capably. Monster hooks and intricate, engaging arrangements keep the replay value of Old Gods Awaken tantalizingly high, especially with tight songwriting across the album. I’m curious where Atavistia goes next, as there’s no clear indication of what direction they’ll take. Whatever it is, the persistent urge to evolve their songcraft proves Atavistia will make it interesting and fun, and that every once in a while, you can teach Old Gods new tricks.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 15th, 2026

Melodic death metal had a banner year in 2025, brandishing outstanding releases from Aephanemer, Vittra, Buried Realm, Aversed, and others. Given that many of melodeth’s top tier releases came out in the back half of last year, there’s no cause for alarm yet, but with the exception of At the Gates’ opus The Ghost of a Future Dead, I can’t help feeling 2026 is off to a slow start.1 Throwing down the gauntlet with Old Gods Awaken, Vancouver collective Atavistia stakes their claim on this year’s melodeath throne. In his review of Cosmic Warfare, Doom_et_al noted that Atavistia made meaningful strides in songwriting since The Winter Way, but that plenty of room exists to further define an identity outside of Wintersun’s shadow. With the spotlight shining on folk metal influences throughout Old Gods Awaken, can Atavistia maintain their velocity after Cosmic Warfare, or would it have been better to let sleeping gods lie?

For anyone who’s read about Atavistia at AMG before, you know there’s one band whose temple even these Old Gods pray at.2 If you expected that to change, shame on you. With their most flagrant foray into folk metal to date, Atavistia doubles down on Wintersun worship with Old Gods Awaken while succumbing to a feverish case of Ensiferumania. On the surface, this may sound like Atavistia regressing back towards The Winter Way, but instead the band continues to refine the overwrought compositions that Doomy dinged in that review and delivers a succinct forty-three minutes of symphonic melodeath. And though Wintersun and Ensiferum cast the longest shadows, shades of Children of Bodom and Kalmah broaden Old Gods Awaken’s footprint and enrich its well of influences.

Despite Atavistia’s new musical folk-us and turning over half the band since Cosmic Warfare, they submit well-conceived orchestrations and tight performances throughout Old Gods Awaken. Specifically, Atavistia bade farewell to guitarist Dalton Meaden and bassist D’wayne Murray in 2024, welcoming Elia Baghbaniyan and Spencer Budworth in their stead. The quality of instrumentation remains consistent with previous albums, where guitars and synths steal the show as they trade earwormy melodic lines (“Mystic Tavern,” “I Skogens Djup”) that lead into heartfelt solos (“Goddess of My Dreams,” “Ride the White Storm”) and stirring, rustic breaks (“To a New World”). The haunting choirs on Cosmic Warfare have also been replaced by viking gang chants, which makes sense stylistically, but loses some of the flair that helped the former stand out. Longtime drummer Max Sepulveda lays down a commendable performance as well, spicing songs up with well-crafted fills that never overpower Old Gods Awaken’s dense compositions. Besides contributing guitar and supplying his best vocal performance to date, Atavistia ringleader Matt Sippola weaves together a rousing album that stands beside its inspirations.

While Atavistia successfully plunges headlong into folk, the move erodes some of the identity they established previously. Tracks on Cosmic Warfare recalled Wintersun, but just as much reminded me of Brymir and the choral arrangements in The Phantom Menace. Old Gods Awaken forsakes these subtle nods, and though that isn’t bad on its own, the Ensiferum influence is a safer path that deteriorates some of Atavistia’s idiosyncrasies. Additionally, some of the melodies and song structures on Old Gods Awaken blur together. “Mystic Tavern,” “Seeker of Time,” and “Goddess of My Dreams”3 all have similar-sounding leads, and the first two also have somewhat predictable compositions that stand out since the songs are back-to-back, particularly in terms of pacing and the timing of more subdued moments. Ultimately, these are minor complaints on very well-executed material, but diversifying the song structures could unveil even greater heights.

Old Gods Awaken subverts my expectations of what I thought a new Atavistia record would sound like, and even though they lean into a well-defined arena, they do so capably. Monster hooks and intricate, engaging arrangements keep the replay value of Old Gods Awaken tantalizingly high, especially with tight songwriting across the album. I’m curious where Atavistia goes next, as there’s no clear indication of what direction they’ll take. Whatever it is, the persistent urge to evolve their songcraft proves Atavistia will make it interesting and fun, and that every once in a while, you can teach Old Gods new tricks.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 15th, 2026

It's world 🌍 #Rachealokonokwo Day 🍭🥧🍬🎈

Happy #birthday ada #Lushhair🎈🍭🍿

A𝒈𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓🍿🍬🎈🎉 #Celebrities #hbd #may
🥧 Grow stronger and wax stronger ❤️ #bahdlex
#Bahdlexbirthday #May26th #May26 #congrate #bahdlexempire #Bahdlexblog #Bahd #Lex

April is commonly known in many parts of the Northern hemisphere for bringing on the rain. It’s often a chilling kind of rain, bringing temps down and diffusing light such as to create a gloomy, but not uninviting, atmosphere. This year, it seems the rain came late, falling heavily into the first weeks of May, thus extending that cloudy aesthetic into the warmer months as they creep in. Enter Oregon’s Old Moon, a melancholic melodic black metal quintet whose sound perfectly fits this muggy season, and their upcoming debut LP, Home to Nowhere.

To those familiar with the sadboi side of the metal spectrum, Old Moon will sound quite familiar. Combining Insomnium with more atmospheric acts like Skyborne Reveries or Skyforest, but produced with the warmth of Izthmi, Home to Nowhere is diffuse and cinematic in its melancholy. Like much of the black metal scene, blast beats abound, but thankfully, there’s quite a variety of patterns, deathly and doomy that break it up—even going so far as to explore a gothic rock swagger at key junctures (“Obsidian”). A deep roar trades blows with higher placed rasps to complement Old Moon’s smooth and gradual shifts from sweeping melodeath riffs, weeping leads, and trem-picked atmospherics. Familiar pieces all, and in concert they bring great comfort to these ears.

