#nov25 — Public Fediverse posts

Brutal cold envelops the building as my minions scrape through ice and filthy slush to find even the smallest shard of metallic glimmer. With extensive budget cuts demanded by my exorbitant bonus schedule—as is my right as CEO of this filtration service—there was no room to purchase adequate gear and equipment for these harsher weathers. However, I did take up crocheting recently so each of my “employees” received a nice soft hat.

Hopefully, that will be enough to tide them over until the inclement weather passes and we return to normal temps. Until then, they have these rare finds to keep them warm, and so do you! REJOICE!

Kenstrosity’s Knightly Nightmare

AngelMaker // This Used to Be Heaven [November 20th, 2025 – Self Released]

I’ve been a fan of AngelMaker’s since their 2015 debut Dissentient. The grossly underrated and underappreciated Vancouver septet are a highly specialized deathcore infantry, with their lineup expanding steadily over their career in concert with their ever-increasing songwriting sophistication. Unlike the brutish and belligerent debut and follow-up AngelMaker, 2022’s Sanctum and new outing This Used to Be Heaven indulge in rich layering, near-neoclassical melodies, and dramatic atmosphere to complement AngelMaker’s trademark sense of swaggering groove. With early entries “Rich in Anguish” and “Haunter” establishing the strength of both sides of their sound, it always surprises me how AngelMaker successfully twist and gnarl their sound into shapes—whether it be hardcore, blackened, or melodic—I wasn’t anticipating (“Silken Hands,” “Relinquished,” “Nothing Left”). A rock-solid back half launched by the epic “The Omen” two-part suite brings these deviations from the expected into unity with the deathcore foundation I know AngelMaker so well for (“Malevolence Reigns,” “Altare Mortis”), and in doing so secure their status as one of the most reliably creative deathcore acts in the scene. Nothing here is going to change the minds of the fiercer deathcore detractors, but if your heart is open even just a crack, there’s a good chance This Used to Be Heaven will force themselves into it, if not entirely rip the whole thing asunder. My advice is simply to let it.

This Used To Be Heaven by AngelMaker

ClarkKent’s Sonic Symphonics

Brainblast // Colossus Suprema [November 11th, 2025 – Vmbrella]

A debut album five years in the making from a band formed in 2015, Colossus Suprema is the brainchild of Bogotá, Colombia’s Edd Jiménez. Jiménez turned his passion for and training in classical composition towards his symphonic progressive act, Brainblast. With Bach as an inspiration, Brainblast’s brand of technical death metal has the grandeur of Fleshgod Apocalypse, the speed of Archspire, and the virtuosity of concert musicians. Jiménez’s classical training shows — the compositions have an orchestral feel, only played at insane energy levels. The speed, the depth, and the breadth of the instrumentation are sure to leave you breathless. Nicholas Le Fou Wells (First Fragment) lays down relentless kitwork with jaw-dropping velocity, while Eetu Hernesmaa provides technical fretwork that’ll similarly leave you awestruck. He delivers sublime riffs on “Relentless Rise” and a surprising melodic lead that steals the show on “Unchain Your Soul.” Perhaps most prominent is the virtuoso play of the bass from Rich Gray (Annihilator) and Dominic Forest Lapointe (First Fragment) that is omnipresent and funky on each and every song. To top it all off is the piano (perhaps from Jiménez), giving the music some gravitas with the technical, concert-style playing. This record is just plain bonkers and tons of fun. Given this is the debut from a young musician, the idea that Brainblast has room to grow is plenty exciting.

COLOSSUS SUPREMA by BRAINBLAST

Gods of Gaia // Escape the Wonderland [November 28th, 2025 – Self Released]

If you’ve been eagerly awaiting the next SepticFlesh release, Germany’s Gods of Gaia have got you covered. Founded in 2023 by Kevin Sierra Eifert, Gods of Gaia is made up of an anonymous collective from around the world, contributing to a dark, heavy, and aggressive form of symphonic metal. Their sophomore album, Escape the Wonderland, features a collection of death metal songs with plenty of orchestral arrangements that add a dramatic flair. Along with crushing riffs and thunderous blast beats, you’ll hear choral chants (“Escape the Wonderland,” “Burn for Me”), bits of piano (“What It Takes”), and plenty of cinematic symphonics. SepticFlesh is the obvious influence, but the grandiosity of Fleshgod Apocalypse flares up on cuts like the dramatic “Rise Up.” The front half is largely aggressive, with “What It Takes” taking the energy to thrash levels. The back half dials down the energy, even creeping to near doom on “Krieg in Mir,” but never pulls back on the heaviness. Cool as the symphonic elements are, the riffs, blast beats, and brutal vocal delivery are just as impressive. Make no mistake, this is melodic death metal above all else, with symphonic seasonings that elevate it a notch. Just the opposite of what the record title suggests, this is one wonderland you won’t want to escape.

Escape the Wonderland by Gods of Gaia

Grin Reaper’s Frozen Feast

Hounds of Bayanay // КЭМ [November 15, 2025 – Self Released]

Two-and-a-half years after dropping debut Legends of the North, Hounds of Bayanay returns with КЭМ to sate your eternal lust for folk metal.1 Blending heavy metal with folk instrumentation, specifically kyrympa2 and khomus,3 as well as throat singing, Hounds of Bayanay might sound like a Tengger Cavalry or The Hu knockoff, but you’ll do yourself a disservice by writing them off. Boldly enunciated, clarion cleans belt out in confident proclamations while grittier refrains and overtones resonate beneath, proffering assorted and engaging vocal stylings. Rather than dwelling overlong in strings and tribal chanting, the deft fusion of folk instruments with traditional metal defines Hounds’ sound and feels cohesively integrated on КЭМ, providing an intimate yet heavy backdrop to a hook-laden and alluringly replayable thirty-nine minutes. In addition to the eclectic folk influence, there’s a satisfying variety of songwriting from track to track, with “Ardaq,” “Cɯsqa:n,” and “Dɔʃɔrum” exemplifying the enticing synthesis of styles. More than anything else, Hounds of Bayanay embodies heart and fun, warming my chilly days with a well-executed platter of Eastern-influenced folk metal. Don’t skip this one, or the decision could hound you.

KEM by Hounds Of Bayanay

Blood Red Throne // Siltskin [December 05, 2025 – Soulseller Records]

I’m shoving up against the deadline to wedge this one in, but Blood Red Throne’s latest deserves a mention, and bulldozing is just the sort of thing you should do while listening to BRT’s brand of bludgeoning, pit-stomping romp. Back in December, the venerable Norwegian death metal act dropped twelfth album Siltskin, maintaining their prolific and consistent release schedule. In addition to their dependable output, BRT stays the course with pummeling, brutish pomp. In his coverage of Nonagon and Imperial Congregation, Doc Grier drums up comparisons to Old Man’s Child, Panzerchrist, and Hypocrisy, and while I’m not inclined to disagree on those points, I’ll add that Siltskin also harkens to Kill-era Cannibal Corpse in its slick coalition of mid-paced slammers, warp-speed blitzes, and fat ‘n’ frolicking bass. Add to that the sly, sticky melody from the likes of Sentenced’s North from Here (“Vestigial Remnants”), and you’ve got a recipe for a righteous forty-five-minute smash-a-thon. Blood Red Throne’s last few records have been among their best, which is an incredible feat for a band this far into their career. While Siltskin doesn’t surpass BRT’s high-water mark, it keeps up, and if you’re hungry for an aural beatdown, then Blood Red Throne would like to throw their crown into the ring for consideration.

Siltskin by Blood Red Throne

Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu // Immortality [December 17, 2025 – Bang the Head Records]

I am woefully late to the charms of Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu, a Japanese death metal outfit prominently featuring slap ‘n’ pop bass. Had it not been for our trusty Flippered Friend, I might have continued this grievous injustice of ignorance, but thankfully, this is not the timeline to which I’m doomed. Immortality is Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu’s seventh album, and those who enjoy the band’s previous work should remain satisfied. For new acolytes, Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu grasps the rabid intensity of Vader and Krisiun and imbues it with a funky edge. Meaty bass rumbles and sprightly slapped accents, provided by bassist/vocalist Haruhisa Takahata, merge with Kouki Akita’s kit obliteration to establish a thunderous, unrelenting rhythm section. Atop the lower end’s heft, Keiichi Enjouji shreds and squeals with thrashy vigor and a keen understanding of melody. First proper track “Anima Immortalis” even includes gang intonations that work so well, I wish they were more prevalent across the album. The sum total of Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu’s atmosphere is one of plucky exuberance that strikes with the force of a roundhouse kick to the dome. Had I discovered it sooner, Immortality would have qualified for a 2025 year-end honorable mention, as I haven’t been able to stop spinning it or the band’s prior releases.4 Though I’m still in the honeymoon phase, I expect this platter to live on in my listening, and recommend you not miss this GTK killer like I almost did.

Thus Spoke’s Random Revelations

The Algorithm // Recursive Infinity [November 21st, 2025 – Self Released]

I’ve been a fan of The Algorithm since the early days, back when their electronica-djent was almost twee in its experimental joy, spliced with light-hearted samples. Over the years, Rémi Gallego has tuned his flair for mesmeric, playful compositions to develop a richer, more streamlined sound. Recursive Infinity continues the recent upward trend Data Renaissance began. With riffs and rhythms the slickest since Brute Force, and melodies the brightest and most colourful since equally-prettily adorned Polymorphic Code, it’s a cyberpunk tour-de-force. The wildness is trained, chunky heaviness grounding magnetic melodies (“Race Condition,” “Mutex,” “By Design”), dense chugging transitioning seamlessly into techno (“Advanced Iteration Technique,” “Hollowing,” “Graceful Degradation), and adding bite to bubbly, candy-coloured soundscapes (“Rainbow Table,”). The skittering of breakbeats tempers synthwave (“Endless Iteration), and bright pulses wrap cascading electro-core (“Race Condition,” “Mutex”) and orchestral melodrama (“Recursive Infinity”). It’s often strongly reminiscent of some point in The Algorithm’s history, but everything is upgraded from charming to entrancing. This provides a new way to interpret Recursive Infinity: not just a reference to an endless loop in general, but to Boucle Infinie (Infinite Loop)—Remi’s other musical project—and by extension, The Algorithm themselves. Yet he is still experimenting, including vocoder vocals (“Endless Iteration,” “By Design”) for a surprisingly successful dark-Daft Punk vibe in slower, moodier moments. With nostalgic throwbacks transformed so beautifully, and the continued evolution, there’s simply no way I can ignore The Algorithm now. And neither should you.

Recursive Infinity by The Algorithm

Owlswald’s Holiday Scraps

Sun of the Suns // Entanglement [December 12th, 2025 – Scarlet Records]

Bands and labels take heed—We reserve December for two things: Listurnalia and celebrating another trip around the sun. It is not for releasing new music. Yet this blunder persists, ensuring we inevitably miss gems like Sun of the Suns’ sophomore effort, Entanglement.5 The record dropped just as the world was tuning out for the year, and it deserves much better. Building on the foundation of their 2021 debut, TIIT, the Italian trio has significantly beefed up their progressive death formula. Mixing tech-death articulation with deathcore brutality, Entanglement ensures fans of Fallujah will feel right at home with its effervescent clean melodies and crystalline textures. Francesca Paoli (Fleshgod Apocalypse) returns to provide another masterclass behind the kit with rapid-fire double-bass, blasts, and tom fills, while guitarists Marco Righetti and Ludovico Cioffi deliver cosmic shredding and radiant solos that are both technical and deliberate. While the early tracks lean into Fallujahian songcraft and Tesseract-style arpeggios, the album shines brightest late when the group largely sheds its stylistic orbit. “Please, Blackout My Eyes” pivots toward a majestic Aeternam vibe with ethereal tech-death incisiveness, while “One With the Sun” and “The Void Where Sound Ends Its Path” hit like a sledgehammer with Xenobiotic’s deathcore grooves. Though Luca Dave Scarlatti’s vocals lack differentiation, the sheer quality of the compositions carries the weight, proving Sun of the Suns are much more than mere clones.

Entanglement by Sun Of The Suns

Brutal cold envelops the building as my minions scrape through ice and filthy slush to find even the smallest shard of metallic glimmer. With extensive budget cuts demanded by my exorbitant bonus schedule—as is my right as CEO of this filtration service—there was no room to purchase adequate gear and equipment for these harsher weathers. However, I did take up crocheting recently so each of my “employees” received a nice soft hat.

Hopefully, that will be enough to tide them over until the inclement weather passes and we return to normal temps. Until then, they have these rare finds to keep them warm, and so do you! REJOICE!

Kenstrosity’s Knightly Nightmare

AngelMaker // This Used to Be Heaven [November 20th, 2025 – Self Released]

I’ve been a fan of AngelMaker’s since their 2015 debut Dissentient. The grossly underrated and underappreciated Vancouver septet are a highly specialized deathcore infantry, with their lineup expanding steadily over their career in concert with their ever-increasing songwriting sophistication. Unlike the brutish and belligerent debut and follow-up AngelMaker, 2022’s Sanctum and new outing This Used to Be Heaven indulge in rich layering, near-neoclassical melodies, and dramatic atmosphere to complement AngelMaker’s trademark sense of swaggering groove. With early entries “Rich in Anguish” and “Haunter” establishing the strength of both sides of their sound, it always surprises me how AngelMaker successfully twist and gnarl their sound into shapes—whether it be hardcore, blackened, or melodic—I wasn’t anticipating (“Silken Hands,” “Relinquished,” “Nothing Left”). A rock-solid back half launched by the epic “The Omen” two-part suite brings these deviations from the expected into unity with the deathcore foundation I know AngelMaker so well for (“Malevolence Reigns,” “Altare Mortis”), and in doing so secure their status as one of the most reliably creative deathcore acts in the scene. Nothing here is going to change the minds of the fiercer deathcore detractors, but if your heart is open even just a crack, there’s a good chance This Used to Be Heaven will force themselves into it, if not entirely rip the whole thing asunder. My advice is simply to let it.

This Used To Be Heaven by AngelMaker

ClarkKent’s Sonic Symphonics

Brainblast // Colossus Suprema [November 11th, 2025 – Vmbrella]

A debut album five years in the making from a band formed in 2015, Colossus Suprema is the brainchild of Bogotá, Colombia’s Edd Jiménez. Jiménez turned his passion for and training in classical composition towards his symphonic progressive act, Brainblast. With Bach as an inspiration, Brainblast’s brand of technical death metal has the grandeur of Fleshgod Apocalypse, the speed of Archspire, and the virtuosity of concert musicians. Jiménez’s classical training shows — the compositions have an orchestral feel, only played at insane energy levels. The speed, the depth, and the breadth of the instrumentation are sure to leave you breathless. Nicholas Le Fou Wells (First Fragment) lays down relentless kitwork with jaw-dropping velocity, while Eetu Hernesmaa provides technical fretwork that’ll similarly leave you awestruck. He delivers sublime riffs on “Relentless Rise” and a surprising melodic lead that steals the show on “Unchain Your Soul.” Perhaps most prominent is the virtuoso play of the bass from Rich Gray (Annihilator) and Dominic Forest Lapointe (First Fragment) that is omnipresent and funky on each and every song. To top it all off is the piano (perhaps from Jiménez), giving the music some gravitas with the technical, concert-style playing. This record is just plain bonkers and tons of fun. Given this is the debut from a young musician, the idea that Brainblast has room to grow is plenty exciting.

COLOSSUS SUPREMA by BRAINBLAST

Gods of Gaia // Escape the Wonderland [November 28th, 2025 – Self Released]

If you’ve been eagerly awaiting the next SepticFlesh release, Germany’s Gods of Gaia have got you covered. Founded in 2023 by Kevin Sierra Eifert, Gods of Gaia is made up of an anonymous collective from around the world, contributing to a dark, heavy, and aggressive form of symphonic metal. Their sophomore album, Escape the Wonderland, features a collection of death metal songs with plenty of orchestral arrangements that add a dramatic flair. Along with crushing riffs and thunderous blast beats, you’ll hear choral chants (“Escape the Wonderland,” “Burn for Me”), bits of piano (“What It Takes”), and plenty of cinematic symphonics. SepticFlesh is the obvious influence, but the grandiosity of Fleshgod Apocalypse flares up on cuts like the dramatic “Rise Up.” The front half is largely aggressive, with “What It Takes” taking the energy to thrash levels. The back half dials down the energy, even creeping to near doom on “Krieg in Mir,” but never pulls back on the heaviness. Cool as the symphonic elements are, the riffs, blast beats, and brutal vocal delivery are just as impressive. Make no mistake, this is melodic death metal above all else, with symphonic seasonings that elevate it a notch. Just the opposite of what the record title suggests, this is one wonderland you won’t want to escape.

Escape the Wonderland by Gods of Gaia

Grin Reaper’s Frozen Feast

Hounds of Bayanay // КЭМ [November 15, 2025 – Self Released]

Two-and-a-half years after dropping debut Legends of the North, Hounds of Bayanay returns with КЭМ to sate your eternal lust for folk metal.1 Blending heavy metal with folk instrumentation, specifically kyrympa2 and khomus,3 as well as throat singing, Hounds of Bayanay might sound like a Tengger Cavalry or The Hu knockoff, but you’ll do yourself a disservice by writing them off. Boldly enunciated, clarion cleans belt out in confident proclamations while grittier refrains and overtones resonate beneath, proffering assorted and engaging vocal stylings. Rather than dwelling overlong in strings and tribal chanting, the deft fusion of folk instruments with traditional metal defines Hounds’ sound and feels cohesively integrated on КЭМ, providing an intimate yet heavy backdrop to a hook-laden and alluringly replayable thirty-nine minutes. In addition to the eclectic folk influence, there’s a satisfying variety of songwriting from track to track, with “Ardaq,” “Cɯsqa:n,” and “Dɔʃɔrum” exemplifying the enticing synthesis of styles. More than anything else, Hounds of Bayanay embodies heart and fun, warming my chilly days with a well-executed platter of Eastern-influenced folk metal. Don’t skip this one, or the decision could hound you.

KEM by Hounds Of Bayanay

Blood Red Throne // Siltskin [December 05, 2025 – Soulseller Records]

I’m shoving up against the deadline to wedge this one in, but Blood Red Throne’s latest deserves a mention, and bulldozing is just the sort of thing you should do while listening to BRT’s brand of bludgeoning, pit-stomping romp. Back in December, the venerable Norwegian death metal act dropped twelfth album Siltskin, maintaining their prolific and consistent release schedule. In addition to their dependable output, BRT stays the course with pummeling, brutish pomp. In his coverage of Nonagon and Imperial Congregation, Doc Grier drums up comparisons to Old Man’s Child, Panzerchrist, and Hypocrisy, and while I’m not inclined to disagree on those points, I’ll add that Siltskin also harkens to Kill-era Cannibal Corpse in its slick coalition of mid-paced slammers, warp-speed blitzes, and fat ‘n’ frolicking bass. Add to that the sly, sticky melody from the likes of Sentenced’s North from Here (“Vestigial Remnants”), and you’ve got a recipe for a righteous forty-five-minute smash-a-thon. Blood Red Throne’s last few records have been among their best, which is an incredible feat for a band this far into their career. While Siltskin doesn’t surpass BRT’s high-water mark, it keeps up, and if you’re hungry for an aural beatdown, then Blood Red Throne would like to throw their crown into the ring for consideration.

