#may26 — Public Fediverse posts

Since the last Filter dropped, it still hasn’t stopped raining and storming in my neck of the woods. Consequently, my minions trudge evermore through the thin sheet metal of our ducts as the thunder rattles everything like so many dice in a tabletop nerd’s clutches.1 Yet I must press them and push them, for we have quotas to meet and ravenous appetites to sate.

So it is with shaky hands and discombobulated craniums that my grunts hand over the goods. BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Thrashed Thrall

Ascended Master // Crepuscular Gloom [May 8th, 2026 – Self Released]

Death thrash is best thrash, if you ask this sponge. Something about this unholy combo really rustles my jimmies, especially when its executed with great speed and riff-centered fervor. Cincinnati’s Ascended Master nail that combination right into the grave, boasting a sound that’s three parts Death, one part Atheist, and a pinch of Blood Red Throne. With a sense of groove that gives barnburners “Blood Spilled Upon the Stars,” “Crepuscular Gloom,” and rabid closer “Xenopaleontology” a deadly swagger liable to cause fierce whiplash in all who would headbang to it, debut LP Crepuscular Gloom” is a record pumped full of testosterone and adrenaline. Speedy rippers like “Midnight Mother” and “Ghoul Queen” put the pedal to the metal with a ferocity more commonly associated with Kvaen or Hellripper in the modern pantheon, but the record’s natural engineering and coherent screams hark to earlier times where Death reigned supreme in the scene. However, it would be inaccurate to call it pure worship. Ascended Master have an intense personality and a particular ferocity that allows Crepuscular Gloom to integrate smoothly into their respective category without blending into the crowd. As their career develops from this point, I expect we’ll see their identity bloom and rise with greater distinction, further setting them apart and threatening year-end lists all around. Just wait, you’ll see!

ClarkKent’s Prehistoric Pulls

Ilienses Tree // Toward the Storm [May 1st, 2026 – Meuse Music Records]

Ilienses Tree sow their roots deep into the island the band originates from—Sardinia, just off the coast of Italy. Their name, Ilienses, refers to an ancient Nuragic civilization that, during the Bronze Age, built impressive stone tower structures that still stand today. While the band isn’t nearly so old, their second album, Toward the Storm, dabbles in the sort of slow, deliberate doom that speaks of the patience of those ancient ruins. They lean towards a style of funeral doom that has the brutal power of My Dying Bride, but their record also contains the unpredictable dynamic drumming of Oromet and sneaks into speedier death/doom territory akin to Paradise Lost and Novembers Doom. Ilienses Tree have a mastery over melancholic lead riffs, such as the one that opens “To Not Be Forgotten.” “Sudden Rain” flexes the band’s creative muscle most impressively. Beginning in a slow burn and anchored by a poignant guitar lead, the song has a sudden burst of energy, turns in a lovely duet between arpeggiated riffs and bass, and features several more memorable and distinct guitar leads. Though the songs average nine minutes, they fit neatly into a 38-minute record, and thanks to progressive structures, they never feel overlong. If you’d like some music that simultaneously hits you in the feels and provides a shot of adrenaline, then go towards, not away from, this storm.

Anna Fiori // Metztli [May 21st, 2026 – Self Released]

Sometimes symphonic metal bands grow a touch stale from a failure to innovate, relying too heavily on the gimmick of symphonic instruments. Anna Fiori, however, has created something pretty special, with a Mexican/Aztec twist on the genre. Her band mixes “pre-Hispanic instrumentation” with cinematic symphonics and heavy guitars to create thrilling high-energy music. While some songs hit a more poppy Beyond the Black mold (“En El Vacio”), others take a longer-form route. The nine-minute “Luna Llena (Xiki Noeso)” blends indigenous chants and flutes with orchestral elements that sometimes sound like an exciting score to a whimsical adventure film. The highlight, “Luna Menguante (Nimotemak),” contains a mix of cool riffs, flutes, and blast beats before taking us on a bonkers ride involving operatic singing, off-kilter pianos, a few solos, and perhaps the summoning of a demon or two. While the song compositions are tons of fun, Fiori’s performance ties it all together. She sings in the sweet poppy manner of Epica’s Simone Simons, the operatic style of many a Therion singer, and even some growls in the spirit of Seven Spires’s Adrienne Cowen, if not quite her power. Fiori even briefly raps on a couple of tracks, with a pretty impressive section on the outro track, “Tetzahuitl, Pt. 2: El Origen,” and goes off-script with an infectious laugh on “Entre Mil Voces.” Clearly she’s having a lot of fun. Metztli hits some of the familiar symphonic notes while injecting enough personality of its own to make for an entertaining, and sometimes wild, ride.

Grin Reaper’s Spring Fling

Beyond the Veil // Oblivion [May 1st, 2026 – Wormholedeath Records]

There’s little online information about Tokyo prog metallers Beyond the Veil,2 and while I don’t recall how I stumbled across debut Oblivion, I’m glad I did. Upon listening, I was immediately enamored by their familiar yet enchanting blend of drama and technicality. Fans of Opeth and Dream Theater will uncover a trove of unapologetic prog where Beyond the Veil weaves gorgeously conceived instrumentation into intricate compositions. Oblivion also embraces long-form arrangements, sporting six tracks ranging between seven-and-a-half and sixteen minutes each. Credit to Beyond the Veil, though, because even with such robust runtimes totaling over an hour, Oblivion never feels repetitive or bankrupt of ideas. Quite the opposite, in fact, as each listen reveals new knots to untangle and coils to unwind. Perhaps the facet I’ve come to appreciate the most as I revisit Oblivion is Beyond the Veil’s merger of piano, mellotron, and orchestrations with guitar, bass, and drums. They’re hardly the first band to do this, but each song sounds well-attuned to incorporating the right instrument for the right part rather than spotlighting heavy-handed wankery, allowing Oblivion to soar. While Beyond the Veil doesn’t break the mold with this one, getting lost in Oblivion never sounded so sweet.

Lago // Vigil [May 8th, 2026 – Everlasting Spew Records]

Vigil introduced me to Lago and their infectiously abrasive death metal, and this album is forty-two minutes of unhinged brutality flecked with melody. The blood of Immolation, Morbid Angel, and Incantation pumps through Lago’s veins, delivering unapologetic tangles of dissonant, jangling guitars, fuming blast beats, and murky bass runs beneath Cole Jacobsen’s devilishly demented gutturals. Lago’s brew is potent stuff, swirling and churning with caustic acid that will leave your eardrums scarred and cowed with nary a moment wasted. Complimenting the devastating filth Lago dredges is Gus Barr’s warbling lead guitar, which cuts through the grime with off-kilter shredding. “Behold, Ruin” and “Initiation Rite” hit with the immediacy and aplomb of Immolation, lurching onwards with Brian Miller’s timekeeping straight out of Close to a World Below’s playbook. Meanwhile, “Procession into Slaughter” and “The Land Was a Desert” launch into Azagthoth-tinged, otherworldly riffs. Everything about Lago screams danger, yet once the blood starts flowing it’s impossible to turn away from their murderously addictive violence. Once Vigil has its hooks in you, you won’t want them to Lago.

Redshift // Down the Wire [May 29th, 2026 – Pale Wizard Records]

As a massive Rush fan, Redshift’s Down the Wire immediately caught my attention with ample parallels. A power trio wielding buttery smooth bass lines, Lifeson-leaning chords, and Tiago Martins’ tender tenor call to mind Canada’s greatest export for all the right reasons. Yet Bath, England’s Redshift is more than a Rush clone, and on Down the Wire they bounce and whip in syncopated flurries and chromatic runs while dabbling with vocoded vocals and deathly roars. As the best prog does, Redshift explores vast territory in a commensurately brief runtime. Opener “The Routine” hits the Rush influence hard and early, but “The Clown” draws upon Synchestra-era Devin Townsend kookiness while “The Rogue” dabbles in Yesified eclecticism and even features guest keys from Derek Sherinian (ex-Dream Theater, ex-Yngwie Malmsteen). One thing Redshift steers away from is the self-seriousness associated with a lot of prog, and Down the Wire radiates a pervasive sense of fun. Trumpets and samba-coded melodies enliven “The Rogue” while “The Singer” assaults with fierce growls, wicked solos, and perfectly balanced instrumental interplay. Down the Wire fires on all cylinders, scorching with progressive songwriting and so much replayability that I regret not getting the chance to write a review in full. If you’re Down to the Wire and need a prog fix quickly, Redshift is a clever choice that won’t disappoint.

Spicie Forrest’s Nostalgic Nugget

Haste the Day // Dissenter [May 1st, 2026 – Solid State Records]

I haven’t heard the name Haste the Day since 2008. At the time, I was on the tail end of my metalcore phase and pushing into heavier styles, so while I recognized their quality, I didn’t latch on to them as I did other acts of their ilk. It’s a shame, because Dissenter is the sound of my adolescence. Slinging the same emo-flavored metalcore as early As I Lay Dying and August Burns Red, the Indianapolis-based six-piece offers 39 minutes of beautifully aching nostalgia. Stephen Keech’s lead vocals sound pushed and strained (complimentary), evoking the emotion of early Linkin Park (“Shallows,” “Grave”). Guitarists Scott Whelan, Brennan Chaulk, and Dave Krysl are so in sync, delivering stellar layered riffs and leads felt in the soul (“Burn”). When Michael Murphy’s bass comes to the fore, as on “Liminal,” he brings a heaviness and intensity that hurtles me back to middle school like it was just yesterday. Dissenter is a bit heavier and faster on the front end, but even the not-quite-overwrought power ballads of the back half maintain their drive and pacing thanks to Giuseppe Capolupo’s kit work (“Adrift,” “Escape”). For those of us who cut our teeth on acts like Haste the Day, late-career and comeback albums can be an anxious affair, but I’m happy to report that Dissenter is a worthy walk down memory lane.

Since the last Filter dropped, it still hasn’t stopped raining and storming in my neck of the woods. Consequently, my minions trudge evermore through the thin sheet metal of our ducts as the thunder rattles everything like so many dice in a tabletop nerd’s clutches.1 Yet I must press them and push them, for we have quotas to meet and ravenous appetites to sate.

So it is with shaky hands and discombobulated craniums that my grunts hand over the goods. BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Thrashed Thrall

Ascended Master // Crepuscular Gloom [May 8th, 2026 – Self Released]

Death thrash is best thrash, if you ask this sponge. Something about this unholy combo really rustles my jimmies, especially when its executed with great speed and riff-centered fervor. Cincinnati’s Ascended Master nail that combination right into the grave, boasting a sound that’s three parts Death, one part Atheist, and a pinch of Blood Red Throne. With a sense of groove that gives barnburners “Blood Spilled Upon the Stars,” “Crepuscular Gloom,” and rabid closer “Xenopaleontology” a deadly swagger liable to cause fierce whiplash in all who would headbang to it, debut LP Crepuscular Gloom” is a record pumped full of testosterone and adrenaline. Speedy rippers like “Midnight Mother” and “Ghoul Queen” put the pedal to the metal with a ferocity more commonly associated with Kvaen or Hellripper in the modern pantheon, but the record’s natural engineering and coherent screams hark to earlier times where Death reigned supreme in the scene. However, it would be inaccurate to call it pure worship. Ascended Master have an intense personality and a particular ferocity that allows Crepuscular Gloom to integrate smoothly into their respective category without blending into the crowd. As their career develops from this point, I expect we’ll see their identity bloom and rise with greater distinction, further setting them apart and threatening year-end lists all around. Just wait, you’ll see!

ClarkKent’s Prehistoric Pulls

Ilienses Tree // Toward the Storm [May 1st, 2026 – Meuse Music Records]

Ilienses Tree sow their roots deep into the island the band originates from—Sardinia, just off the coast of Italy. Their name, Ilienses, refers to an ancient Nuragic civilization that, during the Bronze Age, built impressive stone tower structures that still stand today. While the band isn’t nearly so old, their second album, Toward the Storm, dabbles in the sort of slow, deliberate doom that speaks of the patience of those ancient ruins. They lean towards a style of funeral doom that has the brutal power of My Dying Bride, but their record also contains the unpredictable dynamic drumming of Oromet and sneaks into speedier death/doom territory akin to Paradise Lost and Novembers Doom. Ilienses Tree have a mastery over melancholic lead riffs, such as the one that opens “To Not Be Forgotten.” “Sudden Rain” flexes the band’s creative muscle most impressively. Beginning in a slow burn and anchored by a poignant guitar lead, the song has a sudden burst of energy, turns in a lovely duet between arpeggiated riffs and bass, and features several more memorable and distinct guitar leads. Though the songs average nine minutes, they fit neatly into a 38-minute record, and thanks to progressive structures, they never feel overlong. If you’d like some music that simultaneously hits you in the feels and provides a shot of adrenaline, then go towards, not away from, this storm.

Anna Fiori // Metztli [May 21st, 2026 – Self Released]

Sometimes symphonic metal bands grow a touch stale from a failure to innovate, relying too heavily on the gimmick of symphonic instruments. Anna Fiori, however, has created something pretty special, with a Mexican/Aztec twist on the genre. Her band mixes “pre-Hispanic instrumentation” with cinematic symphonics and heavy guitars to create thrilling high-energy music. While some songs hit a more poppy Beyond the Black mold (“En El Vacio”), others take a longer-form route. The nine-minute “Luna Llena (Xiki Noeso)” blends indigenous chants and flutes with orchestral elements that sometimes sound like an exciting score to a whimsical adventure film. The highlight, “Luna Menguante (Nimotemak),” contains a mix of cool riffs, flutes, and blast beats before taking us on a bonkers ride involving operatic singing, off-kilter pianos, a few solos, and perhaps the summoning of a demon or two. While the song compositions are tons of fun, Fiori’s performance ties it all together. She sings in the sweet poppy manner of Epica’s Simone Simons, the operatic style of many a Therion singer, and even some growls in the spirit of Seven Spires’s Adrienne Cowen, if not quite her power. Fiori even briefly raps on a couple of tracks, with a pretty impressive section on the outro track, “Tetzahuitl, Pt. 2: El Origen,” and goes off-script with an infectious laugh on “Entre Mil Voces.” Clearly she’s having a lot of fun. Metztli hits some of the familiar symphonic notes while injecting enough personality of its own to make for an entertaining, and sometimes wild, ride.

Grin Reaper’s Spring Fling

Beyond the Veil // Oblivion [May 1st, 2026 – Wormholedeath Records]

There’s little online information about Tokyo prog metallers Beyond the Veil,2 and while I don’t recall how I stumbled across debut Oblivion, I’m glad I did. Upon listening, I was immediately enamored by their familiar yet enchanting blend of drama and technicality. Fans of Opeth and Dream Theater will uncover a trove of unapologetic prog where Beyond the Veil weaves gorgeously conceived instrumentation into intricate compositions. Oblivion also embraces long-form arrangements, sporting six tracks ranging between seven-and-a-half and sixteen minutes each. Credit to Beyond the Veil, though, because even with such robust runtimes totaling over an hour, Oblivion never feels repetitive or bankrupt of ideas. Quite the opposite, in fact, as each listen reveals new knots to untangle and coils to unwind. Perhaps the facet I’ve come to appreciate the most as I revisit Oblivion is Beyond the Veil’s merger of piano, mellotron, and orchestrations with guitar, bass, and drums. They’re hardly the first band to do this, but each song sounds well-attuned to incorporating the right instrument for the right part rather than spotlighting heavy-handed wankery, allowing Oblivion to soar. While Beyond the Veil doesn’t break the mold with this one, getting lost in Oblivion never sounded so sweet.

Lago // Vigil [May 8th, 2026 – Everlasting Spew Records]

Vigil introduced me to Lago and their infectiously abrasive death metal, and this album is forty-two minutes of unhinged brutality flecked with melody. The blood of Immolation, Morbid Angel, and Incantation pumps through Lago’s veins, delivering unapologetic tangles of dissonant, jangling guitars, fuming blast beats, and murky bass runs beneath Cole Jacobsen’s devilishly demented gutturals. Lago’s brew is potent stuff, swirling and churning with caustic acid that will leave your eardrums scarred and cowed with nary a moment wasted. Complimenting the devastating filth Lago dredges is Gus Barr’s warbling lead guitar, which cuts through the grime with off-kilter shredding. “Behold, Ruin” and “Initiation Rite” hit with the immediacy and aplomb of Immolation, lurching onwards with Brian Miller’s timekeeping straight out of Close to a World Below’s playbook. Meanwhile, “Procession into Slaughter” and “The Land Was a Desert” launch into Azagthoth-tinged, otherworldly riffs. Everything about Lago screams danger, yet once the blood starts flowing it’s impossible to turn away from their murderously addictive violence. Once Vigil has its hooks in you, you won’t want them to Lago.

Redshift // Down the Wire [May 29th, 2026 – Pale Wizard Records]

As a massive Rush fan, Redshift’s Down the Wire immediately caught my attention with ample parallels. A power trio wielding buttery smooth bass lines, Lifeson-leaning chords, and Tiago Martins’ tender tenor call to mind Canada’s greatest export for all the right reasons. Yet Bath, England’s Redshift is more than a Rush clone, and on Down the Wire they bounce and whip in syncopated flurries and chromatic runs while dabbling with vocoded vocals and deathly roars. As the best prog does, Redshift explores vast territory in a commensurately brief runtime. Opener “The Routine” hits the Rush influence hard and early, but “The Clown” draws upon Synchestra-era Devin Townsend kookiness while “The Rogue” dabbles in Yesified eclecticism and even features guest keys from Derek Sherinian (ex-Dream Theater, ex-Yngwie Malmsteen). One thing Redshift steers away from is the self-seriousness associated with a lot of prog, and Down the Wire radiates a pervasive sense of fun. Trumpets and samba-coded melodies enliven “The Rogue” while “The Singer” assaults with fierce growls, wicked solos, and perfectly balanced instrumental interplay. Down the Wire fires on all cylinders, scorching with progressive songwriting and so much replayability that I regret not getting the chance to write a review in full. If you’re Down to the Wire and need a prog fix quickly, Redshift is a clever choice that won’t disappoint.