It’s a shame that Home to Nowhere’s production conspires against that comfort at every turn. The biggest culprit of my woes in this space are the drums, which are placed so far forward in the mix, and adopt the sharpest possible tone for snare pops and bass kicks, that each hit registers as moderately annoying to mildly painful. You may think this an exaggeration, but a song like “Distance,” which flows gently and with the grace of a swan, succumbs entirely to those drums. “My Name is Death” similarly suffers, but its more aggressive songwriting and confrontational vocal mixing helps to offset the imbalance somewhat. Compounding the issue, Home to Nowhere’s boomy engineering offers no modulation in any instrument to give quiet moments breathing room or dramatic swells a sense of growth or depth. As a result, the whole furrows the brow as I struggle to relax into these songs and enjoy its musicality.

Once I did manage to accept Home to Nowhere’s production and move past my frustration with it, I finally began appreciating Old Moon’s songwriting. While nothing here is so exciting and fresh as to bring them into the same conversation as genre icons like Insomnium, songs like “Creations Undone” and “Distance” showcase a beautiful array of mournful melodies and gothic drama. Not to mention “Creations Undone” features one scorcher of a black metal riff that comes out of absolute nowhere and raises the hairs on my neck. Other songs like “A Rest to My Name” and “My Name is Death” boast strong ideas and compelling melodicism, but in their case, the whole feels underbaked. Even after nearly six minutes, I find myself wondering where the rest of “A Rest to My Name” in particular went as it fades to black. Thankfully, opener “Between the Stars” and the title track make up some of that missed potential with well fleshed out motifs that, while on the longer-form side at seven-minute territory, resolve into satisfying conclusions.

In sum, Home to Nowhere is a decent record with some very strong ideas, marred by a punishing production (that still somehow scores into double-digits on my DR meter). With softer drum tones, less volume,1 and a more nuanced mix that allows quieter moments to shine alongside more intense ones, Old Moon could find much greater success in future efforts. Until that time, best to look elsewhere for a melancholy pall to go with that April May rain.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: M-Theory Audio
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

April is commonly known in many parts of the Northern hemisphere for bringing on the rain. It’s often a chilling kind of rain, bringing temps down and diffusing light such as to create a gloomy, but not uninviting, atmosphere. This year, it seems the rain came late, falling heavily into the first weeks of May, thus extending that cloudy aesthetic into the warmer months as they creep in. Enter Oregon’s Old Moon, a melancholic melodic black metal quintet whose sound perfectly fits this muggy season, and their upcoming debut LP, Home to Nowhere.

To those familiar with the sadboi side of the metal spectrum, Old Moon will sound quite familiar. Combining Insomnium with more atmospheric acts like Skyborne Reveries or Skyforest, but produced with the warmth of Izthmi, Home to Nowhere is diffuse and cinematic in its melancholy. Like much of the black metal scene, blast beats abound, but thankfully, there’s quite a variety of patterns, deathly and doomy that break it up—even going so far as to explore a gothic rock swagger at key junctures (“Obsidian”). A deep roar trades blows with higher placed rasps to complement Old Moon’s smooth and gradual shifts from sweeping melodeath riffs, weeping leads, and trem-picked atmospherics. Familiar pieces all, and in concert they bring great comfort to these ears.

It’s a shame that Home to Nowhere’s production conspires against that comfort at every turn. The biggest culprit of my woes in this space are the drums, which are placed so far forward in the mix, and adopt the sharpest possible tone for snare pops and bass kicks, that each hit registers as moderately annoying to mildly painful. You may think this an exaggeration, but a song like “Distance,” which flows gently and with the grace of a swan, succumbs entirely to those drums. “My Name is Death” similarly suffers, but its more aggressive songwriting and confrontational vocal mixing helps to offset the imbalance somewhat. Compounding the issue, Home to Nowhere’s boomy engineering offers no modulation in any instrument to give quiet moments breathing room or dramatic swells a sense of growth or depth. As a result, the whole furrows the brow as I struggle to relax into these songs and enjoy its musicality.

Once I did manage to accept Home to Nowhere’s production and move past my frustration with it, I finally began appreciating Old Moon’s songwriting. While nothing here is so exciting and fresh as to bring them into the same conversation as genre icons like Insomnium, songs like “Creations Undone” and “Distance” showcase a beautiful array of mournful melodies and gothic drama. Not to mention “Creations Undone” features one scorcher of a black metal riff that comes out of absolute nowhere and raises the hairs on my neck. Other songs like “A Rest to My Name” and “My Name is Death” boast strong ideas and compelling melodicism, but in their case, the whole feels underbaked. Even after nearly six minutes, I find myself wondering where the rest of “A Rest to My Name” in particular went as it fades to black. Thankfully, opener “Between the Stars” and the title track make up some of that missed potential with well fleshed out motifs that, while on the longer-form side at seven-minute territory, resolve into satisfying conclusions.

In sum, Home to Nowhere is a decent record with some very strong ideas, marred by a punishing production (that still somehow scores into double-digits on my DR meter). With softer drum tones, less volume,1 and a more nuanced mix that allows quieter moments to shine alongside more intense ones, Old Moon could find much greater success in future efforts. Until that time, best to look elsewhere for a melancholy pall to go with that April May rain.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: M-Theory Audio
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

April is commonly known in many parts of the Northern hemisphere for bringing on the rain. It’s often a chilling kind of rain, bringing temps down and diffusing light such as to create a gloomy, but not uninviting, atmosphere. This year, it seems the rain came late, falling heavily into the first weeks of May, thus extending that cloudy aesthetic into the warmer months as they creep in. Enter Oregon’s Old Moon, a melancholic melodic black metal quintet whose sound perfectly fits this muggy season, and their upcoming debut LP, Home to Nowhere.