Siltskin by Blood Red Throne

Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu // Immortality [December 17, 2025 – Bang the Head Records]

I am woefully late to the charms of Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu, a Japanese death metal outfit prominently featuring slap ‘n’ pop bass. Had it not been for our trusty Flippered Friend, I might have continued this grievous injustice of ignorance, but thankfully, this is not the timeline to which I’m doomed. Immortality is Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu’s seventh album, and those who enjoy the band’s previous work should remain satisfied. For new acolytes, Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu grasps the rabid intensity of Vader and Krisiun and imbues it with a funky edge. Meaty bass rumbles and sprightly slapped accents, provided by bassist/vocalist Haruhisa Takahata, merge with Kouki Akita’s kit obliteration to establish a thunderous, unrelenting rhythm section. Atop the lower end’s heft, Keiichi Enjouji shreds and squeals with thrashy vigor and a keen understanding of melody. First proper track “Anima Immortalis” even includes gang intonations that work so well, I wish they were more prevalent across the album. The sum total of Gotsu-Totsu-Kotsu’s atmosphere is one of plucky exuberance that strikes with the force of a roundhouse kick to the dome. Had I discovered it sooner, Immortality would have qualified for a 2025 year-end honorable mention, as I haven’t been able to stop spinning it or the band’s prior releases.4 Though I’m still in the honeymoon phase, I expect this platter to live on in my listening, and recommend you not miss this GTK killer like I almost did.

Thus Spoke’s Random Revelations

The Algorithm // Recursive Infinity [November 21st, 2025 – Self Released]

I’ve been a fan of The Algorithm since the early days, back when their electronica-djent was almost twee in its experimental joy, spliced with light-hearted samples. Over the years, Rémi Gallego has tuned his flair for mesmeric, playful compositions to develop a richer, more streamlined sound. Recursive Infinity continues the recent upward trend Data Renaissance began. With riffs and rhythms the slickest since Brute Force, and melodies the brightest and most colourful since equally-prettily adorned Polymorphic Code, it’s a cyberpunk tour-de-force. The wildness is trained, chunky heaviness grounding magnetic melodies (“Race Condition,” “Mutex,” “By Design”), dense chugging transitioning seamlessly into techno (“Advanced Iteration Technique,” “Hollowing,” “Graceful Degradation), and adding bite to bubbly, candy-coloured soundscapes (“Rainbow Table,”). The skittering of breakbeats tempers synthwave (“Endless Iteration), and bright pulses wrap cascading electro-core (“Race Condition,” “Mutex”) and orchestral melodrama (“Recursive Infinity”). It’s often strongly reminiscent of some point in The Algorithm’s history, but everything is upgraded from charming to entrancing. This provides a new way to interpret Recursive Infinity: not just a reference to an endless loop in general, but to Boucle Infinie (Infinite Loop)—Remi’s other musical project—and by extension, The Algorithm themselves. Yet he is still experimenting, including vocoder vocals (“Endless Iteration,” “By Design”) for a surprisingly successful dark-Daft Punk vibe in slower, moodier moments. With nostalgic throwbacks transformed so beautifully, and the continued evolution, there’s simply no way I can ignore The Algorithm now. And neither should you.

Recursive Infinity by The Algorithm

Owlswald’s Holiday Scraps

Sun of the Suns // Entanglement [December 12th, 2025 – Scarlet Records]

Bands and labels take heed—We reserve December for two things: Listurnalia and celebrating another trip around the sun. It is not for releasing new music. Yet this blunder persists, ensuring we inevitably miss gems like Sun of the Suns’ sophomore effort, Entanglement.5 The record dropped just as the world was tuning out for the year, and it deserves much better. Building on the foundation of their 2021 debut, TIIT, the Italian trio has significantly beefed up their progressive death formula. Mixing tech-death articulation with deathcore brutality, Entanglement ensures fans of Fallujah will feel right at home with its effervescent clean melodies and crystalline textures. Francesca Paoli (Fleshgod Apocalypse) returns to provide another masterclass behind the kit with rapid-fire double-bass, blasts, and tom fills, while guitarists Marco Righetti and Ludovico Cioffi deliver cosmic shredding and radiant solos that are both technical and deliberate. While the early tracks lean into Fallujahian songcraft and Tesseract-style arpeggios, the album shines brightest late when the group largely sheds its stylistic orbit. “Please, Blackout My Eyes” pivots toward a majestic Aeternam vibe with ethereal tech-death incisiveness, while “One With the Sun” and “The Void Where Sound Ends Its Path” hit like a sledgehammer with Xenobiotic’s deathcore grooves. Though Luca Dave Scarlatti’s vocals lack differentiation, the sheer quality of the compositions carries the weight, proving Sun of the Suns are much more than mere clones.

Entanglement by Sun Of The Suns

Equilibrium – Equinox Review

By Samguineous Maximus

More than almost any other metal niche, folk metal has to walk a treacherously thin line between “actually good music” and “full-body cringe.” For every band that can fuse arena-sized melodies with genuine folk charm, there are three more tumbling headfirst into the Neckbeard Abyss™, condemned to soundtrack the Nordic-themed house parties of Reddit mods everywhere. Equilibrium has stood proudly on both sides of that divide. Their early triumphs of Turis Frayter and Sagas were mead-soaked romps packed with syrupy pagan hooks and enough triumphant Bjoriffs to level a longhouse, but ever since, the spark has dimmed, and each new release has brought diminishing returns. Armageddon (2016) was passable, and Renegades (2019) marked a true low point, trading their Viking swagger for a baffling electro-trance-metal makeover that landed with all the grace of a drunken troll. Now, six years later, Equilibrium returns with Equinox, a tightened lineup and a new vocalist in tow, promising a glorious reclamation of their folk-metal throne. Have they forged another worthy slab of epic, mead-raising metal? Or are they destined to spend eternity staring wistfully at the echoes of their own past conquests?

Equinox marks a clear return to form for Equilibrium after the detour of Renegades. The electronic and metalcore elements from their last record still linger, occasionally poking their neon-tinted heads out, but the heart of the band’s sound is back in full force: that boisterous blend of Finntroll and Ensiferum filtered through the Europower cheese of Rhapsody of Fire, now with a touch of Avatar added. The songs are built on a familiar mix of traditional woodwinds, thick distorted guitars, and gaudy synth lines, with newcomer Fabi’s fearsome growl leading the charge through straightforward verses and repeated choruses. When these ingredients click, and the newer sonic flourishes collide with the band’s classic, folk-driven sense of epic grandeur, the result can be exhilarating. Tracks like “Gnosis,” “Awakening” and “Bloodwood” move easily between core-tinged riffs and massive, sing-along Viking choruses, delivered with the bombast Equilibrium is known for. Unfortunately, the rest of the album doesn’t reach the same heights.

According to the band, Equinox was originally intended as an EP rather than a full-length release, and the pacing issues and filler make that easy to believe. Large sections of several songs feel like padding before the actual track begins. Both “Borrowed Waters” and “Legends” open with long, drawn-out “atmospheric” intros that sap the impact of what follows, and the album includes no fewer than three interludes (“Archivist,” “Rituals of Sun and Moon” and “Tides of Time”). These moments don’t do the record any favors. They’re often delivered through a jarring mix of electronic trap drums, over-the-top synth lines and the band’s more traditional woodwind flourishes, creating a stylistic mishmash that feels pulled straight from a fantasy-themed Fortnite event. At times, these elements collide with simplistic, “tribal,” repetition-heavy vocals (“Earth Tongue”), resulting in something that sounds closer to a hyper-dramatic Nordaboo YouTube montage than classic Equilibrium. Even though the album does contain plenty of fully formed songs, these detours make the overall experience feel uneven and lopsided.

There are moments on Equinox where Equilibrium’s updated approach works despite its flaws. “I’ll Be Thunder” is a concise, effective track that blends electronic and orchestral elements into a tightly written folk-metal package. Even the seemingly toxic trance-metal/rap/metalcore hybrid verse in “One Hundred Hands” is intriguing, though the autotuned chorus and generic breakdown drag the song down. To the band’s credit, the mixing is solid across the album. It’s polished without being crushed by excessive loudness for a Nuclear Blast release, and producer Daniel McCook does an admirable job balancing the electronic, orchestral, and metal components. The result is a surprisingly even production that rewards multiple listens. I just wish there were more aspects of Equinox I could praise without reservations.

Equinox is a difficult album to recommend despite its strengths. Equilibrium have mostly abandoned the divisive sound of their previous record, while adapting its electronic elements in a return to form. The singles here do capture the bombast of their earlier work and are fun enough on their own, but the record around them is inconsistent and, at time,s baffling in its execution. Equilibrium could certainly do a lot worse, but this is far from the re-conquest of the folk metal throne it could’ve been.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 256 kb/s mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: equilibrium-metal.net | facebook.com/equilibrium
Releases Worldwide: November 28th, 2025

#20 #2025 #avatar #electronicMetal #ensiferum #equilibrium #equinox #finntroll #folkMetal #germanM #melodicDeathMetal #metalcore #nov25 #nuclearBlast #orchestralMetal #review #reviews #rhapsodyOfFire

Equilibrium – Equinox Review

By Samguineous Maximus

More than almost any other metal niche, folk metal has to walk a treacherously thin line between “actually good music” and “full-body cringe.” For every band that can fuse arena-sized melodies with genuine folk charm, there are three more tumbling headfirst into the Neckbeard Abyss™, condemned to soundtrack the Nordic-themed house parties of Reddit mods everywhere. Equilibrium has stood proudly on both sides of that divide. Their early triumphs of Turis Frayter and Sagas were mead-soaked romps packed with syrupy pagan hooks and enough triumphant Bjoriffs to level a longhouse, but ever since, the spark has dimmed, and each new release has brought diminishing returns. Armageddon (2016) was passable, and Renegades (2019) marked a true low point, trading their Viking swagger for a baffling electro-trance-metal makeover that landed with all the grace of a drunken troll. Now, six years later, Equilibrium returns with Equinox, a tightened lineup and a new vocalist in tow, promising a glorious reclamation of their folk-metal throne. Have they forged another worthy slab of epic, mead-raising metal? Or are they destined to spend eternity staring wistfully at the echoes of their own past conquests?

Equinox marks a clear return to form for Equilibrium after the detour of Renegades. The electronic and metalcore elements from their last record still linger, occasionally poking their neon-tinted heads out, but the heart of the band’s sound is back in full force: that boisterous blend of Finntroll and Ensiferum filtered through the Europower cheese of Rhapsody of Fire, now with a touch of Avatar added. The songs are built on a familiar mix of traditional woodwinds, thick distorted guitars, and gaudy synth lines, with newcomer Fabi’s fearsome growl leading the charge through straightforward verses and repeated choruses. When these ingredients click, and the newer sonic flourishes collide with the band’s classic, folk-driven sense of epic grandeur, the result can be exhilarating. Tracks like “Gnosis,” “Awakening” and “Bloodwood” move easily between core-tinged riffs and massive, sing-along Viking choruses, delivered with the bombast Equilibrium is known for. Unfortunately, the rest of the album doesn’t reach the same heights.

According to the band, Equinox was originally intended as an EP rather than a full-length release, and the pacing issues and filler make that easy to believe. Large sections of several songs feel like padding before the actual track begins. Both “Borrowed Waters” and “Legends” open with long, drawn-out “atmospheric” intros that sap the impact of what follows, and the album includes no fewer than three interludes (“Archivist,” “Rituals of Sun and Moon” and “Tides of Time”). These moments don’t do the record any favors. They’re often delivered through a jarring mix of electronic trap drums, over-the-top synth lines and the band’s more traditional woodwind flourishes, creating a stylistic mishmash that feels pulled straight from a fantasy-themed Fortnite event. At times, these elements collide with simplistic, “tribal,” repetition-heavy vocals (“Earth Tongue”), resulting in something that sounds closer to a hyper-dramatic Nordaboo YouTube montage than classic Equilibrium. Even though the album does contain plenty of fully formed songs, these detours make the overall experience feel uneven and lopsided.

There are moments on Equinox where Equilibrium’s updated approach works despite its flaws. “I’ll Be Thunder” is a concise, effective track that blends electronic and orchestral elements into a tightly written folk-metal package. Even the seemingly toxic trance-metal/rap/metalcore hybrid verse in “One Hundred Hands” is intriguing, though the autotuned chorus and generic breakdown drag the song down. To the band’s credit, the mixing is solid across the album. It’s polished without being crushed by excessive loudness for a Nuclear Blast release, and producer Daniel McCook does an admirable job balancing the electronic, orchestral, and metal components. The result is a surprisingly even production that rewards multiple listens. I just wish there were more aspects of Equinox I could praise without reservations.

Equinox is a difficult album to recommend despite its strengths. Equilibrium have mostly abandoned the divisive sound of their previous record, while adapting its electronic elements in a return to form. The singles here do capture the bombast of their earlier work and are fun enough on their own, but the record around them is inconsistent and, at time,s baffling in its execution. Equilibrium could certainly do a lot worse, but this is far from the re-conquest of the folk metal throne it could’ve been.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 256 kb/s mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: equilibrium-metal.net | facebook.com/equilibrium
Releases Worldwide: November 28th, 2025

#20 #2025 #avatar #electronicMetal #ensiferum #equilibrium #equinox #finntroll #folkMetal #germanM #melodicDeathMetal #metalcore #nov25 #nuclearBlast #orchestralMetal #review #reviews #rhapsodyOfFire

Frozen Land – Icemelter Review

By Twelve

I have such a soft spot in my heart for Frozen Land. After writing my first-ever review for Angry Metal Guy, I remember feeling shaky. It went through quite a few revisions. My second, Frozen Land’s eponymous debut, was, comparatively, simple. Their 1999 Euro power metal meets 2001 Euro power metal vision made for a catchy, delightfully fun album, and my enjoyment for it showed in my writing—still my favorite intro to any review I’ve written. So it is to my great astonishment that these Finns are now on album number three with Icemelter. Time, it just keeps going, but has it changed anything for these vivacious Vikings?

Of course not! Frozen Land is just as I remember them, or at least they are for the most part—Icemelter has a more aggressive edge to it, but is easily and recognizably the same Frozen Land I met in 2018. Opener “The Carrier,” for example, features a riff that could easily be found on a Tarot album, a notable sign of a heavier direction. But the rapid-fire vocals bridging their way to a bombastic, catchy chorus? That’s familiar Frozen Land, borrowing from the ancient playbook of Stratovarius and Sonata Arctica (who were themselves borrowing from the aforementioned playbook at the time). Their unique personality emerges in Thomas Hirvonen’s sardonic riffing in “Dream Away,” in Lauri Nylund’s subtle but effective keyboards in “Losing My Mind,” in the infectious energy of bassist Eero Pakkanen and drummer Matias Rokio throughout, but especially in “Chosen, Corrupt, and Cancerous,” and in Tony Meloni’s singing all the time.

As is typical in power metal, it’s the vocalist who takes up most of the spotlight, and Meloni’s unique style is little exception. I could see his higher register feeling awkward or out of place with the wrong group, but Frozen Land’s songs are very much written for his voice. The bombastic choruses commonly pair him with Nylund’s keys—barely noticeable, but lending him that extra bit of presence to make them shine. He also adds an important element of dynamism to Icemelter, on songs like “Haunted,” which take him from aggressive cleans to a smoother, impassioned chorus that gets stuck in the head, and wouldn’t work nearly so well with a less invested delivery.

The reason I highlight Meloni’s performance isn’t to take away from the rest of Frozen Land at all—as I’ve mentioned, the five work extremely well together to form their modern-yet-nostalgic sound. But if there’s one weakness to Icemelter, it’s that, musically at least, it’s a touch formulaic, due in part to the dated (seeming) inspiration for their material and the style with which they take to it. And, to be clear, none of their material is boring or even the slightest bit un-fun. Hirvonen’s and leads are electric, and “Black Domina” is a great example, but by the time we get there, it’s just starting to feel a bit tired. The good news is that Icemelter is only thirty-six minutes long and so never has a chance to overstay its welcome. On the other hand, when I do dislike a song, as is only the case for the title track (which comes across disjointed in its songwriting and doesn’t quite land for me), it feels like a disproportionately big deal.

Icemelter is a very fun listen. If it’s only flaw is that all the energetic, fun power metal blurs together a bit, I can live with it. Frozen Land being a quintessentially Finnish touch to a classic style, modernizes both it and themselves enough to make a strong impression. As I look back on this review, it occurs to me that it’s a bit short compared to my usual writing here, but that’s kind of the point—Frozen Land’s straightforward, easy approach to a classic style is exactly what makes them so endearing to listen to.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Massacre Records
Websites: facebook.com/frozenlandband
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#2025 #35 #finnishMetal #frozenLand #icemelter #massacreRecords #nov25 #powerMetal #review #reviews #sonataArctica #stratovarius #tarot

Frozen Land – Icemelter Review

By Twelve

I have such a soft spot in my heart for Frozen Land. After writing my first-ever review for Angry Metal Guy, I remember feeling shaky. It went through quite a few revisions. My second, Frozen Land’s eponymous debut, was, comparatively, simple. Their 1999 Euro power metal meets 2001 Euro power metal vision made for a catchy, delightfully fun album, and my enjoyment for it showed in my writing—still my favorite intro to any review I’ve written. So it is to my great astonishment that these Finns are now on album number three with Icemelter. Time, it just keeps going, but has it changed anything for these vivacious Vikings?

Of course not! Frozen Land is just as I remember them, or at least they are for the most part—Icemelter has a more aggressive edge to it, but is easily and recognizably the same Frozen Land I met in 2018. Opener “The Carrier,” for example, features a riff that could easily be found on a Tarot album, a notable sign of a heavier direction. But the rapid-fire vocals bridging their way to a bombastic, catchy chorus? That’s familiar Frozen Land, borrowing from the ancient playbook of Stratovarius and Sonata Arctica (who were themselves borrowing from the aforementioned playbook at the time). Their unique personality emerges in Thomas Hirvonen’s sardonic riffing in “Dream Away,” in Lauri Nylund’s subtle but effective keyboards in “Losing My Mind,” in the infectious energy of bassist Eero Pakkanen and drummer Matias Rokio throughout, but especially in “Chosen, Corrupt, and Cancerous,” and in Tony Meloni’s singing all the time.

As is typical in power metal, it’s the vocalist who takes up most of the spotlight, and Meloni’s unique style is little exception. I could see his higher register feeling awkward or out of place with the wrong group, but Frozen Land’s songs are very much written for his voice. The bombastic choruses commonly pair him with Nylund’s keys—barely noticeable, but lending him that extra bit of presence to make them shine. He also adds an important element of dynamism to Icemelter, on songs like “Haunted,” which take him from aggressive cleans to a smoother, impassioned chorus that gets stuck in the head, and wouldn’t work nearly so well with a less invested delivery.

The reason I highlight Meloni’s performance isn’t to take away from the rest of Frozen Land at all—as I’ve mentioned, the five work extremely well together to form their modern-yet-nostalgic sound. But if there’s one weakness to Icemelter, it’s that, musically at least, it’s a touch formulaic, due in part to the dated (seeming) inspiration for their material and the style with which they take to it. And, to be clear, none of their material is boring or even the slightest bit un-fun. Hirvonen’s and leads are electric, and “Black Domina” is a great example, but by the time we get there, it’s just starting to feel a bit tired. The good news is that Icemelter is only thirty-six minutes long and so never has a chance to overstay its welcome. On the other hand, when I do dislike a song, as is only the case for the title track (which comes across disjointed in its songwriting and doesn’t quite land for me), it feels like a disproportionately big deal.