Spicie Forrest’s Nostalgic Nugget

Haste the Day // Dissenter [May 1st, 2026 – Solid State Records]

I haven’t heard the name Haste the Day since 2008. At the time, I was on the tail end of my metalcore phase and pushing into heavier styles, so while I recognized their quality, I didn’t latch on to them as I did other acts of their ilk. It’s a shame, because Dissenter is the sound of my adolescence. Slinging the same emo-flavored metalcore as early As I Lay Dying and August Burns Red, the Indianapolis-based six-piece offers 39 minutes of beautifully aching nostalgia. Stephen Keech’s lead vocals sound pushed and strained (complimentary), evoking the emotion of early Linkin Park (“Shallows,” “Grave”). Guitarists Scott Whelan, Brennan Chaulk, and Dave Krysl are so in sync, delivering stellar layered riffs and leads felt in the soul (“Burn”). When Michael Murphy’s bass comes to the fore, as on “Liminal,” he brings a heaviness and intensity that hurtles me back to middle school like it was just yesterday. Dissenter is a bit heavier and faster on the front end, but even the not-quite-overwrought power ballads of the back half maintain their drive and pacing thanks to Giuseppe Capolupo’s kit work (“Adrift,” “Escape”). For those of us who cut our teeth on acts like Haste the Day, late-career and comeback albums can be an anxious affair, but I’m happy to report that Dissenter is a worthy walk down memory lane.

After reviewing Crotaline1 in April and Dimmu Borgir’s Grand Serpent Rising earlier this month, 2026 is shaping up as the Year of the Snake—at least for me. Now at the end of May, Battleground, Washington’s Serpent Lord emerges from a protracted brumation to deliver a dose of venom fermenting for over twenty years. After recording a split and two demos between 2003 and 2004, one-man band Jake Superchi (Uada, Ceremonial Castings) shelved the project for a couple decades. Now Superchi has resurrected his defunct sobriquet to record The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, Serpent Lord’s long-gestating debut LP. After an extended incubation period, does Serpent Lord rejuvenate the Ways of Old, or should the act have remained Forgotten?

Like Uada, Serpent Lord falls under the broader umbrella of black metal. Rather than expansive meloblack, though, Serpent Lord basks in the light of pagan gods, eliciting forlorn calls to umbral deities scoured from memory by the winds of time. Rhythmic grooves and hypnotic guitar refrains lay the foundation for The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, imbuing the album with enough ritualistic zest that you may catch faint whiffs of incense and petrichor while listening. Three of the album’s six songs push past the eight-minute mark, and it’s these moments where Serpent Lord best embodies heathen incantations. In particular, “Aries Ram” and the title track conjure visions of enigmatic and arcane rites, evoking mystical practices that lurch and brood in the dark.

On The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, Serpent Lord summons inspirations and reshapes them into a well-developed and distinct character. Most immediately, Serpent Lord reminds me of Rauhnåcht without the folk instrumentation, particularly when the slower, plaintive guitar leads slither above swirling riffs and unyielding drums (“A Pagan’s Spell,” “Enter Serpentagram”). Superchi’s vocals cover an array of deliveries, ranging from frenetic, blackened barking and rasping (“Constrictor”) to droning harangue, where the latter strikes similarities to Mayhem’s Attila Csihar’s cleaner stylings (“The Once Forgotten Ways of Old”). The sermonizing works well, but the harsher vocals occasionally blur with the cascading guitars in the mix, obscuring Superchi’s voice and packing too much sound into too narrow a band. The harsh deliveries work better when there’s room to breathe, like the back half of “Forever on the Grounds of Battle” (which features guitar work recalling Alice in Chains’ “Whale & Wasp” midway through). Regardless, the star performances belong to the guitars and drums, which pack a potent, two-pronged punch as they wend and weave through The Once Forgotten Ways of Old.

For all that Serpent Lord achieves, The Once Forgotten Ways of Old proves a slippery and elusive beast. Despite the many things done well, I struggle to remember most of it once the music fades from my speakers, and the snippets that stick drive me back to the inspirations more than the Ways of Old. Serpent Lord nails the aesthetic of pagan black metal, and The Once Forgotten Ways of Old is a record I feel like should resonate more than it does. What ultimately undercuts Serpent Lord’s success is the lack of fulfilling climaxes.2 Superchi does a fabulous job of orchestrating tension through the give and take of guitars and drums, yet few moments capitalize on that buildup. This songwriting oversight is most telling at the ends of tracks, as four of the album’s six songs close with a fade. Concluding a song this way isn’t one of my pet peeves, and I typically don’t notice them, but their abundance here stands out and suggests the opportunity to finish with a bang every now and again.

The Once Forgotten Ways of Old convinces me that Serpent Lord seethes with potential, but will need to shed its current approach to actualize it. I spent a lot of time traversing The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, and while I enjoyed them, I recognize the album doesn’t offer enough for me to return once the proverbial ink dries on this review. Even so, a few minor tweaks would rid this danger noodle of musical impotence, and I look forward to listening to Serpent Lord’s next worship service if and when it comes.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Eisenwald Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

After reviewing Crotaline1 in April and Dimmu Borgir’s Grand Serpent Rising earlier this month, 2026 is shaping up as the Year of the Snake—at least for me. Now at the end of May, Battleground, Washington’s Serpent Lord emerges from a protracted brumation to deliver a dose of venom fermenting for over twenty years. After recording a split and two demos between 2003 and 2004, one-man band Jake Superchi (Uada, Ceremonial Castings) shelved the project for a couple decades. Now Superchi has resurrected his defunct sobriquet to record The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, Serpent Lord’s long-gestating debut LP. After an extended incubation period, does Serpent Lord rejuvenate the Ways of Old, or should the act have remained Forgotten?

Like Uada, Serpent Lord falls under the broader umbrella of black metal. Rather than expansive meloblack, though, Serpent Lord basks in the light of pagan gods, eliciting forlorn calls to umbral deities scoured from memory by the winds of time. Rhythmic grooves and hypnotic guitar refrains lay the foundation for The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, imbuing the album with enough ritualistic zest that you may catch faint whiffs of incense and petrichor while listening. Three of the album’s six songs push past the eight-minute mark, and it’s these moments where Serpent Lord best embodies heathen incantations. In particular, “Aries Ram” and the title track conjure visions of enigmatic and arcane rites, evoking mystical practices that lurch and brood in the dark.

On The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, Serpent Lord summons inspirations and reshapes them into a well-developed and distinct character. Most immediately, Serpent Lord reminds me of Rauhnåcht without the folk instrumentation, particularly when the slower, plaintive guitar leads slither above swirling riffs and unyielding drums (“A Pagan’s Spell,” “Enter Serpentagram”). Superchi’s vocals cover an array of deliveries, ranging from frenetic, blackened barking and rasping (“Constrictor”) to droning harangue, where the latter strikes similarities to Mayhem’s Attila Csihar’s cleaner stylings (“The Once Forgotten Ways of Old”). The sermonizing works well, but the harsher vocals occasionally blur with the cascading guitars in the mix, obscuring Superchi’s voice and packing too much sound into too narrow a band. The harsh deliveries work better when there’s room to breathe, like the back half of “Forever on the Grounds of Battle” (which features guitar work recalling Alice in Chains’ “Whale & Wasp” midway through). Regardless, the star performances belong to the guitars and drums, which pack a potent, two-pronged punch as they wend and weave through The Once Forgotten Ways of Old.

For all that Serpent Lord achieves, The Once Forgotten Ways of Old proves a slippery and elusive beast. Despite the many things done well, I struggle to remember most of it once the music fades from my speakers, and the snippets that stick drive me back to the inspirations more than the Ways of Old. Serpent Lord nails the aesthetic of pagan black metal, and The Once Forgotten Ways of Old is a record I feel like should resonate more than it does. What ultimately undercuts Serpent Lord’s success is the lack of fulfilling climaxes.2 Superchi does a fabulous job of orchestrating tension through the give and take of guitars and drums, yet few moments capitalize on that buildup. This songwriting oversight is most telling at the ends of tracks, as four of the album’s six songs close with a fade. Concluding a song this way isn’t one of my pet peeves, and I typically don’t notice them, but their abundance here stands out and suggests the opportunity to finish with a bang every now and again.

The Once Forgotten Ways of Old convinces me that Serpent Lord seethes with potential, but will need to shed its current approach to actualize it. I spent a lot of time traversing The Once Forgotten Ways of Old, and while I enjoyed them, I recognize the album doesn’t offer enough for me to return once the proverbial ink dries on this review. Even so, a few minor tweaks would rid this danger noodle of musical impotence, and I look forward to listening to Serpent Lord’s next worship service if and when it comes.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Eisenwald Records
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Spawned in 2007, Danish quintet Crocell started life as a humble, but prolifically productive melodic death metal troupe, churning out five LPs in a relatively brief decade. Six years passed between their fifth and sixth outings, but only two years span the difference between that and the new Swarm of Insects, distributed by Emanzipation Records. Throughout all of that history, Crocell have gotten progressively more blackened in their riff-centered, deathly dealings, but otherwise remained remarkably stable both in sound and lineup. This begs a question of curiosity: What six-legged horrors await me here?

While it’s still true that Crocell haven’t made great shifts in sound or style over the last few records, Swarm of Insects is a more epic and sprawling affair than, say, the relentlessly aggressive Relics. This puts it more in line with black-metal forward predecessor Of Frost, Of Flame, Of Flesh, which saw Crocell leaning more heavily into sweeping songwriting arcs highly reminiscent of Limbo-era Gaerea by way of Sulphur Aeon, with a twist of Emperor. That said, some of the Dormant Ordeal-but-slower death of Relics returns on Swarm. This reprisal of crushing heft, in turn, affords Swarm a more threatening nature without becoming wholly oppressive or undoing its grand storytelling voice.

If that description gives you pause or causes concern that Crocell lost their edge, one spin of the title track should provide ample reassurance. Its scorching tremolo-forward riffs and spectacular energy bring heat to the blood and buzz to the saw. “Traitor’s Blood,” “Shredded Banners,” and “Wolfen Man” double down on that attack, and the extra 90 seconds Crocell invested into what used to be their standard mid-three-mid-four-minute template suits them well. Using that extra time to fortify serrated riffs built to shred and terrify with ominous bridges soaked in shadow and mist brought a new vocabulary to Crocell’s musical lexicon. Not entirely unexpected from a band of this advanced experience, but also not entirely dissimilar to the welcome progression of songwriting sophistication that Sulphur Aeon displayed across their discography, Crocell’s expansion of scope allows the five-plus minutes of “Labyrinthian Tunnels” and even the somewhat weaker “Volcano” to feel justified and satisfying.

As much as Crocell excel in Swarm of Insects’ more patient songwriting, so too do they leave behind some of the more exciting characteristics of past efforts. Always the show-stealer, undercelebrated drummer Andreas Posselt is more restrained here across the board, and I miss the jaw-dropping acrobatics and scalpel-sharp accuracy of his tom-and-cymbal play displayed on past efforts. His performance is still enviable, of course. However, opener “Sarcophagus” is somewhat forgettable in relation to Swarm’s later offerings, in part due to its more reserved writing and lack of that percussive showmanship that I look for from Crocell. Concurrently, Tommy Christensen and Mads Gath traded some of their riff quota for great, towering arcs of trem-picked melodies and protracted chord work. This allows big moments from “Sculptor of Nations” and “Wolfen Man” to hit with tectonic impact—and also serves as a vehicle to bring audibility to Onkel Kusse’s oft-buried bass burble—but may alienate listeners who hoped for another nonstop barnstormer from these Danes. Asbjörn Steffensen, on the other hand, strikes a great balance between deathly roars, hoarse rasps, and pained chants that feel impassioned without losing control entirely. His technique here might be cribbed directly from the tomes of Sulphur Aeon, resulting in a most minor case of identity theft, but it’s a great technique for this sound regardless.

41 minutes pass, the locusts that once blinded my vision now only dot the horizon and straggle before my feet. Wings gently flutter on either side of my ears, and I’m left standing aghast at what just transpired. Crocell, as I anticipated, brought enough heat to spike my adrenaline with concerning ease. This Swarm of Insects may not pose as mortal a danger as previous attacks, but it nonetheless offered its own kind of excitement. In another world, I might be thankful that this wave was easier to weather. But I can’t deny that I miss the intensity and the terror of experiences past. I won’t begrudge Crocell for this more “pleasant” plague, as it was a fine plague all the same. I just hope, one day soon, to fear for my life again.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Emanzipation Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Spawned in 2007, Danish quintet Crocell started life as a humble, but prolifically productive melodic death metal troupe, churning out five LPs in a relatively brief decade. Six years passed between their fifth and sixth outings, but only two years span the difference between that and the new Swarm of Insects, distributed by Emanzipation Records. Throughout all of that history, Crocell have gotten progressively more blackened in their riff-centered, deathly dealings, but otherwise remained remarkably stable both in sound and lineup. This begs a question of curiosity: What six-legged horrors await me here?

While it’s still true that Crocell haven’t made great shifts in sound or style over the last few records, Swarm of Insects is a more epic and sprawling affair than, say, the relentlessly aggressive Relics. This puts it more in line with black-metal forward predecessor Of Frost, Of Flame, Of Flesh, which saw Crocell leaning more heavily into sweeping songwriting arcs highly reminiscent of Limbo-era Gaerea by way of Sulphur Aeon, with a twist of Emperor. That said, some of the Dormant Ordeal-but-slower death of Relics returns on Swarm. This reprisal of crushing heft, in turn, affords Swarm a more threatening nature without becoming wholly oppressive or undoing its grand storytelling voice.

If that description gives you pause or causes concern that Crocell lost their edge, one spin of the title track should provide ample reassurance. Its scorching tremolo-forward riffs and spectacular energy bring heat to the blood and buzz to the saw. “Traitor’s Blood,” “Shredded Banners,” and “Wolfen Man” double down on that attack, and the extra 90 seconds Crocell invested into what used to be their standard mid-three-mid-four-minute template suits them well. Using that extra time to fortify serrated riffs built to shred and terrify with ominous bridges soaked in shadow and mist brought a new vocabulary to Crocell’s musical lexicon. Not entirely unexpected from a band of this advanced experience, but also not entirely dissimilar to the welcome progression of songwriting sophistication that Sulphur Aeon displayed across their discography, Crocell’s expansion of scope allows the five-plus minutes of “Labyrinthian Tunnels” and even the somewhat weaker “Volcano” to feel justified and satisfying.

As much as Crocell excel in Swarm of Insects’ more patient songwriting, so too do they leave behind some of the more exciting characteristics of past efforts. Always the show-stealer, undercelebrated drummer Andreas Posselt is more restrained here across the board, and I miss the jaw-dropping acrobatics and scalpel-sharp accuracy of his tom-and-cymbal play displayed on past efforts. His performance is still enviable, of course. However, opener “Sarcophagus” is somewhat forgettable in relation to Swarm’s later offerings, in part due to its more reserved writing and lack of that percussive showmanship that I look for from Crocell. Concurrently, Tommy Christensen and Mads Gath traded some of their riff quota for great, towering arcs of trem-picked melodies and protracted chord work. This allows big moments from “Sculptor of Nations” and “Wolfen Man” to hit with tectonic impact—and also serves as a vehicle to bring audibility to Onkel Kusse’s oft-buried bass burble—but may alienate listeners who hoped for another nonstop barnstormer from these Danes. Asbjörn Steffensen, on the other hand, strikes a great balance between deathly roars, hoarse rasps, and pained chants that feel impassioned without losing control entirely. His technique here might be cribbed directly from the tomes of Sulphur Aeon, resulting in a most minor case of identity theft, but it’s a great technique for this sound regardless.

41 minutes pass, the locusts that once blinded my vision now only dot the horizon and straggle before my feet. Wings gently flutter on either side of my ears, and I’m left standing aghast at what just transpired. Crocell, as I anticipated, brought enough heat to spike my adrenaline with concerning ease. This Swarm of Insects may not pose as mortal a danger as previous attacks, but it nonetheless offered its own kind of excitement. In another world, I might be thankful that this wave was easier to weather. But I can’t deny that I miss the intensity and the terror of experiences past. I won’t begrudge Crocell for this more “pleasant” plague, as it was a fine plague all the same. I just hope, one day soon, to fear for my life again.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Emanzipation Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

When I nabbed the promo for Oak of Weeping, I had no idea what DSBM stood for. Death something black metal? It was a bit of a gut punch to learn it stands for depressive suicidal black metal. Of course, depression has been the scourge of artists from Sylvia Plath to Robin Williams. Metal serves as a musical outlet that allows artists to express their darkest thoughts through a unique means. Sure, pop musicians can sing about depression, but only metal allows one to dive into the raw ugliness of those feelings. I hope it’s a useful outlet for artists who play DSBM, and for anyone who suffers from depression, please seek help. DSBM generally distinguishes itself from other forms of black metal with pained, anguished vocals and a doomier tempo. This all serves as the backdrop for the debut record from Hungary’s Oak of Weeping, The Grave My Father, the Worm My Sister. András Lipták bases this one-man project not on his own personal life, but on scripture, pulling its lyrics straight from the Book of Job. With its colorful, poetic album and song titles, as well as a novel lens on biblical text, this is about as tempting as the fruit that doomed Adam and Eve to mortality.

Oak of Weeping builds its music upon simple yet catchy foundational riffs. Each song has as its base a single riff or trem while snappy blast beats set a mostly brisk pace. While I can’t speak for the lyrics, as they are all in Hungarian, the overall mood is certainly not depressive—at least not instrumentally. Often the opening trems or arpeggios set a mournful mood, but the blast beats convey a much more upbeat tone. In many ways, the music here reminds me of the joyous, Latin dance-inspired black metal of To Escape. By the end of the final song, “Now That My Eyes See You, I Despise Myself,” the trems are uplifting and triumphant enough to convert the non-believers.