To those familiar with the sadboi side of the metal spectrum, Old Moon will sound quite familiar. Combining Insomnium with more atmospheric acts like Skyborne Reveries or Skyforest, but produced with the warmth of Izthmi, Home to Nowhere is diffuse and cinematic in its melancholy. Like much of the black metal scene, blast beats abound, but thankfully, there’s quite a variety of patterns, deathly and doomy that break it up—even going so far as to explore a gothic rock swagger at key junctures (“Obsidian”). A deep roar trades blows with higher placed rasps to complement Old Moon’s smooth and gradual shifts from sweeping melodeath riffs, weeping leads, and trem-picked atmospherics. Familiar pieces all, and in concert they bring great comfort to these ears.

It’s a shame that Home to Nowhere’s production conspires against that comfort at every turn. The biggest culprit of my woes in this space are the drums, which are placed so far forward in the mix, and adopt the sharpest possible tone for snare pops and bass kicks, that each hit registers as moderately annoying to mildly painful. You may think this an exaggeration, but a song like “Distance,” which flows gently and with the grace of a swan, succumbs entirely to those drums. “My Name is Death” similarly suffers, but its more aggressive songwriting and confrontational vocal mixing helps to offset the imbalance somewhat. Compounding the issue, Home to Nowhere’s boomy engineering offers no modulation in any instrument to give quiet moments breathing room or dramatic swells a sense of growth or depth. As a result, the whole furrows the brow as I struggle to relax into these songs and enjoy its musicality.

Once I did manage to accept Home to Nowhere’s production and move past my frustration with it, I finally began appreciating Old Moon’s songwriting. While nothing here is so exciting and fresh as to bring them into the same conversation as genre icons like Insomnium, songs like “Creations Undone” and “Distance” showcase a beautiful array of mournful melodies and gothic drama. Not to mention “Creations Undone” features one scorcher of a black metal riff that comes out of absolute nowhere and raises the hairs on my neck. Other songs like “A Rest to My Name” and “My Name is Death” boast strong ideas and compelling melodicism, but in their case, the whole feels underbaked. Even after nearly six minutes, I find myself wondering where the rest of “A Rest to My Name” in particular went as it fades to black. Thankfully, opener “Between the Stars” and the title track make up some of that missed potential with well fleshed out motifs that, while on the longer-form side at seven-minute territory, resolve into satisfying conclusions.

In sum, Home to Nowhere is a decent record with some very strong ideas, marred by a punishing production (that still somehow scores into double-digits on my DR meter). With softer drum tones, less volume,1 and a more nuanced mix that allows quieter moments to shine alongside more intense ones, Old Moon could find much greater success in future efforts. Until that time, best to look elsewhere for a melancholy pall to go with that April May rain.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: M-Theory Audio
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

April is commonly known in many parts of the Northern hemisphere for bringing on the rain. It’s often a chilling kind of rain, bringing temps down and diffusing light such as to create a gloomy, but not uninviting, atmosphere. This year, it seems the rain came late, falling heavily into the first weeks of May, thus extending that cloudy aesthetic into the warmer months as they creep in. Enter Oregon’s Old Moon, a melancholic melodic black metal quintet whose sound perfectly fits this muggy season, and their upcoming debut LP, Home to Nowhere.

To those familiar with the sadboi side of the metal spectrum, Old Moon will sound quite familiar. Combining Insomnium with more atmospheric acts like Skyborne Reveries or Skyforest, but produced with the warmth of Izthmi, Home to Nowhere is diffuse and cinematic in its melancholy. Like much of the black metal scene, blast beats abound, but thankfully, there’s quite a variety of patterns, deathly and doomy that break it up—even going so far as to explore a gothic rock swagger at key junctures (“Obsidian”). A deep roar trades blows with higher placed rasps to complement Old Moon’s smooth and gradual shifts from sweeping melodeath riffs, weeping leads, and trem-picked atmospherics. Familiar pieces all, and in concert they bring great comfort to these ears.

It’s a shame that Home to Nowhere’s production conspires against that comfort at every turn. The biggest culprit of my woes in this space are the drums, which are placed so far forward in the mix, and adopt the sharpest possible tone for snare pops and bass kicks, that each hit registers as moderately annoying to mildly painful. You may think this an exaggeration, but a song like “Distance,” which flows gently and with the grace of a swan, succumbs entirely to those drums. “My Name is Death” similarly suffers, but its more aggressive songwriting and confrontational vocal mixing helps to offset the imbalance somewhat. Compounding the issue, Home to Nowhere’s boomy engineering offers no modulation in any instrument to give quiet moments breathing room or dramatic swells a sense of growth or depth. As a result, the whole furrows the brow as I struggle to relax into these songs and enjoy its musicality.

Once I did manage to accept Home to Nowhere’s production and move past my frustration with it, I finally began appreciating Old Moon’s songwriting. While nothing here is so exciting and fresh as to bring them into the same conversation as genre icons like Insomnium, songs like “Creations Undone” and “Distance” showcase a beautiful array of mournful melodies and gothic drama. Not to mention “Creations Undone” features one scorcher of a black metal riff that comes out of absolute nowhere and raises the hairs on my neck. Other songs like “A Rest to My Name” and “My Name is Death” boast strong ideas and compelling melodicism, but in their case, the whole feels underbaked. Even after nearly six minutes, I find myself wondering where the rest of “A Rest to My Name” in particular went as it fades to black. Thankfully, opener “Between the Stars” and the title track make up some of that missed potential with well fleshed out motifs that, while on the longer-form side at seven-minute territory, resolve into satisfying conclusions.