Icemelter is a very fun listen. If it’s only flaw is that all the energetic, fun power metal blurs together a bit, I can live with it. Frozen Land being a quintessentially Finnish touch to a classic style, modernizes both it and themselves enough to make a strong impression. As I look back on this review, it occurs to me that it’s a bit short compared to my usual writing here, but that’s kind of the point—Frozen Land’s straightforward, easy approach to a classic style is exactly what makes them so endearing to listen to.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Massacre Records
Websites: facebook.com/frozenlandband
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#2025 #35 #finnishMetal #frozenLand #icemelter #massacreRecords #nov25 #powerMetal #review #reviews #sonataArctica #stratovarius #tarot

Änterbila – Avart Review

By Grin Reaper

Billed as blackened folk metal and boasting a sound that will remind listeners of the aughts-era Darkthrone, Änterbila1 returns with sophomore album Avart. Three years removed from their self-titled debut, the foursome from Gävleborg County, Sweden, retains the core sonic principles of Änterbila and dunks them into the muck, invoking a darker, grimier aura. Where the plight of peasantry informed Änterbila’s sensibilities, Avart looks to national folklore for inspiration. Rather than interpreting that folklore through the eyes of those who passed the stories on, though, Avart revisits lore from the perspective of the other side, the witch to Grimms’ Hansel und Gretel, imparting a sinister edge to the music. Is Änterbila’s latest platter sharp enough to brandish, or does it need more time with the honing rod?

The marriage of black and folk metal can take different forms, with folk infusions coming from instrumentation, melodies, and/or folk and pagan themes. Änterbila offers all of them, but presented disparately as stark components rather than fused together as an interconnected whole. Bookend instrumentals “Låt till Far” and “Eklnundapolskan” feature strings, a bagpipe, and choral harmonies between them, not unlike Saor or Summoning. These tracks conjure rustic firesides with an air of excitement as strange tales are told around them. Avart’s other six tracks are categorically different, hovering between pagan-leaning, late-eighties Bathory (“Kniven”) and the punky pluck of early Vreid (“Jordfäst”). I even catch a whiff of Bizarrekult (“Årsgång”) in the midst. None of the flavors are bad on their own, but without more cohesion, they’re a bit confusing on the same plate.

Avart is a lively affair, with snappy licks, punky riffs, and burbling kick rolls that whisk listeners through half an hour of sprightly black metal. Bandleader and founder Jerff wields axe and vocal duties, with Raamt abetting in six-string antics. The guitars trem pick their way through Avart, embracing an unadorned style that takes a few simple melodies, interchanges them every now and then, and rides through four or five minutes. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this stripped-down approach, but without more distinctive hooks or emotive vocals, the songs bleed together. Drop me in the middle of any of the songs, and I’ll have a tough time naming which one it is unless Jerff repeats the title several times (“Kniven,” “Jordfäst”). Another issue Änterbila grapples with throughout Avart is repetition. Even with such a compact runtime, there’s not always enough substance to justify track lengths. “Jordfäst” could explore its ideas in two-thirds the time, for example, but instead pushes them past optimal duration. As it currently stands, there’s enough material for a solid EP, but relentless refrains without variations make shallow wells, and drawing from them too often becomes tedious.

Änterbila’s strengths lie in creating a dangerously charming atmosphere and not overstaying their welcome. Avart’s old school production underscores its low-fi mood, perfect for settings of yore where things lurking within shadows go bump in the night. Even though the mix isn’t polished, it ably captures Svaltunga’s punchy bass and drummer Monstrum’s quadrupedal onslaught. There flows an energy in the music that crackles with roguish vigor, and it’s here that Änterbila excels. It’s a shame lyrics weren’t included as part of the press kit since dark folklore provides such fertile ground for music. Understanding what the (presumed) native Swedish translates to could have heightened my appreciation for what secrets Avart holds. Still, the runtime is trim and helps deflect some of the monotony of simpler song structures, keeping the overall package easily digestible.

Änterbila possesses all the ingredients for a rollocking good time, but fumbles with the recipe. The folk metal tag is a bit misleading, and given that the folk elements are so well-executed in the intro and outro, it’s disappointing that Änterbila didn’t incorporate them throughout the entire album. Doing so could have thwarted the uniformity across the remaining songs, adding dynamism and a through-line that brings everything together with reinforced congruity. Every time I spin Avart, I hope to find something I’d missed previously, because I want to like it more than I do. Avart seethes with potential, and while I don’t regret any of the time I spent with the album, I don’t expect to return to it, either. Hopefully, the next iteration delivers on the promise Änterbila has established here.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nordvis Produktion
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#20 #2025 #anterbila #avart #bathory #bizarrekult #blackFolkMetal #blackMetal #darkthrone #folkMetal #metal #nordvisProduktion #nov25 #review #reviews #saor #summoning #swedish #vreid

Änterbila – Avart Review

By Grin Reaper

Billed as blackened folk metal and boasting a sound that will remind listeners of the aughts-era Darkthrone, Änterbila1 returns with sophomore album Avart. Three years removed from their self-titled debut, the foursome from Gävleborg County, Sweden, retains the core sonic principles of Änterbila and dunks them into the muck, invoking a darker, grimier aura. Where the plight of peasantry informed Änterbila’s sensibilities, Avart looks to national folklore for inspiration. Rather than interpreting that folklore through the eyes of those who passed the stories on, though, Avart revisits lore from the perspective of the other side, the witch to Grimms’ Hansel und Gretel, imparting a sinister edge to the music. Is Änterbila’s latest platter sharp enough to brandish, or does it need more time with the honing rod?

The marriage of black and folk metal can take different forms, with folk infusions coming from instrumentation, melodies, and/or folk and pagan themes. Änterbila offers all of them, but presented disparately as stark components rather than fused together as an interconnected whole. Bookend instrumentals “Låt till Far” and “Eklnundapolskan” feature strings, a bagpipe, and choral harmonies between them, not unlike Saor or Summoning. These tracks conjure rustic firesides with an air of excitement as strange tales are told around them. Avart’s other six tracks are categorically different, hovering between pagan-leaning, late-eighties Bathory (“Kniven”) and the punky pluck of early Vreid (“Jordfäst”). I even catch a whiff of Bizarrekult (“Årsgång”) in the midst. None of the flavors are bad on their own, but without more cohesion, they’re a bit confusing on the same plate.

Avart is a lively affair, with snappy licks, punky riffs, and burbling kick rolls that whisk listeners through half an hour of sprightly black metal. Bandleader and founder Jerff wields axe and vocal duties, with Raamt abetting in six-string antics. The guitars trem pick their way through Avart, embracing an unadorned style that takes a few simple melodies, interchanges them every now and then, and rides through four or five minutes. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this stripped-down approach, but without more distinctive hooks or emotive vocals, the songs bleed together. Drop me in the middle of any of the songs, and I’ll have a tough time naming which one it is unless Jerff repeats the title several times (“Kniven,” “Jordfäst”). Another issue Änterbila grapples with throughout Avart is repetition. Even with such a compact runtime, there’s not always enough substance to justify track lengths. “Jordfäst” could explore its ideas in two-thirds the time, for example, but instead pushes them past optimal duration. As it currently stands, there’s enough material for a solid EP, but relentless refrains without variations make shallow wells, and drawing from them too often becomes tedious.

Änterbila’s strengths lie in creating a dangerously charming atmosphere and not overstaying their welcome. Avart’s old school production underscores its low-fi mood, perfect for settings of yore where things lurking within shadows go bump in the night. Even though the mix isn’t polished, it ably captures Svaltunga’s punchy bass and drummer Monstrum’s quadrupedal onslaught. There flows an energy in the music that crackles with roguish vigor, and it’s here that Änterbila excels. It’s a shame lyrics weren’t included as part of the press kit since dark folklore provides such fertile ground for music. Understanding what the (presumed) native Swedish translates to could have heightened my appreciation for what secrets Avart holds. Still, the runtime is trim and helps deflect some of the monotony of simpler song structures, keeping the overall package easily digestible.

Änterbila possesses all the ingredients for a rollocking good time, but fumbles with the recipe. The folk metal tag is a bit misleading, and given that the folk elements are so well-executed in the intro and outro, it’s disappointing that Änterbila didn’t incorporate them throughout the entire album. Doing so could have thwarted the uniformity across the remaining songs, adding dynamism and a through-line that brings everything together with reinforced congruity. Every time I spin Avart, I hope to find something I’d missed previously, because I want to like it more than I do. Avart seethes with potential, and while I don’t regret any of the time I spent with the album, I don’t expect to return to it, either. Hopefully, the next iteration delivers on the promise Änterbila has established here.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nordvis Produktion
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#20 #2025 #anterbila #avart #bathory #bizarrekult #blackFolkMetal #blackMetal #darkthrone #folkMetal #metal #nordvisProduktion #nov25 #review #reviews #saor #summoning #swedish #vreid

Doubtsower – The Past Melts Away with a Sneer Review

By ClarkKent

It’s amazing how quickly November, and my month of doom, has flown by. It seems the constant exposure to slow-paced music has made the days move faster, not slower. For my final November doom promo, what could be more appropriate than one described as “one long song funeral doom?” While the Welsh doom band containing this descriptor, Doubtsower, is new to me, the man behind the project, Matt Strangis, has three previous releases dating back to 2021. Although most of these earlier albums cross the one-hour mark, none of the songs run longer than fifteen minutes 1, so this is new territory for Doubtsower. Strangis describes his own songwriting process as “punk DIY,” and he does much of his recording at home, with some mastering help from Greg Chandler of Esoteric. For insomniacs, one long funeral doom song sounds like the perfect cure, but be careful, this doesn’t backfire and instead keeps you hooked and wide awake.

While the premise of a 48-minute funeral doom song brings to mind other ambitious projects from Bell Witch and Oak, Doubtsower’s The Past Melts Away with a Sneer turns out to be one weird beast. Doubtsower isn’t exactly a funeral doom band, but an experimental doom band. Strangis keeps his one song’s tempo slow—funeral doom slow—yet it has much more in common with the avant-garde music of John Cage than My Dying Bride or Esoteric. It makes use of syncopated riffs that cut short and disorient listeners, as well as some unusual noises, such as static scratches and the clicking and rattling of ratchets. “The Past Melts Away with a Sneer” also makes use of silences, though they’re not as lengthy as “4’33,” largely as a transitional tool. This use of odd sounds, silent moments, and suspenseful repetitions of short riffs creates an unsettling mood early on, and with the mix of sludge, I couldn’t help but think of experimental sludge/horror/doom outfit When the Deadbolt Breaks.

Over the course of its 48 minutes, The Past Melts Away with a Sneer is an ever-shifting amalgamation of styles, an amorphic blob that somehow holds everything together as a cohesive whole. Sounds often shift minute-by-minute despite the glacial pacing. While the early goings have the John Cage thing going, at the 8-minute mark, the track breaks out into the one segment that sounds like traditional funeral doom, with plodding drum beats, crushing guitars, and a low, harsh growl. Yet just as you think this is the direction it’s going, the song goes silent and then shifts into a new form. The extensive use of silence and light droning makes the sudden bursts of energy peppered throughout all the more striking. About 20 minutes in, “The Past Melts Away with a Sneer” morphs into industrial dance, snapping you awake and commanding your body to move. The song morphs yet again, this time into something hopeful and poppy, with light, Weezer-like strums. However, even this segment doesn’t last long, and somehow Strangis is able to convince us that these disparate sounds all form one coherent tune.

It’s pretty impressive how “The Past Melts Away with a Sneer” is able to remain engaging for its entire run, but some moments of repetition do derail portions of the track. This is most egregious at 29 minutes as Doubtsower transitions into a lengthy portion of sludge/doom. Throughout this approximately eight-minute segment, there’s a consistent, repetitive riff that grows tiresome over time. Still, the song rights itself for the finale with the return of a catchy piano/synth melody from the beginning. As this melody begins to fade into silence and lulls you into a sense of closure, the track gains a second wind and hurls forth an energetic set of industrial riffs and blast beats. There’s an unpredictability that catches you off guard and keeps the record fresh.

If the album I described above sounds like a nightmare, that’s the whole point. It’s meant to be a “disorienting descent into a nihilistic free-for-all,” and Strangis succeeds in making that vision come to fruition. It may not always be easy listening, but it’s rarely boring. Having spent some time with the prior Doubtsower records, this one stands out as Strangis’s most engaging and best-written. The Past Melts Away with a Sneer has caused me to question my usually negative relationship with experimental metal. It has left me feeling disoriented, but in a good way, and it’s an experience that I recommend for the curious and lovers of the weird.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Self-Release
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: November 28th, 2025

#2025 #30 #avanteGarde #bellWitch #doomMetal #doubtsower #esoteric #experimentalMetal #funeralDoom #industrialMetal #johnCage #myDyingBride #nov25 #oak #review #reviews #selfReleased #sludgeMetal #thePastMeltsAwayWithASneer #weezer #welshMetal #whenTheDeadboltBreaks

Doubtsower – The Past Melts Away with a Sneer Review

By ClarkKent

It’s amazing how quickly November, and my month of doom, has flown by. It seems the constant exposure to slow-paced music has made the days move faster, not slower. For my final November doom promo, what could be more appropriate than one described as “one long song funeral doom?” While the Welsh doom band containing this descriptor, Doubtsower, is new to me, the man behind the project, Matt Strangis, has three previous releases dating back to 2021. Although most of these earlier albums cross the one-hour mark, none of the songs run longer than fifteen minutes 1, so this is new territory for Doubtsower. Strangis describes his own songwriting process as “punk DIY,” and he does much of his recording at home, with some mastering help from Greg Chandler of Esoteric. For insomniacs, one long funeral doom song sounds like the perfect cure, but be careful, this doesn’t backfire and instead keeps you hooked and wide awake.

While the premise of a 48-minute funeral doom song brings to mind other ambitious projects from Bell Witch and Oak, Doubtsower’s The Past Melts Away with a Sneer turns out to be one weird beast. Doubtsower isn’t exactly a funeral doom band, but an experimental doom band. Strangis keeps his one song’s tempo slow—funeral doom slow—yet it has much more in common with the avant-garde music of John Cage than My Dying Bride or Esoteric. It makes use of syncopated riffs that cut short and disorient listeners, as well as some unusual noises, such as static scratches and the clicking and rattling of ratchets. “The Past Melts Away with a Sneer” also makes use of silences, though they’re not as lengthy as “4’33,” largely as a transitional tool. This use of odd sounds, silent moments, and suspenseful repetitions of short riffs creates an unsettling mood early on, and with the mix of sludge, I couldn’t help but think of experimental sludge/horror/doom outfit When the Deadbolt Breaks.

Over the course of its 48 minutes, The Past Melts Away with a Sneer is an ever-shifting amalgamation of styles, an amorphic blob that somehow holds everything together as a cohesive whole. Sounds often shift minute-by-minute despite the glacial pacing. While the early goings have the John Cage thing going, at the 8-minute mark, the track breaks out into the one segment that sounds like traditional funeral doom, with plodding drum beats, crushing guitars, and a low, harsh growl. Yet just as you think this is the direction it’s going, the song goes silent and then shifts into a new form. The extensive use of silence and light droning makes the sudden bursts of energy peppered throughout all the more striking. About 20 minutes in, “The Past Melts Away with a Sneer” morphs into industrial dance, snapping you awake and commanding your body to move. The song morphs yet again, this time into something hopeful and poppy, with light, Weezer-like strums. However, even this segment doesn’t last long, and somehow Strangis is able to convince us that these disparate sounds all form one coherent tune.

It’s pretty impressive how “The Past Melts Away with a Sneer” is able to remain engaging for its entire run, but some moments of repetition do derail portions of the track. This is most egregious at 29 minutes as Doubtsower transitions into a lengthy portion of sludge/doom. Throughout this approximately eight-minute segment, there’s a consistent, repetitive riff that grows tiresome over time. Still, the song rights itself for the finale with the return of a catchy piano/synth melody from the beginning. As this melody begins to fade into silence and lulls you into a sense of closure, the track gains a second wind and hurls forth an energetic set of industrial riffs and blast beats. There’s an unpredictability that catches you off guard and keeps the record fresh.

If the album I described above sounds like a nightmare, that’s the whole point. It’s meant to be a “disorienting descent into a nihilistic free-for-all,” and Strangis succeeds in making that vision come to fruition. It may not always be easy listening, but it’s rarely boring. Having spent some time with the prior Doubtsower records, this one stands out as Strangis’s most engaging and best-written. The Past Melts Away with a Sneer has caused me to question my usually negative relationship with experimental metal. It has left me feeling disoriented, but in a good way, and it’s an experience that I recommend for the curious and lovers of the weird.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Self-Release
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: November 28th, 2025

#2025 #30 #avanteGarde #bellWitch #doomMetal #doubtsower #esoteric #experimentalMetal #funeralDoom #industrialMetal #johnCage #myDyingBride #nov25 #oak #review #reviews #selfReleased #sludgeMetal #thePastMeltsAwayWithASneer #weezer #welshMetal #whenTheDeadboltBreaks

Suncraft – Welcome to the Coven Review

By Spicie Forrest

I first became acquainted with stoner rock while attending college and skiing in Salt Lake City. Whether carving the corduroy or taking face shots of bottomless pow, the raucous groove of the style made for a great soundtrack. I’ve largely moved on to heavier and less accessible pastures, but once in a while, something brings me back. This time, it was Suncraft, a five-piece formed in Oslo, Norway in 2017; I couldn’t let a genre tag like “stoner/black/pop” pass by unyoinked. We missed their 2021 debut, Flat Earth Rider, but I’m here to give their sophomore effort, Welcome to the Coven, the proper AMG treatment.

Suncraft has historically relied on mid-paced stoner rock, but their second LP sees the band move in a different direction. Welcome to the Coven is what happens when Queens of the Stone Age wields The Sword and walks The DOGS. It’s riotous, retro, and downright groovy. With a triple-pronged attack, guitarists Vebørn Rindal Krogstad, Sigurd Grøtan, and Jens Henrik Kverndal let loose a wildly infectious salvo of stoner and garage rock. “Welcome to the Coven” and “Forgotten Goddess” rip across the desert in an old convertible Mustang powered solely by diesel and sativa. “Love’s Underrated” gives garage revival and a little Japandroids, while “Wizards of the Anger Magic” opens on The Beach Boys and pays heavy tribute to The Ramones. Mixed into this strong foundation you’ll also find riffage stained black (“Ragebait”), pop punk angst (“Greed Battalion”), posty and proggy diversions (“High on Silence”), and even a millennial whoop or two. These are disparate elements to bring under one umbrella, but like fellow countrymen Kvelertak, Suncraft pull it off well.

In a brew stereotypically known for wanton abandon, Welcome to the Coven succeeds through restraint. Post-black and pop punk normally make bridge- or hook-centered appearances, being used as means to build drama and release tension rather than ends in themselves. Drummer Tobias Paulsen utilizes a predominantly upbeat rock style, but he’s got a full toolbox. He deploys d-beats, hooks and fills, blast beats, and tempo changes with precision for maximum emotional impact (“Love’s Underrated,” “Welcome to the Coven”). The same can be said of bassist/singer Rasmus Skage Jensen, whose strings feel elementally nostalgic, both in tone and in their intentionally dynamic grounding of hooks, leads, and rhythmic support. And by keeping a normally tight grip on his vocals, the moments when Jensen lets loose and pushes his pipes to their limit shine all the brighter (“Greed Battalion,” “Forgotten Goddess”). Rather than employing an unchecked, maximalist style, Suncraft’s tempered and deceptively meticulous songcraft elevates Welcome to the Coven far above the sum of its parts.

