#nov24 — Public Fediverse posts

Today’s Pips puzzle focuses on tile orientation, high-number zones, and strict Equal/Greater Than rules. Vertical placements matter most, and rotating tiles is often the key to meeting tight totals like 10, 11, and 12. A challenging day that rewards careful counting and smart positioning.

#NYTPips #PuzzleSummary #Nov24 #TECHi

Read Full Article Here :- https://www.techi.com/nyt-pips-hints-and-answers/

Septaria – Astar Review

By Steel Druhm

Written By: Nameless_N00b_87

It’s hard to believe Gojira’s From Mars to Sirius will be celebrating its twenty-year anniversary next year. The now famous metal quartet from Bayonne, France has ascended the metal hierarchy since the release of their landmark record, culminating this year in a mainstage spot in the opening ceremonies of the 2024 Summer Olympics. But as a longtime fan, I feared that their performance, no matter how awe-inspiring, would add further fuel to an ever-growing wildfire of imitation by a legion of aspiring musicians seeking to emulate their captivating sound. Enter Septaria, one such young aspiring band from Southern France who are ready to unleash their debut album Astar.1 The foursome has garnered somewhat of a buzz with their existential blend of Gojira’s modern metal and Slowdive’s dreamy post- rock, resulting in the group becoming the latest signees to Guillaume Bernard’s2 Klonosphere label. Let’s find out if these young lads can escape the shadow of their Godzilla-like influences and carve out their own path.

Septaria wastes little time channeling Gojira’s signature sound. From the rhythmic staccatos and pummeling double-kicks of From Mars to Sirius, to the double octave pitch shifts highlighted on Magma‘s “Centaure,” to the harmonic tremolos and melodic tapping of L’Enfant Sauvage, the Gojira tropes dominate Astar’s drawn-out runtime with lackluster results. And to cover the vocal inconsistencies that shredders Hugo Thevenot and Maxime Ayasse produce, the duo run their ethereal cleans, guttural roars, and reverberating screams under thick layers of reverb and delay while toying about with periodic bouts of throat singing and ethnic chants. Drummer Hugo Leydet, who offers his best impersonation of Mario Duplantier’s heavy grooves in both performance and tone, teams up with the low rumble of Baptise Trébuchon’s bass to round out the quartet’s familiar backbone. Though clearly talented, Septaria fail to show much originality outside of a few strong swelling and groove-laden moments peppered throughout Astar that provide a glimpse of the ensemble’s artistic vision.

Septaria’s overindulgence and lack of originality make Astar’s excessive length unjustifiable, bloated, and monotonous. Clocking in at 68 minutes, Septaria’s twelve lengthy, Gojira-inspired tracks rely on post-rock’s epic builds stretched out beyond necessity, resulting in a listless and tedious listening experience. “Being,” for example, is an immense ten-minute track that takes forever to arrive at its apex before the energy dies against four minutes of atmospheric feedback and ominous bass tones. Elsewhere, the lifeforce of Ledet’s hypnotic drumming in “Skys Words” deflates in the song’s bloated second half, offering an uninspired, spacey, and drawn-out construction that clashes with its grandiose form. And the cacophony of whammy bar manipulations and screams of “Saggitarius” shatter all momentum after its midpoint. Meant to offer respite, Septaria attempts to combat Astar’s bloat through strategically positioned intermezzos (“Abyss,” “Persephone”) intended to break the record’s flow into more palatable portions. Instead, these diversions quickly devolve into filler, serving as stagnant pools of rogue riffs.

Astar’s stronger moments appear when Septaria rely on their post-rock and groove-laden core to drive creativity. The dreamlike and celestial bridge that triggers the ending in opener “Moment Présent” signals that these Frenchmen have the capacity to write catchy, somber, and atmospheric grooves with emotional impact. Astar’s best moment arrives with the closing of “Embers” where Ledet’s back-beat shuffle coalesces with Thevenot’s and Ayasse’s harmonic tapping and ominous low tremolos to create a head-bobbing groove. Despite these highlights, however, Septaria’s hesitancy to escape the comfort of their predecessors’ shadow stifles their creativity, leading them to eventually revert to a predictable, borrowed riff.

Septaria is a young band that possesses loads of talent and ambition. However, Astar falls victim to Septaria’s overindulgence and lack of originality. This reliance on a well-established formula, coupled with the inability to craft compelling and concise compositions, results in tedious and underwhelming listen. Astar is a testament to Septaria‘s potential, but it is potential that remains largely untapped. I’m left disappointed with what could have been with Astar, and hope Septaria strives to step outside of the confines of imitation with their next steps.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Klonosphere Records
Websites: septariaofficial.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/septaria.band
Releases Worldwide: November 15, 2024

Show 2 footnotes

1. Stylized as A*. Seriously… – Dolph ↩
2. The guitarist and founding member of art rock band Klone. ↩

#20 #2024 #Astar #FrenchMetal #Gojira #KlonosphereRecords #Nov24 #PostRock #PostMetal #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #Septaria #Slowdive

Septaria – Astar Review

By Steel Druhm

Written By: Nameless_N00b_87

It’s hard to believe Gojira’s From Mars to Sirius will be celebrating its twenty-year anniversary next year. The now famous metal quartet from Bayonne, France has ascended the metal hierarchy since the release of their landmark record, culminating this year in a mainstage spot in the opening ceremonies of the 2024 Summer Olympics. But as a longtime fan, I feared that their performance, no matter how awe-inspiring, would add further fuel to an ever-growing wildfire of imitation by a legion of aspiring musicians seeking to emulate their captivating sound. Enter Septaria, one such young aspiring band from Southern France who are ready to unleash their debut album Astar.1 The foursome has garnered somewhat of a buzz with their existential blend of Gojira’s modern metal and Slowdive’s dreamy post- rock, resulting in the group becoming the latest signees to Guillaume Bernard’s2 Klonosphere label. Let’s find out if these young lads can escape the shadow of their Godzilla-like influences and carve out their own path.

Septaria wastes little time channeling Gojira’s signature sound. From the rhythmic staccatos and pummeling double-kicks of From Mars to Sirius, to the double octave pitch shifts highlighted on Magma‘s “Centaure,” to the harmonic tremolos and melodic tapping of L’Enfant Sauvage, the Gojira tropes dominate Astar’s drawn-out runtime with lackluster results. And to cover the vocal inconsistencies that shredders Hugo Thevenot and Maxime Ayasse produce, the duo run their ethereal cleans, guttural roars, and reverberating screams under thick layers of reverb and delay while toying about with periodic bouts of throat singing and ethnic chants. Drummer Hugo Leydet, who offers his best impersonation of Mario Duplantier’s heavy grooves in both performance and tone, teams up with the low rumble of Baptise Trébuchon’s bass to round out the quartet’s familiar backbone. Though clearly talented, Septaria fail to show much originality outside of a few strong swelling and groove-laden moments peppered throughout Astar that provide a glimpse of the ensemble’s artistic vision.