In sum, Home to Nowhere is a decent record with some very strong ideas, marred by a punishing production (that still somehow scores into double-digits on my DR meter). With softer drum tones, less volume,1 and a more nuanced mix that allows quieter moments to shine alongside more intense ones, Old Moon could find much greater success in future efforts. Until that time, best to look elsewhere for a melancholy pall to go with that April May rain.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: M-Theory Audio
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

April is commonly known in many parts of the Northern hemisphere for bringing on the rain. It’s often a chilling kind of rain, bringing temps down and diffusing light such as to create a gloomy, but not uninviting, atmosphere. This year, it seems the rain came late, falling heavily into the first weeks of May, thus extending that cloudy aesthetic into the warmer months as they creep in. Enter Oregon’s Old Moon, a melancholic melodic black metal quintet whose sound perfectly fits this muggy season, and their upcoming debut LP, Home to Nowhere.

To those familiar with the sadboi side of the metal spectrum, Old Moon will sound quite familiar. Combining Insomnium with more atmospheric acts like Skyborne Reveries or Skyforest, but produced with the warmth of Izthmi, Home to Nowhere is diffuse and cinematic in its melancholy. Like much of the black metal scene, blast beats abound, but thankfully, there’s quite a variety of patterns, deathly and doomy that break it up—even going so far as to explore a gothic rock swagger at key junctures (“Obsidian”). A deep roar trades blows with higher placed rasps to complement Old Moon’s smooth and gradual shifts from sweeping melodeath riffs, weeping leads, and trem-picked atmospherics. Familiar pieces all, and in concert they bring great comfort to these ears.

It’s a shame that Home to Nowhere’s production conspires against that comfort at every turn. The biggest culprit of my woes in this space are the drums, which are placed so far forward in the mix, and adopt the sharpest possible tone for snare pops and bass kicks, that each hit registers as moderately annoying to mildly painful. You may think this an exaggeration, but a song like “Distance,” which flows gently and with the grace of a swan, succumbs entirely to those drums. “My Name is Death” similarly suffers, but its more aggressive songwriting and confrontational vocal mixing helps to offset the imbalance somewhat. Compounding the issue, Home to Nowhere’s boomy engineering offers no modulation in any instrument to give quiet moments breathing room or dramatic swells a sense of growth or depth. As a result, the whole furrows the brow as I struggle to relax into these songs and enjoy its musicality.

Once I did manage to accept Home to Nowhere’s production and move past my frustration with it, I finally began appreciating Old Moon’s songwriting. While nothing here is so exciting and fresh as to bring them into the same conversation as genre icons like Insomnium, songs like “Creations Undone” and “Distance” showcase a beautiful array of mournful melodies and gothic drama. Not to mention “Creations Undone” features one scorcher of a black metal riff that comes out of absolute nowhere and raises the hairs on my neck. Other songs like “A Rest to My Name” and “My Name is Death” boast strong ideas and compelling melodicism, but in their case, the whole feels underbaked. Even after nearly six minutes, I find myself wondering where the rest of “A Rest to My Name” in particular went as it fades to black. Thankfully, opener “Between the Stars” and the title track make up some of that missed potential with well fleshed out motifs that, while on the longer-form side at seven-minute territory, resolve into satisfying conclusions.

In sum, Home to Nowhere is a decent record with some very strong ideas, marred by a punishing production (that still somehow scores into double-digits on my DR meter). With softer drum tones, less volume,1 and a more nuanced mix that allows quieter moments to shine alongside more intense ones, Old Moon could find much greater success in future efforts. Until that time, best to look elsewhere for a melancholy pall to go with that April May rain.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: M-Theory Audio
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Abandon Agony – Endbringer Review

In a year that’s seen At the Gates release a seminal album that stands not only as a…
#NewsBeep #News #Music #2026 #3.5 #AbandonAgony #AmonAmarth #CA #Canada #DarkTranquility #Endbringer #Entertainment #InFlames #May26 #MelodicDeathMetal #MorsPrincipiumEst #review #SelfReleased #Sweden
https://www.newsbeep.com/ca/689999/

In a year that’s seen At the Gates release a seminal album that stands not only as a career touchstone but as a fitting swansong for Tomas “Tompa” Lindberg, the bar for Swedish melodic death metal is pretty high in 2026. This fact, however, did not deter Trollhättan’s fledgling act, Abandon Agony, from entering The Jester Race to flex some Gothenburg muscle of their own. Assembled in 2023, Abandon Agony released their first music a year later on the Dark Matter EP, and are now ready to unveil their debut long-player, Endbringer. As a group of relative unknowns, free from the confines of expectation that comes with an established amount of pedigree, Abandon Agony have gambled on themselves, choosing to release Endbringer independently. Will Endbringer signal the start of a long and successful career for Abandon Agony, or will it serve as a cautionary tale, relaying the slaughter of yet another up-and-coming melo-death soul?

Abandon Agony do melodic death metal really well. Endbringer passes everything that makes In Flames and Dark Tranquility exciting through a Mors Principium Estuary of modern, thrashy, power-melodic slickery before hitting open waters teeming with Amon Amarthic life.1 Guitarists Tobias Järvelä and Christoffer Tönnäng2 have the Gothenburg sound nailed down, their dual guitar assault wrecking necks, employing all the expected tropes: galloping, moody riffs, emotive, hooky leads, and tons of great solo work. Like the arms of Endbringer’s reaper slowly opening, the folds of his robe unfurl, inviting us in with the majestic power chords of album opener, “The Truth,” which then crank up a notch to catch Robin Toresson’s speedy double-bass rolls. Johan Hedström’s excellent vocals—a hybrid of Johan Hegg (Amon Amarth) and Randy Blythe (LoG)—fade in from a rumbling growl to a scream that’s met by some of Tönnäng’s nifty solo work and the song’s first fleet-footed verse; Endbringer is up and running. This track embodies everything about the Abandon Agony experience, which is one that offsets powerful, deathly aggression with atmospheric and melodic subtlety.