Lipták’s vocal style, on the other hand, is like an emotional wrecking ball. On opener “Let the Day Perish on Which I Was Born,” he sounds agonized and in the painful throes of death. I understand his performance will likely turn many listeners off, but I found its raw nakedness mesmerizing. Each song brings a different side to him. “You Have Turned Cruel to Me” brings much mellower pained shouts, to the point that in the final minutes, he’s merely whispering his pain. Then on “For I Am Full of Words” he wails like an otherworldly creature, cartoonish and over the top almost to the point of parody. Lipták conveys pain and suffering on a primal, animalistic level that’s certainly not pleasant, but it is effective. His voice contrasts with the pleasant sound of the guitars and drums, as if purposely throwing the joy from the instruments off-kilter with the anguished cries from his throat.

A few issues do hold The Grave My Father, the Worm My Sister from being a better record. The major issue is the repetitive nature of the instrumentals. While Oak of Weeping play some fantastic guitar parts, the songs carry on for too long without any real variation in the riffs/trems. The unpredictable nature of Lipták’s vocals does make this somewhat less of an issue, however. Another weak link is the penultimate track, “The Gates of Deep Darkness,” which lacks the musicality of the other tunes. Harsh guitar tones serve to create noise rather than establish any sort of rhythm. There are a few other minor quibbles as well, such as the 40 seconds of silence to end the opening song. It’s the kind of thing that pulls you out of the music’s spell and makes you wonder if your app crashed.

Despite the genre, Oak of Weeping has crafted a very enjoyable and non-depressing black metal record. Fans of DSBM or atmoblack will find plenty to like, even if the vocals are rawer and more troubled than the usual fare. I suspect there’s some deeper meaning in choosing to create a DSBM album about the Book of Job, but alas, I haven’t brushed up enough on my Hungarian to read more deeply into it. Still, Oak of Weeping has a good ear for an enjoyable riff and an unconventional approach. That’s enough for me to want to hear what Lipták creates next.1

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

When I nabbed the promo for Oak of Weeping, I had no idea what DSBM stood for. Death something black metal? It was a bit of a gut punch to learn it stands for depressive suicidal black metal. Of course, depression has been the scourge of artists from Sylvia Plath to Robin Williams. Metal serves as a musical outlet that allows artists to express their darkest thoughts through a unique means. Sure, pop musicians can sing about depression, but only metal allows one to dive into the raw ugliness of those feelings. I hope it’s a useful outlet for artists who play DSBM, and for anyone who suffers from depression, please seek help. DSBM generally distinguishes itself from other forms of black metal with pained, anguished vocals and a doomier tempo. This all serves as the backdrop for the debut record from Hungary’s Oak of Weeping, The Grave My Father, the Worm My Sister. András Lipták bases this one-man project not on his own personal life, but on scripture, pulling its lyrics straight from the Book of Job. With its colorful, poetic album and song titles, as well as a novel lens on biblical text, this is about as tempting as the fruit that doomed Adam and Eve to mortality.

Oak of Weeping builds its music upon simple yet catchy foundational riffs. Each song has as its base a single riff or trem while snappy blast beats set a mostly brisk pace. While I can’t speak for the lyrics, as they are all in Hungarian, the overall mood is certainly not depressive—at least not instrumentally. Often the opening trems or arpeggios set a mournful mood, but the blast beats convey a much more upbeat tone. In many ways, the music here reminds me of the joyous, Latin dance-inspired black metal of To Escape. By the end of the final song, “Now That My Eyes See You, I Despise Myself,” the trems are uplifting and triumphant enough to convert the non-believers.

Lipták’s vocal style, on the other hand, is like an emotional wrecking ball. On opener “Let the Day Perish on Which I Was Born,” he sounds agonized and in the painful throes of death. I understand his performance will likely turn many listeners off, but I found its raw nakedness mesmerizing. Each song brings a different side to him. “You Have Turned Cruel to Me” brings much mellower pained shouts, to the point that in the final minutes, he’s merely whispering his pain. Then on “For I Am Full of Words” he wails like an otherworldly creature, cartoonish and over the top almost to the point of parody. Lipták conveys pain and suffering on a primal, animalistic level that’s certainly not pleasant, but it is effective. His voice contrasts with the pleasant sound of the guitars and drums, as if purposely throwing the joy from the instruments off-kilter with the anguished cries from his throat.

A few issues do hold The Grave My Father, the Worm My Sister from being a better record. The major issue is the repetitive nature of the instrumentals. While Oak of Weeping play some fantastic guitar parts, the songs carry on for too long without any real variation in the riffs/trems. The unpredictable nature of Lipták’s vocals does make this somewhat less of an issue, however. Another weak link is the penultimate track, “The Gates of Deep Darkness,” which lacks the musicality of the other tunes. Harsh guitar tones serve to create noise rather than establish any sort of rhythm. There are a few other minor quibbles as well, such as the 40 seconds of silence to end the opening song. It’s the kind of thing that pulls you out of the music’s spell and makes you wonder if your app crashed.

Despite the genre, Oak of Weeping has crafted a very enjoyable and non-depressing black metal record. Fans of DSBM or atmoblack will find plenty to like, even if the vocals are rawer and more troubled than the usual fare. I suspect there’s some deeper meaning in choosing to create a DSBM album about the Book of Job, but alas, I haven’t brushed up enough on my Hungarian to read more deeply into it. Still, Oak of Weeping has a good ear for an enjoyable riff and an unconventional approach. That’s enough for me to want to hear what Lipták creates next.1

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

I initially stumbled across Germany’s Maladie last year with the fifth installment of their Symptoms EP series and immediately fell for their sax-forward, avant-garde black metal. A quick glimpse through Maladie’s back catalog revealed how late I was to the game. Formed in 2009, the band has already released seven full-lengths and five EPs since 2012. Now, eighth LP The Dance of Tragedies is upon us, continuing Maladie’s magnificently nutty approach to black metal by braiding strands of diverse aural fabrics into a singular tapestry that’s far-reaching, fascinating, and fancifully fun. Yet we mustn’t take for granted that just because a band does many things well, they’ve avoided pitfalls along the way. Does Maladie juke major missteps during The Dance of Tragedies?

My first time through The Dance of Tragedies was both exactly what I anticipated from Maladie and an abrupt detonation of my expectations. The outfit’s signature sound persists, finding Hauke Peters slinging the sax with soulful swagger while the rest of the band skitters between full-on black metal fury (the end of “Vortex of Monotony”), AOR tunefulness (“Behind All Suns”), and brief flashes of electronica (“Embrace Our Curse”). The brooding intensity rife throughout Symptoms V subsides on The Dance of Tragedies, dispensing understated moments of levity that delightfully buoy the music in sharp contrast with Maladie’s typically self-serious style.1 This direction surprised me, and though it took several listens to fully digest the album, the result is beautifully refreshing.

As usual, performances across The Dance of Tragedies captivate with titillating zeal. The multi-pronged vocal attack cuts with a serrated edge via emotive cleans, dry barks, and some of the phlegmiest rasps I’ve heard this side of Stenched (“Vortex of Monotony”). Shared by Alexander Wenz and Déhà, the primary vocals inhabit unconventional stylings alongside traditional ones. “Vortex of Monotony” features several variants, including a hip-hop flavored spoken word in the latter half, while “The Dance of Tragedies” runs a marathon of deliveries that keeps The Dance of Tragedies handsomely off-kilter. Björn Köppler plays jack-of-all-trades, supplying chameleonic drums alongside sundry keys and strings, while Déhà contributes even more keys in addition to singing.2 Köppler and Alex Spalvieri share guitar duties, mostly strumming in tasteful restraint while sporadically unfettering a few bars of unbridled shredding (“Too Old to Die”) before yielding the spotlight to other instruments. In totality, The Dance of Tragedies enthralls with an assortment of performances that pulse with intrigue and vivacity, transporting listeners to a vibrant world all Maladie’s own.

Not uncommon for Maladie, The Dance of Tragedies clears the seventy-minute mark without feeling overlong. Sections of lengthier tracks, particularly “The Unknowable” and “On Inaccessible Paths, Pt. II,” dabble in passages that extend to the brink of their charm, yet never run out of gas. I credit this to Maladie’s exploration of atmosphere as they allow rippling riffs and melodies to play out like a stone cast into the middle of a lake, where the ensuing furrows stretch across the smooth horizon until they run their course. Bolstering the momentum of The Dance of Tragedies is the vast array of sounds the band conjures. The refrain played midway through “The Unknowable” reminds me of Mossgiver’s “The Cleansing Waters,” “Behind All Suns” summons comparisons to Hail Spirit Noir, and “Embrace Our Curse” and “On Inaccessible Paths, Pt. I” recall Pensées Nocturnes and Arcturus. Through it all, Maladie never ceases to sound like themselves, grazing other bands as reference points while never jeopardizing their own unmistakable identity.

There’s something about The Dance of Tragedies that ineffably connects with me on an emotional level. Despite the gravity Maladie typically instills in their compositions, The Dance frolics in the face of Tragedies and injects a dimension of playfulness and hope that leaves me spellbound each and every spin. This is an album that works best when absorbed in a single session, and though time is precious, Maladie rewards listeners with utter diversity, meticulously crafting a vibrant musical experience. Swelling strings, electrifying sax, dynamic pacing, and stirring songwriting unite for an absolute blast of avant-garde metal. While it might be weird enough not to appeal to everyone, when it hits, The Dance of Tragedies shakes the room with thunderous abandon. So break out your dancing shoes and get ready to boogie—Maladie has the cure for what ails you.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Apostasy Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

I initially stumbled across Germany’s Maladie last year with the fifth installment of their Symptoms EP series and immediately fell for their sax-forward, avant-garde black metal. A quick glimpse through Maladie’s back catalog revealed how late I was to the game. Formed in 2009, the band has already released seven full-lengths and five EPs since 2012. Now, eighth LP The Dance of Tragedies is upon us, continuing Maladie’s magnificently nutty approach to black metal by braiding strands of diverse aural fabrics into a singular tapestry that’s far-reaching, fascinating, and fancifully fun. Yet we mustn’t take for granted that just because a band does many things well, they’ve avoided pitfalls along the way. Does Maladie juke major missteps during The Dance of Tragedies?

My first time through The Dance of Tragedies was both exactly what I anticipated from Maladie and an abrupt detonation of my expectations. The outfit’s signature sound persists, finding Hauke Peters slinging the sax with soulful swagger while the rest of the band skitters between full-on black metal fury (the end of “Vortex of Monotony”), AOR tunefulness (“Behind All Suns”), and brief flashes of electronica (“Embrace Our Curse”). The brooding intensity rife throughout Symptoms V subsides on The Dance of Tragedies, dispensing understated moments of levity that delightfully buoy the music in sharp contrast with Maladie’s typically self-serious style.1 This direction surprised me, and though it took several listens to fully digest the album, the result is beautifully refreshing.

As usual, performances across The Dance of Tragedies captivate with titillating zeal. The multi-pronged vocal attack cuts with a serrated edge via emotive cleans, dry barks, and some of the phlegmiest rasps I’ve heard this side of Stenched (“Vortex of Monotony”). Shared by Alexander Wenz and Déhà, the primary vocals inhabit unconventional stylings alongside traditional ones. “Vortex of Monotony” features several variants, including a hip-hop flavored spoken word in the latter half, while “The Dance of Tragedies” runs a marathon of deliveries that keeps The Dance of Tragedies handsomely off-kilter. Björn Köppler plays jack-of-all-trades, supplying chameleonic drums alongside sundry keys and strings, while Déhà contributes even more keys in addition to singing.2 Köppler and Alex Spalvieri share guitar duties, mostly strumming in tasteful restraint while sporadically unfettering a few bars of unbridled shredding (“Too Old to Die”) before yielding the spotlight to other instruments. In totality, The Dance of Tragedies enthralls with an assortment of performances that pulse with intrigue and vivacity, transporting listeners to a vibrant world all Maladie’s own.

Not uncommon for Maladie, The Dance of Tragedies clears the seventy-minute mark without feeling overlong. Sections of lengthier tracks, particularly “The Unknowable” and “On Inaccessible Paths, Pt. II,” dabble in passages that extend to the brink of their charm, yet never run out of gas. I credit this to Maladie’s exploration of atmosphere as they allow rippling riffs and melodies to play out like a stone cast into the middle of a lake, where the ensuing furrows stretch across the smooth horizon until they run their course. Bolstering the momentum of The Dance of Tragedies is the vast array of sounds the band conjures. The refrain played midway through “The Unknowable” reminds me of Mossgiver’s “The Cleansing Waters,” “Behind All Suns” summons comparisons to Hail Spirit Noir, and “Embrace Our Curse” and “On Inaccessible Paths, Pt. I” recall Pensées Nocturnes and Arcturus. Through it all, Maladie never ceases to sound like themselves, grazing other bands as reference points while never jeopardizing their own unmistakable identity.

There’s something about The Dance of Tragedies that ineffably connects with me on an emotional level. Despite the gravity Maladie typically instills in their compositions, The Dance frolics in the face of Tragedies and injects a dimension of playfulness and hope that leaves me spellbound each and every spin. This is an album that works best when absorbed in a single session, and though time is precious, Maladie rewards listeners with utter diversity, meticulously crafting a vibrant musical experience. Swelling strings, electrifying sax, dynamic pacing, and stirring songwriting unite for an absolute blast of avant-garde metal. While it might be weird enough not to appeal to everyone, when it hits, The Dance of Tragedies shakes the room with thunderous abandon. So break out your dancing shoes and get ready to boogie—Maladie has the cure for what ails you.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Apostasy Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

For the second time this month, I seem to have selected a band for review that was born from the ashes of another. Goddess, a stoner doom collective from Stockholm, Sweden, was formerly known as Goatess. Purgatory Under New Management and Blood and Wine were both warmly received by Saunders in 2016 and 2019, respectively. Following the departure of founding guitarist Niklas Jones afterwards, the remaining members decided to rebrand as Goddess. Does the debut Ritual of the Cloven Hoof herald a divine ascension for these horned disciples?

By and large, Goddess doesn’t sound all that different from Goatess. The core songwriting pillars are still the lumbering, looping grooves of Electric Wizard and the swaggering, bluesy stoner riffs of Sleep. Karl-Martin Bruhe, who was also the vocalist on Blood and Wine, has a gravelly, smoky edge to his voice that adds a good amount of pep. He reminds me a bit of Aganoor’s Dan Ghostrider, albeit in a less grungy, more chilled-out environment. These building blocks, which form the backbone of Ritual of the Cloven Hoof, may seem simple on the surface, but they are arranged in different combinations to produce an impressive variety of power levels as the record unfolds.

Goddess is at their best when they play at either extreme of this spectrum of intensity. My favorite moment in “Inquisition” occurs midway through when they take a break from the traditional licks and grooves, switching to hypnotic tom rhythms which combine perfectly with the psyched-out guitars. This style is also used to great effect in the intro of “To Be King,” which gradually ramps up and culminates with some unexpectedly vicious growls and snarls in the final verse. Ritual of the Cloven Hoof would have benefitted from more of this aggression, which is otherwise absent outside of a brief moment towards the end of “Blood Fever.” Drummer Kenta Karlblom is perhaps the most important influence, making the ebb and flow feel natural, with subtle yet satisfying fills and transitions.

As I spent more time with Ritual of the Cloven Hoof, I noticed an inverse relationship between song length and song quality. “Godless” and “Born Again Heathen” are solid enough slabs of doom metal, but they spread too few riffs over too many minutes. The latter feels especially plodding and could have done without the spoken word segment or such a long psychedelic jam in the middle. The upbeat hard rock riffs that open the next (and shortest overall) track “Devil’s Reef,” are like a breath of fresh air afterward. That said, the total runtime is a tight 38 minutes, which is much more digestible compared with the hour-plus runtimes of all three Goatess records.

With Ritual of the Cloven Hoof, Goddess picks up right where Goatess left off without missing a beat. Prior fans will not be disappointed by this new incarnation. Goddess continues to traverse a wide swath within classic doom and stoner rock, at times thick and weighty and others mesmerizing and easygoing. Ritual of the Cloven Hoof resolves prior issues of overall bloat, although some of the longer tracks overstay their welcome. Slower stretches notwithstanding, stoner doom enthusiasts willing to undertake this pilgrimage will uncover ample rewards from this ritual.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Majestic Mountain Records
Websites: goddessbandofficial.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/baldersounds
Releases Worldwide: May 22nd, 2026

For the second time this month, I seem to have selected a band for review that was born from the ashes of another. Goddess, a stoner doom collective from Stockholm, Sweden, was formerly known as Goatess. Purgatory Under New Management and Blood and Wine were both warmly received by Saunders in 2016 and 2019, respectively. Following the departure of founding guitarist Niklas Jones afterwards, the remaining members decided to rebrand as Goddess. Does the debut Ritual of the Cloven Hoof herald a divine ascension for these horned disciples?

By and large, Goddess doesn’t sound all that different from Goatess. The core songwriting pillars are still the lumbering, looping grooves of Electric Wizard and the swaggering, bluesy stoner riffs of Sleep. Karl-Martin Bruhe, who was also the vocalist on Blood and Wine, has a gravelly, smoky edge to his voice that adds a good amount of pep. He reminds me a bit of Aganoor’s Dan Ghostrider, albeit in a less grungy, more chilled-out environment. These building blocks, which form the backbone of Ritual of the Cloven Hoof, may seem simple on the surface, but they are arranged in different combinations to produce an impressive variety of power levels as the record unfolds.