Septaria’s overindulgence and lack of originality make Astar’s excessive length unjustifiable, bloated, and monotonous. Clocking in at 68 minutes, Septaria’s twelve lengthy, Gojira-inspired tracks rely on post-rock’s epic builds stretched out beyond necessity, resulting in a listless and tedious listening experience. “Being,” for example, is an immense ten-minute track that takes forever to arrive at its apex before the energy dies against four minutes of atmospheric feedback and ominous bass tones. Elsewhere, the lifeforce of Ledet’s hypnotic drumming in “Skys Words” deflates in the song’s bloated second half, offering an uninspired, spacey, and drawn-out construction that clashes with its grandiose form. And the cacophony of whammy bar manipulations and screams of “Saggitarius” shatter all momentum after its midpoint. Meant to offer respite, Septaria attempts to combat Astar’s bloat through strategically positioned intermezzos (“Abyss,” “Persephone”) intended to break the record’s flow into more palatable portions. Instead, these diversions quickly devolve into filler, serving as stagnant pools of rogue riffs.

Astar’s stronger moments appear when Septaria rely on their post-rock and groove-laden core to drive creativity. The dreamlike and celestial bridge that triggers the ending in opener “Moment Présent” signals that these Frenchmen have the capacity to write catchy, somber, and atmospheric grooves with emotional impact. Astar’s best moment arrives with the closing of “Embers” where Ledet’s back-beat shuffle coalesces with Thevenot’s and Ayasse’s harmonic tapping and ominous low tremolos to create a head-bobbing groove. Despite these highlights, however, Septaria’s hesitancy to escape the comfort of their predecessors’ shadow stifles their creativity, leading them to eventually revert to a predictable, borrowed riff.

Septaria is a young band that possesses loads of talent and ambition. However, Astar falls victim to Septaria’s overindulgence and lack of originality. This reliance on a well-established formula, coupled with the inability to craft compelling and concise compositions, results in tedious and underwhelming listen. Astar is a testament to Septaria‘s potential, but it is potential that remains largely untapped. I’m left disappointed with what could have been with Astar, and hope Septaria strives to step outside of the confines of imitation with their next steps.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Klonosphere Records
Websites: septariaofficial.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/septaria.band
Releases Worldwide: November 15, 2024

Show 2 footnotes

1. Stylized as A*. Seriously… – Dolph ↩
2. The guitarist and founding member of art rock band Klone. ↩

#20 #2024 #Astar #FrenchMetal #Gojira #KlonosphereRecords #Nov24 #PostRock #PostMetal #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #Septaria #Slowdive

Opeth – The Last Will and Testament Review

By El Cuervo

Little introduction is required for the progressive metal institution that is Sweden’s Opeth. In a career running over 30 years in length and spanning 13 previous studio albums, they have demonstrated an unending pursuit of progression by drawing in more influences as they’ve changed. From death metal to progressive rock to European folk to whimsical jazz, they have tracked a course that has always been fascinating, even if the quality has varied a little more than that. Reaching 2024, The Last Will and Testament is a remarkable record in a career full of remarkable records. It represents all of the following: the most overdue studio album, being released five years after its predecessor; the first release with the young but experienced Waltteri Väyrynen on drums; the return of harsh vocals for the first time in 16 years; and the first concept record since 1999’s Still Life.

Despite these remarkable qualities, The Last Will and Testament offers a smooth and natural progression from 2019’s In Cauda Venenum, but with discernible nods to other records in the Opeth discography. The first and most obvious reference is the progressive melodrama levered on Ghost Reveries and Watershed. The swinging passage from 1:30 on “§2”1 is effortlessly cool, layering groovy guitars and dramatic keyboards with spoken-word narration and a wild vibrato buried in the background. It recalls that specific era of death-influenced progressive metal, dripping with keyboard-generated atmosphere. The second core component of The Last Will and Testament’s sound is the heady compositions favored on In Cauda Venenum. That record featured varied, complex compositions but they’re too disparate. Those here are simultaneously sharper but also freer. “§4” bridges a soft flute interlude with a heavy guitar passage via a subtle drum crescendo, and despite the contrasting instrumentation, it’s smooth and cohesive in a way that few other bands can match. The musical continuity builds a sense of completeness, which is no doubt aided by the final influence in The Last Will and Testament’s sound: Still Life’s rich storytelling.

The album’s concept drives both the music and structure. The Last Will and Testament spins a yarn based around the administration of the estate of a wealthy man, replete with a seedy lawyer (entertainingly performed by Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull) and an imposing patriarch (given a voice through Mikael Åkerfeldt’s wrathful roar). The twisting tale of family intrigue and deception—including soap opera grudges and illicit children—is narrated across the first six tracks, before culminating in “§7” where Anderson delivers a deliciously-evil reading of the will to the unsuspecting beneficiaries. While this feels appropriately climactic, the final track “A Story Never Told” succeeds this chicanery with jarring clarity. It’s an excellent tonal shift, with Åkerfeldt’s clean singing layered over a simple piano melody that’s as simple as it is beautiful. While The Last Will and Testament twists and turns throughout, the opening to this track lifts the listener out of the mire of family drama2 and closes affairs with peacefulness.

But The Last Will and Testament’s most important quality is its sheer mastery. There’s no one else that writes music like this, and rarely so successfully. Every element of its core fusion of death metal and progressive rock is highly accomplished, from the knotty compositions to the polished performances to the immaculate production. As referenced earlier, In Cauda Venenum has a similar scope of instrumentation and intricate compositions. But they’re elevated here; more harmonious, more sophisticated, more artful. “§5” is a prime example. There’s a high degree of intricacy as it folds crisp drums, dancing bass lines, beautiful strings, darting vocals, and bluesy guitars into something that oscillates between subtle jazz and crunchy death metal. I love the natural lilt and the unexpected transitions.3 It’s busy and dense with textures, but the bold melodies and crystalline production prevent the material from sinking into murkiness. I’ll also commend “A Story Never Told” as one of the best songs of the year. Its organic swell from delicate piano melodies to the grand guitar solo concludes the album on an endlessly moreish note.