Endbringer is a potent, hard-driving melodeath album crammed with talented performances, all its poignant beauty revealed through the ghostly wisps of nuance rather than any overt melodic device. Whether it’s a hint of keys here (“The Truth”), the ghost of crystalline guitars there (“Dissolved”), or actual cleans that are both credited—Liv Jagrell’s (Liv Sin) gritty vocals are a great counterpoint to Hedström’s roars on album highlight “Entropy”—and uncredited (“Blind Intentions,” “Polar Shift”), these barely-there accompaniments serve to elevate many of Endbringer’s masterful moments. And it’s this beauty-and-the-beast balancing act that works so perfectly in Abandon Agony’s favor, drawing the listener deeper into Endbringer’s world without devolving into overwrought symphonia. Tönnäng’s excellent guitar work shines; his leads, ranging from the neo-classical (“Blind Intentions”) to the melancholy (“Lunar Storm”), acoustic work (“Rise From the Ashes,” “Polar Shift”), and wonderful solos (insert pretty much any song here), unleash a depth of emotion that enhances Endbringer’s heavy edge.3 And as vocalists go, Hedström’s growls and screams have fast become some of my favorite, period; a far cry from the shaky cleans he employs in his power metal project, Memoria.4

What pains me most, however, is that Abandon Agony have managed to run afoul of one of my biggest pet peeves, which is to pack half of Endbringer with songs that were originally released nearly two years ago.5 As annoying as it is to consider Abandon Agony have essentially mashed a couple of EPs’ worth of tunes together, I must still admit the level of continuity between the two sets of songs bridges an impressive gap in time rather seamlessly. Beyond this fact, though, my only real critique of Endbringer falls on its modern production, which renders nearly all Jonathan Wagerland’s bass work inaudible.

Outside the context of my petty-est of peeves, Abandon Agony have released a damn fine melodeath album in Endbringer. Had they chosen to release an EP of five new songs rather than combining everything, not only might I have missed out on Abandon Agony for an even longer amount of time, but I certainly wouldn’t have put them on anyone’s radar here. As it stands, readers, take note, for another Gothenburg titan has arrived, and by the seeing eye of the great Whoracle herself, you can bet your ass I’ll be watching closely for what comes next.

Rating: 3.56/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 22, 2026

In a year that’s seen At the Gates release a seminal album that stands not only as a career touchstone but as a fitting swansong for Tomas “Tompa” Lindberg, the bar for Swedish melodic death metal is pretty high in 2026. This fact, however, did not deter Trollhättan’s fledgling act, Abandon Agony, from entering The Jester Race to flex some Gothenburg muscle of their own. Assembled in 2023, Abandon Agony released their first music a year later on the Dark Matter EP, and are now ready to unveil their debut long-player, Endbringer. As a group of relative unknowns, free from the confines of expectation that comes with an established amount of pedigree, Abandon Agony have gambled on themselves, choosing to release Endbringer independently. Will Endbringer signal the start of a long and successful career for Abandon Agony, or will it serve as a cautionary tale, relaying the slaughter of yet another up-and-coming melo-death soul?

Abandon Agony do melodic death metal really well. Endbringer passes everything that makes In Flames and Dark Tranquility exciting through a Mors Principium Estuary of modern, thrashy, power-melodic slickery before hitting open waters teeming with Amon Amarthic life.1 Guitarists Tobias Järvelä and Christoffer Tönnäng2 have the Gothenburg sound nailed down, their dual guitar assault wrecking necks, employing all the expected tropes: galloping, moody riffs, emotive, hooky leads, and tons of great solo work. Like the arms of Endbringer’s reaper slowly opening, the folds of his robe unfurl, inviting us in with the majestic power chords of album opener, “The Truth,” which then crank up a notch to catch Robin Toresson’s speedy double-bass rolls. Johan Hedström’s excellent vocals—a hybrid of Johan Hegg (Amon Amarth) and Randy Blythe (LoG)—fade in from a rumbling growl to a scream that’s met by some of Tönnäng’s nifty solo work and the song’s first fleet-footed verse; Endbringer is up and running. This track embodies everything about the Abandon Agony experience, which is one that offsets powerful, deathly aggression with atmospheric and melodic subtlety.

Endbringer is a potent, hard-driving melodeath album crammed with talented performances, all its poignant beauty revealed through the ghostly wisps of nuance rather than any overt melodic device. Whether it’s a hint of keys here (“The Truth”), the ghost of crystalline guitars there (“Dissolved”), or actual cleans that are both credited—Liv Jagrell’s (Liv Sin) gritty vocals are a great counterpoint to Hedström’s roars on album highlight “Entropy”—and uncredited (“Blind Intentions,” “Polar Shift”), these barely-there accompaniments serve to elevate many of Endbringer’s masterful moments. And it’s this beauty-and-the-beast balancing act that works so perfectly in Abandon Agony’s favor, drawing the listener deeper into Endbringer’s world without devolving into overwrought symphonia. Tönnäng’s excellent guitar work shines; his leads, ranging from the neo-classical (“Blind Intentions”) to the melancholy (“Lunar Storm”), acoustic work (“Rise From the Ashes,” “Polar Shift”), and wonderful solos (insert pretty much any song here), unleash a depth of emotion that enhances Endbringer’s heavy edge.3 And as vocalists go, Hedström’s growls and screams have fast become some of my favorite, period; a far cry from the shaky cleans he employs in his power metal project, Memoria.4

What pains me most, however, is that Abandon Agony have managed to run afoul of one of my biggest pet peeves, which is to pack half of Endbringer with songs that were originally released nearly two years ago.5 As annoying as it is to consider Abandon Agony have essentially mashed a couple of EPs’ worth of tunes together, I must still admit the level of continuity between the two sets of songs bridges an impressive gap in time rather seamlessly. Beyond this fact, though, my only real critique of Endbringer falls on its modern production, which renders nearly all Jonathan Wagerland’s bass work inaudible.