Goddess is at their best when they play at either extreme of this spectrum of intensity. My favorite moment in “Inquisition” occurs midway through when they take a break from the traditional licks and grooves, switching to hypnotic tom rhythms which combine perfectly with the psyched-out guitars. This style is also used to great effect in the intro of “To Be King,” which gradually ramps up and culminates with some unexpectedly vicious growls and snarls in the final verse. Ritual of the Cloven Hoof would have benefitted from more of this aggression, which is otherwise absent outside of a brief moment towards the end of “Blood Fever.” Drummer Kenta Karlblom is perhaps the most important influence, making the ebb and flow feel natural, with subtle yet satisfying fills and transitions.

As I spent more time with Ritual of the Cloven Hoof, I noticed an inverse relationship between song length and song quality. “Godless” and “Born Again Heathen” are solid enough slabs of doom metal, but they spread too few riffs over too many minutes. The latter feels especially plodding and could have done without the spoken word segment or such a long psychedelic jam in the middle. The upbeat hard rock riffs that open the next (and shortest overall) track “Devil’s Reef,” are like a breath of fresh air afterward. That said, the total runtime is a tight 38 minutes, which is much more digestible compared with the hour-plus runtimes of all three Goatess records.

With Ritual of the Cloven Hoof, Goddess picks up right where Goatess left off without missing a beat. Prior fans will not be disappointed by this new incarnation. Goddess continues to traverse a wide swath within classic doom and stoner rock, at times thick and weighty and others mesmerizing and easygoing. Ritual of the Cloven Hoof resolves prior issues of overall bloat, although some of the longer tracks overstay their welcome. Slower stretches notwithstanding, stoner doom enthusiasts willing to undertake this pilgrimage will uncover ample rewards from this ritual.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Majestic Mountain Records
Websites: goddessbandofficial.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/baldersounds
Releases Worldwide: May 22nd, 2026

German black/thrash/heavy metal trio Witching Hour return for your soul, eight long years since their last outburst ...and Silent Grief Shadows the Passing Moon. Alongside contemporaries like Nocturnal, Cruel Force, and Manzer, Witching Hour’s recent output has been well-received by critics and audiences alike. This puts the upcoming Decending… Where Time Has Ceased to Exist, Witching Hour’s fourth release in 20 years, in a prime position to compete well in its field. Will Descent… lead to greatness or will Witching Hour fumble the landing?

In some ways, they’ve threatened both. Witching Hour are an incredibly talented bunch, deftly straddling fences between black metal char, heavy metal righteousness, and thrash metal vitriol. Descending…’s warm and natural tones enhance these qualities, presenting a product that is easy on the ear while deadly to the spine. Songs build around long-form structures, with the shortest cut measuring over six minutes (not counting the fluffy instrumental intro), but overall runtime slots in at a tight 43 minutes. This makes repeat listens easy to approach. Sounds like everything is in place to secure a high score on the board, right?

Unfortunately, the songwriting lets Descending… down. Witching Hour’s latest epic suffers the same flaw as its predecessor: a lack of compositional dynamics and an overabundance of recycled parts. Each song taken out of the whole makes a compelling case. “Where Time Has Ceased to Exist” sets the bar quite high for the rest of the record, churning with a heavy metal swagger and roaring with spirit through epic leads, scorching tremolos, and thrashy switch-ups. Similarly, “Profane Resurrection of a Presumed Dead” hooks its claws into the brain with an insidious chorus bark and fiery guitar and percussion work. However, when unified as a whole, it’s all too easy to interchange phrases and measures between songs without fragmenting the experience. I can place my mark on two opposite sides—and stick a couple more pins in the center—and the same riffing motif, similar leads and flourishes, suspiciously familiar vocal runs, and the exact same bass-snare alternation greet me.

Doubly damning, epic 11-minute closer “…and Then Came the Flames” showcases all of these issues in a microcosm, establishing a concise summary of everything heard thus far. And just like the others, taken out of the album context, the song rocks. Reminiscent of the same kind of grand, hellish adventure that Bütcher so gloriously captures on 666 Goats Carry My Chariot, “…and Then Came the Flames” feels complete, exciting, and wild, at least at first. As the track progresses, recycled parts and pieces cheapen the experience until I’m desperate to jump off the boat as it reaches shore. This mirrors my experience with the album as a whole. Fun and entertaining in the initial throes, it becomes a slog to get through in remarkably short order. By the time the closer wraps up, I’ve heard multiple iterations of the same ideas, spliced and arranged to deceive me into believing, if only for a moment, that I could pick any of these songs (minus the opener proper) out of a lineup without a cheat sheet.

Confounding as it is, Witching Hour represents a clash between having great ideas and writing songs that don’t adequately support or develop them. Instead, Descending… drops their best work into a sea of repetitive structures and monotonous bloat in the hopes that observers might then discern and appreciate them. With at least a half dozen spins under my belt at the time of writing, I did indeed find worthy gems to take home—and when isolated from the collection, those gems really sparkle. However, those rewards don’t quite justify the expanse of fluff and drag that bog Descending… down. In another world where Witching Hour invoked a greater variety of techniques, tempos, and textures to fortify their compositions and bring reliability to excitement, this record would’ve been a barnburner. As it is, it never truly catches fire, and leaves me wanting.

Rating: Disappointing…
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 22nd, 2026

German black/thrash/heavy metal trio Witching Hour return for your soul, eight long years since their last outburst ...and Silent Grief Shadows the Passing Moon. Alongside contemporaries like Nocturnal, Cruel Force, and Manzer, Witching Hour’s recent output has been well-received by critics and audiences alike. This puts the upcoming Decending… Where Time Has Ceased to Exist, Witching Hour’s fourth release in 20 years, in a prime position to compete well in its field. Will Descent… lead to greatness or will Witching Hour fumble the landing?

In some ways, they’ve threatened both. Witching Hour are an incredibly talented bunch, deftly straddling fences between black metal char, heavy metal righteousness, and thrash metal vitriol. Descending…’s warm and natural tones enhance these qualities, presenting a product that is easy on the ear while deadly to the spine. Songs build around long-form structures, with the shortest cut measuring over six minutes (not counting the fluffy instrumental intro), but overall runtime slots in at a tight 43 minutes. This makes repeat listens easy to approach. Sounds like everything is in place to secure a high score on the board, right?

Unfortunately, the songwriting lets Descending… down. Witching Hour’s latest epic suffers the same flaw as its predecessor: a lack of compositional dynamics and an overabundance of recycled parts. Each song taken out of the whole makes a compelling case. “Where Time Has Ceased to Exist” sets the bar quite high for the rest of the record, churning with a heavy metal swagger and roaring with spirit through epic leads, scorching tremolos, and thrashy switch-ups. Similarly, “Profane Resurrection of a Presumed Dead” hooks its claws into the brain with an insidious chorus bark and fiery guitar and percussion work. However, when unified as a whole, it’s all too easy to interchange phrases and measures between songs without fragmenting the experience. I can place my mark on two opposite sides—and stick a couple more pins in the center—and the same riffing motif, similar leads and flourishes, suspiciously familiar vocal runs, and the exact same bass-snare alternation greet me.

Doubly damning, epic 11-minute closer “…and Then Came the Flames” showcases all of these issues in a microcosm, establishing a concise summary of everything heard thus far. And just like the others, taken out of the album context, the song rocks. Reminiscent of the same kind of grand, hellish adventure that Bütcher so gloriously captures on 666 Goats Carry My Chariot, “…and Then Came the Flames” feels complete, exciting, and wild, at least at first. As the track progresses, recycled parts and pieces cheapen the experience until I’m desperate to jump off the boat as it reaches shore. This mirrors my experience with the album as a whole. Fun and entertaining in the initial throes, it becomes a slog to get through in remarkably short order. By the time the closer wraps up, I’ve heard multiple iterations of the same ideas, spliced and arranged to deceive me into believing, if only for a moment, that I could pick any of these songs (minus the opener proper) out of a lineup without a cheat sheet.

Confounding as it is, Witching Hour represents a clash between having great ideas and writing songs that don’t adequately support or develop them. Instead, Descending… drops their best work into a sea of repetitive structures and monotonous bloat in the hopes that observers might then discern and appreciate them. With at least a half dozen spins under my belt at the time of writing, I did indeed find worthy gems to take home—and when isolated from the collection, those gems really sparkle. However, those rewards don’t quite justify the expanse of fluff and drag that bog Descending… down. In another world where Witching Hour invoked a greater variety of techniques, tempos, and textures to fortify their compositions and bring reliability to excitement, this record would’ve been a barnburner. As it is, it never truly catches fire, and leaves me wanting.

Rating: Disappointing…
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 22nd, 2026

We get a lot of bold claims in the promo pit. It’s understandable; writing advertisements for music sounds like a thankless task, and no one is going to submit an album telling us that it’s a smidgen above mediocrity.1 No, everything death has to be the most moldy, blackened, the most evil, stoner the most groovy, and power the most disposable and ignored album we’ve ever heard in our life. Imagine my eyebrows raising, then, to discover a new offering from Swedish mainstays Sarcasm, who simply described themselves as being more than just Swedeath. Few genres in metal have such imposed and strict limitations, from guitar tones to riff stylings, and one second sampling Feral or Lik and their ilk make the expected sound clear from the get-go. Consequently, such a bold claim of genre transcendence stands out in the face of a sea of self-aggrandizement, and all I could think was the most un-sarcastic “Sold.”

In order to be “more” than Swedeath, you still need the foundation to build on, and Sarcasm drapes their meat and lifeblood on the bones of great fossils of olde. Lifeforce Omnibound kicks off with a balls-out assault sounding composed by Vomitory but with a grasp of leads that seek to Dismember listeners far and wide. The path of the album is one that unfurls its more progressive tendencies the deeper you go, starting like a high-grade tribute to their 90s selves but getting more curious as it unfolds. “Altering the Perception” is a key example; starting off like a cut off of At the Gate’s At War With Reality, and featuring vibrant leads and a Gothenburg flavored stomp in its perpetual revolving assault. Suddenly, bursts of color reminiscent of Dark Tranquility emphasize transitional passages, and an overreliance on the stereotypical snare-and-bass drumbeat plaguing much of Swedeath is mercifully absent, instead featuring sudden aggressive riffing styles more reminiscent of New York-style brawl.

The whole of Lifeforce Omnibound is riddled with such flourishes, working hard to buck genre expectations. “The Reward of Adversity” offers listeners a relaxing Wombbath with a full piano and violin break, which slots excellently between the 6/8 violence, while “Plunged Into a Paradox” channels the more progressive melodic tremolos from Analepsy’s Quiescence.2 Speaking of tremolos, much of the album comes with a distinctly blackened edge, especially with Jesper Ojala’s Watain-influenced drumming style, and vocalist Heval Bozarslan features a much higher range and sneering shriek compared to the genre’s usual guttural fare. “Wayward Fragments of Infinite Divisibility” flirts briefly with slam tendencies before collapsing into an absolute BOP of a china-and-high-hat centric dissonant riff modern Pestilence would be proud to sign their name to, only to rush into well executed melo-death shred prowess. Sarcasm have offered up an album which is loyal to its genre roots, but under no circumstances allows itself to sit still and be confined to its labels.

All of these names and influences sound like this album could be an unfocused disaster, but nothing could be further from the truth. Compositional excellence allows Sarcasm to slide between moods like they were headbanging between the raindrops, and few elements detract from the overall experience. True, Lifeforce Omnibound does have more than a few spoken word sections, which halt the momentum as all spoken word sections in albums do. Regretfully, it also sounds like Sarcasm ran out of different ideas near the end, coasting to the finish line with a concluding track which is the most traditional sounding song on the album, albeit a quality one. Still, there’s always room for MOAR Swedeath in life, and for an ending to be merely anticlimactic is hardly the worst sin an album can commit.

To my delighted surprise, Sarcasm did it. Lifeforce Omnibound is nominally Swedeath, and yet the sheer glut of sounds I hear pouring through my headphones shows a band not content to spin their wheels and live on the laurels of vintage sounds of yore. An excellent approach to disparaging elements and a seamless fusion of neighboring ones, Sarcasm have created an album that transcends the sum of its parts to be something truly enjoyable. If you’re one of those who have turned away from Swedeath due to a lack of growth in the sound, hop on this immediately. Yes, really.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Hammerheart Records
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

We get a lot of bold claims in the promo pit. It’s understandable; writing advertisements for music sounds like a thankless task, and no one is going to submit an album telling us that it’s a smidgen above mediocrity.1 No, everything death has to be the most moldy, blackened, the most evil, stoner the most groovy, and power the most disposable and ignored album we’ve ever heard in our life. Imagine my eyebrows raising, then, to discover a new offering from Swedish mainstays Sarcasm, who simply described themselves as being more than just Swedeath. Few genres in metal have such imposed and strict limitations, from guitar tones to riff stylings, and one second sampling Feral or Lik and their ilk make the expected sound clear from the get-go. Consequently, such a bold claim of genre transcendence stands out in the face of a sea of self-aggrandizement, and all I could think was the most un-sarcastic “Sold.”

In order to be “more” than Swedeath, you still need the foundation to build on, and Sarcasm drapes their meat and lifeblood on the bones of great fossils of olde. Lifeforce Omnibound kicks off with a balls-out assault sounding composed by Vomitory but with a grasp of leads that seek to Dismember listeners far and wide. The path of the album is one that unfurls its more progressive tendencies the deeper you go, starting like a high-grade tribute to their 90s selves but getting more curious as it unfolds. “Altering the Perception” is a key example; starting off like a cut off of At the Gate’s At War With Reality, and featuring vibrant leads and a Gothenburg flavored stomp in its perpetual revolving assault. Suddenly, bursts of color reminiscent of Dark Tranquility emphasize transitional passages, and an overreliance on the stereotypical snare-and-bass drumbeat plaguing much of Swedeath is mercifully absent, instead featuring sudden aggressive riffing styles more reminiscent of New York-style brawl.

The whole of Lifeforce Omnibound is riddled with such flourishes, working hard to buck genre expectations. “The Reward of Adversity” offers listeners a relaxing Wombbath with a full piano and violin break, which slots excellently between the 6/8 violence, while “Plunged Into a Paradox” channels the more progressive melodic tremolos from Analepsy’s Quiescence.2 Speaking of tremolos, much of the album comes with a distinctly blackened edge, especially with Jesper Ojala’s Watain-influenced drumming style, and vocalist Heval Bozarslan features a much higher range and sneering shriek compared to the genre’s usual guttural fare. “Wayward Fragments of Infinite Divisibility” flirts briefly with slam tendencies before collapsing into an absolute BOP of a china-and-high-hat centric dissonant riff modern Pestilence would be proud to sign their name to, only to rush into well executed melo-death shred prowess. Sarcasm have offered up an album which is loyal to its genre roots, but under no circumstances allows itself to sit still and be confined to its labels.

All of these names and influences sound like this album could be an unfocused disaster, but nothing could be further from the truth. Compositional excellence allows Sarcasm to slide between moods like they were headbanging between the raindrops, and few elements detract from the overall experience. True, Lifeforce Omnibound does have more than a few spoken word sections, which halt the momentum as all spoken word sections in albums do. Regretfully, it also sounds like Sarcasm ran out of different ideas near the end, coasting to the finish line with a concluding track which is the most traditional sounding song on the album, albeit a quality one. Still, there’s always room for MOAR Swedeath in life, and for an ending to be merely anticlimactic is hardly the worst sin an album can commit.

To my delighted surprise, Sarcasm did it. Lifeforce Omnibound is nominally Swedeath, and yet the sheer glut of sounds I hear pouring through my headphones shows a band not content to spin their wheels and live on the laurels of vintage sounds of yore. An excellent approach to disparaging elements and a seamless fusion of neighboring ones, Sarcasm have created an album that transcends the sum of its parts to be something truly enjoyable. If you’re one of those who have turned away from Swedeath due to a lack of growth in the sound, hop on this immediately. Yes, really.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Hammerheart Records
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Black metal veterans Hecate Enthroned have spent decades trying to step out of Cradle of Filth’s shadow—and not without reason. The two are widely credited with helping shape the UK black metal scene, sharing close stylistic similarities and even swapping a member or two at various points. In the late ’90s, they were nearly as inseparable as a pair of sultry vampiric twins until Cradle of Filth’s theatrical bombast launched them into the mainstream, landing their merch in Hot Topic stores and on the backs of angsty teenagers everywhere. Meanwhile, Hecate Enthroned remained largely underground. Over the course of six albums, they’ve largely stayed true to their sound, and while consistent, their discography has often felt average. 2019’s Embrace of the Godless Aeon was no different, receiving a modest rating from these hallowed halls. Their seventh effort, The Corpse of a Titan, A Lament Long Buried, harkens the return of these blackened aficionados after a seven-year break, and given these lads’ history, curiosity led me to snag Corpse from the promo bin.

Continuing the trajectory set by its predecessor, Corpse pushes Hecate Enthroned further into Emperor’s nocturnal, foreboding soundscapes rather than Cradle of Filth’s, injecting some fresh touches that come as a pleasant surprise. Tracks like “Steed of the Still Water,” “Spirits Stir Within Our Ancestors Tombs” and “The Arcane Golem” elicit solid songwriting and build on the same orchestral arrangements Lord Doom previously deemed gutless. This time, however, the symphonics feel more varied, robust, and commanding, often drawing my attention amid the group’s tight and confident performances. Corpse also ventures into atmo-black territory on songs like “Deathless in the Dryad Glade” and “Steed of the Still Water,” while vocalist Joe Stamps adds welcome variety to the classic Dani Filth-esque shrieks of albums past with a smattering of demonic growls and coarse shouts that lend a sharper edge previously missing.

Hecate Enthroned’s sharp performances, well-executed melodic passages, and occasional bursts of groove and heaviness reinforce that these are seasoned veterans who understand their craft. Throughout Corpse—especially in its first half—there are numerous moments that suggest a more focused version of the group is finally emerging. “The Arcane Golem” and “Spirits Stir Within Our Ancestors Tombs” pair incisive tremolos with hooky riffing and cinematic orchestral flourishes, while Stamps’ rasp and growl attack cuts through the mix with authority. Similarly, “Deathless in the Dryad Glade” and “Steed of the Still Water” highlight the sextet’s melodic instincts and sense of dynamics, weaving vulnerable, atmo-black-inspired intros into blazing tremolos, acoustic and violin textures, and piano accents that coalesce into some of the album’s best moments. The latter’s opening groove and added vocal heft make it one of the record’s most complete cuts, standing out clearly from the rest.