The Last Will and Testament doesn’t yield any weaknesses. On their fourteenth go-round, Opeth has once more delivered something exemplary in conception, performance, and production. The songs are varied but focused, feeling shorter and tighter than prior work. And while its story may not be as tragic as prior Opeth concepts, I admire the willingness to have some fun with it.4 Existing fans will no doubt gain much from this experience, and anyone with their interest limited to O(ld)peth may just find something here too. 2024 sees these Swedes finding a new harmony in their sound, and connoisseurs of progressive music mustn’t miss this.

Rating: 4.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Reigning Phoenix Music
Websites: opeth.com | facebook.com/opeth
Releases Worldwide: November 22nd, 2024

Show 4 footnotes

1. All tracks except the finale are titled as paragraphs within a will, hence the “§”. ↩
2. Above the mire, if you will. ↩
3. But while unexpected, the transitions are not jarring as was the case on Watershed or Heritage, where there was a sense that they were just linking things together at random in the studio and telling Per to play one note on the keyboard as an ‘excuse’ to justify a key change. Instead, The Last Will and Testament is crafted with the deliberate, artisanal expertise that Åkerfeldt demonstrated in his composition and arrangements for his entire career before 2008. – AMG ↩
4. And the growth that Åkerfeldt exemplified by accepting the lessons of In Cada Venenum; lyrics matter and they take real time and effort. The Last Will and Testament plays in genuine Concept Record territory in a way that makes it genuinely fun to listen to. It’s melodramatic and it’s sharp. – AMG ↩

#2024 #45 #DeathMetal #EnglishMetal #JethroTull #Nov24 #Opeth #ProgressiveDeathMetal #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #TheLastWillAndTestament

Paysage d’Hiver – Die Berge Review

By Dear Hollow

While black metal and cold atmosphere are nearly inseparable, Paysage d’Hiver’s icy Nordic aesthetic is a step above. Through the eyes of “the wanderer,” mastermind Tobias “Wintherr” Möckl1 weaves tales of frostbitten wilderness, icy desolation, and vicious blizzards through raw tremolo and shimmering synth. Each release another chapter in the wanderer’s journey, fourteenth installment Die Berge is its final installment.2 Die Berge (“the mountains”) tells of the monkish pilgrimage taken across jagged peaks and forlorn valleys, the ultimate revelation and unveiling of death awaiting him. It’s a beautiful demise, but as anything you expect with Paysage d’Hiver, it’s cold.

Die Berge is Paysage d’Hiver’s third full-length. To say that is absolutely asinine because Wintherr’s long legacy of ten formidable demos spans three decades, including highlights like Schattengang, Winterkälte, and Das Tor, masterclass after masterclass of raw black and icy ambiance. 2020’s “first full-length” Im Wald was a pinnacle, a balanced two-hour trek through frozen wilderness that married Paysage’s trademark rawness with the dark ambient of demos like Nacht and Einsamkeit, evocative of both cold and darkness. This is what made 2022’s Geister a head-scratcher. While chilly like second-wave ought to be, Wintherr took a newfound dive into riffy grooves in evoking the Tschäggättä, masked beings in a regional Swiss winter festival. Die Berge is a step back and forward, its predecessor’s groove lending itself to muscular riffage, patient pacing, and frostbitten rawness that evokes the majesty of the mountains.

Paysage d’Hiver’s effectiveness lies in its trademark simplicity. Each track features a chord progression or plucking motif around which shrieked and growled vocals, tremolo, percussion, and synthesizer revolve. Endlessly grim, the riffs are what sets Möckl’s compositions a step above, refusing the warmth and saturation of contemporary “atmoblack” in favor of something both searingly raw and frigidly haunting – truly like being caught in a blizzard on a desolate mountainside. The groove of Geister collides with the trademark atmosphere in riffs that sound bigger and more commanding than anything Paysage d’Hiver has ever written, sounding both jagged and majestic in their conjuration of snowy peaks (“Urgrund,” “Verinnerlichung”). As per the trademark, these riffs and melodies sway ominously between its triune of grim, dissonant, and beautiful – its range of emotions conveyed exquisitely across its mammoth 103-minute runtime. Contrary to earlier material, Die Berge feels remarkably more patient, its riffs beating to a nearly doom pulse, the grandeur enacted more commanding than the traditional blastbeats-and-tremolo duo that has pervaded Paysage’s catalog.

What has made Paysage d’Hiver so effective is its ability to progress the music forward without forsaking its trademark,3 and Die Berge is no exception. While the opening two tracks fit snugly into the act’s history of ice-crusted blasting, the final hour and ten minutes takes on new life. The “Transzendenz” trilogy revolves around the same chord progression, but each installment is a diminuendo and dissolution of scathing raw guitar (“Transzendenz I”) with a growth of icy synth, concluding entirely in synth-forward beauty (“Transzendenz III”). The conclusions of Die Berge are wonders unto themselves, aptly epic and bombastic closers that revel in both the desperation and denial, then beauty and clarity of a frozen death in synth- and piano-forward meditations (“Ausstieg”) and the ultimate succumbing to the colossus of frigidity at the summit with tragedy and gloom at its center (“Gipfel”).4 The demise of the wanderer is beautifully communicated without sacrificing the grimness so central to Paysage d’Hiver’s raw black metal aesthetic.

Die Berge is a beautiful end to the wanderer’s tortured life. Like all Paysage d’Hiver albums, it is a mammoth undertaking, and certain melodies can grow wearisome for some listeners after so many iterations (“Verinnerlichung,” “Transzendenz II”), but it’s more about the experience than riffs and highlights. Somehow, Die Berge doesn’t feel as bombastic as its spiritual predecessor Im Wald, but its subtlety and tragedy make it all more intriguing and its central storyline of the spiritual pilgrimage to the wanderer’s final breaths atop jagged peaks more tangible. While this may be the end of Paysage d’Hiver’s central character, Die Berge ensures his memory lives on in a grim and beautiful collusion of storytelling and raw black metal. We can only hope to never see the end of winter.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Kunsthall Produktionen
Websites: paysagedhiver.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/PaysagedHiver.Official
Releases Worldwide: November 8th, 2024

Show 4 footnotes

1. Also of Darkspace and owner of Kunsthall Produktionen. ↩
2. Reports are mixed if this is the end of Paysage d’Hiver, however. ↩
3. One reason why Geister was so divisive. ↩
4. Aptly, these two tracks translate as “exit” and “summit,” respectively. ↩

#2024 #40 #AmbientBlackMetal #BlackMetal #Darkspace #DieBerge #KunsthallProduktionen #Nov24 #PaysageDHiver #RawBlackMetal #Review #Reviews #SwissMetal

Paysage d’Hiver – Die Berge Review

By Dear Hollow

While black metal and cold atmosphere are nearly inseparable, Paysage d’Hiver’s icy Nordic aesthetic is a step above. Through the eyes of “the wanderer,” mastermind Tobias “Wintherr” Möckl1 weaves tales of frostbitten wilderness, icy desolation, and vicious blizzards through raw tremolo and shimmering synth. Each release another chapter in the wanderer’s journey, fourteenth installment Die Berge is its final installment.2 Die Berge (“the mountains”) tells of the monkish pilgrimage taken across jagged peaks and forlorn valleys, the ultimate revelation and unveiling of death awaiting him. It’s a beautiful demise, but as anything you expect with Paysage d’Hiver, it’s cold.