Suncraft doesn’t treat the incorporation of these various flourishes as puzzles to be solved. Instead, every element on Welcome to the Coven seems chosen and placed to best support a deliriously and irresistibly fun grand design. This approach and Suncraft’s success with it grant them an inimitable air of sprezzatura.1 Krogstad, Grøtan, and Kverndal spin around each other so naturally, offering inspired counterpoints (“Wizards of the Anger Magic”), tossing in pristine fills (“High on Silence”), and passing leads and solos like a hacky sack (“Love’s Underrated,” “Forgotten Goddess”). I don’t for one second believe that Jensen’s interjectory “fuck it” on “Greed Battalion” or Paulsen’s double bass in “Welcome to the Coven” are off the cuff; this album is far too good for that. But when I hear the killer solo in “Love’s Underrated,” the exceptional back half of “Charlatan Killer,” or the barely controlled chaos that is “Forgotten Goddess,” I can’t help but be awed by the explosive synergy on display here—and the casual effortlessness of it.

I had high hopes when I picked up Welcome to the Coven, and from the first seconds of “Ragebait” to the final cymbals of “Forgotten Goddess,”2 Suncraft blew me away. The chorus of “Charlatan Killer” was the only exception, being merely good in a sea of great. Each track on Suncraft’s sophomore effort fits together naturally and neatly in a singular, unified vision. Primally familiar like the mythical dog days of summer, Welcome to the Coven is an astoundingly fun ride. By the end of its 40-minute runtime, I’m invariably left craving more. And if that isn’t the mark of a great album, I don’t know what is.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: All Good Clean Records
Websites: Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#2025 #40 #allGoodCleanRecords #blackMetal #garageRock #japandroids #kvelertak #norwegianMetal #nov25 #popPunk #queensOfTheStoneAge #review #reviews #stonerRock #suncraft #theBeachBoys #theDogs #theRamones #theSword #welcomeToTheCoven

Suncraft – Welcome to the Coven Review

By Spicie Forrest

I first became acquainted with stoner rock while attending college and skiing in Salt Lake City. Whether carving the corduroy or taking face shots of bottomless pow, the raucous groove of the style made for a great soundtrack. I’ve largely moved on to heavier and less accessible pastures, but once in a while, something brings me back. This time, it was Suncraft, a five-piece formed in Oslo, Norway in 2017; I couldn’t let a genre tag like “stoner/black/pop” pass by unyoinked. We missed their 2021 debut, Flat Earth Rider, but I’m here to give their sophomore effort, Welcome to the Coven, the proper AMG treatment.

Suncraft has historically relied on mid-paced stoner rock, but their second LP sees the band move in a different direction. Welcome to the Coven is what happens when Queens of the Stone Age wields The Sword and walks The DOGS. It’s riotous, retro, and downright groovy. With a triple-pronged attack, guitarists Vebørn Rindal Krogstad, Sigurd Grøtan, and Jens Henrik Kverndal let loose a wildly infectious salvo of stoner and garage rock. “Welcome to the Coven” and “Forgotten Goddess” rip across the desert in an old convertible Mustang powered solely by diesel and sativa. “Love’s Underrated” gives garage revival and a little Japandroids, while “Wizards of the Anger Magic” opens on The Beach Boys and pays heavy tribute to The Ramones. Mixed into this strong foundation you’ll also find riffage stained black (“Ragebait”), pop punk angst (“Greed Battalion”), posty and proggy diversions (“High on Silence”), and even a millennial whoop or two. These are disparate elements to bring under one umbrella, but like fellow countrymen Kvelertak, Suncraft pull it off well.

In a brew stereotypically known for wanton abandon, Welcome to the Coven succeeds through restraint. Post-black and pop punk normally make bridge- or hook-centered appearances, being used as means to build drama and release tension rather than ends in themselves. Drummer Tobias Paulsen utilizes a predominantly upbeat rock style, but he’s got a full toolbox. He deploys d-beats, hooks and fills, blast beats, and tempo changes with precision for maximum emotional impact (“Love’s Underrated,” “Welcome to the Coven”). The same can be said of bassist/singer Rasmus Skage Jensen, whose strings feel elementally nostalgic, both in tone and in their intentionally dynamic grounding of hooks, leads, and rhythmic support. And by keeping a normally tight grip on his vocals, the moments when Jensen lets loose and pushes his pipes to their limit shine all the brighter (“Greed Battalion,” “Forgotten Goddess”). Rather than employing an unchecked, maximalist style, Suncraft’s tempered and deceptively meticulous songcraft elevates Welcome to the Coven far above the sum of its parts.

Suncraft doesn’t treat the incorporation of these various flourishes as puzzles to be solved. Instead, every element on Welcome to the Coven seems chosen and placed to best support a deliriously and irresistibly fun grand design. This approach and Suncraft’s success with it grant them an inimitable air of sprezzatura.1 Krogstad, Grøtan, and Kverndal spin around each other so naturally, offering inspired counterpoints (“Wizards of the Anger Magic”), tossing in pristine fills (“High on Silence”), and passing leads and solos like a hacky sack (“Love’s Underrated,” “Forgotten Goddess”). I don’t for one second believe that Jensen’s interjectory “fuck it” on “Greed Battalion” or Paulsen’s double bass in “Welcome to the Coven” are off the cuff; this album is far too good for that. But when I hear the killer solo in “Love’s Underrated,” the exceptional back half of “Charlatan Killer,” or the barely controlled chaos that is “Forgotten Goddess,” I can’t help but be awed by the explosive synergy on display here—and the casual effortlessness of it.

I had high hopes when I picked up Welcome to the Coven, and from the first seconds of “Ragebait” to the final cymbals of “Forgotten Goddess,”2 Suncraft blew me away. The chorus of “Charlatan Killer” was the only exception, being merely good in a sea of great. Each track on Suncraft’s sophomore effort fits together naturally and neatly in a singular, unified vision. Primally familiar like the mythical dog days of summer, Welcome to the Coven is an astoundingly fun ride. By the end of its 40-minute runtime, I’m invariably left craving more. And if that isn’t the mark of a great album, I don’t know what is.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: All Good Clean Records
Websites: Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#2025 #40 #allGoodCleanRecords #blackMetal #garageRock #japandroids #kvelertak #norwegianMetal #nov25 #popPunk #queensOfTheStoneAge #review #reviews #stonerRock #suncraft #theBeachBoys #theDogs #theRamones #theSword #welcomeToTheCoven

Blut Aus Nord – Ethereal Horizons Review

By Alekhines Gun

Sometimes it’s all a question of perspective. Among the most prominent and influential of French black metal, the sometimes-solo-project-sometimes-three-piece entity known as Blut Aus Nord have manifested four or five entirely different versions of themselves over the last thirty(!) years. Occasionally, their albums are released in sets of connected sounds and themes, and other times you can be exposed to one idea you fall in love with, only for the band to pivot away into something new and unexpected; imagine the surprise fans of Fathers of the Icy Age must have felt first hearing The Work Which Transforms God. We are now at album sixteen (to say nothing of their innumerable splits and EP’s), and the question isn’t as much “is this gonna be any good” as much as “which band is showing up today?”

As it turns out, quite a few of them. The bones of Ethereal Horizons is laid via the post-metalisms of Hallucinogen, but with tones focused much more on a cosmic sense than the trippier 70s psychedelia of yore. The overall presentation of the album consists of lengthier riffs designed to evoke mood rather than raw noodling or blast-heavy assaults. Heavy emphasis is placed on a/b phrasing, which pairs two different ideas reminiscent of different eras in Blut Aus Nord’s career, but unifies them via the same sheen throughout. The organic production reigns supreme, using the beefy approach of the past two albums but firmly removing the Dis from the Harmonium with supremely melodic results.

Despite never abandoning that sense of the organic, occasional nods towards the Blut Aus Nord industrial sound makes their presence known. Riffs are longer and more repetitive across the release, sometimes dropping out into a drum-and-bass solo (“The Fall Opens the Sky”) and elsewhere having drummer W.D. Feld do a fantastic impression of the vintage drum machine (“Seclusion”). These bits are spiritually kin to 777 – Cosmosophy, using their drawn-out forms to emphasize the beauty found within while taking the listener through a plethora of emotions. The greater utilization of the properly melodic over the dissonant means that minor keys get to make their impact felt without losing the sense of harmony (“What Burns Now Listens”) with the focus placed more on hefty atmosphere rather than a collection of overly intricate riff-craft. Synth is layered throughout the album with tones pulled from the Memoria Vetusta series as well as some clips of nature and the occasional acoustic introductions and outros, tying everything together as an auditory voyage, where, in typical Blut Aus Nord fashion, the only way is forward.

Ethereal Horizons places the bulk of its weight in those atmospheres, with the writing clearly engineered to be absorbed as a whole body of work in one sitting as opposed to being tailored for playlist harvesting. This element is key, as some songwriting moments could be perceived as frustrating if taken individually. It’s rare to hear Blut Aus Nord place such emphasis on repeating motifs in their more organic work, and synth interlude “Twin Suns Reverie” can be perplexing on first listen. However, by tying together separate components of composition across their storied career into one cohesive whole, what emerges is an album larger than the sum of its parts. Mercurial shifts from nods to Disharmonium to 777 to Memoria Vetusta are aided by subtle shifts in guitar tones used from riff to riff. “The End Becomes Grace” is a key example, flinging a verse straight from the most triumphant moments of Saturnian Poetry fresh off a Hallucinogen lead, but suddenly the notes are darker, grittier, and far more properly blackened. Blut Aus Nord have had a rare moment of looking inward and backward to find a path onward, and offered up a prism with nods to their various colors, all filtered through the same jagged jewel of sound.

Like any good album by these French fiends, this might not be what everyone is hoping for. It certainly wasn’t for me. At first listen I found myself underwhelmed, then by the fourth, confused. But judging any Blut Aus Nord release on your own expectations is always going to be a fool’s errand. By mining the depth of their own past for inspiration, the band managed once again to turn their own familiarity on its head and forge a new destination to parts known only to them. Triumphantly melodic in sound yet hypnotic in scope, energetic enough to be heavy yet beautiful enough to be soothing, Ethereal Horizons is a journey of an album through beautiful cosmic pastures, and doubtless to still greater horrors beyond.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: NA | Format Reviewed: Mother heckin’ gosh darn stream
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: November 28th, 2025

#2025 #40 #blackMetal #blutAusNord #debemurMortiProductions #etherealHorizons #frenchMetal #nov25 #review #reviews

Blut Aus Nord – Ethereal Horizons Review

By Alekhines Gun

Sometimes it’s all a question of perspective. Among the most prominent and influential of French black metal, the sometimes-solo-project-sometimes-three-piece entity known as Blut Aus Nord have manifested four or five entirely different versions of themselves over the last thirty(!) years. Occasionally, their albums are released in sets of connected sounds and themes, and other times you can be exposed to one idea you fall in love with, only for the band to pivot away into something new and unexpected; imagine the surprise fans of Fathers of the Icy Age must have felt first hearing The Work Which Transforms God. We are now at album sixteen (to say nothing of their innumerable splits and EP’s), and the question isn’t as much “is this gonna be any good” as much as “which band is showing up today?”

As it turns out, quite a few of them. The bones of Ethereal Horizons is laid via the post-metalisms of Hallucinogen, but with tones focused much more on a cosmic sense than the trippier 70s psychedelia of yore. The overall presentation of the album consists of lengthier riffs designed to evoke mood rather than raw noodling or blast-heavy assaults. Heavy emphasis is placed on a/b phrasing, which pairs two different ideas reminiscent of different eras in Blut Aus Nord’s career, but unifies them via the same sheen throughout. The organic production reigns supreme, using the beefy approach of the past two albums but firmly removing the Dis from the Harmonium with supremely melodic results.

Despite never abandoning that sense of the organic, occasional nods towards the Blut Aus Nord industrial sound makes their presence known. Riffs are longer and more repetitive across the release, sometimes dropping out into a drum-and-bass solo (“The Fall Opens the Sky”) and elsewhere having drummer W.D. Feld do a fantastic impression of the vintage drum machine (“Seclusion”). These bits are spiritually kin to 777 – Cosmosophy, using their drawn-out forms to emphasize the beauty found within while taking the listener through a plethora of emotions. The greater utilization of the properly melodic over the dissonant means that minor keys get to make their impact felt without losing the sense of harmony (“What Burns Now Listens”) with the focus placed more on hefty atmosphere rather than a collection of overly intricate riff-craft. Synth is layered throughout the album with tones pulled from the Memoria Vetusta series as well as some clips of nature and the occasional acoustic introductions and outros, tying everything together as an auditory voyage, where, in typical Blut Aus Nord fashion, the only way is forward.

Ethereal Horizons places the bulk of its weight in those atmospheres, with the writing clearly engineered to be absorbed as a whole body of work in one sitting as opposed to being tailored for playlist harvesting. This element is key, as some songwriting moments could be perceived as frustrating if taken individually. It’s rare to hear Blut Aus Nord place such emphasis on repeating motifs in their more organic work, and synth interlude “Twin Suns Reverie” can be perplexing on first listen. However, by tying together separate components of composition across their storied career into one cohesive whole, what emerges is an album larger than the sum of its parts. Mercurial shifts from nods to Disharmonium to 777 to Memoria Vetusta are aided by subtle shifts in guitar tones used from riff to riff. “The End Becomes Grace” is a key example, flinging a verse straight from the most triumphant moments of Saturnian Poetry fresh off a Hallucinogen lead, but suddenly the notes are darker, grittier, and far more properly blackened. Blut Aus Nord have had a rare moment of looking inward and backward to find a path onward, and offered up a prism with nods to their various colors, all filtered through the same jagged jewel of sound.

Like any good album by these French fiends, this might not be what everyone is hoping for. It certainly wasn’t for me. At first listen I found myself underwhelmed, then by the fourth, confused. But judging any Blut Aus Nord release on your own expectations is always going to be a fool’s errand. By mining the depth of their own past for inspiration, the band managed once again to turn their own familiarity on its head and forge a new destination to parts known only to them. Triumphantly melodic in sound yet hypnotic in scope, energetic enough to be heavy yet beautiful enough to be soothing, Ethereal Horizons is a journey of an album through beautiful cosmic pastures, and doubtless to still greater horrors beyond.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: NA | Format Reviewed: Mother heckin’ gosh darn stream
Label: Debemur Morti Productions
Website: Album Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: November 28th, 2025

#2025 #40 #blackMetal #blutAusNord #debemurMortiProductions #etherealHorizons #frenchMetal #nov25 #review #reviews

Steel Arctus – Dreamruler Review

By Andy-War-Hall

Brothers, you need power metal in your life. No, you do. You need authentic positivity shot straight into your cynic-rotten hearts, now. Most fortunate for you, Greek power metallers Steel Arctus have graced this year of 2025 with their third album Dreamruler, marking the third entry into the chronicles of their titular hero Steel Arctus. 2020’s Fire and Blood detailed the origins of Steel Arctus and his girlfriend Red Sonja the Arcadian Lady, 2022’s Master of War saw him delve into the fires of Hades and now Dreamruler sees him challenge the titular Dreamruler in his evil world of dreams to rescue his bodacious muse. Though the first two albums were good, Steel Arctus only grazed greatness a few times in their young career. Is Dreamruler the one that’ll bring them there? Hold your hammers high.

Steel Arctus are sworn to the flame of metal glory, and Dreamruler carries that fire by way of anthemic power metal. Dreamruler is imbued with the fantasy-minded songwriting of Dio, the epic vocal acrobatics of Lost Horizon and the fist-balling machismo of Judas Priest and Visigoth. “Riding through the Night” sees Steel Arctus fuse Judas Priest grit and Nocturnal Rites hookiness, “Fate of the Beast” marries Stratovarius neoclassical-isms with Paladin riffing and “Will to Power” embodies so much Manowar that I’m surprised Manowar never wrote it. Steel Arctus harness these influences into lean, catchy tunes that—while never feeling totally original, obviously—feel deeply energized and alive. Just hearing the Lost Horizon bloopy synths and grandeur of “Defender of Steel,” the Iced Earth thrash-power of “Cry for Revenge,” and the Savatage class and nastiness of “Dreamruler” evoked that sense of first getting into metal again. Listening to Dreamruler is listening to everything Steel Arctus love distilled into forty-seven minutes of heavy metal bliss.

This mimicry of established styles wouldn’t work so well if Steel Arctus weren’t incredible musicians. Thankfully, guitarist Nash G. churns out quality riffs like it’s nothing, bringing beefy grooves to “Will to Power” and nimble plucking on “Fires of Death”. While extremely technical and wah-heavy (“Fires of Death”), G.’s solos avoid hollowness through a melody-first approach; just hear those twins on “Dreamruler” or how “Wicked Lies” plays with the riff beneath it. Drummer Minas Chatziminas crushes his kicks (“Defender of Steel”) while fitting in cool tom and cymbal work (“Riding through the Night”) and just enough kick variation for some rhythmic interest (“Dreamruler”), while bassist Strutter (Wardrum) lays down thick-toned bass runs throughout Dreamruler and even leads on “Wicked Lies.” But vocalist Tasos Lazaris (Fortress Under Siege, White Wizzard) is the leader of this quest called Dreamruler, as his incredible range (“Legend of the Warrior”,) power (“Cry for Revenge”) and charisma (“Glory of the Hero”) sharpen the hooks of Dreamruler and give Steel Arctus a commanding presence. Put together, and Dreamruler’s an outstandingly fun romp worthy of Steel Arctus’ many influences.

The only blemish on Dreamruler is that the ending isn’t a smash success. The penultimate “Legend of the Warrior” opens in dramatic fashion, replete with swirling synths, plucked clean guitar and spoken narration à la Lost Horizon that really sounds like Steel Arctus are building towards a true epic conclusion akin to “Highlander (The One).” Instead, it and the closing instrumental “Onar (όναρ),”1 move through mid-paced crawls that leave Dreamruler with a minor case of anticlimax. They’re not bad songs— “Legend of the Warrior” features Lazaris’ most dynamic performance and “Onar (όναρ)” sounds genuinely restorative in its pleasantness—but with how much pathos Steel Arctus weave into their music I think Dreamruler would’ve benefited from a bigger, grander finale. Steel Arctus can tell a story: I have no idea what happens in Dreamruler narrative-wise, but when Lazaris commands “Hammer Highyaaa!” on “Defender of Steel,” who needs a plot? I’m right there anyway.

Steel Arctus have leveled up tremendously on Dreamruler, and anyone with even a smidgen of appreciation for power metal should give this a spin. They don’t do anything new or novel whatsoever on Dreamruler, and, yeah, these are the most generic power metal song titles imaginable, but Steel Arctus hammered their way into greatness by sheer force of will anyway—along with amazing performances and adept songcraft, of course. Everything about Dreamruler is wholehearted, from Steel Arctus’ celebration of heavy metal’s past to their overwhelming showmanship. This is music of gigantic melancholy and gigantic mirth and easily one of, if not the year’s best power metal albums.

