#notmetal — Public Fediverse posts

Now—as summer blasts the Earth into a fly-ridden heath—is when I long most for fall. So I get why Patrik Andersson Winberg’s (Dun Ringill, Doomdogs) new solo project Mirror of My Soul would debut this June with October Is Rising.1 A folk project empowered with hard rock muscle and gothic gravitas, Mirror of My Soul aims for atmospheric storytelling and organic song structuring. Joined by drummers Pete Campbell (Axe Dragger, ex-Pentagram) and Tobbe Strandvik, keyboardist Per Wiberg (Tiamat, ex-Opeth), guitarist Patric Grammann (Dun Ringill) and a whole host of vocalists,2 October Is Rising is poised to be an introspective, moody, and engrossing trek through rustic moods and colder temps. But is this album autumn’s light at the end of the tunnel, or is there no relief from summer to be found here?

October Is Rising is a clinic on complementary musicianship. Working within gothic country, folk, and blues rock, October Is Rising lives in slow, sparse compositions that won’t wow listeners with panache. Songs like “A Good Day to Die” and “The Owl” use simple guitar and banjo parts, respectively, to set the stage for spirited vocal performances, while “October Is Rising” and “Grandpa” utilize particularly minimal instrumentation to highlight their singers’ stories. Mirror of My Soul can rip it when necessary, as heard on the Jethro Tullesque flute riffing on “Mina Fotavtryck” and the slick hi-hat work on “Dancing Slowly on the Porch,” but October Is Rising’s musical prowess lies less in individual performance and more in band dynamics. “Lost in the Red Wine” and “The One Who Sings the Songs” pulse in ways that sneakily build and bounce off their individual parts to sound a lot bigger than their thin instrumentation would imply. Mirror of My Soul is composed of industry veterans, and it sounds like it; these guys bring out the best in each other.

Setting rich moods and storytelling are Mirror of My Soul’s game. They’re pros at it. October Is Rising is a pensive autumnal stroll through gloom with the sort of eerie coziness that at varying times reminded me of Fields of the Nephilim, Current 93, and the Over the Garden Wall soundtrack.3 Soundscapes of pale light and fresh darkness bestow tracks like “The Painter,” “Grandpa,” and “Tree on that Hill” a deeply affecting and melancholic quality, shaped by the aforementioned stark instrumentation and poignant vocals. October Is Rising is littered with pathos-imbued bars delivered with conviction, where phrases as obtuse as “The bad news was a feather from a dead bird” (“The Letter”) hit with the sensitivity of straightforward heart-wrenchers like “The trees showed me how to make it all last. There is no future without a vivid past” (“Tree on that Hill”). Mirror of My Soul bring everything you’d want from a singer-songwriter project musically: bittersweet strolls down memory lane, deep into introspection.

October Is Rising listens like a work of singular vision, but not of one voice. There are no bad singers on October Is Rising, mind you, and the diverse cast can be a boon. There aren’t many records out there that can, in one moment, recall Alice in Chains (“Coyote”) and Peter Gabriel the next (“Tree on that Hill”),4 Lou Reed one minute (“Carry Your Soul”) and Johnny Cash another (“A Good Day to Die”). But this committee approach also deprives October Is Rising of singer-songwriter music’s strongest aspect: the intimate conversation between artist and audience. It’s hard to think of Mirror of My Soul as Winberg’s personal exploration of a gloaming Earth when you have to adjust to a new singer every song. October Is Rising still feels cohesive thanks to Winberg’s consistent and compelling songwriting, but I believe one or two good singers would’ve made the record connect that much better.

Mirror of My Soul bring the wistfulness of autumn on October Is Rising. Tight musicianship and smart songwriting carry the listener through Winberg’s stories, sometimes outlandish and always engaging. Though I think one singer would’ve made Mirror of My Soul a more focused entity—or perhaps one singer across every song à la Tobias Sammet of Avantastia—October Is Rising is nevertheless a greatly enjoyable work that I could confidently recommend to anyone interested in gothic rock/country/folk. At the very least, when the upcoming months get hot as balls, it’ll be a good reminder that, in the near future, October Is Rising indeed.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Majestic Mountain Records
Websites: mirrorofmysoul.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/mirrorofmysoul
Releases Worldwide: June 12, 2026

As a fledgling metalhead in the 90s and early 2000s, I spent many a day scouring my local record shop for new, interesting bands and artists due to magazine interviews, reviews, and the occasional word-of-mouth treatment from friends and artists alike. This adventurous time period was responsible for my dalliances and appreciation of the world of neofolk. Between the somber atmospheres of Tenhi and the thriving, teeming music of the late Nebelhexë, it opened up new avenues to explore and bands to check out. With this in mind, I decided to tackle Acou, the fifth album from Russian quartet Moon Far Away, only to realize that they’ve been around since 1994 and this is the first time hearing about (or anything from) them.

Well, at least I got to finally experience their music, as Acou is a fairly enjoyable album with some interesting angles. After a brief interlude, featuring a lone trumpet and some ambient chantings and melodies, the title track kicks off in earnest, showcasing just why Moon Far Away have earned the reputation as “The Russian Dead Can Dance” as the vocal harmonies of multi-instrumentalist Count Ash and his counterpart (and song lead) Leda intertwine during the chorus over a playful bassline from Zhigich and some driving percussion by Victorion, creating a rapturous atmosphere that also plays homage to their Russian roots. Elsewhere, “Steel Light Love” shows off their more Gothic leanings, with Count Ash taking the lead with Leda softly wailing in the background throughout the song’s majority. On these three songs, the band’s artistic strengths shine brilliantly, giving off the impression that this is a neofolk classic for the ages.