While Hecate Enthroned’s musicianship is rarely in doubt, the record’s high points constantly clash with its more persistent shortcomings. Long runtimes, abrupt transitions, and questionable structural choices—like the six‑minute interlude “Pwca,” which builds to nothing, or the jarring segue that kills the momentum of “A Gallery of Rotting Portraits”—are frustrating because they erode Corpse’s potential. And at 53-minutes, the album’s songwriting is often too bloated for the material it contains. Several tracks stretch past seven minutes despite having ideas suited for far shorter runtimes, resulting in repetition and stagnation. Mid-song atmospheric interludes also routinely overstay their welcome and muddled thematic and structural decisions only compound things. The outcome is a record where the standout moments feel like exceptions rather than the rule and where uneven, overextended songwriting undermines Hecate Enthroned’s skill.

The phrase “what you see is what you get” applies perfectly here, as Corpse largely walks the well-trodden path Hecate Enthroned have been treading for over twenty years. A great record has long eluded these Brits, and the streak continues with Corpse. I enjoyed several cuts on this record, and it was close to coalescing into something greater, but inconsistent songwriting, structural missteps, and homogeneity limit its upside. Corpse’s strengths prove Hecate Enthroned still have the technical ability and atmospheric instincts to craft compelling symphonic black metal, even if they appear too sporadically to define Corpse as a whole. Longtime fans will certainly find lots to be excited about here and likely appreciate how faithfully they’ve stayed true to their roots while pushing other aspects forward. For listeners like me, however, Hecate Enthroned remain adrift in a crowded black sea of similarly minded bands that are competent, occasionally compelling, but far from essential.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: M-Theory
Websites: Bandcamp | hecateenthroned.com | facebook.com/HecateEnthroned
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Black metal veterans Hecate Enthroned have spent decades trying to step out of Cradle of Filth’s shadow—and not without reason. The two are widely credited with helping shape the UK black metal scene, sharing close stylistic similarities and even swapping a member or two at various points. In the late ’90s, they were nearly as inseparable as a pair of sultry vampiric twins until Cradle of Filth’s theatrical bombast launched them into the mainstream, landing their merch in Hot Topic stores and on the backs of angsty teenagers everywhere. Meanwhile, Hecate Enthroned remained largely underground. Over the course of six albums, they’ve largely stayed true to their sound, and while consistent, their discography has often felt average. 2019’s Embrace of the Godless Aeon was no different, receiving a modest rating from these hallowed halls. Their seventh effort, The Corpse of a Titan, A Lament Long Buried, harkens the return of these blackened aficionados after a seven-year break, and given these lads’ history, curiosity led me to snag Corpse from the promo bin.

Continuing the trajectory set by its predecessor, Corpse pushes Hecate Enthroned further into Emperor’s nocturnal, foreboding soundscapes rather than Cradle of Filth’s, injecting some fresh touches that come as a pleasant surprise. Tracks like “Steed of the Still Water,” “Spirits Stir Within Our Ancestors Tombs” and “The Arcane Golem” elicit solid songwriting and build on the same orchestral arrangements Lord Doom previously deemed gutless. This time, however, the symphonics feel more varied, robust, and commanding, often drawing my attention amid the group’s tight and confident performances. Corpse also ventures into atmo-black territory on songs like “Deathless in the Dryad Glade” and “Steed of the Still Water,” while vocalist Joe Stamps adds welcome variety to the classic Dani Filth-esque shrieks of albums past with a smattering of demonic growls and coarse shouts that lend a sharper edge previously missing.

Hecate Enthroned’s sharp performances, well-executed melodic passages, and occasional bursts of groove and heaviness reinforce that these are seasoned veterans who understand their craft. Throughout Corpse—especially in its first half—there are numerous moments that suggest a more focused version of the group is finally emerging. “The Arcane Golem” and “Spirits Stir Within Our Ancestors Tombs” pair incisive tremolos with hooky riffing and cinematic orchestral flourishes, while Stamps’ rasp and growl attack cuts through the mix with authority. Similarly, “Deathless in the Dryad Glade” and “Steed of the Still Water” highlight the sextet’s melodic instincts and sense of dynamics, weaving vulnerable, atmo-black-inspired intros into blazing tremolos, acoustic and violin textures, and piano accents that coalesce into some of the album’s best moments. The latter’s opening groove and added vocal heft make it one of the record’s most complete cuts, standing out clearly from the rest.

While Hecate Enthroned’s musicianship is rarely in doubt, the record’s high points constantly clash with its more persistent shortcomings. Long runtimes, abrupt transitions, and questionable structural choices—like the six‑minute interlude “Pwca,” which builds to nothing, or the jarring segue that kills the momentum of “A Gallery of Rotting Portraits”—are frustrating because they erode Corpse’s potential. And at 53-minutes, the album’s songwriting is often too bloated for the material it contains. Several tracks stretch past seven minutes despite having ideas suited for far shorter runtimes, resulting in repetition and stagnation. Mid-song atmospheric interludes also routinely overstay their welcome and muddled thematic and structural decisions only compound things. The outcome is a record where the standout moments feel like exceptions rather than the rule and where uneven, overextended songwriting undermines Hecate Enthroned’s skill.

The phrase “what you see is what you get” applies perfectly here, as Corpse largely walks the well-trodden path Hecate Enthroned have been treading for over twenty years. A great record has long eluded these Brits, and the streak continues with Corpse. I enjoyed several cuts on this record, and it was close to coalescing into something greater, but inconsistent songwriting, structural missteps, and homogeneity limit its upside. Corpse’s strengths prove Hecate Enthroned still have the technical ability and atmospheric instincts to craft compelling symphonic black metal, even if they appear too sporadically to define Corpse as a whole. Longtime fans will certainly find lots to be excited about here and likely appreciate how faithfully they’ve stayed true to their roots while pushing other aspects forward. For listeners like me, however, Hecate Enthroned remain adrift in a crowded black sea of similarly minded bands that are competent, occasionally compelling, but far from essential.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: M-Theory
Websites: Bandcamp | hecateenthroned.com | facebook.com/HecateEnthroned
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

In my continuing exploration of Boston bands, the promo pit exhaled the latest from a stoner stalwart. Gozu have been dispensing their hybrid strain of stoner rock/metal since 2007, with riffmeisters Marc Gaffney (vocals, guitar) and Doug Sherman (lead guitar) serving as the only consistent members. Current bassist Joseph Grotto joined Gozu for Revival (2016), and Seth Botos began helming the drums on Remedy (2023), the band’s most recent output. Since their move to Metal Blade Records for Equilibrium (2018), Gozu have increasingly poppified their sound as Gaffney grows into a more versatile vocalist. Still, these Boston veterans haven’t abandoned their identity; catchy choruses sweeten a familiar beanpot of droney riffs. Also intact is their tongue-in-cheek humor; this is a band that named a song “Charles Bronson Pinchot” in 2012 and another “Tom Cruise Control” in 2023. As the first Gozu album to be covered on AMG, Gozu VI will achieve ‘wicked pissah’ status by continuing the band’s trend of refining their sound while maintaining their signature charm.

On the stoner continuum, Gozu veers closer to rock than metal while straddling the line. Indeed, this Boston quartet pack Clutch’s shuffling grooves (“Corinthian Leatherface”), Corrosion of Conformity’s bluesy dirges (“Midnight Express”), and Motörhead’s straight-ahead speed (“Banacek”) into their musical chamber. Gaffney and Sherman’s simple yet satisfying riffs hit listeners by way of production as warm and fuzzy as a Bay State bruin. Sometimes, the riffing is just as ferocious. On the excellently titled (and almost certainly referential) “Gimme the Lute,” fretboard gymnastics mingle with driving chugs and soupy sludge that feels more metallic than geological. Though new to the Gozu crew, Grotto and Botos form a serviceable rhythm section that doesn’t necessarily shine, but that understands the assignment: let the riffs (and vocals) pop. Avoiding the monotony of stoner metal and the banality of stoner rock, Gozu VI strikes a salutary balance.

In his role as vocalist, Gaffney elevates Gozu by displaying a varied arsenal of skills. His voice recalls Neil Fallon of Clutch but with a grunge coloring that’s more nose than chin (think Weiland, not Vedder). Gaffney’s choruses shift between nimble croons suiting the livelier tracks (“Corinthian Leatherface”) and diaphragm-ed belts fitting the doomier cuts (“Midnight Express”). Throughout the album, he tucks falsetto harmonies into his main lines, blending major and minor tonality in a manner akin to Soundgarden and Stone Temple Pilots. ”Corner Lariat” stands as Gaffney’s most ambitious and arresting performance, threading tender verses through a big, wistful chorus, broaching power ballad territory. Not every verse and chorus on Gozu VI knocks it out of Fenway, but enough do to give Gozu a pure listenability that most stoner acts do not possess.

At 8 tracks in 46 minutes, Gozu VI mostly delivers a cohesive album experience. “Corinthian Leatherface” gets this Boston Tea Party started strong, effortlessly tossing energetic riffs and sugary hooks off the side of the Stoner Ship in a rebellious yet controlled demonstration.1 From there, the album intermittently slows down, culminating with the pensive power of “Corner Lariat.” This is a solid run of tracks, though “Killer Khan” comes off as a bit redundant (and has some ham-fisted profanities). “Banacek” picks the pace back up, adding a unique freneticism to the album via interplay between Gaffney’s chunky power chords and Sherman’s wild shredding. Closing out the album is a scattershot three-track run. “Gimme the Lute” doles out some of the finest riffwork on Gozu VI, but “They Did Know Karate”2 suffers from bloat, while closer “Corvette Summer” anticlimactically fades out.

Gozu VI is, undoubtedly, a pissah. Gaffney, Sherman, and crew are pros who know how to produce high-quality jams built around strong riffs and vocal hooks. Stoner rock/metal proves a challenging paradigm within which to produce truly standout material, but Gozu come as close as I could imagine with their sixth LP. There’s nothing really innovative about Gozu VI, but there’s also nothing terribly wrong with it, and a lot to enjoy. While I hesitate to qualify their latest offering as ‘wicked,’ I don’t at all hesitate to recommend Gozu VI to anyone looking for a familiar, fun time.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade Records | Blacklight Media Records
Websites: Official | Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 15th, 2026

In my continuing exploration of Boston bands, the promo pit exhaled the latest from a stoner stalwart. Gozu have been dispensing their hybrid strain of stoner rock/metal since 2007, with riffmeisters Marc Gaffney (vocals, guitar) and Doug Sherman (lead guitar) serving as the only consistent members. Current bassist Joseph Grotto joined Gozu for Revival (2016), and Seth Botos began helming the drums on Remedy (2023), the band’s most recent output. Since their move to Metal Blade Records for Equilibrium (2018), Gozu have increasingly poppified their sound as Gaffney grows into a more versatile vocalist. Still, these Boston veterans haven’t abandoned their identity; catchy choruses sweeten a familiar beanpot of droney riffs. Also intact is their tongue-in-cheek humor; this is a band that named a song “Charles Bronson Pinchot” in 2012 and another “Tom Cruise Control” in 2023. As the first Gozu album to be covered on AMG, Gozu VI will achieve ‘wicked pissah’ status by continuing the band’s trend of refining their sound while maintaining their signature charm.

On the stoner continuum, Gozu veers closer to rock than metal while straddling the line. Indeed, this Boston quartet pack Clutch’s shuffling grooves (“Corinthian Leatherface”), Corrosion of Conformity’s bluesy dirges (“Midnight Express”), and Motörhead’s straight-ahead speed (“Banacek”) into their musical chamber. Gaffney and Sherman’s simple yet satisfying riffs hit listeners by way of production as warm and fuzzy as a Bay State bruin. Sometimes, the riffing is just as ferocious. On the excellently titled (and almost certainly referential) “Gimme the Lute,” fretboard gymnastics mingle with driving chugs and soupy sludge that feels more metallic than geological. Though new to the Gozu crew, Grotto and Botos form a serviceable rhythm section that doesn’t necessarily shine, but that understands the assignment: let the riffs (and vocals) pop. Avoiding the monotony of stoner metal and the banality of stoner rock, Gozu VI strikes a salutary balance.

In his role as vocalist, Gaffney elevates Gozu by displaying a varied arsenal of skills. His voice recalls Neil Fallon of Clutch but with a grunge coloring that’s more nose than chin (think Weiland, not Vedder). Gaffney’s choruses shift between nimble croons suiting the livelier tracks (“Corinthian Leatherface”) and diaphragm-ed belts fitting the doomier cuts (“Midnight Express”). Throughout the album, he tucks falsetto harmonies into his main lines, blending major and minor tonality in a manner akin to Soundgarden and Stone Temple Pilots. ”Corner Lariat” stands as Gaffney’s most ambitious and arresting performance, threading tender verses through a big, wistful chorus, broaching power ballad territory. Not every verse and chorus on Gozu VI knocks it out of Fenway, but enough do to give Gozu a pure listenability that most stoner acts do not possess.

At 8 tracks in 46 minutes, Gozu VI mostly delivers a cohesive album experience. “Corinthian Leatherface” gets this Boston Tea Party started strong, effortlessly tossing energetic riffs and sugary hooks off the side of the Stoner Ship in a rebellious yet controlled demonstration.1 From there, the album intermittently slows down, culminating with the pensive power of “Corner Lariat.” This is a solid run of tracks, though “Killer Khan” comes off as a bit redundant (and has some ham-fisted profanities). “Banacek” picks the pace back up, adding a unique freneticism to the album via interplay between Gaffney’s chunky power chords and Sherman’s wild shredding. Closing out the album is a scattershot three-track run. “Gimme the Lute” doles out some of the finest riffwork on Gozu VI, but “They Did Know Karate”2 suffers from bloat, while closer “Corvette Summer” anticlimactically fades out.

Gozu VI is, undoubtedly, a pissah. Gaffney, Sherman, and crew are pros who know how to produce high-quality jams built around strong riffs and vocal hooks. Stoner rock/metal proves a challenging paradigm within which to produce truly standout material, but Gozu come as close as I could imagine with their sixth LP. There’s nothing really innovative about Gozu VI, but there’s also nothing terribly wrong with it, and a lot to enjoy. While I hesitate to qualify their latest offering as ‘wicked,’ I don’t at all hesitate to recommend Gozu VI to anyone looking for a familiar, fun time.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Metal Blade Records | Blacklight Media Records
Websites: Official | Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: May 15th, 2026

So, what’s happening here is Australian symphonic metalers Ana and their debut record, Motivated by Death are set on pioneering a new sub-sub-genre. “Couture metal.” For the blue-jeans-and-band-tees wearers among us, couture fashion is all about expressive, customized statements in clothing, often expensive and always personalized. This is an evident visual influence for Ana, and musically the band cites their style as “a sophisticated, upscale evolution of the craft that prioritizes high-fashion theatricality alongside punishing sonic precision.” Fewer corsets, more spandex. One thing’s for sure, Ana have bought into themselves: they have a series of comics in the works written in tandem with their music,1 as well as a documentary film titled Watch Me as I Rise.2 But what about Motivated by Death? Their album, for their music band? Does it live up to the hoo-ha, or is Ana’s rising star a premature liftoff?

Ana are banking on the power of Y2K nostalgia on Motivated by Death. Early-aughts goth, symphonic, and nü metals comprise the core of Ana’s sound, with choruses sounding like Nightwish taking on Evanescence and Evanescence taking on Powerman 5000. Guitarist Josh Mak’s riffs shift between metalcore chugs, nü/alt-rock power chords, and gallops while drummer Andres Osorio and bassist Cody Lamb keep Motivated by Death consistently groovy and moving. There’s a smörgåsbord of synth sounds at keyboardist Mark Shi’s disposal, and when shredding alongside Mak Ana have a surprising knack for showy solos (“Shadow of Life,” “Papa”). Vocalist Anna Hristenko is, predictably, the crux of Ana’s sound, layering Motivated by Death with sultry, classically-inspired but pop-informed bars. She brings gravity to Ana along with unquestionable showmanship, and when Motivated by Death is kicking it recalls not only this millennium’s early rock/metal scene but a time when pop music was more audacious and bombastic.

But Motivated by Death often feels too overly calculated for its own good. Ana make sure to hit all of the beats of a radio hit on Motivated by Death. There’s the booming opener with “Hate Me” followed by the cyber goth panache of “Shadow of Life,” its one-two punch showing listeners that they got both the riffs and hooks they crave. There are two ballads, one power in “You Loved Me More than I Loved Myself” and one Evanescence’s “My Immortal” in “Sick Love” so radio has a choice in what they want play to death. Ana even outsourced a closer by covering System of a Down’s “Aerials,” safely assuring Motivated by Death ends well (in theory). What makes this mathematical approach especially jarring is that Motivated by Death is a very short album, barely hitting thirty-five minutes. Ana just fly through the motions, the listener’s every emotion carefully road-mapped along the way. Motivated by Death feels like a proof-of-concept for Ana, not their debut.

Motivated by Death is also just messy. Ana’s core symphonic sound is imbued with so many Y2K-era rock stylings that there’s hardly enough time spent on one thing to figure out what Motivated by Death is. Its diversity works against memorability; “Eyes of a Child” features a sitar riff in its bridge, and Hristenko breaks out her operatic chops on “Papa,” and yet I forget these things even happen every time. Hristenko is a powerful singer, but clumsy phrasings in the verses of “Sick Love” and “Aerials” leave them feeling awkward, while her declaration of “Listen up you motha fuckeeeeeers!” in “Following the Wind” isn’t aggressive or cheeky enough to land convincingly. Motivated by Death is not helped by Ana’s insistence on loudness and its radio-made production that makes the drums sound like plastic cans and robs any of the dynamics songs like “You Loved Me More than I Loved Myself” and “Aerials” need.3 Motivated by Death sounds like Ana were throwing things at the wall and seeing what stuck. Not enough stuck, and what did doesn’t work too well together.