Rating: Great
DR: 72 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: No Remorse Records
Websites: steelarctus.com | steelarctus.bandcamp | facebook.com/steelarctus
Releases Worldwide: November 28th, 2025

#2025 #40 #dio #dreamruler #epicMetal #fortressUnderSiege #greekMetal #heavyMetal #icedEarth #judasPriest #lostHorizon #manowar #noRemorseRecords #nocturnalRites #nov25 #paladin #powerMetal #review #reviews #savatage #steelArctus #stratovarius #visigoth #wardrum #whiteWizzard

Steel Arctus – Dreamruler Review

By Andy-War-Hall

Brothers, you need power metal in your life. No, you do. You need authentic positivity shot straight into your cynic-rotten hearts, now. Most fortunate for you, Greek power metallers Steel Arctus have graced this year of 2025 with their third album Dreamruler, marking the third entry into the chronicles of their titular hero Steel Arctus. 2020’s Fire and Blood detailed the origins of Steel Arctus and his girlfriend Red Sonja the Arcadian Lady, 2022’s Master of War saw him delve into the fires of Hades and now Dreamruler sees him challenge the titular Dreamruler in his evil world of dreams to rescue his bodacious muse. Though the first two albums were good, Steel Arctus only grazed greatness a few times in their young career. Is Dreamruler the one that’ll bring them there? Hold your hammers high.

Steel Arctus are sworn to the flame of metal glory, and Dreamruler carries that fire by way of anthemic power metal. Dreamruler is imbued with the fantasy-minded songwriting of Dio, the epic vocal acrobatics of Lost Horizon and the fist-balling machismo of Judas Priest and Visigoth. “Riding through the Night” sees Steel Arctus fuse Judas Priest grit and Nocturnal Rites hookiness, “Fate of the Beast” marries Stratovarius neoclassical-isms with Paladin riffing and “Will to Power” embodies so much Manowar that I’m surprised Manowar never wrote it. Steel Arctus harness these influences into lean, catchy tunes that—while never feeling totally original, obviously—feel deeply energized and alive. Just hearing the Lost Horizon bloopy synths and grandeur of “Defender of Steel,” the Iced Earth thrash-power of “Cry for Revenge,” and the Savatage class and nastiness of “Dreamruler” evoked that sense of first getting into metal again. Listening to Dreamruler is listening to everything Steel Arctus love distilled into forty-seven minutes of heavy metal bliss.

This mimicry of established styles wouldn’t work so well if Steel Arctus weren’t incredible musicians. Thankfully, guitarist Nash G. churns out quality riffs like it’s nothing, bringing beefy grooves to “Will to Power” and nimble plucking on “Fires of Death”. While extremely technical and wah-heavy (“Fires of Death”), G.’s solos avoid hollowness through a melody-first approach; just hear those twins on “Dreamruler” or how “Wicked Lies” plays with the riff beneath it. Drummer Minas Chatziminas crushes his kicks (“Defender of Steel”) while fitting in cool tom and cymbal work (“Riding through the Night”) and just enough kick variation for some rhythmic interest (“Dreamruler”), while bassist Strutter (Wardrum) lays down thick-toned bass runs throughout Dreamruler and even leads on “Wicked Lies.” But vocalist Tasos Lazaris (Fortress Under Siege, White Wizzard) is the leader of this quest called Dreamruler, as his incredible range (“Legend of the Warrior”,) power (“Cry for Revenge”) and charisma (“Glory of the Hero”) sharpen the hooks of Dreamruler and give Steel Arctus a commanding presence. Put together, and Dreamruler’s an outstandingly fun romp worthy of Steel Arctus’ many influences.

The only blemish on Dreamruler is that the ending isn’t a smash success. The penultimate “Legend of the Warrior” opens in dramatic fashion, replete with swirling synths, plucked clean guitar and spoken narration à la Lost Horizon that really sounds like Steel Arctus are building towards a true epic conclusion akin to “Highlander (The One).” Instead, it and the closing instrumental “Onar (όναρ),”1 move through mid-paced crawls that leave Dreamruler with a minor case of anticlimax. They’re not bad songs— “Legend of the Warrior” features Lazaris’ most dynamic performance and “Onar (όναρ)” sounds genuinely restorative in its pleasantness—but with how much pathos Steel Arctus weave into their music I think Dreamruler would’ve benefited from a bigger, grander finale. Steel Arctus can tell a story: I have no idea what happens in Dreamruler narrative-wise, but when Lazaris commands “Hammer Highyaaa!” on “Defender of Steel,” who needs a plot? I’m right there anyway.

Steel Arctus have leveled up tremendously on Dreamruler, and anyone with even a smidgen of appreciation for power metal should give this a spin. They don’t do anything new or novel whatsoever on Dreamruler, and, yeah, these are the most generic power metal song titles imaginable, but Steel Arctus hammered their way into greatness by sheer force of will anyway—along with amazing performances and adept songcraft, of course. Everything about Dreamruler is wholehearted, from Steel Arctus’ celebration of heavy metal’s past to their overwhelming showmanship. This is music of gigantic melancholy and gigantic mirth and easily one of, if not the year’s best power metal albums.

Rating: Great
DR: 72 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: No Remorse Records
Websites: steelarctus.com | steelarctus.bandcamp | facebook.com/steelarctus
Releases Worldwide: November 28th, 2025

#2025 #40 #dio #dreamruler #epicMetal #fortressUnderSiege #greekMetal #heavyMetal #icedEarth #judasPriest #lostHorizon #manowar #noRemorseRecords #nocturnalRites #nov25 #paladin #powerMetal #review #reviews #savatage #steelArctus #stratovarius #visigoth #wardrum #whiteWizzard

Phobocosm – Gateway Review

By Steel Druhm

Well, lookee who just oozed in! Phobocosm, Canada’s infamous cavern creepers and dealers of oppressive death metal, return to shove a lump of revolting slime-scuzz in everyone’s stocking with fourth album, Gateway. When last we heard from them on 2023s Foreordained, they were continuing to tweak and refine their revolting mash-up of Incantation, Immolation, Ulcerate, doom and vaguely pos-metal-y bits with an emphasis on the ominous, unsettling and atonal. When all the gears lock in for Phobocosm, they’re capable of inspiring a real sense of existential dread and unease. They’ve always crafted their music to achieve this effect and conjure dark, unpleasant atmospheres through crushing heaviness. Foreordained nailed the formula, making for a dense, harrowing listen. Gateway mines the same toxic waste pits, searching for the next eldritch nightmare, but takes a somewhat different path there this time. Can they regurgitate as many repellent sounds as before and continue their stellar track record? We’ll need to do some DEEP spelunking to get answers.

It’s immediately apparent that Phobocosm made some changes at the writing table this time. Instead of burying the listener with 6-7 long-form assaults on your calm, Gateway features only 4 proper songs with 3 interludes stitching them together. Opener “Deathless” sounds just as a Phobocosm fan would expect, with buzzing, nerve-jangling riffs emerging like locust hordes as a growing sense of unease and danger is conveyed. It’s unhurried as dark moods are slowly crafted with anticipation and dread rising. When the chaos kicks off, it’s mid-tempo death-doom, grinding and heavy as fuck. Riffs slither everywhere, and death vocals bubble up from some bottomless chasm. There’s a lot of Immolation here, but it never feels like a clone by-product. It’s nasty, satisfying, and creepy. “Unbound” dials up the aggression and urgency with vicious blastbeats and insanity-inducing riffs scorching your brain and sense of safety. It’s 6-plus minutes, but the vibe is so impactful and extreme that you want it to be longer to prolong the glorious punishment. Some of the leads and flourishes are very memorable and appear at just the right moment to really pop. There’s a mood here that’s hard to describe, but it’s highly immersive and ugly down to the fucking bone marrow.

“Sempiternal Penance” keeps the winning streak going with another massive abomination loaded with guttural vocals and tremendously chaotic, deranged riffs. At times, it sounds like an unholy ritual is underway, but something dark and malevolent is starting to take control, and it’s high time to get the fuck out. “Beyond the Threshold of Flesh” is the longest cut at 8:27, and Phobocosm excel at making these kinds of tracks work to their benefit as they escalate and deescalate the sense of fear and danger, but never let you off the meat hook. Rather than feeling like an effort to endure, the track sucks you into a cloud of grasping horrors, chews you up, and vomits out your maimed remains before you even know you’re on the menu. That’s a success in my book. What are the downsides? The presence of the three interludes. While they track the style of the main cuts and effectively maintain tension, it’s really the 4 main set pieces that are the most interesting. That means you get about 9 minutes of good but less essential musical grout between those high points, and it feels like they’re padding out an EP. At 35-plus minutes, Gateway doesn’t feel overly long. The production is perfect for what Phobocosm do, with layers of murk and reverb creating the death cavern. The mix grants the guitars exactly the frightening, intimidating presence this style of death needs.

Gateway sees former guitarist Rob Milly back for the first time since 2016s Bringer of Drought, and his work alongside Samuel Dufour’s excellently unnatural playing leaves no one safe. The riffs and “harmonies” these two conceive are nasty, putrid, and grotesque with bloody roots in death, doom and black metal. This is the reason Phobocosm’s sound packs so much raw venom, and the tandem’s dissonant maelstroms leave behind plenty of little details to unearth with subsequent spins. Once again, Etienne Bayard blows the doors off the crypt with massive death vocals. He’s a superb croaker and makes everything considerably more menacing and horrible. Basically, he’s the very Mouth of Madness.

Phobocosm are one of the most reliable death metal monstrosities out there, and Gateway is another ruthless sucker punch to the epiglottis. While I fear this is dropping too late in the year to get the attention and end-of-year list space it deserves, Gateway definitely has my full attention as 2025 winds down. This is another high-quality dose of excessive extremity that deserves to be heard and marinated deeply within. Take my advice and follow Gateway into lunacy before it becomes another thing you foolishly missed.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Descent
Websites: darkdescentrecords.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/phobocosm | instagram.com/phobocosm
Releases Worldwide: November 28th, 2025

#2025 #35 #canadianMetal #darkDescentRecords #deathMetal #gateway #immolation #incantation #nov25 #phobocosm #review #reviews #ulcerate

Phobocosm – Gateway Review

By Steel Druhm

Well, lookee who just oozed in! Phobocosm, Canada’s infamous cavern creepers and dealers of oppressive death metal, return to shove a lump of revolting slime-scuzz in everyone’s stocking with fourth album, Gateway. When last we heard from them on 2023s Foreordained, they were continuing to tweak and refine their revolting mash-up of Incantation, Immolation, Ulcerate, doom and vaguely pos-metal-y bits with an emphasis on the ominous, unsettling and atonal. When all the gears lock in for Phobocosm, they’re capable of inspiring a real sense of existential dread and unease. They’ve always crafted their music to achieve this effect and conjure dark, unpleasant atmospheres through crushing heaviness. Foreordained nailed the formula, making for a dense, harrowing listen. Gateway mines the same toxic waste pits, searching for the next eldritch nightmare, but takes a somewhat different path there this time. Can they regurgitate as many repellent sounds as before and continue their stellar track record? We’ll need to do some DEEP spelunking to get answers.

It’s immediately apparent that Phobocosm made some changes at the writing table this time. Instead of burying the listener with 6-7 long-form assaults on your calm, Gateway features only 4 proper songs with 3 interludes stitching them together. Opener “Deathless” sounds just as a Phobocosm fan would expect, with buzzing, nerve-jangling riffs emerging like locust hordes as a growing sense of unease and danger is conveyed. It’s unhurried as dark moods are slowly crafted with anticipation and dread rising. When the chaos kicks off, it’s mid-tempo death-doom, grinding and heavy as fuck. Riffs slither everywhere, and death vocals bubble up from some bottomless chasm. There’s a lot of Immolation here, but it never feels like a clone by-product. It’s nasty, satisfying, and creepy. “Unbound” dials up the aggression and urgency with vicious blastbeats and insanity-inducing riffs scorching your brain and sense of safety. It’s 6-plus minutes, but the vibe is so impactful and extreme that you want it to be longer to prolong the glorious punishment. Some of the leads and flourishes are very memorable and appear at just the right moment to really pop. There’s a mood here that’s hard to describe, but it’s highly immersive and ugly down to the fucking bone marrow.

“Sempiternal Penance” keeps the winning streak going with another massive abomination loaded with guttural vocals and tremendously chaotic, deranged riffs. At times, it sounds like an unholy ritual is underway, but something dark and malevolent is starting to take control, and it’s high time to get the fuck out. “Beyond the Threshold of Flesh” is the longest cut at 8:27, and Phobocosm excel at making these kinds of tracks work to their benefit as they escalate and deescalate the sense of fear and danger, but never let you off the meat hook. Rather than feeling like an effort to endure, the track sucks you into a cloud of grasping horrors, chews you up, and vomits out your maimed remains before you even know you’re on the menu. That’s a success in my book. What are the downsides? The presence of the three interludes. While they track the style of the main cuts and effectively maintain tension, it’s really the 4 main set pieces that are the most interesting. That means you get about 9 minutes of good but less essential musical grout between those high points, and it feels like they’re padding out an EP. At 35-plus minutes, Gateway doesn’t feel overly long. The production is perfect for what Phobocosm do, with layers of murk and reverb creating the death cavern. The mix grants the guitars exactly the frightening, intimidating presence this style of death needs.

Gateway sees former guitarist Rob Milly back for the first time since 2016s Bringer of Drought, and his work alongside Samuel Dufour’s excellently unnatural playing leaves no one safe. The riffs and “harmonies” these two conceive are nasty, putrid, and grotesque with bloody roots in death, doom and black metal. This is the reason Phobocosm’s sound packs so much raw venom, and the tandem’s dissonant maelstroms leave behind plenty of little details to unearth with subsequent spins. Once again, Etienne Bayard blows the doors off the crypt with massive death vocals. He’s a superb croaker and makes everything considerably more menacing and horrible. Basically, he’s the very Mouth of Madness.

Phobocosm are one of the most reliable death metal monstrosities out there, and Gateway is another ruthless sucker punch to the epiglottis. While I fear this is dropping too late in the year to get the attention and end-of-year list space it deserves, Gateway definitely has my full attention as 2025 winds down. This is another high-quality dose of excessive extremity that deserves to be heard and marinated deeply within. Take my advice and follow Gateway into lunacy before it becomes another thing you foolishly missed.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Descent
Websites: darkdescentrecords.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/phobocosm | instagram.com/phobocosm
Releases Worldwide: November 28th, 2025

#2025 #35 #canadianMetal #darkDescentRecords #deathMetal #gateway #immolation #incantation #nov25 #phobocosm #review #reviews #ulcerate

Pale Horse Ritual – Diabolic Formation Review

By Creeping Ivy

2025 must have been a challenging year to occupy the Sabbath-worship lane. Ozzy’s passing on July 22nd—seventeen days after the Back to the Beginning concert—hit metaldom hard, but it surely hit harder for bands that treat Master of Reality as a sacred text. Videos from the concert, especially of a throned Ozzy performing one last time with the original Sabbath lineup, provide solace, as do covers from legends like Metallica and Slayer.1 Tragically, 2025 has revitalized Sabbath; Sabbath-inspired bands walk a tightrope of honoring the original and wilting under its renascence. Merging into the Sabbath lane late in the year is Pale Horse Ritual, a Canadian quartet. After releasing a slew of singles and an EP in 2024, this Hamilton, Ontario band has dropped their debut full-length, Diabolic Formation.2 While it doesn’t need to break much new ground, the album does need to aid the grieving process.

Pale Horse Ritual offers a bit more than straight Sabbath worship. While Diabolic Formation primarily deals in stoner/doom metal, much of its instrumentation hearkens to 70s psychedelic rock. Lead guitarist James Matheson, for example, lays down some total psych freakout solos (“Deflowered,” “Bloody Demon”). Spooky organ chords also contribute to the album’s vintage atmosphere (“D.E.D,” “A Beautiful End”). Together, these elements evoke Iron Butterfly and other such proto-metal acts. Nevertheless, Pale Horse Ritual ground their sound in pure Iommian goodness. Instrumental opener “Deflowered” announces Diabolic Formation’s riff-forward orientation, built around modulations of a simple yet satisfying flat-2 line. The descending chromatic figure of closer “A Beautiful End” is an album highlight, dragging listeners down to a warm, fuzzy hell. Similar to a contemporary band like Monolord, Pale Horse Ritual unabashedly revels in the undeniable power of a familiar riff.

Alas, Diabolic Formation feels familiar to the point where one-to-one comparisons can frequently be made. “Wickedness,” the first real ‘song’ on the album, provides the earliest instance of Sabbath aping. Its verse riff and accompanying vocal melody exactly replicate the first half of the “Iron Man” hook. The lyrics are also imitative; though not a direct lift, the narrator imploring his audience to ‘Call [him] Lucifer’ echoes “N.I.B.” Less overtly mimetic is “Bloody Demon.” Its main riff brings “Electric Funeral” to mind, and lyrics about the ‘prince of darkness’ and watchful ‘snake eyes’ summon Ozzy and Lemmy. Beyond Sabbath, Pale Horse Ritual comes close to sampling Iron Butterfly in “D.E.D.,” which recalls the iconic “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” phrase. Unfortunately, Diabolic Formation invites listeners to hunt for references.

Pale Horse Ritual do break from their Sabbathy mould in intriguing ways. Vocalist/bassist Paco is not Ozzy; he possesses more of a chill, mid-range croon. Paco effortlessly delivers catchy choruses, heightened by harmonies from rhythm guitarist Will Adams (“Wickedness,” “D.E.D.”). But he very much is Geezer; Paco’s fills and wah-wah stomps naturally play off Jonah Santa-Barbara’s drumming, putting these grooves into the Butler-Ward pocket (“Deflowered,” “Wickedness”). The biggest curveball on Diabolic Formation, however, is “Save You,” the mid-album acoustic break. Its delicate fingerpicking, ghostly whispers, and dreamy synths conjure a surprising artist from the 70s: Nick Drake. The on-the-nose, anti-religion lyrics draw attention away from the suppleness of Paco’s voice and Adams’s guitarwork. Nevertheless, it’s a beautiful track showcasing a side of their sound I wish Pale Horse Ritual explored further.

Diabolic Formation flourishes and flounders due to its familiarity. Even in a subgenre rooted in remembrance, there are too many direct echoes of Sabbath, Iron Butterfly, and the like here. Listeners might feel paranoid that every riff and chorus is plagiarized. And yet, Diabolic Formation is a good sounding record, with cozy tones and comforting atmosphere. If 2025 left you reeling from the loss of Ozzy, then Diabolic Formation is worth 39 minutes of your time. As a new purveyor of an old sound, Pale Horse Ritual can help you adjust to a new normal.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Black Throne Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: November 28th, 2025

#25 #2025 #blackSabbath #blackThroneProductions #canadianMetal #diabolicFormation #doomMetal #ironButterfly #metallica #monolord #nickDrake #nov25 #paleHorseRitual #protoMetal #psychedelicRock #review #reviews #slayer #stonerMetal #thePaleHorses

Pale Horse Ritual – Diabolic Formation Review

By Creeping Ivy

2025 must have been a challenging year to occupy the Sabbath-worship lane. Ozzy’s passing on July 22nd—seventeen days after the Back to the Beginning concert—hit metaldom hard, but it surely hit harder for bands that treat Master of Reality as a sacred text. Videos from the concert, especially of a throned Ozzy performing one last time with the original Sabbath lineup, provide solace, as do covers from legends like Metallica and Slayer.1 Tragically, 2025 has revitalized Sabbath; Sabbath-inspired bands walk a tightrope of honoring the original and wilting under its renascence. Merging into the Sabbath lane late in the year is Pale Horse Ritual, a Canadian quartet. After releasing a slew of singles and an EP in 2024, this Hamilton, Ontario band has dropped their debut full-length, Diabolic Formation.2 While it doesn’t need to break much new ground, the album does need to aid the grieving process.