Die Berge is Paysage d’Hiver’s third full-length. To say that is absolutely asinine because Wintherr’s long legacy of ten formidable demos spans three decades, including highlights like Schattengang, Winterkälte, and Das Tor, masterclass after masterclass of raw black and icy ambiance. 2020’s “first full-length” Im Wald was a pinnacle, a balanced two-hour trek through frozen wilderness that married Paysage’s trademark rawness with the dark ambient of demos like Nacht and Einsamkeit, evocative of both cold and darkness. This is what made 2022’s Geister a head-scratcher. While chilly like second-wave ought to be, Wintherr took a newfound dive into riffy grooves in evoking the Tschäggättä, masked beings in a regional Swiss winter festival. Die Berge is a step back and forward, its predecessor’s groove lending itself to muscular riffage, patient pacing, and frostbitten rawness that evokes the majesty of the mountains.

Paysage d’Hiver’s effectiveness lies in its trademark simplicity. Each track features a chord progression or plucking motif around which shrieked and growled vocals, tremolo, percussion, and synthesizer revolve. Endlessly grim, the riffs are what sets Möckl’s compositions a step above, refusing the warmth and saturation of contemporary “atmoblack” in favor of something both searingly raw and frigidly haunting – truly like being caught in a blizzard on a desolate mountainside. The groove of Geister collides with the trademark atmosphere in riffs that sound bigger and more commanding than anything Paysage d’Hiver has ever written, sounding both jagged and majestic in their conjuration of snowy peaks (“Urgrund,” “Verinnerlichung”). As per the trademark, these riffs and melodies sway ominously between its triune of grim, dissonant, and beautiful – its range of emotions conveyed exquisitely across its mammoth 103-minute runtime. Contrary to earlier material, Die Berge feels remarkably more patient, its riffs beating to a nearly doom pulse, the grandeur enacted more commanding than the traditional blastbeats-and-tremolo duo that has pervaded Paysage’s catalog.

What has made Paysage d’Hiver so effective is its ability to progress the music forward without forsaking its trademark,3 and Die Berge is no exception. While the opening two tracks fit snugly into the act’s history of ice-crusted blasting, the final hour and ten minutes takes on new life. The “Transzendenz” trilogy revolves around the same chord progression, but each installment is a diminuendo and dissolution of scathing raw guitar (“Transzendenz I”) with a growth of icy synth, concluding entirely in synth-forward beauty (“Transzendenz III”). The conclusions of Die Berge are wonders unto themselves, aptly epic and bombastic closers that revel in both the desperation and denial, then beauty and clarity of a frozen death in synth- and piano-forward meditations (“Ausstieg”) and the ultimate succumbing to the colossus of frigidity at the summit with tragedy and gloom at its center (“Gipfel”).4 The demise of the wanderer is beautifully communicated without sacrificing the grimness so central to Paysage d’Hiver’s raw black metal aesthetic.

Die Berge is a beautiful end to the wanderer’s tortured life. Like all Paysage d’Hiver albums, it is a mammoth undertaking, and certain melodies can grow wearisome for some listeners after so many iterations (“Verinnerlichung,” “Transzendenz II”), but it’s more about the experience than riffs and highlights. Somehow, Die Berge doesn’t feel as bombastic as its spiritual predecessor Im Wald, but its subtlety and tragedy make it all more intriguing and its central storyline of the spiritual pilgrimage to the wanderer’s final breaths atop jagged peaks more tangible. While this may be the end of Paysage d’Hiver’s central character, Die Berge ensures his memory lives on in a grim and beautiful collusion of storytelling and raw black metal. We can only hope to never see the end of winter.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Kunsthall Produktionen
Websites: paysagedhiver.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/PaysagedHiver.Official
Releases Worldwide: November 8th, 2024

Show 4 footnotes

1. Also of Darkspace and owner of Kunsthall Produktionen. ↩
2. Reports are mixed if this is the end of Paysage d’Hiver, however. ↩
3. One reason why Geister was so divisive. ↩
4. Aptly, these two tracks translate as “exit” and “summit,” respectively. ↩

#2024 #40 #AmbientBlackMetal #BlackMetal #Darkspace #DieBerge #KunsthallProduktionen #Nov24 #PaysageDHiver #RawBlackMetal #Review #Reviews #SwissMetal

Sólstafir – Hin helga kvöl Review

By Carcharodon

The review game is a funny business. I genuinely don’t recall liking Endless Twilight of Co-Dependent Love, the last outing by Iceland’s post-metal legends Sólstafir, as much as I apparently did. It was a 2.5/5.0. Surely. But, as I prepared to tackle their eighth album, Hin helga kvöl (The Holy Suffering), I was shocked to learn that I’d 3.5ed Endless Twilight. And, wouldn’t you know, I was right! Yes, Endless Twilight was far too long. No, the production wasn’t good. And yes, Aðalbjörn Tryggvason’s vocals were more love-em-or-hate-em than ever. But, somehow, it held together as a very good album, something I re-discovered afresh delving back in after a four-year break. Speaking about Hin helga kvöl, Tryggvason said that one thing Sólstafir tried was to make the songs shorter but it’s “somewhat harder to write good short songs, so that was a real challenge.” Was it one the Icelanders were up to?