I fear that Motivated by Death isn’t the statement Ana were hoping for. Ana are a talented, driven bunch, and there’s no doubt there’s a market for what they do. It’s not all bad—”Shadow of Life” slaps and “Sick Love” can be pretty moving at times4—but both playing it safe and half-baking your album is a bad combo. Despite its truncated runtime Motivated by Death proves a slog to get through. I could see a world where I stick up for Ana, one where they’re more bold-faced and adventurous, and I’m getting wedgied for liking “couture metal.” Right now, that’s not this one.

Rating: Bad
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Eclipse Records
Websites: anaband.com.au | facebook.com/ana.band.0fficial
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

So, what’s happening here is Australian symphonic metalers Ana and their debut record, Motivated by Death are set on pioneering a new sub-sub-genre. “Couture metal.” For the blue-jeans-and-band-tees wearers among us, couture fashion is all about expressive, customized statements in clothing, often expensive and always personalized. This is an evident visual influence for Ana, and musically the band cites their style as “a sophisticated, upscale evolution of the craft that prioritizes high-fashion theatricality alongside punishing sonic precision.” Fewer corsets, more spandex. One thing’s for sure, Ana have bought into themselves: they have a series of comics in the works written in tandem with their music,1 as well as a documentary film titled Watch Me as I Rise.2 But what about Motivated by Death? Their album, for their music band? Does it live up to the hoo-ha, or is Ana’s rising star a premature liftoff?

Ana are banking on the power of Y2K nostalgia on Motivated by Death. Early-aughts goth, symphonic, and nü metals comprise the core of Ana’s sound, with choruses sounding like Nightwish taking on Evanescence and Evanescence taking on Powerman 5000. Guitarist Josh Mak’s riffs shift between metalcore chugs, nü/alt-rock power chords, and gallops while drummer Andres Osorio and bassist Cody Lamb keep Motivated by Death consistently groovy and moving. There’s a smörgåsbord of synth sounds at keyboardist Mark Shi’s disposal, and when shredding alongside Mak Ana have a surprising knack for showy solos (“Shadow of Life,” “Papa”). Vocalist Anna Hristenko is, predictably, the crux of Ana’s sound, layering Motivated by Death with sultry, classically-inspired but pop-informed bars. She brings gravity to Ana along with unquestionable showmanship, and when Motivated by Death is kicking it recalls not only this millennium’s early rock/metal scene but a time when pop music was more audacious and bombastic.

But Motivated by Death often feels too overly calculated for its own good. Ana make sure to hit all of the beats of a radio hit on Motivated by Death. There’s the booming opener with “Hate Me” followed by the cyber goth panache of “Shadow of Life,” its one-two punch showing listeners that they got both the riffs and hooks they crave. There are two ballads, one power in “You Loved Me More than I Loved Myself” and one Evanescence’s “My Immortal” in “Sick Love” so radio has a choice in what they want play to death. Ana even outsourced a closer by covering System of a Down’s “Aerials,” safely assuring Motivated by Death ends well (in theory). What makes this mathematical approach especially jarring is that Motivated by Death is a very short album, barely hitting thirty-five minutes. Ana just fly through the motions, the listener’s every emotion carefully road-mapped along the way. Motivated by Death feels like a proof-of-concept for Ana, not their debut.

Motivated by Death is also just messy. Ana’s core symphonic sound is imbued with so many Y2K-era rock stylings that there’s hardly enough time spent on one thing to figure out what Motivated by Death is. Its diversity works against memorability; “Eyes of a Child” features a sitar riff in its bridge, and Hristenko breaks out her operatic chops on “Papa,” and yet I forget these things even happen every time. Hristenko is a powerful singer, but clumsy phrasings in the verses of “Sick Love” and “Aerials” leave them feeling awkward, while her declaration of “Listen up you motha fuckeeeeeers!” in “Following the Wind” isn’t aggressive or cheeky enough to land convincingly. Motivated by Death is not helped by Ana’s insistence on loudness and its radio-made production that makes the drums sound like plastic cans and robs any of the dynamics songs like “You Loved Me More than I Loved Myself” and “Aerials” need.3 Motivated by Death sounds like Ana were throwing things at the wall and seeing what stuck. Not enough stuck, and what did doesn’t work too well together.

I fear that Motivated by Death isn’t the statement Ana were hoping for. Ana are a talented, driven bunch, and there’s no doubt there’s a market for what they do. It’s not all bad—”Shadow of Life” slaps and “Sick Love” can be pretty moving at times4—but both playing it safe and half-baking your album is a bad combo. Despite its truncated runtime Motivated by Death proves a slog to get through. I could see a world where I stick up for Ana, one where they’re more bold-faced and adventurous, and I’m getting wedgied for liking “couture metal.” Right now, that’s not this one.

Rating: Bad
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps MP3
Label: Eclipse Records
Websites: anaband.com.au | facebook.com/ana.band.0fficial
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Trump Scheduled for Medical Review at Walter Reed

President Trump visits Walter Reed today, May 26, 2026, for routine medical checks. Public awaits details amid ongoing scrutiny of presidential fitness.

#TrumpMedical, #WalterReed, #PresidentialHealth, #May26, #WhiteHouse

https://newsletter.tf/trump-medical-review-walter-reed-may-26/

Trump Scheduled for Medical Review at Walter Reed

President Trump visits Walter Reed today, May 26, 2026, for routine medical checks. Public awaits details amid ongoing scrutiny of presidential fitness.

#TrumpMedical, #WalterReed, #PresidentialHealth, #May26, #WhiteHouse

https://newsletter.tf/trump-medical-review-walter-reed-may-26/

President Trump is at Walter Reed today for a medical review. This is his third check-up this term, following two previous visits for routine examinations.

#TrumpMedical, #WalterReed, #PresidentialHealth, #May26, #WhiteHouse
https://newsletter.tf/trump-medical-review-walter-reed-may-26/

President Trump is at Walter Reed today for a medical review. This is his third check-up this term, following two previous visits for routine examinations.

#TrumpMedical, #WalterReed, #PresidentialHealth, #May26, #WhiteHouse
https://newsletter.tf/trump-medical-review-walter-reed-may-26/

Though my first published review here at Angry Metal Guy was back in September 2024, it was on May 30, 2025, that I officially escaped n00bdom with my review of Rivers of Nihil’s self-titled album. As I approach my one-year anniversary, it seems appropriate to grab a promo that styles itself after the progressive tech-death of Rivers of Nihil. Thus, enter The Scalar Process with their sophomore outing, Agnomysticism. Not only do they sound kind of like Rivers of Nihil, but they even borrow Andy Thomas for a guest spot on one song. The Scalar Process formed in 2016, but didn’t release any material until 2021’s Coagulative Matter. It took another five years to release the follow-up, with a new drummer, additional guitarist and bassist. Having never heard these guys before, I picked up Agnomysticism in the hope of it being closer in quality to Xenotaph than Rivers of Nihil. Have the metal gods blessed these guys with supreme musical talent?

On Agnomysticism, The Scalar Process plays a synth-heavy tech death that blends speedy precision with calm ambiance. They have much in common with Fallujah and The Zenith Passage, though not the technicality in their riffs. The riffs featured here are largely of the bland chugging Rivers of Nihil variety, though with a few neat arpeggiated segments and solos here and there. Synths are omnipresent, adding a general atmospheric quality rather than hooks. Songs frequently begin with light atmospherics such as synths, trems, or arpeggios before diving into the heavy stuff. There’s less interest in creating original, catchy riffs of the kind you hear on Xenotaph or Datalysium. When songs get speedy and loud, they just sound flat—bland blast beats with non-descript riffs and Mathieu Lefevre’s monotone growls. Honestly, if it weren’t for the tempo changes, you’d hardly notice the passage from track to track.

Agnomysticism contains a collection of songs that are clean, clinical, and cold. With tech-death you expect to feel something of the sublime—the awe and wonder of musical passages (Stortregn’s Impermanence) or something that compels your body to move (Archspire). Yet, The Scalar Process appears content to emotionally distance themselves from their musical creation. The main ingredient in this distance is an apparent allergy to hooks. Any time a promising riff starts up, such as on “A Breathing Moment,” it just as quickly dissipates. The Scalar Process take their progressive structure and turn it into a sort of improvisational free-for-all where passages just don’t have room to develop. “A Breathing Moment” perfectly encapsulates this, as it ends on a disappointing fade-out just as it appears on the verge of going somewhere interesting. The Scalar Process do play some neat riffs now and then, with a solo on “Illness” from Justin McKinney (The Zenith Passage) being the best. But other attempts at hooks don’t work, such as a 30-second guest spot from Andy Thomas, whose cleans fall flat.

Could this just be another The Flesh Prevails? The compression on Agnomysticism is so crushed that the music—riffs, synths, drums, vocals—all become an indistinguishable mishmash until the quieter ambient segments. Where many times bands use these quieter moments to help build tension before a release of intense music, here the passages largely serve to give your ears a rest. Even on the lowest possible volume on my headphones, I found the loudness unbearable. The best-sounding songs are the full-length ambient instrumental interludes, “Affluent Marea” and “Sigil.” However, though they serve as a welcome rest for the ears, they sound more at home on an elevator than on a tech-death record. A better production would make this a more tolerable listen, but it would hardly fix all the issues plaguing Agnomysticism.

It’s rare that an album leaves me feeling so cold as Agnomysticism. It flies by in 45 minutes and leaves no real impression. I’ll give credit for a few impressive technical passages here and there, but otherwise, I’m not sure what The Scalar Process accomplishes. Where’s the passion? It just feels so aloof and meandering without purpose, and the mixing ensures you can’t properly hear it anyway. In the end, it’s a record you’ll struggle to recall as soon as you finish listening to it.

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Though my first published review here at Angry Metal Guy was back in September 2024, it was on May 30, 2025, that I officially escaped n00bdom with my review of Rivers of Nihil’s self-titled album. As I approach my one-year anniversary, it seems appropriate to grab a promo that styles itself after the progressive tech-death of Rivers of Nihil. Thus, enter The Scalar Process with their sophomore outing, Agnomysticism. Not only do they sound kind of like Rivers of Nihil, but they even borrow Andy Thomas for a guest spot on one song. The Scalar Process formed in 2016, but didn’t release any material until 2021’s Coagulative Matter. It took another five years to release the follow-up, with a new drummer, additional guitarist and bassist. Having never heard these guys before, I picked up Agnomysticism in the hope of it being closer in quality to Xenotaph than Rivers of Nihil. Have the metal gods blessed these guys with supreme musical talent?

On Agnomysticism, The Scalar Process plays a synth-heavy tech death that blends speedy precision with calm ambiance. They have much in common with Fallujah and The Zenith Passage, though not the technicality in their riffs. The riffs featured here are largely of the bland chugging Rivers of Nihil variety, though with a few neat arpeggiated segments and solos here and there. Synths are omnipresent, adding a general atmospheric quality rather than hooks. Songs frequently begin with light atmospherics such as synths, trems, or arpeggios before diving into the heavy stuff. There’s less interest in creating original, catchy riffs of the kind you hear on Xenotaph or Datalysium. When songs get speedy and loud, they just sound flat—bland blast beats with non-descript riffs and Mathieu Lefevre’s monotone growls. Honestly, if it weren’t for the tempo changes, you’d hardly notice the passage from track to track.

Agnomysticism contains a collection of songs that are clean, clinical, and cold. With tech-death you expect to feel something of the sublime—the awe and wonder of musical passages (Stortregn’s Impermanence) or something that compels your body to move (Archspire). Yet, The Scalar Process appears content to emotionally distance themselves from their musical creation. The main ingredient in this distance is an apparent allergy to hooks. Any time a promising riff starts up, such as on “A Breathing Moment,” it just as quickly dissipates. The Scalar Process take their progressive structure and turn it into a sort of improvisational free-for-all where passages just don’t have room to develop. “A Breathing Moment” perfectly encapsulates this, as it ends on a disappointing fade-out just as it appears on the verge of going somewhere interesting. The Scalar Process do play some neat riffs now and then, with a solo on “Illness” from Justin McKinney (The Zenith Passage) being the best. But other attempts at hooks don’t work, such as a 30-second guest spot from Andy Thomas, whose cleans fall flat.

Could this just be another The Flesh Prevails? The compression on Agnomysticism is so crushed that the music—riffs, synths, drums, vocals—all become an indistinguishable mishmash until the quieter ambient segments. Where many times bands use these quieter moments to help build tension before a release of intense music, here the passages largely serve to give your ears a rest. Even on the lowest possible volume on my headphones, I found the loudness unbearable. The best-sounding songs are the full-length ambient instrumental interludes, “Affluent Marea” and “Sigil.” However, though they serve as a welcome rest for the ears, they sound more at home on an elevator than on a tech-death record. A better production would make this a more tolerable listen, but it would hardly fix all the issues plaguing Agnomysticism.

It’s rare that an album leaves me feeling so cold as Agnomysticism. It flies by in 45 minutes and leaves no real impression. I’ll give credit for a few impressive technical passages here and there, but otherwise, I’m not sure what The Scalar Process accomplishes. Where’s the passion? It just feels so aloof and meandering without purpose, and the mixing ensures you can’t properly hear it anyway. In the end, it’s a record you’ll struggle to recall as soon as you finish listening to it.

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Seasonal Reordering Fuels Calendar Confusion

Confused about May 26 2026? Spring weather clashes with 'flip seasons' concept, causing calendar mix-ups. See how it affects you.

#CalendarConfusion, #Spring2026, #FlipSeasons, #May26, #NYTConnections

https://newsletter.tf/may-26-2026-calendar-confusion-flip-seasons/

Today, May 26, 2026, feels like spring but is framed by 'hemisphere flip seasons'. This causes confusion with many holidays.

#CalendarConfusion, #Spring2026, #FlipSeasons, #May26, #NYTConnections
https://newsletter.tf/may-26-2026-calendar-confusion-flip-seasons/

When Crystal Viper disbanded last August, the Polish power metallers left behind a consistent catalogue of (mostly) good-to-great albums. Shuttering the project left me with pangs of sorrow for what might have been and closed the chapter on a band I’ve followed since Queen of the Witches. In his review of that album, Grier loosed one of his most lucid and succinct observations to date: ‘Marta Gabriel kicks ass.’ That was true throughout Crystal Viper’s discography, and I’m happy to report it remains true on First Spell—Gabriel’s solo debut under the Leatherwitch banner. Yet it takes more than kicking ass to deliver great tunes. Shed of her former band, we must judge whether this Leatherwitch ensorcels with her First Spell, or if the incantation leaves us thinking, ‘Witch, please.’

Fans of Crystal Viper will find the transition to Leatherwitch as smooth as changing lanes on the open freeway, and just as inviting. First Spell boasts a slew of tracks that ache to be played at volumes unsafe for car stereos and eardrums, and that’s repeatedly how I engaged with it. Compared to Gabriel’s former band, Leatherwitch conjures a more stripped-down heavy metal mostly divested of power trappings. Just don’t mistake streamlined for simplistic—First Spell enchants with hook-studded earworms and invokes the likes of Running Wild, Iron Maiden and Warlock. In total, Leatherwitch’s debut punches with the force of a semi at cruising speed, and throughout First Spell Gabriel casts beguiling heavy metal moxie.

Crystal Viper ended on a tremendous burst of heavy power, and given how many responsibilities Marta Gabriel shouldered on their swan song,1 Leatherwitch feels like a natural progression. First and foremost, Gabriel is the consummate frontwoman, flaunting charismatic vocals that spellbind with might and conviction. Songs “Heroes and the Dice,” “Living in the Fast Lane,” and “The New Beginning” showcase her vocal range and grit, establishing her magnetic presence. Unsatisfied to limit her performance to vocals, Gabriel lays down memorable leads (“Living in the Fast Lane”), classic heavy metal riffcraft (“Two Tons of Steel”) and brawny low-end heft (“Silver Stallions,” where the bass tone immediately evokes Seventh Son) across First Spell’s runtime. The only aspect where Leatherwitch falls short is the drumming. It’s perfectly serviceable, but compared to other performances, the kit-work remains conspicuously tucked in the shadows.

Evaluated as a whole, Leatherwitch delivers a catchy album that never errs, yet takes few risks. The strengths of First Spell stem from Gabriel’s vocals and winsome songwriting, a consistent thread carried over from Crystal Viper. While I’m unsure why she made the decision to pursue a solo venture, Marta proves that she more than meets the challenge with Leatherwitch. Across forty-three minutes of unpretentious heavy metal, songs entice me to repeat them immediately (particularly “Heroes and the Dice” and “Living in the Fast Lane”), their melodies firmly lodged in my gray matter. The production aids Leatherwitch’s uncomplicated approach, granting plenty of room for the instrumentation and vocals to stake their claim in the mix without stepping on toes. The only interruption to First Spell’s summoning comes from “The New Beginning,” which offers a reprieve from the album’s otherwise aggressive pacing. While slower songs can mitigate otherwise homogenous tempos, just because a song is slow doesn’t mean it has to be long. At over seven-and-a-half minutes, “The New Beginning” could be trimmed and be more effective for it. Otherwise, Leatherwitch crafts chest-thumping, fist-pumping anthems for metalheads of any stripe.2

First Spell doesn’t change the course of metal, but with it Leatherwitch bestows a worthy entry into the annals of classic heavy metal thunder. First Spell supplies a welcome respite from life’s burdens—music you can get lost in, especially with the windows down and an open stretch of road ahead. Though I was initially disheartened by Crystal Viper’s demise, Leatherwitch renews my hope and convinces me that Gabriel’s vision hasn’t dulled for the change. Whatever hex comes next for Leatherwitch, I’ll be ready for Marta’s magic.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Listenable Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

When Crystal Viper disbanded last August, the Polish power metallers left behind a consistent catalogue of (mostly) good-to-great albums. Shuttering the project left me with pangs of sorrow for what might have been and closed the chapter on a band I’ve followed since Queen of the Witches. In his review of that album, Grier loosed one of his most lucid and succinct observations to date: ‘Marta Gabriel kicks ass.’ That was true throughout Crystal Viper’s discography, and I’m happy to report it remains true on First Spell—Gabriel’s solo debut under the Leatherwitch banner. Yet it takes more than kicking ass to deliver great tunes. Shed of her former band, we must judge whether this Leatherwitch ensorcels with her First Spell, or if the incantation leaves us thinking, ‘Witch, please.’