Pale Horse Ritual offers a bit more than straight Sabbath worship. While Diabolic Formation primarily deals in stoner/doom metal, much of its instrumentation hearkens to 70s psychedelic rock. Lead guitarist James Matheson, for example, lays down some total psych freakout solos (“Deflowered,” “Bloody Demon”). Spooky organ chords also contribute to the album’s vintage atmosphere (“D.E.D,” “A Beautiful End”). Together, these elements evoke Iron Butterfly and other such proto-metal acts. Nevertheless, Pale Horse Ritual ground their sound in pure Iommian goodness. Instrumental opener “Deflowered” announces Diabolic Formation’s riff-forward orientation, built around modulations of a simple yet satisfying flat-2 line. The descending chromatic figure of closer “A Beautiful End” is an album highlight, dragging listeners down to a warm, fuzzy hell. Similar to a contemporary band like Monolord, Pale Horse Ritual unabashedly revels in the undeniable power of a familiar riff.

Alas, Diabolic Formation feels familiar to the point where one-to-one comparisons can frequently be made. “Wickedness,” the first real ‘song’ on the album, provides the earliest instance of Sabbath aping. Its verse riff and accompanying vocal melody exactly replicate the first half of the “Iron Man” hook. The lyrics are also imitative; though not a direct lift, the narrator imploring his audience to ‘Call [him] Lucifer’ echoes “N.I.B.” Less overtly mimetic is “Bloody Demon.” Its main riff brings “Electric Funeral” to mind, and lyrics about the ‘prince of darkness’ and watchful ‘snake eyes’ summon Ozzy and Lemmy. Beyond Sabbath, Pale Horse Ritual comes close to sampling Iron Butterfly in “D.E.D.,” which recalls the iconic “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” phrase. Unfortunately, Diabolic Formation invites listeners to hunt for references.

Pale Horse Ritual do break from their Sabbathy mould in intriguing ways. Vocalist/bassist Paco is not Ozzy; he possesses more of a chill, mid-range croon. Paco effortlessly delivers catchy choruses, heightened by harmonies from rhythm guitarist Will Adams (“Wickedness,” “D.E.D.”). But he very much is Geezer; Paco’s fills and wah-wah stomps naturally play off Jonah Santa-Barbara’s drumming, putting these grooves into the Butler-Ward pocket (“Deflowered,” “Wickedness”). The biggest curveball on Diabolic Formation, however, is “Save You,” the mid-album acoustic break. Its delicate fingerpicking, ghostly whispers, and dreamy synths conjure a surprising artist from the 70s: Nick Drake. The on-the-nose, anti-religion lyrics draw attention away from the suppleness of Paco’s voice and Adams’s guitarwork. Nevertheless, it’s a beautiful track showcasing a side of their sound I wish Pale Horse Ritual explored further.

Diabolic Formation flourishes and flounders due to its familiarity. Even in a subgenre rooted in remembrance, there are too many direct echoes of Sabbath, Iron Butterfly, and the like here. Listeners might feel paranoid that every riff and chorus is plagiarized. And yet, Diabolic Formation is a good sounding record, with cozy tones and comforting atmosphere. If 2025 left you reeling from the loss of Ozzy, then Diabolic Formation is worth 39 minutes of your time. As a new purveyor of an old sound, Pale Horse Ritual can help you adjust to a new normal.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Black Throne Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: November 28th, 2025

#25 #2025 #blackSabbath #blackThroneProductions #canadianMetal #diabolicFormation #doomMetal #ironButterfly #metallica #monolord #nickDrake #nov25 #paleHorseRitual #protoMetal #psychedelicRock #review #reviews #slayer #stonerMetal #thePaleHorses

Master’s Hammer – Maldorör Disco Review

By Grin Reaper

Besides a stout back catalog, experimental black metal weirdos Master’s Hammer vaunts an intermittent history both in band activity and AMG coverage. After releasing two largely unsung platters of black metal in the early 90s,1 the band unleashed the terminally forgettable Šlágry and hung up the hammer. In the same year our estimable blog was spawned, Master’s Hammer returned with Mantras, further augmenting their core sound with synth layers and an expanded songwriting tool belt. Before shuttering the project again in 2020, Master’s Hammer earned a glowing review and a similarly positive TYMHM at AMG, while another three albums went untested in our halls. The fires of creation never quelled completely, though, and now the Czech outfit reemerges with Maldorör Disco. Can this hammer still pummel, or should it have remained in Master’s toolbox?

Maldorör Disco marks a departure from Master’s Hammer’s earlier eras, dropping black metal vestiges in favor of a sound more in line with Neue Deutsche Härte and electro-industrial. On the likes of Vracejte Konve Na Místo and Formulæ, synths bolster atmosphere and texture. Here, Master’s Hammer adopts the keyboard as the primary driver of melody, and though Root and Mortuary Drape served as apt reference points on earlier albums, Maldorör Disco merits a new set of comparisons. Hints of Turmion Kätilöt, KMFDM, and Heldmaschine permeate Master’s Hammer’s landscape, but more than any other act, I find Maldorör Disco evokes Kraftwerk. ”Anděl Slizu” and “Bicycle Day” exemplify the electro-pomp that Germany’s finest man-machines defined decades ago. With the hooks predominantly occupying synth-driven territory, other instruments are relegated to supporting roles across Maldorör Disco’s ten concise and lively tunes.

Despite Maldorör Disco’s pivot in musical direction, Master’s Hammer retains much of the talent that supported the success of their second era. The only raw recruit is full-time keyboard player Kamil Princ, a sensible addition given the album’s dedication to synth. Princ crafts tenacious melodies that sink their teeth in and don’t let go, a testament to the memorability of Disco’s schtick. Meanwhile, bandleader, vocalist, and multi-instrumentalist Franta Štorm asserts his uniquely gruff croon and mixes its deployment with other effective stylings ranging between soft cleans (“Anděl Slizu”), backing falsetto injections (“Bicycle Day”), and vocal effects (“El Teide,” “Slatina”). Melded together, these elements fashion a diverse and engaging listen against the synth-laden backdrop. Necrocock (guitars) and Honza Kapák (drums) round out the rest of the band, ably bracing Maldorör Disco’s grooves.2

The revamped, key-centric concept on Maldorör Disco pumps a breath of fresh air from Master’s bellows, although a flaw or two hold the forge fire back from a full-on blaze. The focus on electronic influences adds a new dimension to Master’s Hammer’s sound, and while it works, I lust for more of the oddball shit that made past albums such a blast. The shift in musical approach grabs the limelight, but at the expense of what makes Master’s Hammer so lovably eccentric. Maldorör Disco also stumbles in its adherence to mid-paced tempos. Slower songs don’t pose an inherent problem,3 but restricting song speeds places a heavier burden on songwriting dynamics. Though not a fatal flaw, I wonder what Maldorör Disco might have sounded like with a couple tracks oozing the fury and venom of “Psychoparasit” or the varied velocity on “Zvířecí Zvuky.” Aiding Maldorör Disco are the restrained runtime and improved production, both of which have detracted from previous albums. Forty-two minutes are enough to explore what Master’s Hammer crafts here, and though synths don’t require the dynamic range that denser compositions do, the production is rich enough to highlight when the other instruments break out of the pocket.

After seven dormant years, Maldorör Disco proves Master’s Hammer still strikes with potency. Štorm and the gang might be longer in the tooth, but time hasn’t stripped their ability to pen tunes that stick with you long after Master’s forge has cooled. Nearly forty years since forming, Master’s Hammer bangs out another set of craftsmanlike ditties that’ll keep you whistling while you work. Though I wish Master’s Hammer would have incorporated more of their inimitably kooky antics, I enjoyed my time at the Disco, and assuming electronics aren’t anathema to your metal intake, I recommend giving it a spin or three.

Rating: Good!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Darkness Shall Rise Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 26th, 20254

#2025 #30 #blackMetal #czechMetal #darknessShallRiseProductions #experimentalBlackMetal #heldmaschine #kmfdm #kraftwerk #maldororDisco #mastersHammer #mortuaryDrape #nov25 #review #reviews #root #turmionKatilot

Master’s Hammer – Maldorör Disco Review

By Grin Reaper

Besides a stout back catalog, experimental black metal weirdos Master’s Hammer vaunts an intermittent history both in band activity and AMG coverage. After releasing two largely unsung platters of black metal in the early 90s,1 the band unleashed the terminally forgettable Šlágry and hung up the hammer. In the same year our estimable blog was spawned, Master’s Hammer returned with Mantras, further augmenting their core sound with synth layers and an expanded songwriting tool belt. Before shuttering the project again in 2020, Master’s Hammer earned a glowing review and a similarly positive TYMHM at AMG, while another three albums went untested in our halls. The fires of creation never quelled completely, though, and now the Czech outfit reemerges with Maldorör Disco. Can this hammer still pummel, or should it have remained in Master’s toolbox?

Maldorör Disco marks a departure from Master’s Hammer’s earlier eras, dropping black metal vestiges in favor of a sound more in line with Neue Deutsche Härte and electro-industrial. On the likes of Vracejte Konve Na Místo and Formulæ, synths bolster atmosphere and texture. Here, Master’s Hammer adopts the keyboard as the primary driver of melody, and though Root and Mortuary Drape served as apt reference points on earlier albums, Maldorör Disco merits a new set of comparisons. Hints of Turmion Kätilöt, KMFDM, and Heldmaschine permeate Master’s Hammer’s landscape, but more than any other act, I find Maldorör Disco evokes Kraftwerk. ”Anděl Slizu” and “Bicycle Day” exemplify the electro-pomp that Germany’s finest man-machines defined decades ago. With the hooks predominantly occupying synth-driven territory, other instruments are relegated to supporting roles across Maldorör Disco’s ten concise and lively tunes.

Despite Maldorör Disco’s pivot in musical direction, Master’s Hammer retains much of the talent that supported the success of their second era. The only raw recruit is full-time keyboard player Kamil Princ, a sensible addition given the album’s dedication to synth. Princ crafts tenacious melodies that sink their teeth in and don’t let go, a testament to the memorability of Disco’s schtick. Meanwhile, bandleader, vocalist, and multi-instrumentalist Franta Štorm asserts his uniquely gruff croon and mixes its deployment with other effective stylings ranging between soft cleans (“Anděl Slizu”), backing falsetto injections (“Bicycle Day”), and vocal effects (“El Teide,” “Slatina”). Melded together, these elements fashion a diverse and engaging listen against the synth-laden backdrop. Necrocock (guitars) and Honza Kapák (drums) round out the rest of the band, ably bracing Maldorör Disco’s grooves.2

The revamped, key-centric concept on Maldorör Disco pumps a breath of fresh air from Master’s bellows, although a flaw or two hold the forge fire back from a full-on blaze. The focus on electronic influences adds a new dimension to Master’s Hammer’s sound, and while it works, I lust for more of the oddball shit that made past albums such a blast. The shift in musical approach grabs the limelight, but at the expense of what makes Master’s Hammer so lovably eccentric. Maldorör Disco also stumbles in its adherence to mid-paced tempos. Slower songs don’t pose an inherent problem,3 but restricting song speeds places a heavier burden on songwriting dynamics. Though not a fatal flaw, I wonder what Maldorör Disco might have sounded like with a couple tracks oozing the fury and venom of “Psychoparasit” or the varied velocity on “Zvířecí Zvuky.” Aiding Maldorör Disco are the restrained runtime and improved production, both of which have detracted from previous albums. Forty-two minutes are enough to explore what Master’s Hammer crafts here, and though synths don’t require the dynamic range that denser compositions do, the production is rich enough to highlight when the other instruments break out of the pocket.

After seven dormant years, Maldorör Disco proves Master’s Hammer still strikes with potency. Štorm and the gang might be longer in the tooth, but time hasn’t stripped their ability to pen tunes that stick with you long after Master’s forge has cooled. Nearly forty years since forming, Master’s Hammer bangs out another set of craftsmanlike ditties that’ll keep you whistling while you work. Though I wish Master’s Hammer would have incorporated more of their inimitably kooky antics, I enjoyed my time at the Disco, and assuming electronics aren’t anathema to your metal intake, I recommend giving it a spin or three.

Rating: Good!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Darkness Shall Rise Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 26th, 20254

#2025 #30 #blackMetal #czechMetal #darknessShallRiseProductions #experimentalBlackMetal #heldmaschine #kmfdm #kraftwerk #maldororDisco #mastersHammer #mortuaryDrape #nov25 #review #reviews #root #turmionKatilot

Chairmaker – Leviathan Carcass Review

By Andy-War-Hall

Shit’s gone to the dogs, man. I don’t need to justify this claim. I know it, you know it, and multi-instrumentalist/university lecturer/UK extreme metal devotee Neil Erskine sure knows it, confirmed thoroughly by his new grind outfit Chairmaker and their debut record Leviathan Carcass. A solo effort outside of mixing and mastering,1 Chairmaker is Erskine’s newest conduit for the condemnation of malignant societal forces and the “reactionism and lack of critical thinking that occupies the online political landscape.” This is grind. This all checks out. Chairmaker’s blood is boiling on Leviathan Carcass, but can they get the listener’s boiling, too?

Leviathan Carcass is made of small pieces that all embody the grind spirit: nasty, brutish and short. Chairmaker rages with the pointed hostility of acts like Brutal Truth, describing extreme conditions via scathing lyrics and throat-eviscerating screams while prescribing extreme responses by way of belligerent speed and riffcraft. Songs like “Ratlicker” and “Good Art by Shit People” begin and end with little or no to-do, and every track hovers around a minute long except the two-and-a-half-minute “Dead Optimists.”2 Chairmaker are economic on Leviathan Carcass, filling every second with riffs and beats of deathly (“Making Nails”), scronky (“Leviathan Carcass”) and chugging natures (“Half a Puppy”), recorded with caustic tones and a suffocating production sure to sandpaper the sides of your brain smooth. The emotional needle of Leviathan Carcass sits motionless at the far end of pissed-off, reaching rancorous fever pitches on the blast beat bonanzas of “Pigfucker” and “Loud, Confident and Wrong.” For almost fifteen minutes, Chairmaker states in certain terms just how Erskine feels about our current socio-political landscape on Leviathan Carcass.

Amidst the flash-in-the-pan bursts of pure aggression, Chairmaker display sneaky depth in Leviathan Carcass. Despite the breakneck business of Leviathan Carcass, its riffs are discernible and technical. From the dissonant and squeal-filled “Dead Optimists,” to the one-string ascending “Powdered Nostalgia,” to the math-y chops of “Others’ Interest,” Leviathan Carcass lives in chaotic intentionality. Further, though Chairmaker’s songs flow together so seamlessly that it’s easy to miss where they start and end, Leviathan Carcass contains personality within individual tracks. Even in simple riffs there’s identity: “Making Nails” has a more vintage death metal sound, “Pigfucker” goes off with hammer-offs and “Hagiographers” sees Chairmaker make quick stops that gives the song a jerky, off-balance feel. Naturally, being grind, there are samples throughout Leviathan Carcass, and the ones here either introduce the songs effectively and amusingly (“Micron-Thick Skin,” “Half a Puppy”) or are incorporated in the middle of songs naturally and unobtrusively (“Leviathan Carcass,” “Dead Optimists”). Bundle it all with well-written, inflamed lyricism,3 and you got yourself an album with legs.

This being said, Chairmaker still don’t rise above some of the things that make grind a hard sell for many. For one, I wonder how effective Erskine’s lyrics can be to most listeners when delivered in such an indecipherable, monotonous manner. Whether railing against ideologically-driven historical revisionism on “Powdered Nostalgia,” the bottomless greed of the 1% on “Others’ Interest,” or any number of other topics on Leviathan Carcass, Chairmaker use the same language of relentless noise to communicate it vocally. I think some of the individual nuances of the messaging are lost as a result. Further, though many of its songs are fully baked despite their runtimes, some songs like “Ratlicker” or “Micron-Thick Skin” feel somewhat incomplete, like they’re missing a section or two needed to really bring it home. The relentless energy of Leviathan Carcass also means the album is mostly one-note, meaning it’s both easy to lose focus and hard to get in if you aren’t already bought in on grind. Chairmaker is a more than competent grind outfit, but Leviathan Carcass likely won’t change too many minds about the genre, either.

But Leviathan Carcass was not assembled while senselessly incensed, but instead incensed by senselessness, and that makes all the difference for Chairmaker’s success. Leviathan Carcass is a vicious record, and while specific details of its listening experience might not stick easily, the overall impact of it lasts well after its conclusion. At Leviathan Carcass’s worst, Chairmaker is still an entertaining and thoughtful entity. At its best, Leviathan Carcass is the kind of teeth-gritting, knuckle-whitening ragestorm everyone needs once in a while. I have no idea why he went with “Chairmaker,” though. It’s a bit befuddling.

Rating: Good
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: ~260 kb/s VBR mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: chairmakerblast.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #30 #brutalTruth #chairmaker #deathMetal #grind #leviathanCarcass #nov25 #review #reviews #selfReleased #ukMetal

Chairmaker – Leviathan Carcass Review

By Andy-War-Hall

Shit’s gone to the dogs, man. I don’t need to justify this claim. I know it, you know it, and multi-instrumentalist/university lecturer/UK extreme metal devotee Neil Erskine sure knows it, confirmed thoroughly by his new grind outfit Chairmaker and their debut record Leviathan Carcass. A solo effort outside of mixing and mastering,1 Chairmaker is Erskine’s newest conduit for the condemnation of malignant societal forces and the “reactionism and lack of critical thinking that occupies the online political landscape.” This is grind. This all checks out. Chairmaker’s blood is boiling on Leviathan Carcass, but can they get the listener’s boiling, too?

Leviathan Carcass is made of small pieces that all embody the grind spirit: nasty, brutish and short. Chairmaker rages with the pointed hostility of acts like Brutal Truth, describing extreme conditions via scathing lyrics and throat-eviscerating screams while prescribing extreme responses by way of belligerent speed and riffcraft. Songs like “Ratlicker” and “Good Art by Shit People” begin and end with little or no to-do, and every track hovers around a minute long except the two-and-a-half-minute “Dead Optimists.”2 Chairmaker are economic on Leviathan Carcass, filling every second with riffs and beats of deathly (“Making Nails”), scronky (“Leviathan Carcass”) and chugging natures (“Half a Puppy”), recorded with caustic tones and a suffocating production sure to sandpaper the sides of your brain smooth. The emotional needle of Leviathan Carcass sits motionless at the far end of pissed-off, reaching rancorous fever pitches on the blast beat bonanzas of “Pigfucker” and “Loud, Confident and Wrong.” For almost fifteen minutes, Chairmaker states in certain terms just how Erskine feels about our current socio-political landscape on Leviathan Carcass.

Amidst the flash-in-the-pan bursts of pure aggression, Chairmaker display sneaky depth in Leviathan Carcass. Despite the breakneck business of Leviathan Carcass, its riffs are discernible and technical. From the dissonant and squeal-filled “Dead Optimists,” to the one-string ascending “Powdered Nostalgia,” to the math-y chops of “Others’ Interest,” Leviathan Carcass lives in chaotic intentionality. Further, though Chairmaker’s songs flow together so seamlessly that it’s easy to miss where they start and end, Leviathan Carcass contains personality within individual tracks. Even in simple riffs there’s identity: “Making Nails” has a more vintage death metal sound, “Pigfucker” goes off with hammer-offs and “Hagiographers” sees Chairmaker make quick stops that gives the song a jerky, off-balance feel. Naturally, being grind, there are samples throughout Leviathan Carcass, and the ones here either introduce the songs effectively and amusingly (“Micron-Thick Skin,” “Half a Puppy”) or are incorporated in the middle of songs naturally and unobtrusively (“Leviathan Carcass,” “Dead Optimists”). Bundle it all with well-written, inflamed lyricism,3 and you got yourself an album with legs.