While Hin helga kvöl is shorter than Sólstafir’s last outing, at 50 minutes, with six of nine tracks comfortably clearing the five-minute mark, it’s not exactly an EP. But it’s not all about the length, as they (allegedly) say. And it would be fair to say that several of these short(er) songs are good, a few fantastic. The title track could easily have come off Sólstafir’s debut, Í blóði og anda. Harsh, bleak black metal, a big bass groove and Tryggvason’s emotive voice at its least objectionable, all serve to conjure the Icelandic majesty that made the band its name in the first place. This vitality and intensity, much missed on recent Sólstafir records, is matched, in starkly contrasting ways, by the album’s closing duo, “Nú mun ljósið deyja” and “Kuml (forspil, sálmur, kveðja).” The former leans into that Icelandic black metal fury of the title track, building up melodic textures to create layers of stark beauty. Highlight “Kuml” is an altogether different beast, slow, atmospheric doom, building in gorgeous sax and huge, sepulchral, clean vocals, which border on a monastic chant.

In fact, the more time I’ve spent with Hin helga kvöl, the more I’ve found to enjoy. Mid-album cut “Vor ás,” which adds in haunting female vocals by Erna Hrönn Ólafsdóttir, is redolent of the more up-tempo cuts (like “Draumfari”) from personal favourite, Svartir sandar. However, Sólstafir also indulge in some of their more recent, uglier vices. Awful hard rock ‘anthem’ “Blakkrakki,” relies on multi-tracked, grainy vocals, with Tryggvason repeatedly shouting the song title over bland, repetitive chords and laboured bass. This simplistic songwriting is repeated on “Grýla,” albeit with somewhat more success. However, unfairly sandwiching it between languid, bluesy lament “Freygátan” and “Nú mun ljósið deyja,” only highlights the basic songwriting. The album’s longest cut “Sálumessa” does absolutely nothing to justify it’s runtime. Attempting, I think, to hark back to the forlorn beauty of Ótta, it succeeds only in making me want to listen to that record.

Listening to Hin helga kvöl, I feel like a marionette being sharply pulled between different poles. Sólstafir has simultaneously written some of the best material I’ve heard from them since Ótta (title track and “Kuml”), and some of the worst I’ve heard from them full stop (“Blakkrakki”). They have then combined this with a few other tracks, ranging from the very good (“Freygátan” and “Nú mun ljósið deyja”) to the very mediocre (“Hún andar” and “Sálumessa”) seemingly at random. Only the transition from “Nú mun ljósið deyja” into album closer “Kuml” flows in a way that makes real sense in terms of album pacing. As well as the confused structure, the sound is bad. However, it’s hard to know how much to blame this on the production and how much on the 128 kbps(!) mp3 files that someone deigned to share with us.1 In the more stripped-back tracks (like “Kuml”), the production just about holds up, albeit the master is loud. In other places though, notably “Nú mun ljósið deyja,” it sounds crushed and a bit flat. Either way, just like on Endless Twilight, Tryggvason’s vocals are again way too far forward in the mix, offensively so on “Blakkrakki.”

Hin helga kvöl is so damn close to being the album I desperately wanted from Sólstafir. Ditch two tracks (which, incidentally, would shave almost 12 minutes off the runtime) and re-order the rest to give the album a logical flow, and you’d be looking at a record that could stand toe-to-toe with pretty much anything in Sólstafir’s catalogue. As an all-around album experience, Hin helga kvöl is fatally flawed but, I think, I maybe, kind of … love it? It’s complicated.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 102 | Format Reviewed: 128 kbps mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: solstafir.bandcamp.com | solstafir.is | facebook.com/solstafirice
Releases Worldwide: November 8th, 2024

Show 2 footnotes

1. And, given that low file quality, I don’t put much stock in the DR10 score either. ↩
2. Doubt. So. Much. Doubt. ↩

#25 #2024 #CenturyMediaRecords #HardRock #HinHelgaKvöl #IcelandicMetal #Nov24 #PostRock #PostBlackMetal #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #Solstafir

Sólstafir – Hin helga kvöl Review

By Carcharodon

The review game is a funny business. I genuinely don’t recall liking Endless Twilight of Co-Dependent Love, the last outing by Iceland’s post-metal legends Sólstafir, as much as I apparently did. It was a 2.5/5.0. Surely. But, as I prepared to tackle their eighth album, Hin helga kvöl (The Holy Suffering), I was shocked to learn that I’d 3.5ed Endless Twilight. And, wouldn’t you know, I was right! Yes, Endless Twilight was far too long. No, the production wasn’t good. And yes, Aðalbjörn Tryggvason’s vocals were more love-em-or-hate-em than ever. But, somehow, it held together as a very good album, something I re-discovered afresh delving back in after a four-year break. Speaking about Hin helga kvöl, Tryggvason said that one thing Sólstafir tried was to make the songs shorter but it’s “somewhat harder to write good short songs, so that was a real challenge.” Was it one the Icelanders were up to?

While Hin helga kvöl is shorter than Sólstafir’s last outing, at 50 minutes, with six of nine tracks comfortably clearing the five-minute mark, it’s not exactly an EP. But it’s not all about the length, as they (allegedly) say. And it would be fair to say that several of these short(er) songs are good, a few fantastic. The title track could easily have come off Sólstafir’s debut, Í blóði og anda. Harsh, bleak black metal, a big bass groove and Tryggvason’s emotive voice at its least objectionable, all serve to conjure the Icelandic majesty that made the band its name in the first place. This vitality and intensity, much missed on recent Sólstafir records, is matched, in starkly contrasting ways, by the album’s closing duo, “Nú mun ljósið deyja” and “Kuml (forspil, sálmur, kveðja).” The former leans into that Icelandic black metal fury of the title track, building up melodic textures to create layers of stark beauty. Highlight “Kuml” is an altogether different beast, slow, atmospheric doom, building in gorgeous sax and huge, sepulchral, clean vocals, which border on a monastic chant.

In fact, the more time I’ve spent with Hin helga kvöl, the more I’ve found to enjoy. Mid-album cut “Vor ás,” which adds in haunting female vocals by Erna Hrönn Ólafsdóttir, is redolent of the more up-tempo cuts (like “Draumfari”) from personal favourite, Svartir sandar. However, Sólstafir also indulge in some of their more recent, uglier vices. Awful hard rock ‘anthem’ “Blakkrakki,” relies on multi-tracked, grainy vocals, with Tryggvason repeatedly shouting the song title over bland, repetitive chords and laboured bass. This simplistic songwriting is repeated on “Grýla,” albeit with somewhat more success. However, unfairly sandwiching it between languid, bluesy lament “Freygátan” and “Nú mun ljósið deyja,” only highlights the basic songwriting. The album’s longest cut “Sálumessa” does absolutely nothing to justify it’s runtime. Attempting, I think, to hark back to the forlorn beauty of Ótta, it succeeds only in making me want to listen to that record.