Outside the context of my petty-est of peeves, Abandon Agony have released a damn fine melodeath album in Endbringer. Had they chosen to release an EP of five new songs rather than combining everything, not only might I have missed out on Abandon Agony for an even longer amount of time, but I certainly wouldn’t have put them on anyone’s radar here. As it stands, readers, take note, for another Gothenburg titan has arrived, and by the seeing eye of the great Whoracle herself, you can bet your ass I’ll be watching closely for what comes next.

Rating: 3.56/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 22, 2026

In a year that’s seen At the Gates release a seminal album that stands not only as a career touchstone but as a fitting swansong for Tomas “Tompa” Lindberg, the bar for Swedish melodic death metal is pretty high in 2026. This fact, however, did not deter Trollhättan’s fledgling act, Abandon Agony, from entering The Jester Race to flex some Gothenburg muscle of their own. Assembled in 2023, Abandon Agony released their first music a year later on the Dark Matter EP, and are now ready to unveil their debut long-player, Endbringer. As a group of relative unknowns, free from the confines of expectation that comes with an established amount of pedigree, Abandon Agony have gambled on themselves, choosing to release Endbringer independently. Will Endbringer signal the start of a long and successful career for Abandon Agony, or will it serve as a cautionary tale, relaying the slaughter of yet another up-and-coming melo-death soul?

Abandon Agony do melodic death metal really well. Endbringer passes everything that makes In Flames and Dark Tranquility exciting through a Mors Principium Estuary of modern, thrashy, power-melodic slickery before hitting open waters teeming with Amon Amarthic life.1 Guitarists Tobias Järvelä and Christoffer Tönnäng2 have the Gothenburg sound nailed down, their dual guitar assault wrecking necks, employing all the expected tropes: galloping, moody riffs, emotive, hooky leads, and tons of great solo work. Like the arms of Endbringer’s reaper slowly opening, the folds of his robe unfurl, inviting us in with the majestic power chords of album opener, “The Truth,” which then crank up a notch to catch Robin Toresson’s speedy double-bass rolls. Johan Hedström’s excellent vocals—a hybrid of Johan Hegg (Amon Amarth) and Randy Blythe (LoG)—fade in from a rumbling growl to a scream that’s met by some of Tönnäng’s nifty solo work and the song’s first fleet-footed verse; Endbringer is up and running. This track embodies everything about the Abandon Agony experience, which is one that offsets powerful, deathly aggression with atmospheric and melodic subtlety.

Endbringer is a potent, hard-driving melodeath album crammed with talented performances, all its poignant beauty revealed through the ghostly wisps of nuance rather than any overt melodic device. Whether it’s a hint of keys here (“The Truth”), the ghost of crystalline guitars there (“Dissolved”), or actual cleans that are both credited—Liv Jagrell’s (Liv Sin) gritty vocals are a great counterpoint to Hedström’s roars on album highlight “Entropy”—and uncredited (“Blind Intentions,” “Polar Shift”), these barely-there accompaniments serve to elevate many of Endbringer’s masterful moments. And it’s this beauty-and-the-beast balancing act that works so perfectly in Abandon Agony’s favor, drawing the listener deeper into Endbringer’s world without devolving into overwrought symphonia. Tönnäng’s excellent guitar work shines; his leads, ranging from the neo-classical (“Blind Intentions”) to the melancholy (“Lunar Storm”), acoustic work (“Rise From the Ashes,” “Polar Shift”), and wonderful solos (insert pretty much any song here), unleash a depth of emotion that enhances Endbringer’s heavy edge.3 And as vocalists go, Hedström’s growls and screams have fast become some of my favorite, period; a far cry from the shaky cleans he employs in his power metal project, Memoria.4

What pains me most, however, is that Abandon Agony have managed to run afoul of one of my biggest pet peeves, which is to pack half of Endbringer with songs that were originally released nearly two years ago.5 As annoying as it is to consider Abandon Agony have essentially mashed a couple of EPs’ worth of tunes together, I must still admit the level of continuity between the two sets of songs bridges an impressive gap in time rather seamlessly. Beyond this fact, though, my only real critique of Endbringer falls on its modern production, which renders nearly all Jonathan Wagerland’s bass work inaudible.

Outside the context of my petty-est of peeves, Abandon Agony have released a damn fine melodeath album in Endbringer. Had they chosen to release an EP of five new songs rather than combining everything, not only might I have missed out on Abandon Agony for an even longer amount of time, but I certainly wouldn’t have put them on anyone’s radar here. As it stands, readers, take note, for another Gothenburg titan has arrived, and by the seeing eye of the great Whoracle herself, you can bet your ass I’ll be watching closely for what comes next.

Rating: 3.56/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 22, 2026

In a year that’s seen At the Gates release a seminal album that stands not only as a career touchstone but as a fitting swansong for Tomas “Tompa” Lindberg, the bar for Swedish melodic death metal is pretty high in 2026. This fact, however, did not deter Trollhättan’s fledgling act, Abandon Agony, from entering The Jester Race to flex some Gothenburg muscle of their own. Assembled in 2023, Abandon Agony released their first music a year later on the Dark Matter EP, and are now ready to unveil their debut long-player, Endbringer. As a group of relative unknowns, free from the confines of expectation that comes with an established amount of pedigree, Abandon Agony have gambled on themselves, choosing to release Endbringer independently. Will Endbringer signal the start of a long and successful career for Abandon Agony, or will it serve as a cautionary tale, relaying the slaughter of yet another up-and-coming melo-death soul?