Fans of Crystal Viper will find the transition to Leatherwitch as smooth as changing lanes on the open freeway, and just as inviting. First Spell boasts a slew of tracks that ache to be played at volumes unsafe for car stereos and eardrums, and that’s repeatedly how I engaged with it. Compared to Gabriel’s former band, Leatherwitch conjures a more stripped-down heavy metal mostly divested of power trappings. Just don’t mistake streamlined for simplistic—First Spell enchants with hook-studded earworms and invokes the likes of Running Wild, Iron Maiden and Warlock. In total, Leatherwitch’s debut punches with the force of a semi at cruising speed, and throughout First Spell Gabriel casts beguiling heavy metal moxie.

Crystal Viper ended on a tremendous burst of heavy power, and given how many responsibilities Marta Gabriel shouldered on their swan song,1 Leatherwitch feels like a natural progression. First and foremost, Gabriel is the consummate frontwoman, flaunting charismatic vocals that spellbind with might and conviction. Songs “Heroes and the Dice,” “Living in the Fast Lane,” and “The New Beginning” showcase her vocal range and grit, establishing her magnetic presence. Unsatisfied to limit her performance to vocals, Gabriel lays down memorable leads (“Living in the Fast Lane”), classic heavy metal riffcraft (“Two Tons of Steel”) and brawny low-end heft (“Silver Stallions,” where the bass tone immediately evokes Seventh Son) across First Spell’s runtime. The only aspect where Leatherwitch falls short is the drumming. It’s perfectly serviceable, but compared to other performances, the kit-work remains conspicuously tucked in the shadows.

Evaluated as a whole, Leatherwitch delivers a catchy album that never errs, yet takes few risks. The strengths of First Spell stem from Gabriel’s vocals and winsome songwriting, a consistent thread carried over from Crystal Viper. While I’m unsure why she made the decision to pursue a solo venture, Marta proves that she more than meets the challenge with Leatherwitch. Across forty-three minutes of unpretentious heavy metal, songs entice me to repeat them immediately (particularly “Heroes and the Dice” and “Living in the Fast Lane”), their melodies firmly lodged in my gray matter. The production aids Leatherwitch’s uncomplicated approach, granting plenty of room for the instrumentation and vocals to stake their claim in the mix without stepping on toes. The only interruption to First Spell’s summoning comes from “The New Beginning,” which offers a reprieve from the album’s otherwise aggressive pacing. While slower songs can mitigate otherwise homogenous tempos, just because a song is slow doesn’t mean it has to be long. At over seven-and-a-half minutes, “The New Beginning” could be trimmed and be more effective for it. Otherwise, Leatherwitch crafts chest-thumping, fist-pumping anthems for metalheads of any stripe.2

First Spell doesn’t change the course of metal, but with it Leatherwitch bestows a worthy entry into the annals of classic heavy metal thunder. First Spell supplies a welcome respite from life’s burdens—music you can get lost in, especially with the windows down and an open stretch of road ahead. Though I was initially disheartened by Crystal Viper’s demise, Leatherwitch renews my hope and convinces me that Gabriel’s vision hasn’t dulled for the change. Whatever hex comes next for Leatherwitch, I’ll be ready for Marta’s magic.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Listenable Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Wow, I haven’t thought of this band in a looooong time. Known for being plagued with vocal lineup changes—even alternating between female and male leads—the last time I caught up with Italy’s Opera IX was right before the infamous Cadaveria quit. Before she began her own gothic-infused band, Cadavaria haunted every dark corner of stellar Opera IX records, like Sarco Culto and The Black Opera: Symphoniae Mysteriorum in Laudem Tenebrarum. You wouldn’t be able to tell by Cadaveria’s (the band) output, but the woman had a horrifying approach to black metal vocals. So much so that I can still hear them in my head. Those days ended shortly after she vacated the band, and the long-time guitarist took to the mic. Risky move that did not work. That’s when I walked away. Nowadays, it appears the band has gone back to the female variety and, hopefully, buried the male leads forever. So, I decided I’d give them a try and see where they’ve been the last twenty-six years.

For the last couple of albums, the band has been utilizing the voice of Dipsas Dianaria. They must like her because they decided to re-record 2015’s Back to Sepulcro in 2025. For what reason, I don’t know? To erase Abigail Dianaria’s voice from a bunch of originally re-recorded shit no one wanted? Is this fucking Iced Earth? Anyway, after goofing around wth re-recorded old shit and re-re-recorded old shit, this year’s Veneficium comes to us with ten original tracks, a 50-plus-minute runtime, and a… Black Sabbath cover? Not sure I understand that last part, but here we go.

There’s one thing that’s apparent on the first listen of Veneficium: we’ve come a long way from the ferocity of Cadaveria’s piss-spitting vocals and the band’s unique blend of black, death, doom, and goth. While Dianaria can achieve similar fluctuations in vocals (rasps, growls, and cleans), it’s far more rare to see it in a single track. That said, few can achieve that kind of vocal chaos as Cadaveria and Cradle of Filth’s Dani Filth. But, after the eerie, witchcrafty opener, “Vocatio Mortuorum” sees Dianaria attempting just that. Loaded with synths and orchestral layers akin to Dimmu Borgir, this track follows a mid-paced journey to see who can command it: the guitars and drums, or the keys. It has some redeeming qualities here and there, but the goofy, circusy, Cradle of Filth approach on the backend kinda kills it for me.

On the other side of the coin, “Saltatio Corvi” does a fantastic job making it all work and stick. While it contains the same kinds of orchestral elements, relentless guitar and drum work, and alternating vocal styles, it stands out for an addictive character that is pushed to eleven with the clever help of a nyckelharpa. It also uses much more of Dianaria’s vocals than previous tracks. For something with a bit more bruising power, “Defixiones” and “Asphodelios” do the trick with aggressive, headbangable passages that make them stand out above others. Specifically, the dark, melodic atmosphere of “Defixiones” and the death metal interlude and brawling vocals of “Asphodelios.”

After taking everything into account, Veneficium is a fairly standard sympho-black record that does little to make one erect. While some interesting elements have me revisiting a few ditties, the new Dimmu Borgir record does far more in just a handful of tracks versus the entirety of Veneficium. Outside the tracks mentioned, the one that stands out the most is the cover of Black Sabbath’s “Black Sabbath.” The vocals do a fine job of following in Ozzy’s footsteps, while the doomy qualities of the song remind me of where Opera IX used to be. Those good ole days when no one else knew about this band, and I was happy to have it that way. Now, they’re basically blending in with the rest, which is a shame. That said, there’s something here for those who follow the genre. It just takes a few spins to find it.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Edged Circle Productions | Bandcamp
Websites: operaix.it | facebook.com/officialoperaIX
Releases Worldwide: May 22nd, 2026

Wow, I haven’t thought of this band in a looooong time. Known for being plagued with vocal lineup changes—even alternating between female and male leads—the last time I caught up with Italy’s Opera IX was right before the infamous Cadaveria quit. Before she began her own gothic-infused band, Cadavaria haunted every dark corner of stellar Opera IX records, like Sarco Culto and The Black Opera: Symphoniae Mysteriorum in Laudem Tenebrarum. You wouldn’t be able to tell by Cadaveria’s (the band) output, but the woman had a horrifying approach to black metal vocals. So much so that I can still hear them in my head. Those days ended shortly after she vacated the band, and the long-time guitarist took to the mic. Risky move that did not work. That’s when I walked away. Nowadays, it appears the band has gone back to the female variety and, hopefully, buried the male leads forever. So, I decided I’d give them a try and see where they’ve been the last twenty-six years.

For the last couple of albums, the band has been utilizing the voice of Dipsas Dianaria. They must like her because they decided to re-record 2015’s Back to Sepulcro in 2025. For what reason, I don’t know? To erase Abigail Dianaria’s voice from a bunch of originally re-recorded shit no one wanted? Is this fucking Iced Earth? Anyway, after goofing around wth re-recorded old shit and re-re-recorded old shit, this year’s Veneficium comes to us with ten original tracks, a 50-plus-minute runtime, and a… Black Sabbath cover? Not sure I understand that last part, but here we go.

There’s one thing that’s apparent on the first listen of Veneficium: we’ve come a long way from the ferocity of Cadaveria’s piss-spitting vocals and the band’s unique blend of black, death, doom, and goth. While Dianaria can achieve similar fluctuations in vocals (rasps, growls, and cleans), it’s far more rare to see it in a single track. That said, few can achieve that kind of vocal chaos as Cadaveria and Cradle of Filth’s Dani Filth. But, after the eerie, witchcrafty opener, “Vocatio Mortuorum” sees Dianaria attempting just that. Loaded with synths and orchestral layers akin to Dimmu Borgir, this track follows a mid-paced journey to see who can command it: the guitars and drums, or the keys. It has some redeeming qualities here and there, but the goofy, circusy, Cradle of Filth approach on the backend kinda kills it for me.

On the other side of the coin, “Saltatio Corvi” does a fantastic job making it all work and stick. While it contains the same kinds of orchestral elements, relentless guitar and drum work, and alternating vocal styles, it stands out for an addictive character that is pushed to eleven with the clever help of a nyckelharpa. It also uses much more of Dianaria’s vocals than previous tracks. For something with a bit more bruising power, “Defixiones” and “Asphodelios” do the trick with aggressive, headbangable passages that make them stand out above others. Specifically, the dark, melodic atmosphere of “Defixiones” and the death metal interlude and brawling vocals of “Asphodelios.”

After taking everything into account, Veneficium is a fairly standard sympho-black record that does little to make one erect. While some interesting elements have me revisiting a few ditties, the new Dimmu Borgir record does far more in just a handful of tracks versus the entirety of Veneficium. Outside the tracks mentioned, the one that stands out the most is the cover of Black Sabbath’s “Black Sabbath.” The vocals do a fine job of following in Ozzy’s footsteps, while the doomy qualities of the song remind me of where Opera IX used to be. Those good ole days when no one else knew about this band, and I was happy to have it that way. Now, they’re basically blending in with the rest, which is a shame. That said, there’s something here for those who follow the genre. It just takes a few spins to find it.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Edged Circle Productions | Bandcamp
Websites: operaix.it | facebook.com/officialoperaIX
Releases Worldwide: May 22nd, 2026

Elder sits at the top of their field, a rare heavy band with a genuinely singular sound that has earned both widespread critical acclaim and a massive, devoted audience. The Massachusetts-to-Berlin transplants have conquered the world with their brand of long-form, psychedelic stoner rock, which effortlessly evokes the hypnotic sprawl of 70’s prog and fuses it with towering, fuzz-drenched guitar work. Elder cemented their greatness with the riff-forward stoner psych of Lore (2015) and the pensive doom/prog of Reflections of a Floating World (2017), but stumbled a bit with the more straightforward Omens (2020). 2022’s Innate Passage was never covered here, but it proved the band still had plenty of creative momentum, embracing mellotron-laced atmospherics and expansive prog excursions without losing the crushing guitar work at the heart of their appeal. Now, four years later, Through Zero arrives with early singles hinting at an even deeper dive into synth-heavy textures and cosmic reflection. Does Through Zero serve as another worthwhile addition to the Elder catalog?

Through Zero features many of Elder’s trademark mannerisms, but complicates their stoner inclinations in favor of more amorphous soundscapes that prioritize dynamics. Elder still deploys bombastic, fuzzed-out riffs and complex, interlocking rhythms and melodies, but they’re buoyed by longer stretches of calming, golden age Yesisms and introspective krautrock-flavored wanderings. Compositions don’t move between various parts as much as they unfurl seamlessly and organically, with meditative, odd-meter loops giving way to crushing guitar theatrics and emphatic hooks, all while maintaining an immaculate sense of psychedelic contemplation. While Elder still sounds like they’ve bottled the rare moments of transcendence that arise in the best of freeform jams, their songwriting now feels more intentional, grounded by a firm sense of contrast and a consistent push-and-pull that comes across as carefully patterned rather than formulaic. The band showcases a nuanced take on the classic and effective “soft/loud” paradigm, as tracks weave effortlessly between quiet deliberation and crushing grandeur, each shift serving to heighten the eventual climax of dizzying catharsis. This allows the stunning conclusion of songs like the title track and “Sight Unseen” to stand alongside the best Elder moments, rivalling the peaks of “Sanctuary” or “Illusory Motion” in resounding splendor.

Of course, these sonic journeys are only able to soar so high due to the strength of the individual parts and performances, with Elder’s veteran chemistry shining through across every facet of Through Zero. Elder truly move as one cohesive unit, main axeman and vocalist Nick DiSalvo leading the charge with jubilantly clean, single-note runs and multifaceted heavy guitar explosions (“Sigil to Ruin”). Behind him, the rhythm section follows perfectly in step, allowing complex patterns and grooves to coalesce into something instantly familiar. DiSalvo’s vocals are still the least impressive element, but he leans far more into an ethereal John Anderson tenor, using his voice to emphasize notable passages rather than to dominate them. Synthmaster and second guitarist Mike Risberg has been with the band for years, adding nuance to the longform meanderings and accenting powerful crescendos. On Through Zero, he’s given much more room to leave his mark. A song like “Capture/Release” demonstrates the added depth the Tales From the Topographic Oceans style synths can add, beginning with a stunning electronic shimmer and playful plinks and ending with a searing keys solo that serves as the cherry on top of an already impressive riff-fueled finale.

For all of its intricate musicianship and circuitous compositions, Through Zero is a remarkably easy record to get lost in. Despite 5 out of the 6 tracks approaching the 10-minute mark, no moment or motif overstays its welcome, and every crescendo feels earned. Elder themselves took part in the production and mixing process, and their attention to detail is evident in the record’s rich analog warmth that never sacrifices modernity. From subtle cymbal washes and gentle synth pulses to towering distorted guitar tones, every sonic peak and valley feels carefully placed, giving the music an unexpectedly serene quality. That sense of tranquility reaches its apex on the closing track, “Blighted Age,” one of the shortest and most subdued pieces in Elder’s catalog. Eschewing the monumental builds that define much of the album, the song unfolds as a contemplative acoustic meditation, bringing Through Zero to a quietly reflective close.

In many ways, Through Zero feels like the album Elder have been building towards across their storied career. It blends the psychedelic riff-porn of Lore and Reflections with the atmospheric synth prog of Innate Passage and even sharpens its approach with the more discernible structures of Omens. More importantly, it captures the sense of wonder and transcendence that has always made Elder special, delivering some of the most rewarding music of their career in the process.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Blues Funeral Recordings
Websites: beholdtheelder.com | facebook.com/elderofficial
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Elder sits at the top of their field, a rare heavy band with a genuinely singular sound that has earned both widespread critical acclaim and a massive, devoted audience. The Massachusetts-to-Berlin transplants have conquered the world with their brand of long-form, psychedelic stoner rock, which effortlessly evokes the hypnotic sprawl of 70’s prog and fuses it with towering, fuzz-drenched guitar work. Elder cemented their greatness with the riff-forward stoner psych of Lore (2015) and the pensive doom/prog of Reflections of a Floating World (2017), but stumbled a bit with the more straightforward Omens (2020). 2022’s Innate Passage was never covered here, but it proved the band still had plenty of creative momentum, embracing mellotron-laced atmospherics and expansive prog excursions without losing the crushing guitar work at the heart of their appeal. Now, four years later, Through Zero arrives with early singles hinting at an even deeper dive into synth-heavy textures and cosmic reflection. Does Through Zero serve as another worthwhile addition to the Elder catalog?

Through Zero features many of Elder’s trademark mannerisms, but complicates their stoner inclinations in favor of more amorphous soundscapes that prioritize dynamics. Elder still deploys bombastic, fuzzed-out riffs and complex, interlocking rhythms and melodies, but they’re buoyed by longer stretches of calming, golden age Yesisms and introspective krautrock-flavored wanderings. Compositions don’t move between various parts as much as they unfurl seamlessly and organically, with meditative, odd-meter loops giving way to crushing guitar theatrics and emphatic hooks, all while maintaining an immaculate sense of psychedelic contemplation. While Elder still sounds like they’ve bottled the rare moments of transcendence that arise in the best of freeform jams, their songwriting now feels more intentional, grounded by a firm sense of contrast and a consistent push-and-pull that comes across as carefully patterned rather than formulaic. The band showcases a nuanced take on the classic and effective “soft/loud” paradigm, as tracks weave effortlessly between quiet deliberation and crushing grandeur, each shift serving to heighten the eventual climax of dizzying catharsis. This allows the stunning conclusion of songs like the title track and “Sight Unseen” to stand alongside the best Elder moments, rivalling the peaks of “Sanctuary” or “Illusory Motion” in resounding splendor.