Listening to Hin helga kvöl, I feel like a marionette being sharply pulled between different poles. Sólstafir has simultaneously written some of the best material I’ve heard from them since Ótta (title track and “Kuml”), and some of the worst I’ve heard from them full stop (“Blakkrakki”). They have then combined this with a few other tracks, ranging from the very good (“Freygátan” and “Nú mun ljósið deyja”) to the very mediocre (“Hún andar” and “Sálumessa”) seemingly at random. Only the transition from “Nú mun ljósið deyja” into album closer “Kuml” flows in a way that makes real sense in terms of album pacing. As well as the confused structure, the sound is bad. However, it’s hard to know how much to blame this on the production and how much on the 128 kbps(!) mp3 files that someone deigned to share with us.1 In the more stripped-back tracks (like “Kuml”), the production just about holds up, albeit the master is loud. In other places though, notably “Nú mun ljósið deyja,” it sounds crushed and a bit flat. Either way, just like on Endless Twilight, Tryggvason’s vocals are again way too far forward in the mix, offensively so on “Blakkrakki.”

Hin helga kvöl is so damn close to being the album I desperately wanted from Sólstafir. Ditch two tracks (which, incidentally, would shave almost 12 minutes off the runtime) and re-order the rest to give the album a logical flow, and you’d be looking at a record that could stand toe-to-toe with pretty much anything in Sólstafir’s catalogue. As an all-around album experience, Hin helga kvöl is fatally flawed but, I think, I maybe, kind of … love it? It’s complicated.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 102 | Format Reviewed: 128 kbps mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: solstafir.bandcamp.com | solstafir.is | facebook.com/solstafirice
Releases Worldwide: November 8th, 2024

Show 2 footnotes

1. And, given that low file quality, I don’t put much stock in the DR10 score either. ↩
2. Doubt. So. Much. Doubt. ↩

#25 #2024 #CenturyMediaRecords #HardRock #HinHelgaKvöl #IcelandicMetal #Nov24 #PostRock #PostBlackMetal #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #Solstafir

Beardfish – Songs for Beating Hearts Review

By El Cuervo

It’s strange to reflect on more than a decade of servitude at AMG.com. It’s even stranger to think there’s only been one Beardish record in that time, considering that the decade before saw six of them. 2015’s +4626-Comfortzone may not have been the best progressive rock release in the last 10 years but it’s supremely enjoyable, if somewhat off-beat and irreverent. The close of 2024 sees the overdue renewal and return of the Swedish band, showing signs of a maturer outfit than we saw previously. Songs for Beatings Hearts is a warm reminder of one of the genre’s unsung heroes and the power of dissolution and then reformation.

It’s hard to review Beating Hearts without considering the multi-part “Out in the Open” suite that occupies most of side A. Take “Part II (Oblivion)”. On first listen it’s jaunty, easy-listening rock, but repetition yields surprising details and many instrumental layers. It sounds like music created on a slant given the band’s off-kilter approach. Beardfish make something that sounds simple but they do so in a complex way, thus rewarding repeated listens. Though few instruments used deviate from rock norms, they’re fused into a deep, textured Goldilocks zone between progressive rock, folk music, and blues. The band harmonizes distinct – and distinctly Southern-friend – grooves, acoustic pastoral edges, and expansive songwriting. There are shades of bands I know well, like Yes and King Crimson, but also shades of blues and folk bands with which I’m less familiar. All this is capped with Rikard Sjöblom’s croons. They’re pretty unique and immediately situate you in a Beardfish record with a warmth and expressiveness that fits the off-beat music.

Beardfish are also masters of mood; their music conveys emotion and feel so effectively. Just look to “Out in the Open: Part III (Hopes and Dreams)” and “Part IV (Oblivion Reprise).” The former represents a stark contrast to the preceding three tracks, using a sedate acoustic melody and colder vocals to strike a delicate but beautiful tone. The tracks wind slowly and carefully towards an apex that flowers into something warmer. Meanwhile “Part IV” returns to a jaunty bounce that has become the band’s signature sound. The jazzy bass, bluesy grooves, and layered vocals convey a sense of joy. This type of emotive shift is common across Beating Hearts, from poignant pianos on “Part I (Overture)” to grand synths on “Part V (Around the Bend).” It takes you on an engaging, unpredictable journey through the album’s 51 minutes, situating the listener in the band’s world. While the sophisticated compositions engage my brain, it’s the emotive control that engages my soul.

Taking “Out in the Open” in its entirety, it’s a long and varied journey. Breaking these 20 minutes into digestible chunks was smart because without doing so, it could have felt like too much. But outside of this multi-part opus, the other longer tracks (like “Beating Hearts” and “Torrential Downpour”) can feel scattershot and meandering, good though the music is. Fortunately, among this variety and length, there are numerous tidy riffs to provide the requisite hooks to distinguish and elevate each song. The bluesy lick played against the descending “Love can cure the beating heart” line on the title track is great, as is the hard rocking riff closing the album. But the best of the bunch has to be the lead on “In the Autumn”. It’s technical but soulful; intricate but emotive. But while the guitars are stronger than ever here, I find a relative lack of vocal hooks compared with Comfortzone to be a weakness. There are a few subtle earworms but it’s tougher to recall the choruses where the songs don’t prioritize the vocals as the melodic focal point.

I’ve struggled with scoring Beating Hearts. It feels like a strong 3.5 now but it’s grown from a 3.0 and might yet grow further to 4.0. It’s generally less focused and less hooky than Comfortzone, but it casts a powerful spell and will suck you in more over time. And while you don’t always look to a genre like prog rock for stellar riffs, this album is full of them. Beardfish have made the most of their revival, and I eagerly anticipate what more they can conjure.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: InsideOut Music
Websites: facebook.com/beardfish
Releases Worldwide: November 1st, 2024

#2024 #35 #Beardfish #KingCrimson #Nov24 #ProgressiveRock #Review #Reviews #SongsForBeatingHearts #SwedishMetal #Yes

Beardfish – Songs for Beating Hearts Review

By El Cuervo

It’s strange to reflect on more than a decade of servitude at AMG.com. It’s even stranger to think there’s only been one Beardish record in that time, considering that the decade before saw six of them. 2015’s +4626-Comfortzone may not have been the best progressive rock release in the last 10 years but it’s supremely enjoyable, if somewhat off-beat and irreverent. The close of 2024 sees the overdue renewal and return of the Swedish band, showing signs of a maturer outfit than we saw previously. Songs for Beatings Hearts is a warm reminder of one of the genre’s unsung heroes and the power of dissolution and then reformation.