Abandon Agony do melodic death metal really well. Endbringer passes everything that makes In Flames and Dark Tranquility exciting through a Mors Principium Estuary of modern, thrashy, power-melodic slickery before hitting open waters teeming with Amon Amarthic life.1 Guitarists Tobias Järvelä and Christoffer Tönnäng2 have the Gothenburg sound nailed down, their dual guitar assault wrecking necks, employing all the expected tropes: galloping, moody riffs, emotive, hooky leads, and tons of great solo work. Like the arms of Endbringer’s reaper slowly opening, the folds of his robe unfurl, inviting us in with the majestic power chords of album opener, “The Truth,” which then crank up a notch to catch Robin Toresson’s speedy double-bass rolls. Johan Hedström’s excellent vocals—a hybrid of Johan Hegg (Amon Amarth) and Randy Blythe (LoG)—fade in from a rumbling growl to a scream that’s met by some of Tönnäng’s nifty solo work and the song’s first fleet-footed verse; Endbringer is up and running. This track embodies everything about the Abandon Agony experience, which is one that offsets powerful, deathly aggression with atmospheric and melodic subtlety.

Endbringer is a potent, hard-driving melodeath album crammed with talented performances, all its poignant beauty revealed through the ghostly wisps of nuance rather than any overt melodic device. Whether it’s a hint of keys here (“The Truth”), the ghost of crystalline guitars there (“Dissolved”), or actual cleans that are both credited—Liv Jagrell’s (Liv Sin) gritty vocals are a great counterpoint to Hedström’s roars on album highlight “Entropy”—and uncredited (“Blind Intentions,” “Polar Shift”), these barely-there accompaniments serve to elevate many of Endbringer’s masterful moments. And it’s this beauty-and-the-beast balancing act that works so perfectly in Abandon Agony’s favor, drawing the listener deeper into Endbringer’s world without devolving into overwrought symphonia. Tönnäng’s excellent guitar work shines; his leads, ranging from the neo-classical (“Blind Intentions”) to the melancholy (“Lunar Storm”), acoustic work (“Rise From the Ashes,” “Polar Shift”), and wonderful solos (insert pretty much any song here), unleash a depth of emotion that enhances Endbringer’s heavy edge.3 And as vocalists go, Hedström’s growls and screams have fast become some of my favorite, period; a far cry from the shaky cleans he employs in his power metal project, Memoria.4

What pains me most, however, is that Abandon Agony have managed to run afoul of one of my biggest pet peeves, which is to pack half of Endbringer with songs that were originally released nearly two years ago.5 As annoying as it is to consider Abandon Agony have essentially mashed a couple of EPs’ worth of tunes together, I must still admit the level of continuity between the two sets of songs bridges an impressive gap in time rather seamlessly. Beyond this fact, though, my only real critique of Endbringer falls on its modern production, which renders nearly all Jonathan Wagerland’s bass work inaudible.

Outside the context of my petty-est of peeves, Abandon Agony have released a damn fine melodeath album in Endbringer. Had they chosen to release an EP of five new songs rather than combining everything, not only might I have missed out on Abandon Agony for an even longer amount of time, but I certainly wouldn’t have put them on anyone’s radar here. As it stands, readers, take note, for another Gothenburg titan has arrived, and by the seeing eye of the great Whoracle herself, you can bet your ass I’ll be watching closely for what comes next.

Rating: 3.56/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 22, 2026

In a year that’s seen At the Gates release a seminal album that stands not only as a career touchstone but as a fitting swansong for Tomas “Tompa” Lindberg, the bar for Swedish melodic death metal is pretty high in 2026. This fact, however, did not deter Trollhättan’s fledgling act, Abandon Agony, from entering The Jester Race to flex some Gothenburg muscle of their own. Assembled in 2023, Abandon Agony released their first music a year later on the Dark Matter EP, and are now ready to unveil their debut long-player, Endbringer. As a group of relative unknowns, free from the confines of expectation that comes with an established amount of pedigree, Abandon Agony have gambled on themselves, choosing to release Endbringer independently. Will Endbringer signal the start of a long and successful career for Abandon Agony, or will it serve as a cautionary tale, relaying the slaughter of yet another up-and-coming melo-death soul?

Abandon Agony do melodic death metal really well. Endbringer passes everything that makes In Flames and Dark Tranquility exciting through a Mors Principium Estuary of modern, thrashy, power-melodic slickery before hitting open waters teeming with Amon Amarthic life.1 Guitarists Tobias Järvelä and Christoffer Tönnäng2 have the Gothenburg sound nailed down, their dual guitar assault wrecking necks, employing all the expected tropes: galloping, moody riffs, emotive, hooky leads, and tons of great solo work. Like the arms of Endbringer’s reaper slowly opening, the folds of his robe unfurl, inviting us in with the majestic power chords of album opener, “The Truth,” which then crank up a notch to catch Robin Toresson’s speedy double-bass rolls. Johan Hedström’s excellent vocals—a hybrid of Johan Hegg (Amon Amarth) and Randy Blythe (LoG)—fade in from a rumbling growl to a scream that’s met by some of Tönnäng’s nifty solo work and the song’s first fleet-footed verse; Endbringer is up and running. This track embodies everything about the Abandon Agony experience, which is one that offsets powerful, deathly aggression with atmospheric and melodic subtlety.

Endbringer is a potent, hard-driving melodeath album crammed with talented performances, all its poignant beauty revealed through the ghostly wisps of nuance rather than any overt melodic device. Whether it’s a hint of keys here (“The Truth”), the ghost of crystalline guitars there (“Dissolved”), or actual cleans that are both credited—Liv Jagrell’s (Liv Sin) gritty vocals are a great counterpoint to Hedström’s roars on album highlight “Entropy”—and uncredited (“Blind Intentions,” “Polar Shift”), these barely-there accompaniments serve to elevate many of Endbringer’s masterful moments. And it’s this beauty-and-the-beast balancing act that works so perfectly in Abandon Agony’s favor, drawing the listener deeper into Endbringer’s world without devolving into overwrought symphonia. Tönnäng’s excellent guitar work shines; his leads, ranging from the neo-classical (“Blind Intentions”) to the melancholy (“Lunar Storm”), acoustic work (“Rise From the Ashes,” “Polar Shift”), and wonderful solos (insert pretty much any song here), unleash a depth of emotion that enhances Endbringer’s heavy edge.3 And as vocalists go, Hedström’s growls and screams have fast become some of my favorite, period; a far cry from the shaky cleans he employs in his power metal project, Memoria.4

What pains me most, however, is that Abandon Agony have managed to run afoul of one of my biggest pet peeves, which is to pack half of Endbringer with songs that were originally released nearly two years ago.5 As annoying as it is to consider Abandon Agony have essentially mashed a couple of EPs’ worth of tunes together, I must still admit the level of continuity between the two sets of songs bridges an impressive gap in time rather seamlessly. Beyond this fact, though, my only real critique of Endbringer falls on its modern production, which renders nearly all Jonathan Wagerland’s bass work inaudible.