Of course, these sonic journeys are only able to soar so high due to the strength of the individual parts and performances, with Elder’s veteran chemistry shining through across every facet of Through Zero. Elder truly move as one cohesive unit, main axeman and vocalist Nick DiSalvo leading the charge with jubilantly clean, single-note runs and multifaceted heavy guitar explosions (“Sigil to Ruin”). Behind him, the rhythm section follows perfectly in step, allowing complex patterns and grooves to coalesce into something instantly familiar. DiSalvo’s vocals are still the least impressive element, but he leans far more into an ethereal John Anderson tenor, using his voice to emphasize notable passages rather than to dominate them. Synthmaster and second guitarist Mike Risberg has been with the band for years, adding nuance to the longform meanderings and accenting powerful crescendos. On Through Zero, he’s given much more room to leave his mark. A song like “Capture/Release” demonstrates the added depth the Tales From the Topographic Oceans style synths can add, beginning with a stunning electronic shimmer and playful plinks and ending with a searing keys solo that serves as the cherry on top of an already impressive riff-fueled finale.

For all of its intricate musicianship and circuitous compositions, Through Zero is a remarkably easy record to get lost in. Despite 5 out of the 6 tracks approaching the 10-minute mark, no moment or motif overstays its welcome, and every crescendo feels earned. Elder themselves took part in the production and mixing process, and their attention to detail is evident in the record’s rich analog warmth that never sacrifices modernity. From subtle cymbal washes and gentle synth pulses to towering distorted guitar tones, every sonic peak and valley feels carefully placed, giving the music an unexpectedly serene quality. That sense of tranquility reaches its apex on the closing track, “Blighted Age,” one of the shortest and most subdued pieces in Elder’s catalog. Eschewing the monumental builds that define much of the album, the song unfolds as a contemplative acoustic meditation, bringing Through Zero to a quietly reflective close.

In many ways, Through Zero feels like the album Elder have been building towards across their storied career. It blends the psychedelic riff-porn of Lore and Reflections with the atmospheric synth prog of Innate Passage and even sharpens its approach with the more discernible structures of Omens. More importantly, it captures the sense of wonder and transcendence that has always made Elder special, delivering some of the most rewarding music of their career in the process.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Blues Funeral Recordings
Websites: beholdtheelder.com | facebook.com/elderofficial
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Pharmacist first came to my attention with their 2022 Flourishing Extremities on Unspoiled Mental Grounds release. It was like a bonus Carcass album dropped between Necroticism and Heartwork, and I couldn’t get enough of its crazy, deathgrinding pharmaceutical madness. It reminded me why Carcass was such a delight back in the late 80s/early 90s, and though it was a total homage album, it was too good to write off. I ended up including it as an Honorable Mention in my year-end list, and I still blast it and their debut regularly. Fast forward 4 years, and the 2 pill-pushing medical deviants that comprise Pharmacist are back for another morgue run with third album, Vertebrae After Vertebrae. Happily, the concept is largely unchanged. This still sounds like a lost Carcass album that would slot somewhere in their golden era before they Swansonged us all. But rather than short, tight deathgrind tunes, Pharmacist dares to draw their compositions out, sometimes pushing against the 7-minute mark. On paper, that sounds like a recipe for a terminal case of Toxic Bowel Erosion Disorder Syndrome, but somehow, these hippocratic cutups inject so much fun and rowdy insanity into the mix that you can’t help but hang on for the rip ride and wait for the bonesaw. Glove up, folks.

I will say upfront that the cosmic ass-ton of bloody fun Vertebrae After Vertebrae offers is muted by a loudish, muddy production. Is it a dealbreaker? No, but it is a missed opportunity for sure, and a slightly cleaner sound would have made this thing slice so much deeper. With all that on the table, let’s get inside the chest cavity. Opener “Propelled Inward” is a riotous, face-ripping, assblaster of a tune with chaotic riffs flying in all directions as pounding drums and dual vocal attacks spew shit, rot, and custard all over the walls. And about those riffs, they are fucking murderous. You won’t be able to hear them without wanting to throw fuel trucks at oil refineries just to watch the big BOOM. Inject a liquid form of this grind fuckery into my veins every morning, and my life is 666% improved. The title track delivers more of the same nasty action with brutal drumming pounding your cranium as more top-shelf riffs abrade your flesh. The drumming here gives me a kind of gnawing panic attack sensation, and I love that, though my doctor probably would not. The nearly 7-minutes of “Endogenica” is used wisely to bash you into pulp with an everflowing stream of caustic riffs that mine the depths of early Carcass but also wander into Kreator and Slayer territory too. It’s a remorseless wargrinder of a mid-tempo track with a relentless inevitability and weight behind it. It offers no mercy or respite, and frankly, none of you deserve such niceties anyway.

Over the course of the album’s 40 minutes, only closer “Zenith Of Mnemonic Forensication” slips the bit somewhat, clocking in at 6-plus minutes but feeling like it should stop around 4 minutes. It’s not bad, but the riffing can feel repetitive at times, and by the end things do start to feel overcooked. For a band playing such an intense and attacking style and frequently exceeding the 5-minute mark compositionally, it’s a small wonder things go off the rails so rarely for Pharmacist.

Ukraine-born “Pharmacist” handles vocals, guitar, and bass, and kills on everything. The riffs he delivers are just so much tooth-knocking, headbanging fun while being extreme and brutal, and he can keep your interest over a long period of time due to the frequent riff progressions and shifts. Vocally, he apes the early Carcass template with guttural death croaks, harsh barks, and frantic screams all blending into a sick, manic mush. It gives the material an unhinged energy and adds an extra layer of “wut the fuck?” that really wins me over. “Therapeutist” covers drums, and boy howdy do they get covered! The man is like a steam-powered smashing machine intent on punching you through a reinforced concrete slab. The berserk kitwork here is one of the big reasons I love this band. Brutal shite.

I had high hopes for Vertebrae After Vertebrae, and for the most part, it lives up to expectations and at times exceeds them. I know what Pharmacist does is not new or original, but damn, I want 10 more albums in this exact style. This is good enough to ride right on the cusp of greatness, but the production issues drag it back down a notch. Regardless, if you love the source material Pharmacist work from, there’s almost no way you won’t enjoy what they deliver. As you enter the corpse area, remember, the “P” in Pharmacist is silent, so act accordingly. Godspeed.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 3 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Hells Headbangers
Websites: pharmacistgore.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/pharmacistgore | instagram.com/pharmacist_band
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

Pharmacist first came to my attention with their 2022 Flourishing Extremities on Unspoiled Mental Grounds release. It was like a bonus Carcass album dropped between Necroticism and Heartwork, and I couldn’t get enough of its crazy, deathgrinding pharmaceutical madness. It reminded me why Carcass was such a delight back in the late 80s/early 90s, and though it was a total homage album, it was too good to write off. I ended up including it as an Honorable Mention in my year-end list, and I still blast it and their debut regularly. Fast forward 4 years, and the 2 pill-pushing medical deviants that comprise Pharmacist are back for another morgue run with third album, Vertebrae After Vertebrae. Happily, the concept is largely unchanged. This still sounds like a lost Carcass album that would slot somewhere in their golden era before they Swansonged us all. But rather than short, tight deathgrind tunes, Pharmacist dares to draw their compositions out, sometimes pushing against the 7-minute mark. On paper, that sounds like a recipe for a terminal case of Toxic Bowel Erosion Disorder Syndrome, but somehow, these hippocratic cutups inject so much fun and rowdy insanity into the mix that you can’t help but hang on for the rip ride and wait for the bonesaw. Glove up, folks.

I will say upfront that the cosmic ass-ton of bloody fun Vertebrae After Vertebrae offers is muted by a loudish, muddy production. Is it a dealbreaker? No, but it is a missed opportunity for sure, and a slightly cleaner sound would have made this thing slice so much deeper. With all that on the table, let’s get inside the chest cavity. Opener “Propelled Inward” is a riotous, face-ripping, assblaster of a tune with chaotic riffs flying in all directions as pounding drums and dual vocal attacks spew shit, rot, and custard all over the walls. And about those riffs, they are fucking murderous. You won’t be able to hear them without wanting to throw fuel trucks at oil refineries just to watch the big BOOM. Inject a liquid form of this grind fuckery into my veins every morning, and my life is 666% improved. The title track delivers more of the same nasty action with brutal drumming pounding your cranium as more top-shelf riffs abrade your flesh. The drumming here gives me a kind of gnawing panic attack sensation, and I love that, though my doctor probably would not. The nearly 7-minutes of “Endogenica” is used wisely to bash you into pulp with an everflowing stream of caustic riffs that mine the depths of early Carcass but also wander into Kreator and Slayer territory too. It’s a remorseless wargrinder of a mid-tempo track with a relentless inevitability and weight behind it. It offers no mercy or respite, and frankly, none of you deserve such niceties anyway.

Over the course of the album’s 40 minutes, only closer “Zenith Of Mnemonic Forensication” slips the bit somewhat, clocking in at 6-plus minutes but feeling like it should stop around 4 minutes. It’s not bad, but the riffing can feel repetitive at times, and by the end things do start to feel overcooked. For a band playing such an intense and attacking style and frequently exceeding the 5-minute mark compositionally, it’s a small wonder things go off the rails so rarely for Pharmacist.

Ukraine-born “Pharmacist” handles vocals, guitar, and bass, and kills on everything. The riffs he delivers are just so much tooth-knocking, headbanging fun while being extreme and brutal, and he can keep your interest over a long period of time due to the frequent riff progressions and shifts. Vocally, he apes the early Carcass template with guttural death croaks, harsh barks, and frantic screams all blending into a sick, manic mush. It gives the material an unhinged energy and adds an extra layer of “wut the fuck?” that really wins me over. “Therapeutist” covers drums, and boy howdy do they get covered! The man is like a steam-powered smashing machine intent on punching you through a reinforced concrete slab. The berserk kitwork here is one of the big reasons I love this band. Brutal shite.

I had high hopes for Vertebrae After Vertebrae, and for the most part, it lives up to expectations and at times exceeds them. I know what Pharmacist does is not new or original, but damn, I want 10 more albums in this exact style. This is good enough to ride right on the cusp of greatness, but the production issues drag it back down a notch. Regardless, if you love the source material Pharmacist work from, there’s almost no way you won’t enjoy what they deliver. As you enter the corpse area, remember, the “P” in Pharmacist is silent, so act accordingly. Godspeed.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 3 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Hells Headbangers
Websites: pharmacistgore.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/pharmacistgore | instagram.com/pharmacist_band
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

While most people would argue that “black metal” was founded by bands like Venom, Bathory, and Mercyful Fate, the scene didn’t really become what it is without the creation of Norwegian black metal. Which, in turn, people will argue was founded by Mayhem, Burzum, Darkthrone, Immortal, and the like. But people forget acts like Ulver, Urgehal, Satyricon, and Gorgoroth (and others) that helped form the genre. If you know Grier, you know how much Urgehal and Gorgoroth mean to his youthful, black metal development. They are also home to two of his favorite black metal raspers of all time: Trond Bråthen (Trondr Nefas) and Kristian Eivind Espedal (Gaahl), respectively. Before Gaahl made his mark on Gorgoroth classics like Twilight of the Idols – In Conspiracy with Satan and Ad Majorem Sathanas Gloriam, he already had his own band: Trelldom.

Trelldom doesn’t get enough love. But Angry Metal Guy knew what was up when he went back in time to explore easily one of the genre’s greatest hits: Til et annet…. This record is a fucking masterpiece that shows a side of Gaahl you might not know. Those who have followed him throughout his various exploits know full well that Gaahl is a weird guy with some of the creepiest fucking vocals on the planet. But Trelldom’s trilogy of albums from 1992 to 2007 was untouchable. Fast forward to 2024, and the band returns with …By the Shadows…, an even weirder concoction of songs than ever before. Taking a darker direction with a new lineup of legends, …By the Shadows… represented an impressive comeback for the band, rebranded into something more diverse and heartfelt than before. Right on the coattails of that album comes this year’s …By the Word…. And it’s everything you’d expect from a follow-up.

Returning with the mighty Stian Kårstad (ex-Djerv, ex-Gaahls Wyrd, ex-God Seed) and kit powerhouse Kenneth Kapstad (Thorns, Goat the Head, ex-God Seed, and a billion other bands), Gaahl rounds out his lineup with practitioners of the bass, saxophone, clarinet, organ, Dobro guitar, bass harmonica, mandolin, Shankar guitar, and even the fucking Optigan to deliver one of the most unique records of his life. “When This Was Young” opens the record with proggy bass and drums, matching perfectly with Gaahl’s soothing cleans. When the chuggery kicks in, Kapstad’s drums let loose, showing off his impressive skills and giving the song (A) Senile Animal-era Melvins vibes. As it progresses, the effects intensify, melding themselves into the guitars and creating unnecessary madness throughout.

But the opener might be the “chillest” song on the record. By “I Speak Forgotten Voices,” you’ll know that …By the Word… is far more unhinged than its predecessor. The overlapping effects, unsettling vocals, and relentless, pounding drums remove any peace …By the Shadows… might have had. But it’s the mindfucking back-to-back closers, “The Word – Choose to Vanish” and “In There Outside,” that show just how far Trelldom has pushed their sound. Chock-full of all those different instruments mentioned before, “The Word – Choose to Vanish” doesn’t so much add layers as mold everything into the most grotesque monster I’ve heard in a long time. And when you think you’ve heard everything you could from Trelldom, “In There Outside” proves to be one of the more diverse on the album. Throwing you off immediately, the whining woodwinds are replaced with yet another alteration of Gaahl’s vox as the song builds on itself over and over again, resulting in more orchestral qualities than any other track.

…By the Word… is batshit crazy and cerebrally damaging. Where …By the Shadows… at least had moments of relief, this new record does not. Beyond the weird combination of guitars, saxophone, and clarinet screaming at you from all directions, it’s the bass and drums that cause the most damage. Mixed far too the front, the drums, in particular, are ear-shattering. That sounds negative, but it does a hell of a job keeping you off balance. Specifically, when it comes to the devastating “Folding the Mind.” It’s almost as if the band decided it was time to let Kapstad off the leash. …By the Word… is an interesting album that pushes beyond anything the band has done before. It can never be Til et annet… but that’s OK because they aren’t going for it. This new era is worth exploring and …By the Word… is a new benchmark.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: trelldom.bandcamp.com | trelldom.no | facebook.com/trelldom1992
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

While most people would argue that “black metal” was founded by bands like Venom, Bathory, and Mercyful Fate, the scene didn’t really become what it is without the creation of Norwegian black metal. Which, in turn, people will argue was founded by Mayhem, Burzum, Darkthrone, Immortal, and the like. But people forget acts like Ulver, Urgehal, Satyricon, and Gorgoroth (and others) that helped form the genre. If you know Grier, you know how much Urgehal and Gorgoroth mean to his youthful, black metal development. They are also home to two of his favorite black metal raspers of all time: Trond Bråthen (Trondr Nefas) and Kristian Eivind Espedal (Gaahl), respectively. Before Gaahl made his mark on Gorgoroth classics like Twilight of the Idols – In Conspiracy with Satan and Ad Majorem Sathanas Gloriam, he already had his own band: Trelldom.

Trelldom doesn’t get enough love. But Angry Metal Guy knew what was up when he went back in time to explore easily one of the genre’s greatest hits: Til et annet…. This record is a fucking masterpiece that shows a side of Gaahl you might not know. Those who have followed him throughout his various exploits know full well that Gaahl is a weird guy with some of the creepiest fucking vocals on the planet. But Trelldom’s trilogy of albums from 1992 to 2007 was untouchable. Fast forward to 2024, and the band returns with …By the Shadows…, an even weirder concoction of songs than ever before. Taking a darker direction with a new lineup of legends, …By the Shadows… represented an impressive comeback for the band, rebranded into something more diverse and heartfelt than before. Right on the coattails of that album comes this year’s …By the Word…. And it’s everything you’d expect from a follow-up.

Returning with the mighty Stian Kårstad (ex-Djerv, ex-Gaahls Wyrd, ex-God Seed) and kit powerhouse Kenneth Kapstad (Thorns, Goat the Head, ex-God Seed, and a billion other bands), Gaahl rounds out his lineup with practitioners of the bass, saxophone, clarinet, organ, Dobro guitar, bass harmonica, mandolin, Shankar guitar, and even the fucking Optigan to deliver one of the most unique records of his life. “When This Was Young” opens the record with proggy bass and drums, matching perfectly with Gaahl’s soothing cleans. When the chuggery kicks in, Kapstad’s drums let loose, showing off his impressive skills and giving the song (A) Senile Animal-era Melvins vibes. As it progresses, the effects intensify, melding themselves into the guitars and creating unnecessary madness throughout.

But the opener might be the “chillest” song on the record. By “I Speak Forgotten Voices,” you’ll know that …By the Word… is far more unhinged than its predecessor. The overlapping effects, unsettling vocals, and relentless, pounding drums remove any peace …By the Shadows… might have had. But it’s the mindfucking back-to-back closers, “The Word – Choose to Vanish” and “In There Outside,” that show just how far Trelldom has pushed their sound. Chock-full of all those different instruments mentioned before, “The Word – Choose to Vanish” doesn’t so much add layers as mold everything into the most grotesque monster I’ve heard in a long time. And when you think you’ve heard everything you could from Trelldom, “In There Outside” proves to be one of the more diverse on the album. Throwing you off immediately, the whining woodwinds are replaced with yet another alteration of Gaahl’s vox as the song builds on itself over and over again, resulting in more orchestral qualities than any other track.

…By the Word… is batshit crazy and cerebrally damaging. Where …By the Shadows… at least had moments of relief, this new record does not. Beyond the weird combination of guitars, saxophone, and clarinet screaming at you from all directions, it’s the bass and drums that cause the most damage. Mixed far too the front, the drums, in particular, are ear-shattering. That sounds negative, but it does a hell of a job keeping you off balance. Specifically, when it comes to the devastating “Folding the Mind.” It’s almost as if the band decided it was time to let Kapstad off the leash. …By the Word… is an interesting album that pushes beyond anything the band has done before. It can never be Til et annet… but that’s OK because they aren’t going for it. This new era is worth exploring and …By the Word… is a new benchmark.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: trelldom.bandcamp.com | trelldom.no | facebook.com/trelldom1992
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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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