It’s hard to review Beating Hearts without considering the multi-part “Out in the Open” suite that occupies most of side A. Take “Part II (Oblivion)”. On first listen it’s jaunty, easy-listening rock, but repetition yields surprising details and many instrumental layers. It sounds like music created on a slant given the band’s off-kilter approach. Beardfish make something that sounds simple but they do so in a complex way, thus rewarding repeated listens. Though few instruments used deviate from rock norms, they’re fused into a deep, textured Goldilocks zone between progressive rock, folk music, and blues. The band harmonizes distinct – and distinctly Southern-friend – grooves, acoustic pastoral edges, and expansive songwriting. There are shades of bands I know well, like Yes and King Crimson, but also shades of blues and folk bands with which I’m less familiar. All this is capped with Rikard Sjöblom’s croons. They’re pretty unique and immediately situate you in a Beardfish record with a warmth and expressiveness that fits the off-beat music.

Beardfish are also masters of mood; their music conveys emotion and feel so effectively. Just look to “Out in the Open: Part III (Hopes and Dreams)” and “Part IV (Oblivion Reprise).” The former represents a stark contrast to the preceding three tracks, using a sedate acoustic melody and colder vocals to strike a delicate but beautiful tone. The tracks wind slowly and carefully towards an apex that flowers into something warmer. Meanwhile “Part IV” returns to a jaunty bounce that has become the band’s signature sound. The jazzy bass, bluesy grooves, and layered vocals convey a sense of joy. This type of emotive shift is common across Beating Hearts, from poignant pianos on “Part I (Overture)” to grand synths on “Part V (Around the Bend).” It takes you on an engaging, unpredictable journey through the album’s 51 minutes, situating the listener in the band’s world. While the sophisticated compositions engage my brain, it’s the emotive control that engages my soul.

Taking “Out in the Open” in its entirety, it’s a long and varied journey. Breaking these 20 minutes into digestible chunks was smart because without doing so, it could have felt like too much. But outside of this multi-part opus, the other longer tracks (like “Beating Hearts” and “Torrential Downpour”) can feel scattershot and meandering, good though the music is. Fortunately, among this variety and length, there are numerous tidy riffs to provide the requisite hooks to distinguish and elevate each song. The bluesy lick played against the descending “Love can cure the beating heart” line on the title track is great, as is the hard rocking riff closing the album. But the best of the bunch has to be the lead on “In the Autumn”. It’s technical but soulful; intricate but emotive. But while the guitars are stronger than ever here, I find a relative lack of vocal hooks compared with Comfortzone to be a weakness. There are a few subtle earworms but it’s tougher to recall the choruses where the songs don’t prioritize the vocals as the melodic focal point.

I’ve struggled with scoring Beating Hearts. It feels like a strong 3.5 now but it’s grown from a 3.0 and might yet grow further to 4.0. It’s generally less focused and less hooky than Comfortzone, but it casts a powerful spell and will suck you in more over time. And while you don’t always look to a genre like prog rock for stellar riffs, this album is full of them. Beardfish have made the most of their revival, and I eagerly anticipate what more they can conjure.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: InsideOut Music
Websites: facebook.com/beardfish
Releases Worldwide: November 1st, 2024

#2024 #35 #Beardfish #KingCrimson #Nov24 #ProgressiveRock #Review #Reviews #SongsForBeatingHearts #SwedishMetal #Yes

Bombus – Your Blood Review

By Dr. A.N. Grier

After a much-needed vacation,1 and being sick as fuck for weeks, ole Grier is back with something you might not want in your life but you need it. In 2016, AMG Himself reviewed the third record from Bombus, a little-known Swedish outfit. Like AMG, I was surprised that something so simple could plant a seed in my ear and keep me returning for more. But, I suppose it’s no surprise when surrounded by endless extreme metal that a palate cleanser like Repeat Until Death would find a home in my regular rotation. The band basically plays metalized rock with predictable song structures and hooking choruses, where nothing overstays its welcome. Three years later, we appeared to have missed the release of Vulture Culture. But maybe that was for the best considering it only contained a handful of new ideas and struggled to come together as a complete album. I was hesitant when I saw this year’s Your Blood in the bin. Though one spin in, I knew something magical was happening to Bombus and Your Blood turned out to be their most ambitious record to date.

After spending years with Century Media Records, Bombus has penned a new deal with Black Lodge Records. Not only that but co-founding vocalist and guitarist Matte Säker left the band. In his stead, not only was another vocalist/guitarist recruited (they have two), but a third guitarist was added to the mix to bring the band from a four-piece to a five-piece. With these newfound axes, the band traveled a new road that brought soaring solos, intricate leads, and harmonizing soundscapes. Your Blood also offers the most melodic collection of pieces the band has ever accumulated. The result is far less predictable than previous albums, introducing new twists that’ll pull at your heartstrings, bob your head, and raise an eyebrow (or two). If you know the band’s previous output, nothing will prepare you for what’s to come.

While one of the more straightforward ditties on the record, “Killer” does a decent job introducing you to the new Bombus direction. After opening with all three guitars lending their strings to soaring leads, the song settles into a melodic groove. As the song builds, the passion and sadness of the track intensifies, sucking you into its mere three-and-a-half-minute runtime. With an accessible piece setting the mood, things get real weird, real fast. The follow-up track, “The One,” zaps you into a time warp that introduces a slow-moving vocal style akin to Nick Cave and a poppy drum beat that could have come from The White Stripes. I know, it’s a couple of odd descriptors, but the song is absolutely hypnotizing as it weaves in and out of intense moments and drum-led spoken-word interludes. But, the weirdest track of them all is the title track. Like so many other bands these days, Bombus reaches into Spaghetti-Western influences. With cawing crows and more sinister Ghoultown vibes, this track slithers around like a sidewinder, erupting into the catchy chorus while passing through cold, dark desert nights.

Between these oddities, Hellhammer-esque nastiness, Motörhead beauty, speed metal licks, Pain-like psychedelics, and Volbeaty clapping segments,2 a couple tracks truly crawl to the top. “Carmina” is one of the most interesting tracks on the album, showing how much time the band spent to improve and diversify their sound. Probably one of the heavier tracks on the album, much like their style of old, this track uses a combination of hammering vocals, bass, and drums to set up the chorus. The chorus is interesting because it passes through two phases: first, punching Rob Zombie-ish shouts, and then low, overlapping vocals. After passing the midway point, the band settles into Chug Land, pounding away on a riff as the guitar leads swirl around the background chants. The best song on the album immediately triggered me in the strangest way possible. The simple riff of “Take Your Down” is almost identical to the soundtrack of one of my favorite revenge scenes in television history: when Frank Castle finally gets his hands on William Rawlins. It’s a powerful song with a fantastic chorus that punches on those revenge qualities and puts goosebumps on my arms.