Acou by Moon far away

The problem is that there are other songs on here, and some of them pull the proceedings down quite a bit. “17 Years” features an older vocalist1 chant-singing partially off-key for over three minutes. Speaking of off-key, Count Ash’s voice on “Look, the Human Flocks…” keeps to a monotone, often at odds with Leda’s angelic vocals, and the song ends without building up to anything. But the biggest issue lies with “Soulofkey,” which starts off promisingly enough, with a haunting piano melody that burrows into your skull. Still, it keeps burrowing, because other than a few key changes, it just keeps going and going and going for the entirety of the song’s seven-minute runtime, losing all potency and interest.

At least Acou sounds great from a production standpoint. Zhigich’s bass is thick and meaty, and Victorion’s percussion hits with the impact his performances need. Even the traditional instruments, such as the flute and trumpet, all ring with a stark clarity that’s sometimes missing from neofolk music. I just wish the arrangements and performances were a bit tighter overall, because when Acou shines, it’s with a brilliance that few can match, and that’s no mean feat.

And that kills me, as I wanted to like Acou more than I do. When everyone’s on top of their game, Acou is a compelling album that’s teeming with life and vibrancy. But the hiccups on some of the tracks keep my enjoyment tempered, and that’s a shame because Moon Far Away impressed me on their best tracks, and they are giving me a new band to check out in the future. That said, there’s still plenty to like on here, and if you enjoy any of the bands I mentioned above, you could do much worse than what’s on offer here.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Prophecy Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Release Dates: EU: 2026.03.13 | NA: 03.27.2026

My general lack of awareness and the fact that The Mountain King themselves submitted the album via contact form and didn’t give much away in their promo pack left me unprepared for Pike Dreams. In the hazy air of the promo sump, I caught the word ‘doom’, but when I hit play on Pike Dreams that’s not quite what I got. As much as the name and cover art seem to scream Sabbathian (neo-)classical heavy metal, stoner, and of course doom, Pike Dreams is ambient, synth-led post-rock, and it’s instrumental. The German duo have been lurking around the borders of drone/stoner/doom since 2014, and do not operate as a solely instrumental act. That Pike Dreams speaks to its being created as “a slow cycle of reflection on human history across the last two millennia,” where each song is named for a particular year of great social and societal change in Europe. Marrying evocation with execution is a difficulty especially acute for instrumental music—how does The Mountain King fare?

As an ambient album, Pike Dreams leans heavily towards synth, with touches of piano, barely-there percussion, and heavily-muted guitars. It carries a feeling of nostalgia that manifests dualistically in fuzzed-out soundscapes and grainy warmth à la Boards of Canada (“1066,” “1381”), and on the other through dungeon-synth, and quasi-medieval horns and melodies (“1328”). This seems appropriate given the record’s historical concept. Its modernity surfaces in subtle hints at an industrial edge to riffs that break the surface of haze and resonate between echoing pulses, reminding me fragmentarily of Phal:Angst and Haunted Plasma (“1066,” “1789,” “2026”). What Pike Dreams is most of all, however, is quiet. Regardless of the music’s precise direction, it remains blanketed by fog with every element subdued, magnifying the meaning of the word ‘reflection’ in the album’s description.

Pike Dreams by The Mountain King

The Mountain King take the ‘less is more’ approach not only to volume, but also to the structure of the record and the compositions themselves. Pike Dreams could be described as fluctuating between introspective calm and confident expressiveness, but this translates to a change in intensity from 1 to 1.5 on a scale of 10. Gentle pulses trade places with blunt, horn-accented chugs (“476,” “1789”), strings and tremolo blur together in indistinct softness (“1525,” “2010”), and trap beats support liquid guitar-synth hybrids (“1789,” “2026”). Often, the blurred boundaries of physically and synthetically-crafted sounds are beautiful, melodically and precisely in their dreamlike ethereality (“1066,” “1524”). Often, however, do the persistent understatement of movement and omnipresent muting hamper Pike Dreams’ ability to gain its listeners’ attention. This muffling is no doubt intentional, and does work well at intervals: for instance, in the service of contrast or transition (“2010”); acting as a musing pause (“1524”); or to amplify a melody’s poignancy through almost painful delicacy (“1066”). Yet its unequivocal application to all moments of all songs can make even the grandest passages underwhelming.

In this regard, it’s uncertain how a listener is meant to relate Pike Dreams to its subject matter. On the one hand, the deliberate vagueness of the soundscape mirrors a look back through the mists of time, and allows the audience to project their own sentiments onto its subtle evocation. On the other hand, this same nature prevents the audience from connecting to the music itself, and from connecting the music to its supposed year of reference. More minimalist tracks (“1328,” “1381,” “2026”) may work better when the listener detaches, but more expressive ones (“1066,” “1524,” “2010”) when the listener invests in their refrains—and the ones in those tracks are often very lovely. Whether there’s an issue here will be down to the role one designates to a concept album—especially of the instrumental and ambient kind.

Pike Dreams is as hard to pin down as you might expect from the above and from its appropriately mysterious title. As a whispering, quite beautiful, backdrop, it makes for a soothing and introspective experience that I can’t deny I enjoy returning to. In many ways, it’s a breath of fresh air amidst a constant storm of fast and extremely heavy music that so often fills these halls, and a chance to exhale and let go in a time of conflict and strife. The Mountain King may not have done enough to fully embody their themes or impress their compositions’ identities upon the listener, but how it feels for the duration is worth something.

Rating: Good
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: VBR mp3
Label: Void Key Recordings
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 6th, 2026