Outside the context of my petty-est of peeves, Abandon Agony have released a damn fine melodeath album in Endbringer. Had they chosen to release an EP of five new songs rather than combining everything, not only might I have missed out on Abandon Agony for an even longer amount of time, but I certainly wouldn’t have put them on anyone’s radar here. As it stands, readers, take note, for another Gothenburg titan has arrived, and by the seeing eye of the great Whoracle herself, you can bet your ass I’ll be watching closely for what comes next.

Rating: 3.56/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 22, 2026

Over a decade removed from the djent boom of the early 2010s, stylistic flagbearers Periphery have settled into a comfortable routine, periodically regrouping from side projects and business ventures to release a new record every few years. Cracks in that formula began to show on 2023’s Periphery V: Djent Is Not a Genre, where the compositions started to feel both formulaic and scattershot. Their new release, A Pale White Dot, is their first non-numbered album since the two-part Juggernaut (2015). It seems intended as a departure from their established release pattern and a chance to reconnect with a more instinctive, creatively driven approach written from a “top-down” perspective shaped by themes of isolation and loneliness. Periphery remains one of my favorite bands (even if I find myself stuffed into the occasional AMG locker for this opinion), and I’m always excited by the prospect of their technically minded, melodic, and smartly written take on progressive metalcore. By centering this record around a more focused concept and shedding some of the expectations attached to their numbered releases, can this league of extraordinary “djentlemen” deliver another satisfying dose of syncopated brilliance?

As Juggernaut did for Periphery I and II, A Pale White Dot streamlines the maximalist hyper-technicality of Periphery III–V in service of its concept, even if that comes at the expense of what once made the band so compelling. Periphery helped define the 2010s metalcore formula of “djent riff + soaring clean chorus + breakdown,” a blueprint that would eventually shape modern heavyweights like Sleep Token and Spiritbox. Their music could pivot seamlessly between dizzying guitar acrobatics and polished melodic hooks without sacrificing momentum, turning even the most familiar structures into sprawling narrative journeys. A Pale White Dot is the first record where this strength fades into the background, with a diminished presence of the “pure-riffery” and progressive elements the band is known for. With a few exceptions (the psychotic opening riff of “Malevolent” or the bombastic bridge of “Everyone Dies Alone”), a set of shorter songs is largely held together by straightforward chugs and massive vocal-forward choruses. Periphery still sounds like themselves, but the overall shape of these songs is far closer to run-of-the-mill “Octanecore” than ever before. For the first time in their career, it feels like Periphery is merely iterating on popular sounds, rather than pushing them forward.

I’d describe the songcraft on A Pale White Dot as frustratingly competent. Periphery clearly knows what they’re doing every step of the way, and the band still finds ways to inject personality and variety into familiar formulas, even as their material sounds increasingly more generic. As always, the musicianship is absurdly sharp across the board, and once you acclimate to his squeaky pop cleans, vocalist Spencer Sotelo proves to be an essential ingredient in this polyrhythmic pie. His delivery feels more powerful than ever, shifting effortlessly between varied harsh vocals and emphatic arena-ready hooks. “Mr. God” and “Subhuman” land as earth-shaking djentcore bruisers, but beyond this, each track demonstrates a surprising diversity of moods. Subdued, vocal-driven tracks erupt into blackened tremolo passages (“Obsession”) or ludicrous mid-song breakdowns (“Carry On”), while songs like “Talk” and “Heaven on High” recapture the band’s classic sense of breakneck momentum, swerving between entertaining djent, crushing breakdowns, and massive refrains. Despite these turns, the whole package feels decidedly safe. The different song sections arrive with predictable timing, and certain chorus chord progressions/melodies begin to feel so familiar that some climactic moments lose their impact, especially when a weaker hook like “Unlocking” fails to justify the buildup.

Whereas my favorite moments on past Periphery records tend to come from huge, cathartic climaxes, some of the strongest passages on A Pale White Dot instead lean into understated nuance. “Blackwall” follows in the footsteps of “Silhouette” from Periphery V as a synth-pop-leaning earworm, but its most compelling moment is an expansive IDM-influenced middle section where synth washes and digital percussion fully take over. The titular closing track is another quiet highlight, built around a delicate acoustic guitar melody wrapped in subtle electronic atmosphere. There are other standout sections, like the wisteria-tinged progression of “Neon Valley’s” chorus or the emotional guitar solo of “Everyone Dies Alone.” These highs serve as memorable moments that anchor repeat listens, even if no single track quite reaches the heights of the band’s very best work.

A Pale White Dot is an album that’s easy to admire on a craftsmanship level, but hard for me to connect with. Periphery remain highly accomplished musicians and effective songwriters. As a fan of their style, there are still plenty of moments and tracks to enjoy throughout. At the same time, this record marks a noticeable streamlining of their sound, trading much of their trademark progressiveness and technical intricacy for more straightforward material that sits closer to contemporary metalcore than much of their earlier work. It’s far from bad, but I’d be hard-pressed to pick it over any other Periphery album.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream to end all streams
Label: 3Dot Recordings
Websites: periphery.net | facebook.com/PeripheryBand
Releases Worldwide: May 15th, 2026