This being said, Chairmaker still don’t rise above some of the things that make grind a hard sell for many. For one, I wonder how effective Erskine’s lyrics can be to most listeners when delivered in such an indecipherable, monotonous manner. Whether railing against ideologically-driven historical revisionism on “Powdered Nostalgia,” the bottomless greed of the 1% on “Others’ Interest,” or any number of other topics on Leviathan Carcass, Chairmaker use the same language of relentless noise to communicate it vocally. I think some of the individual nuances of the messaging are lost as a result. Further, though many of its songs are fully baked despite their runtimes, some songs like “Ratlicker” or “Micron-Thick Skin” feel somewhat incomplete, like they’re missing a section or two needed to really bring it home. The relentless energy of Leviathan Carcass also means the album is mostly one-note, meaning it’s both easy to lose focus and hard to get in if you aren’t already bought in on grind. Chairmaker is a more than competent grind outfit, but Leviathan Carcass likely won’t change too many minds about the genre, either.

But Leviathan Carcass was not assembled while senselessly incensed, but instead incensed by senselessness, and that makes all the difference for Chairmaker’s success. Leviathan Carcass is a vicious record, and while specific details of its listening experience might not stick easily, the overall impact of it lasts well after its conclusion. At Leviathan Carcass’s worst, Chairmaker is still an entertaining and thoughtful entity. At its best, Leviathan Carcass is the kind of teeth-gritting, knuckle-whitening ragestorm everyone needs once in a while. I have no idea why he went with “Chairmaker,” though. It’s a bit befuddling.

Rating: Good
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: ~260 kb/s VBR mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: chairmakerblast.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #30 #brutalTruth #chairmaker #deathMetal #grind #leviathanCarcass #nov25 #review #reviews #selfReleased #ukMetal

Perdition Temple – Malign Apotheosis Review

By Mark Z.

Since coming to prominence as the guitarist and primary songwriter of Angelcorpse in the 1990s, Gene Palubicki has been tearing a burning warpath through the extreme metal underground, scorching eardrums with projects like his (sadly defunct) death-thrash band Blasphemic Cruelty and his current collaboration with Morbid Angel’s Steve Tucker and Origin’s John Longstreth1 in the death metal supergroup Malefic Throne. My favorite of Gene’s post-Angelcorpse projects, however, is Perdition Temple, probably because it sounds the most like Angelcorpse. In fact, as noted by the great Al Kikuras years ago in his review of the band’s 2015 sophomore album The Tempter’s Victorious, the band’s 2010 debut Edict of the Antichrist Elect was originally intended to be the fifth Angelcorpse album. Ever since Mr. Kikuras’s evocative prose turned me on to Perdition Temple, I’ve slowly become a salivating fanboy for them, going from trying to make sense of what the fuck I was hearing to scaring soccer moms in my neighborhood by walking around in a hoodie adorned with the album art of The Tempter’s Victorious (with inverted crosses on the sleeves for good measure).

After Tempter‘s, Gene stripped the band down to a power trio consisting of himself on vocals and guitar, Alex Blume (Ares Kingdom, ex-Blasphemic Cruelty) on bass, and Ron Parmer (Malevolent Creation, Brutality) behind the kit. This lineup appeared on 2020’s Sacraments of Descension (which was an enjoyable album that I probably underrated at the time) and 2022’s Merciless Upheaval (which was really more of a glorified EP, given that half of its eight songs were covers). Now, this same crew is back with 2025’s Malign Apotheosis, another firestorm of an album with just enough of a different approach to still feel fresh.

Of course, Perdition Temple are the sort of underground band that are never going to stray too far from their signature formula. And indeed, this album’s scalding blackened death metal approach is largely similar to what Perdition Temple have always done. The opening track, “Resurrect Damnation,” shows Gene’s trademark six-string attack leading the charge as well as we’ve ever heard it, with the song crammed full of supercharged Morbid Angel riffs, rapidly churning tremolos, lightning-speed solos, a vaguely thrashy midsection, and a quick devilish motif that just barely holds everything together.

“Quick” actually turns out to be apt description for these eight tracks as a whole. While Perdition Temple have always been fast, prior albums often incorporated notable slower moments to add some memorability and variety to the mayhem. Here, only “Kingdoms of the Bloodstained” really slows down for any decent amount of time, with its abrasive mid-tempo bridge sounding like Immolation reforged in the fires of blackened death metal. Most of these tracks instead take the approach of the follow-up song, “Purging Conflagration,” which maniacally barrels forward on violent, pounding chugs and squawking notes without ever stopping for air. The end result is perhaps the most relentless and vicious album the band have yet released.

That’s not to say there’s nothing memorable or noteworthy here. The title track, for example, strikes especially hard by incorporating its addictive, staccato main riff between bouts of sludgy Morbid Angelisms. Likewise, the closing track, “Fell Sorcery,” shows that Gene’s reunion with John Longstreth in Malefic Throne may have caused some Origin influence to bleed over into here, as the song climaxes with an explosive laser beam riff that could have easily been pulled from a tech death album. Through it all, Gene’s raspy vocals sound more biting and scornful than ever, while Ron Parmer proves once again to be the perfect fit for this project. The man wisely refrains from using constant blast beats and instead beats the hell out of his kit in a way that has surprising finesse, matching the momentum and frequently morphing nature of Gene’s riffing. Perhaps this album’s most notable trait, however, is the production, which is more raw than the band’s prior work and recalls the unpolished sound of Behemoth‘s The Apostasy. While this makes the sooty guitars feel a tad subdued, the drums more than make up for this by punching through everything with satisfying clarity.

A lot of bands tire out with age, but Perdition Temple apparently just gets dirtier and more relentless. Malign Apotheosis may not dethrone the band’s first two albums, but it’s a surefire win for fans of the band, and another reminder of how great blackened death metal can be when it’s written by one of the wildest riff-writers in the business.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Hells Headbangers Records
Websites: perditiontemple.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/perditiontemple
Releases Worldwide: November 28th, 2025

#2025 #35 #americanMetal #angelcorpse #aresKingdom #behemoth #blackMetal #blasphemicCruelty #brutality #deathMetal #hellsHeadbangersRecords #immolation #maleficThrone #malevolentCreation #malignApotheosis #morbidAngel #nov25 #origin #perditionTemple #review #reviews

Perdition Temple – Malign Apotheosis Review

By Mark Z.

Since coming to prominence as the guitarist and primary songwriter of Angelcorpse in the 1990s, Gene Palubicki has been tearing a burning warpath through the extreme metal underground, scorching eardrums with projects like his (sadly defunct) death-thrash band Blasphemic Cruelty and his current collaboration with Morbid Angel’s Steve Tucker and Origin’s John Longstreth1 in the death metal supergroup Malefic Throne. My favorite of Gene’s post-Angelcorpse projects, however, is Perdition Temple, probably because it sounds the most like Angelcorpse. In fact, as noted by the great Al Kikuras years ago in his review of the band’s 2015 sophomore album The Tempter’s Victorious, the band’s 2010 debut Edict of the Antichrist Elect was originally intended to be the fifth Angelcorpse album. Ever since Mr. Kikuras’s evocative prose turned me on to Perdition Temple, I’ve slowly become a salivating fanboy for them, going from trying to make sense of what the fuck I was hearing to scaring soccer moms in my neighborhood by walking around in a hoodie adorned with the album art of The Tempter’s Victorious (with inverted crosses on the sleeves for good measure).

After Tempter‘s, Gene stripped the band down to a power trio consisting of himself on vocals and guitar, Alex Blume (Ares Kingdom, ex-Blasphemic Cruelty) on bass, and Ron Parmer (Malevolent Creation, Brutality) behind the kit. This lineup appeared on 2020’s Sacraments of Descension (which was an enjoyable album that I probably underrated at the time) and 2022’s Merciless Upheaval (which was really more of a glorified EP, given that half of its eight songs were covers). Now, this same crew is back with 2025’s Malign Apotheosis, another firestorm of an album with just enough of a different approach to still feel fresh.

Of course, Perdition Temple are the sort of underground band that are never going to stray too far from their signature formula. And indeed, this album’s scalding blackened death metal approach is largely similar to what Perdition Temple have always done. The opening track, “Resurrect Damnation,” shows Gene’s trademark six-string attack leading the charge as well as we’ve ever heard it, with the song crammed full of supercharged Morbid Angel riffs, rapidly churning tremolos, lightning-speed solos, a vaguely thrashy midsection, and a quick devilish motif that just barely holds everything together.

“Quick” actually turns out to be apt description for these eight tracks as a whole. While Perdition Temple have always been fast, prior albums often incorporated notable slower moments to add some memorability and variety to the mayhem. Here, only “Kingdoms of the Bloodstained” really slows down for any decent amount of time, with its abrasive mid-tempo bridge sounding like Immolation reforged in the fires of blackened death metal. Most of these tracks instead take the approach of the follow-up song, “Purging Conflagration,” which maniacally barrels forward on violent, pounding chugs and squawking notes without ever stopping for air. The end result is perhaps the most relentless and vicious album the band have yet released.

That’s not to say there’s nothing memorable or noteworthy here. The title track, for example, strikes especially hard by incorporating its addictive, staccato main riff between bouts of sludgy Morbid Angelisms. Likewise, the closing track, “Fell Sorcery,” shows that Gene’s reunion with John Longstreth in Malefic Throne may have caused some Origin influence to bleed over into here, as the song climaxes with an explosive laser beam riff that could have easily been pulled from a tech death album. Through it all, Gene’s raspy vocals sound more biting and scornful than ever, while Ron Parmer proves once again to be the perfect fit for this project. The man wisely refrains from using constant blast beats and instead beats the hell out of his kit in a way that has surprising finesse, matching the momentum and frequently morphing nature of Gene’s riffing. Perhaps this album’s most notable trait, however, is the production, which is more raw than the band’s prior work and recalls the unpolished sound of Behemoth‘s The Apostasy. While this makes the sooty guitars feel a tad subdued, the drums more than make up for this by punching through everything with satisfying clarity.

A lot of bands tire out with age, but Perdition Temple apparently just gets dirtier and more relentless. Malign Apotheosis may not dethrone the band’s first two albums, but it’s a surefire win for fans of the band, and another reminder of how great blackened death metal can be when it’s written by one of the wildest riff-writers in the business.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Hells Headbangers Records
Websites: perditiontemple.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/perditiontemple
Releases Worldwide: November 28th, 2025

#2025 #35 #americanMetal #angelcorpse #aresKingdom #behemoth #blackMetal #blasphemicCruelty #brutality #deathMetal #hellsHeadbangersRecords #immolation #maleficThrone #malevolentCreation #malignApotheosis #morbidAngel #nov25 #origin #perditionTemple #review #reviews

Morbikon – Lost Within the Astral Crypts

By Owlswald

When he’s not dealing in the Slime and Punishment of Municipal Waste or pissing off the neighbors with Iron Reagan, axe-wielder Phil “Landphil” Hall channels his focus into Morbikon. Formed in 2020, Hall’s black metal side-project earned recognition from AMG Industries when Ferox highlighted the supergroup’s debut, Ov Mournful Twilight, as his surprise record of 2022. Rooted in all things kvlt and trve, the album’s second wave frostbitten anthems plunged into the remnants of burned churches and stale corpse paint, resulting in “eight meloblack rippers calibrated to bring winter to your soul and whiplash to your neck.” Now, Morbikon’s sophomore LP finds Hall honing his homage to the black arts, promising to descend his creation into a deeper, more sepulchral state. Ignite your torch and prepare the Necronomicon—it’s time to get Lost Within the Astral Crypts.

Lost Within the Astral Crypts forges the scorched spirit of Ov Mournful Twilight into a leaner, more technical and overwhelmingly black entity. Drawing on the lineup’s pedigree, Morbikon’s collective talent coalesces into an authoritative, and at times downright impressive, synthesis of 90s-influenced blackened thrash. Vocalist Mathias “Vreth” Lillmåns (Finntroll, …And Oceans) returns with his characteristic throat-ripping vocals, as furious down-picked riffs and swarming, lightning-quick tremolodic scales consistently anchor the material firmly in the black. Complementing Hall’s stylish fretwork, drummer Pierce Williams (Ænigmatum, ex-Skeletal Remains)—who replaces Dave Witte—adds raw, destructive rhythms with tight rolls and syncopations that are both refreshing and sophisticated. Tracks like “Unending Legions of Baal,” “Masters of Eternal Night” and “Flames that Bind and Shadows Cast” evoke a full-on black metal assault reminiscent of Satyricon or Emperor, complete with pounding double bass and subtle synths, while “Ghoul Infested Mausoleum” and “Heavens that Burn and Eons Divided” push the envelope with airy Wintersun melodicism peppered with thrash savagery.

The necrotic might of Lost Within the Astral Crypts rests in Morbikon’s technical excellence, elevating the album’s eight tracks beyond the seminal Scandinavian sound. Worshipping at the altar of the almighty riff, Hall and company immediately demonstrate their capabilities on “Heavens that Burn and Eons Divided”—an energetic, fun and melodic banger driven by a potent layered tremolo attack, fantasy-toned leads and Williams’ tomb-raiding blasts that promptly underscore Morbikon’s technical ambition. “Ghoul Infested Mausoleum” features the record’s best tremolo riff: a spectral high/low scale progression imbued with nocturnal gravity, bolstered by Williams’ accented beats and Lillmåns’ gnarly shrieks. Shreddy, virtuosic solos on the title track, “Flames that Bind and Shadows Cast” and “Numeric Portal Ascendency” push Lost Within the Astral Crypts past the point of a stereotypical tremolo-fest, while strategic thrash and death explorations (such as the opening passage of “Flames that Bind and Shadows Cast”) help maintain listener interest before regrounding the album’s dark, aggressive roots.

Given Morbikon’s stellar execution and the album’s efficient 43-minute runtime—with little bloat to be found—any criticism must instead focus on Lost Within the Astral Crypts’ songwriting. “Masters of Eternal Night” is a serviceable track, but often clings too tightly to classic Scandinavian conventions (even adopting a familiar Mayhem-like conclusion), rendering it less engaging than the album’s superior cuts. “Sworn to the Beheaded King” briefly adopts a more aggressive, in-your-face death metal spirit at its midpoint, including a tasteful guitar solo. Yet, these highlights can’t mask the track’s conventionality as it quickly retreats to familiar black metal terrain. Although the monolithic presence of Lost Within the Astral Crypts occasionally falters in favor of genre conventions, stagnant sections (“Ghoul Infested Mausoleum,” “Flames that Bind and Shadows Cast”) and even some superfluous wankery (“Lost Within the Astral Crypts”), the underlying songwriting remains solid, with engaging riffs and hooks that are strong enough to largely sustain the album’s momentum.

Lost Within the Astral Crypts is a worthy reinvention of a well-trodden sound. While the album is certainly not groundbreaking—nor is it trying to be—it demonstrates top-notch musical dexterity and delivers exceptionally well-executed material that is aggressive, dark and steeped in 90s nostalgia. At its weakest, Lost Within the Astral Crypts serves as a grim invitation to exhume those second-wave classics from your collection; at its strongest, it stands as a fun, rock-solid blackened thrash record that advances and validates Hall’s creative vision, confirming Morbikon’s vast potential.

Rating: Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Tankcrimes
Websites: instagram.com/morbikon | facebook.com/morbikon
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#andOceans #2025 #30 #aenigmatum #americanMetal #blackMetal #emperor #finntroll #ironReagan #lostWithinTheAstralCrypts #mayhem #morbikon #municipalWaste #nov25 #review #reviews #satyricon #skeletalRemains #tankcrimes #wintersun

Morbikon – Lost Within the Astral Crypts

By Owlswald

When he’s not dealing in the Slime and Punishment of Municipal Waste or pissing off the neighbors with Iron Reagan, axe-wielder Phil “Landphil” Hall channels his focus into Morbikon. Formed in 2020, Hall’s black metal side-project earned recognition from AMG Industries when Ferox highlighted the supergroup’s debut, Ov Mournful Twilight, as his surprise record of 2022. Rooted in all things kvlt and trve, the album’s second wave frostbitten anthems plunged into the remnants of burned churches and stale corpse paint, resulting in “eight meloblack rippers calibrated to bring winter to your soul and whiplash to your neck.” Now, Morbikon’s sophomore LP finds Hall honing his homage to the black arts, promising to descend his creation into a deeper, more sepulchral state. Ignite your torch and prepare the Necronomicon—it’s time to get Lost Within the Astral Crypts.

Lost Within the Astral Crypts forges the scorched spirit of Ov Mournful Twilight into a leaner, more technical and overwhelmingly black entity. Drawing on the lineup’s pedigree, Morbikon’s collective talent coalesces into an authoritative, and at times downright impressive, synthesis of 90s-influenced blackened thrash. Vocalist Mathias “Vreth” Lillmåns (Finntroll, …And Oceans) returns with his characteristic throat-ripping vocals, as furious down-picked riffs and swarming, lightning-quick tremolodic scales consistently anchor the material firmly in the black. Complementing Hall’s stylish fretwork, drummer Pierce Williams (Ænigmatum, ex-Skeletal Remains)—who replaces Dave Witte—adds raw, destructive rhythms with tight rolls and syncopations that are both refreshing and sophisticated. Tracks like “Unending Legions of Baal,” “Masters of Eternal Night” and “Flames that Bind and Shadows Cast” evoke a full-on black metal assault reminiscent of Satyricon or Emperor, complete with pounding double bass and subtle synths, while “Ghoul Infested Mausoleum” and “Heavens that Burn and Eons Divided” push the envelope with airy Wintersun melodicism peppered with thrash savagery.

The necrotic might of Lost Within the Astral Crypts rests in Morbikon’s technical excellence, elevating the album’s eight tracks beyond the seminal Scandinavian sound. Worshipping at the altar of the almighty riff, Hall and company immediately demonstrate their capabilities on “Heavens that Burn and Eons Divided”—an energetic, fun and melodic banger driven by a potent layered tremolo attack, fantasy-toned leads and Williams’ tomb-raiding blasts that promptly underscore Morbikon’s technical ambition. “Ghoul Infested Mausoleum” features the record’s best tremolo riff: a spectral high/low scale progression imbued with nocturnal gravity, bolstered by Williams’ accented beats and Lillmåns’ gnarly shrieks. Shreddy, virtuosic solos on the title track, “Flames that Bind and Shadows Cast” and “Numeric Portal Ascendency” push Lost Within the Astral Crypts past the point of a stereotypical tremolo-fest, while strategic thrash and death explorations (such as the opening passage of “Flames that Bind and Shadows Cast”) help maintain listener interest before regrounding the album’s dark, aggressive roots.