Outside of the weirdly cool (but also still weird), synthy guitar work of “No Rules” and the howling wolf at the beginning of “The Beast,” which had me spitting out my coffee in laughter, Your Blood is a great new direction for Bombus. The songs are painstakingly structured for a style like this, the choruses are some of the best they’ve ever written, and the diversity makes it exciting on repeat listens. The album flow is also well done vocally. As the album plays out, the vocals get nastier and more pained. After introducing some cleans toward the beginning of the album, the back half finds them more and more raucous, concluding the record with the most desperate performance. Your Blood might not be the vicious metal record you want, but if you take a minute to explore the band’s discog, you’ll be surprised by the results of this new record. Everywhere I look on the interwebz, people ask, “Why are these guys not more popular.” And you know what? I have no idea.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 267 kb/s mp3
Label: Black Lodge Records
Websites: bombusmusic.com | facebook.com/bombusmusic
Releases Worldwide: November 1st, 2024

Show 2 footnotes

1. A real one. Not just a vacation from all you fuckheads. ↩
2. Yeah, this album is wild. ↩

#2024 #35 #BlackLodgeRecords #Bombus #Ghoultown #HardRock #HeavyMetal #Hellhammer #Motörhead #NickCave #Nov24 #Pain #Review #Reviews #RobZombie #SwedishMetal #TheWhiteStripes #Volbeat #YourBlood

Bombus – Your Blood Review

By Dr. A.N. Grier

After a much-needed vacation,1 and being sick as fuck for weeks, ole Grier is back with something you might not want in your life but you need it. In 2016, AMG Himself reviewed the third record from Bombus, a little-known Swedish outfit. Like AMG, I was surprised that something so simple could plant a seed in my ear and keep me returning for more. But, I suppose it’s no surprise when surrounded by endless extreme metal that a palate cleanser like Repeat Until Death would find a home in my regular rotation. The band basically plays metalized rock with predictable song structures and hooking choruses, where nothing overstays its welcome. Three years later, we appeared to have missed the release of Vulture Culture. But maybe that was for the best considering it only contained a handful of new ideas and struggled to come together as a complete album. I was hesitant when I saw this year’s Your Blood in the bin. Though one spin in, I knew something magical was happening to Bombus and Your Blood turned out to be their most ambitious record to date.

After spending years with Century Media Records, Bombus has penned a new deal with Black Lodge Records. Not only that but co-founding vocalist and guitarist Matte Säker left the band. In his stead, not only was another vocalist/guitarist recruited (they have two), but a third guitarist was added to the mix to bring the band from a four-piece to a five-piece. With these newfound axes, the band traveled a new road that brought soaring solos, intricate leads, and harmonizing soundscapes. Your Blood also offers the most melodic collection of pieces the band has ever accumulated. The result is far less predictable than previous albums, introducing new twists that’ll pull at your heartstrings, bob your head, and raise an eyebrow (or two). If you know the band’s previous output, nothing will prepare you for what’s to come.

While one of the more straightforward ditties on the record, “Killer” does a decent job introducing you to the new Bombus direction. After opening with all three guitars lending their strings to soaring leads, the song settles into a melodic groove. As the song builds, the passion and sadness of the track intensifies, sucking you into its mere three-and-a-half-minute runtime. With an accessible piece setting the mood, things get real weird, real fast. The follow-up track, “The One,” zaps you into a time warp that introduces a slow-moving vocal style akin to Nick Cave and a poppy drum beat that could have come from The White Stripes. I know, it’s a couple of odd descriptors, but the song is absolutely hypnotizing as it weaves in and out of intense moments and drum-led spoken-word interludes. But, the weirdest track of them all is the title track. Like so many other bands these days, Bombus reaches into Spaghetti-Western influences. With cawing crows and more sinister Ghoultown vibes, this track slithers around like a sidewinder, erupting into the catchy chorus while passing through cold, dark desert nights.

Between these oddities, Hellhammer-esque nastiness, Motörhead beauty, speed metal licks, Pain-like psychedelics, and Volbeaty clapping segments,2 a couple tracks truly crawl to the top. “Carmina” is one of the most interesting tracks on the album, showing how much time the band spent to improve and diversify their sound. Probably one of the heavier tracks on the album, much like their style of old, this track uses a combination of hammering vocals, bass, and drums to set up the chorus. The chorus is interesting because it passes through two phases: first, punching Rob Zombie-ish shouts, and then low, overlapping vocals. After passing the midway point, the band settles into Chug Land, pounding away on a riff as the guitar leads swirl around the background chants. The best song on the album immediately triggered me in the strangest way possible. The simple riff of “Take Your Down” is almost identical to the soundtrack of one of my favorite revenge scenes in television history: when Frank Castle finally gets his hands on William Rawlins. It’s a powerful song with a fantastic chorus that punches on those revenge qualities and puts goosebumps on my arms.

Outside of the weirdly cool (but also still weird), synthy guitar work of “No Rules” and the howling wolf at the beginning of “The Beast,” which had me spitting out my coffee in laughter, Your Blood is a great new direction for Bombus. The songs are painstakingly structured for a style like this, the choruses are some of the best they’ve ever written, and the diversity makes it exciting on repeat listens. The album flow is also well done vocally. As the album plays out, the vocals get nastier and more pained. After introducing some cleans toward the beginning of the album, the back half finds them more and more raucous, concluding the record with the most desperate performance. Your Blood might not be the vicious metal record you want, but if you take a minute to explore the band’s discog, you’ll be surprised by the results of this new record. Everywhere I look on the interwebz, people ask, “Why are these guys not more popular.” And you know what? I have no idea.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 267 kb/s mp3
Label: Black Lodge Records
Websites: bombusmusic.com | facebook.com/bombusmusic
Releases Worldwide: November 1st, 2024

Show 2 footnotes

1. A real one. Not just a vacation from all you fuckheads. ↩
2. Yeah, this album is wild. ↩

#2024 #35 #BlackLodgeRecords #Bombus #Ghoultown #HardRock #HeavyMetal #Hellhammer #Motörhead #NickCave #Nov24 #Pain #Review #Reviews #RobZombie #SwedishMetal #TheWhiteStripes #Volbeat #YourBlood