Given Morbikon’s stellar execution and the album’s efficient 43-minute runtime—with little bloat to be found—any criticism must instead focus on Lost Within the Astral Crypts’ songwriting. “Masters of Eternal Night” is a serviceable track, but often clings too tightly to classic Scandinavian conventions (even adopting a familiar Mayhem-like conclusion), rendering it less engaging than the album’s superior cuts. “Sworn to the Beheaded King” briefly adopts a more aggressive, in-your-face death metal spirit at its midpoint, including a tasteful guitar solo. Yet, these highlights can’t mask the track’s conventionality as it quickly retreats to familiar black metal terrain. Although the monolithic presence of Lost Within the Astral Crypts occasionally falters in favor of genre conventions, stagnant sections (“Ghoul Infested Mausoleum,” “Flames that Bind and Shadows Cast”) and even some superfluous wankery (“Lost Within the Astral Crypts”), the underlying songwriting remains solid, with engaging riffs and hooks that are strong enough to largely sustain the album’s momentum.

Lost Within the Astral Crypts is a worthy reinvention of a well-trodden sound. While the album is certainly not groundbreaking—nor is it trying to be—it demonstrates top-notch musical dexterity and delivers exceptionally well-executed material that is aggressive, dark and steeped in 90s nostalgia. At its weakest, Lost Within the Astral Crypts serves as a grim invitation to exhume those second-wave classics from your collection; at its strongest, it stands as a fun, rock-solid blackened thrash record that advances and validates Hall’s creative vision, confirming Morbikon’s vast potential.

Rating: Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Tankcrimes
Websites: instagram.com/morbikon | facebook.com/morbikon
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#andOceans #2025 #30 #aenigmatum #americanMetal #blackMetal #emperor #finntroll #ironReagan #lostWithinTheAstralCrypts #mayhem #morbikon #municipalWaste #nov25 #review #reviews #satyricon #skeletalRemains #tankcrimes #wintersun

Depravity – Bestial Possession Review

By Kenstrosity

Since the release of Evil Upheaval in early 2018, I fell head over heels for Aussie death metal quintet Depravity. Evil Upheaval always going to be a difficult debut to follow, but Grand Malevolence did its very best and largely matched the debut’s sheer heft and vicious energy. Five long years spans the gap between then and now, with third salvo Bestial Possession, threatening to pummel me into dust. Little does Depravity know how badly I want it.

As if in smug answer to my “pummel me harder” challenge, Bestial Possession penetrates every pore of my body with wild abandon and zero concern for my internal organs. What I knew and loved from the brutal Evil Upheaval and the twisted Grand Malevolence coalesces here, forming a new evolution of Depravity’s sound that is at once devilishly cunning and fabulously infectious. A mangled amalgam of Cannibal Corpse bloodthirst, Immolation muscularity, and early Morbid Angel velocity, Depravity’s sound is familiar but instantly recognizable. The trick there is twofold. Firstly, Jamie Kay’s addicting vocal cadence and tonal attributes1 provide a singular voice that sets Depravity apart from the crowd. Secondly, guitarists Lynton Cessford and Jarrod Curley exhibit an uncanny ability to splice, fold, and connect tightly packed riffs together through kinky time signatures that snap my spine as easily as they trip me up (“Eunuch Maker,” “Blinding Oblivion”).

With these simple, but wildly effective, songwriting techniques—massaged by the smoothest transitions Depravity’s penned thus far—Bestial Possession quickly becomes a force to be reckoned with. Right off the bat, opening assault “Engulfed in Agony” launches the record with a devastating riffset; jaunty, subtly melodic, and bounding with verve. Oodles of arpeggiated scales and wriggling oscillations traversed by the lead guitars cohere beautifully with Louis Rando’s ballistic percussion and Ainsley Watkins’ clunky bass rumbles (“Call to the Fallen,” “Awful Mangulation”), forging a complex web of wizardry that stops just short of earning a “tech-death” badge but nonetheless ensures maximum stimulation. As a way to create balance and protect songwriting dynamics in every selection, Depravity explore a great variety of tempos and textures around Bestial Possession’s denser phrases. Grounding those variations to the band’s core mission of destruction, a palpable sense of groove tailor-made to incite ravenous pit activity also compels heads to bang with great intensity, as evidenced by turbo-bangers “Rot in the Pit,” “Aligned with Satan,” and “Legacy.”

There may be those who argue that the level of accessibility Depravity achieved with such brutal fare as this works against them, but I argue the opposite is true. Bands like Cannibal Corpse, De Profundis and even younger acts like Atrae Bilis expertly toy the line between accessibility and deadliness, and with Bestial Possession, Depravity earn their place in that elite category of death. This third installment in Depravity’s catalog is dense, brutally fast, and relentless. But it’s also refined, concise, and streamlined compared to their previous works. It’s loud, too, which holds it back from even higher acclaim, but its meaty guitar tones and well-balanced mix helps recover some ground on the production front. The only other nitpick I can muster against Bestial Possession is that, despite the incredible variety and scalpel-precise execution on hand, sometimes its strongest and most memorable cuts (“Eunuch Maker,” “Call to the Fallen,” “Rot in the Pit,” “Blinding Oblivion”) overshadow its album mates a touch too strongly. For some, that might create a minor bump in the road. Still, it’s unlikely to diminish the listening experience in any meaningful way.

As the dust settles and the flames of Depravity’s tear across the death metal landscape recede, Bestial Possession towers above many of 2025’s myriad releases. Even with my analytical eye in high gear, rooting for flaws and scrounging for blemishes, Depravity secured their rightful place as one of my absolute favorite meat-and-potatoes death metal acts active today, with Bestial Possession slotting at the top of their discography. It once more begs the question: how will they follow this up? To that I say, “Who gives a fuck?!” and smash the replay button to smithereens.

Rating: Great!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: depravityaustralia.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Depravitydestroy
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#2025 #40 #atraeBilis #australianMetal #bestialPossession #brutalDeathMetal #cannibalCorpse #deProfundis #deathMetal #depravity #immolation #morbidAngel #nov25 #review #reviews #transcendingObscurityRecords

Depravity – Bestial Possession Review

By Kenstrosity

Since the release of Evil Upheaval in early 2018, I fell head over heels for Aussie death metal quintet Depravity. Evil Upheaval always going to be a difficult debut to follow, but Grand Malevolence did its very best and largely matched the debut’s sheer heft and vicious energy. Five long years spans the gap between then and now, with third salvo Bestial Possession, threatening to pummel me into dust. Little does Depravity know how badly I want it.

As if in smug answer to my “pummel me harder” challenge, Bestial Possession penetrates every pore of my body with wild abandon and zero concern for my internal organs. What I knew and loved from the brutal Evil Upheaval and the twisted Grand Malevolence coalesces here, forming a new evolution of Depravity’s sound that is at once devilishly cunning and fabulously infectious. A mangled amalgam of Cannibal Corpse bloodthirst, Immolation muscularity, and early Morbid Angel velocity, Depravity’s sound is familiar but instantly recognizable. The trick there is twofold. Firstly, Jamie Kay’s addicting vocal cadence and tonal attributes1 provide a singular voice that sets Depravity apart from the crowd. Secondly, guitarists Lynton Cessford and Jarrod Curley exhibit an uncanny ability to splice, fold, and connect tightly packed riffs together through kinky time signatures that snap my spine as easily as they trip me up (“Eunuch Maker,” “Blinding Oblivion”).

With these simple, but wildly effective, songwriting techniques—massaged by the smoothest transitions Depravity’s penned thus far—Bestial Possession quickly becomes a force to be reckoned with. Right off the bat, opening assault “Engulfed in Agony” launches the record with a devastating riffset; jaunty, subtly melodic, and bounding with verve. Oodles of arpeggiated scales and wriggling oscillations traversed by the lead guitars cohere beautifully with Louis Rando’s ballistic percussion and Ainsley Watkins’ clunky bass rumbles (“Call to the Fallen,” “Awful Mangulation”), forging a complex web of wizardry that stops just short of earning a “tech-death” badge but nonetheless ensures maximum stimulation. As a way to create balance and protect songwriting dynamics in every selection, Depravity explore a great variety of tempos and textures around Bestial Possession’s denser phrases. Grounding those variations to the band’s core mission of destruction, a palpable sense of groove tailor-made to incite ravenous pit activity also compels heads to bang with great intensity, as evidenced by turbo-bangers “Rot in the Pit,” “Aligned with Satan,” and “Legacy.”

There may be those who argue that the level of accessibility Depravity achieved with such brutal fare as this works against them, but I argue the opposite is true. Bands like Cannibal Corpse, De Profundis and even younger acts like Atrae Bilis expertly toy the line between accessibility and deadliness, and with Bestial Possession, Depravity earn their place in that elite category of death. This third installment in Depravity’s catalog is dense, brutally fast, and relentless. But it’s also refined, concise, and streamlined compared to their previous works. It’s loud, too, which holds it back from even higher acclaim, but its meaty guitar tones and well-balanced mix helps recover some ground on the production front. The only other nitpick I can muster against Bestial Possession is that, despite the incredible variety and scalpel-precise execution on hand, sometimes its strongest and most memorable cuts (“Eunuch Maker,” “Call to the Fallen,” “Rot in the Pit,” “Blinding Oblivion”) overshadow its album mates a touch too strongly. For some, that might create a minor bump in the road. Still, it’s unlikely to diminish the listening experience in any meaningful way.

As the dust settles and the flames of Depravity’s tear across the death metal landscape recede, Bestial Possession towers above many of 2025’s myriad releases. Even with my analytical eye in high gear, rooting for flaws and scrounging for blemishes, Depravity secured their rightful place as one of my absolute favorite meat-and-potatoes death metal acts active today, with Bestial Possession slotting at the top of their discography. It once more begs the question: how will they follow this up? To that I say, “Who gives a fuck?!” and smash the replay button to smithereens.

Rating: Great!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Transcending Obscurity Records
Websites: depravityaustralia.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Depravitydestroy
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#2025 #40 #atraeBilis #australianMetal #bestialPossession #brutalDeathMetal #cannibalCorpse #deProfundis #deathMetal #depravity #immolation #morbidAngel #nov25 #review #reviews #transcendingObscurityRecords

Ildaruni – Divinum Sanguinem Review

By Andy-War-Hall

The mystic, the subliminal, the macabre: the fixings of good black metal and the bread and butter of Armenian pagans Ildaruni. Four years ago, they entered the blackened sphere with their debut Beyond Unseen Gateways, a folk-infused take on black metal that, while promising in several regards, felt bloated and unfocused. Its pagan, medieval-y acoustic passages felt tacked on, lethargic and a bit hokey, and I think Ildaruni agree with my assessment, as this year’s Divinum Sanguinem ditches the lutes and stuff for “a more tenebrous and ferocious black metal path.” At nine songs and 53 minutes, Divinum Sanguinem is yet another considerable offering from Ildaruni. Will this one prove more vital than the last?

This time, Ildaruni ain’t faffing about;1 Divinum Sanguinem is out for blood. Second-wave styling permeates Divinum Sanguinem, but without its typical murk. Utterly furious tremolo riffs and blast beats abound, wrought to vicious effect on songs like “Forged with Glaive and Blood” and “The Ascension of Kosmokrator,” while Narek Avedyan’s burly shrieks command the calamity into a lean, focused undertaking. This is black metal of a riff-centric nature, Immortal-like, but with the odd Bathory military march (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator”) and chant (“Zurvan Akrane”) to instill a greater sense of grandeur into Iladruni’s palette. Riffs are a’plenty, but it’s drummer Arthur Poghosyan who steals the show, just crushing the blasts on every song and layering everything with impressive symbol work. Divinum Sanguinem is a hefty record, but unlike Beyond Unseen Gateways, it isn’t bogged down with momentum-killing diversions. Exemplified on “Divinum Sanguinem”—where all eight minutes of imperial procession feel, bombastic dynamics and eerie bridges feel critical and purposeful—Divinum Sanguinem is lean, mean and blackened as anything.

Ildaruni hold a workman-like commitment to evil. There’s an Emperor-like dark majesty to Divinum Sanguinem, though Ildaruni forgo synths and orchestras for grandiose guitar leads to accomplish this (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator,” “Divinum Sanguinem”). Thrash riffs grace “Zurvan Akrane” beside metalface-inducing chugs on “Forged with Glaive and Blood” and “Arcane Sermon,” and even instances of Qanun (“Scorching Pathways to Samachi”)2 and bagpipe (“Forged with Glaive and Blood”)3 add to the sinister feel of Divinum Sanguinem. Similarly, the various instances of choir (“Of Nomos and Flaming Flint Stone,” “Arcane Sermon” and “Scorching Pathways to Samachi”),4 chant and clean singing (“Divinum Sanguinem”)5 add dimensions to the vocal front of Ildaruni, breaking from the incessant shrieks but not from its malignancy. Pagan folk elements from Iladruni’s previous work remain, but are relegated to folkish distorted guitar leads (and bagpipes) to keep from clashing with the breakneck nature of Divinum Sanguinem. Sometimes ritualistically ominous (“Divinum Sanguinem”) and frequently hostile (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator”), Ildaruni crafted something pointedly dark with Divinum Sanguinem.

But Ildaruni play a limited, well-trodden style, and Divinum Sanguinem is stretched too thin to inspire frequent replay. While Divinum Sanguinem’s songs feature brief moments of differentiation, the near constant tremolos, blast beats and shrieks that encompass the majority of most tracks lose their lustre with use. If a song doesn’t immediately open with trems and blasts, like on “Of Nomos and Flaming Flint Stone” or “Zurvan Akrane,” rest assured that they’ll reemerge before the verse, still competently played but with little melodic variation between them all, losing effect with overexposure. The near-uniformity of Ildaruni’s track lengths adds to this sense of sameness, as songs seem to go through the same or similar motions for similar amounts of time, which doesn’t bode well for memorability. An exception to this trend, “Immersion into Empyrean”— with its mid-paced tempo and open arpeggios—is borderline catchy and provides a stark illustration of how one-note much of the rest of the album is. Ildaruni are all business here, but there’s too much business on Divinum Sanguinem and not enough variety, novelty or abundance of hooks to make getting through it consistently engaging.

Though Divinum Sanguinem is marred by considerable songwriting issues, it still marks considerable improvement for Ildaruni and proves there’s a future for the band. When it works, Divinum Sanguinem is a powerhouse of a record, both atmospheric and immediate. When Ildaruni’s tricks run dry, however, it becomes too easy to let the music slip into the background. Perhaps genre diehards will get more out of the album than I did, but I found myself losing interest too often to offer it high marks. Still, if you’re in the market for black metal that riffs hard, you could do a lot worse than Divinum Sanguinem.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Black Lion Records
Websites: ildaruni.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Ildaruni | instagram.com/ildaruni
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#25 #2025 #armenianMetal #bathory #blackLionRecords #blackMetal #divinumSanguinem #emperor #ildaruni #immortal #nov25 #review #reviews

Ildaruni – Divinum Sanguinem Review

By Andy-War-Hall

The mystic, the subliminal, the macabre: the fixings of good black metal and the bread and butter of Armenian pagans Ildaruni. Four years ago, they entered the blackened sphere with their debut Beyond Unseen Gateways, a folk-infused take on black metal that, while promising in several regards, felt bloated and unfocused. Its pagan, medieval-y acoustic passages felt tacked on, lethargic and a bit hokey, and I think Ildaruni agree with my assessment, as this year’s Divinum Sanguinem ditches the lutes and stuff for “a more tenebrous and ferocious black metal path.” At nine songs and 53 minutes, Divinum Sanguinem is yet another considerable offering from Ildaruni. Will this one prove more vital than the last?

This time, Ildaruni ain’t faffing about;1 Divinum Sanguinem is out for blood. Second-wave styling permeates Divinum Sanguinem, but without its typical murk. Utterly furious tremolo riffs and blast beats abound, wrought to vicious effect on songs like “Forged with Glaive and Blood” and “The Ascension of Kosmokrator,” while Narek Avedyan’s burly shrieks command the calamity into a lean, focused undertaking. This is black metal of a riff-centric nature, Immortal-like, but with the odd Bathory military march (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator”) and chant (“Zurvan Akrane”) to instill a greater sense of grandeur into Iladruni’s palette. Riffs are a’plenty, but it’s drummer Arthur Poghosyan who steals the show, just crushing the blasts on every song and layering everything with impressive symbol work. Divinum Sanguinem is a hefty record, but unlike Beyond Unseen Gateways, it isn’t bogged down with momentum-killing diversions. Exemplified on “Divinum Sanguinem”—where all eight minutes of imperial procession feel, bombastic dynamics and eerie bridges feel critical and purposeful—Divinum Sanguinem is lean, mean and blackened as anything.

Ildaruni hold a workman-like commitment to evil. There’s an Emperor-like dark majesty to Divinum Sanguinem, though Ildaruni forgo synths and orchestras for grandiose guitar leads to accomplish this (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator,” “Divinum Sanguinem”). Thrash riffs grace “Zurvan Akrane” beside metalface-inducing chugs on “Forged with Glaive and Blood” and “Arcane Sermon,” and even instances of Qanun (“Scorching Pathways to Samachi”)2 and bagpipe (“Forged with Glaive and Blood”)3 add to the sinister feel of Divinum Sanguinem. Similarly, the various instances of choir (“Of Nomos and Flaming Flint Stone,” “Arcane Sermon” and “Scorching Pathways to Samachi”),4 chant and clean singing (“Divinum Sanguinem”)5 add dimensions to the vocal front of Ildaruni, breaking from the incessant shrieks but not from its malignancy. Pagan folk elements from Iladruni’s previous work remain, but are relegated to folkish distorted guitar leads (and bagpipes) to keep from clashing with the breakneck nature of Divinum Sanguinem. Sometimes ritualistically ominous (“Divinum Sanguinem”) and frequently hostile (“The Ascension of Kosmokrator”), Ildaruni crafted something pointedly dark with Divinum Sanguinem.

But Ildaruni play a limited, well-trodden style, and Divinum Sanguinem is stretched too thin to inspire frequent replay. While Divinum Sanguinem’s songs feature brief moments of differentiation, the near constant tremolos, blast beats and shrieks that encompass the majority of most tracks lose their lustre with use. If a song doesn’t immediately open with trems and blasts, like on “Of Nomos and Flaming Flint Stone” or “Zurvan Akrane,” rest assured that they’ll reemerge before the verse, still competently played but with little melodic variation between them all, losing effect with overexposure. The near-uniformity of Ildaruni’s track lengths adds to this sense of sameness, as songs seem to go through the same or similar motions for similar amounts of time, which doesn’t bode well for memorability. An exception to this trend, “Immersion into Empyrean”— with its mid-paced tempo and open arpeggios—is borderline catchy and provides a stark illustration of how one-note much of the rest of the album is. Ildaruni are all business here, but there’s too much business on Divinum Sanguinem and not enough variety, novelty or abundance of hooks to make getting through it consistently engaging.

Though Divinum Sanguinem is marred by considerable songwriting issues, it still marks considerable improvement for Ildaruni and proves there’s a future for the band. When it works, Divinum Sanguinem is a powerhouse of a record, both atmospheric and immediate. When Ildaruni’s tricks run dry, however, it becomes too easy to let the music slip into the background. Perhaps genre diehards will get more out of the album than I did, but I found myself losing interest too often to offer it high marks. Still, if you’re in the market for black metal that riffs hard, you could do a lot worse than Divinum Sanguinem.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Black Lion Records
Websites: ildaruni.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/Ildaruni | instagram.com/ildaruni
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#25 #2025 #armenianMetal #bathory #blackLionRecords #blackMetal #divinumSanguinem #emperor #ildaruni #immortal #nov25 #review #reviews

Antinoë – The Fold Review

By Tyme

As the whispering winds of winter begin to blow colder through my neck of the woods, a time of year when fires get cozier, quaffed beers get darker, and we here at AMG begin to rhapsodize on things missed and regale readers with things listed, I found myself still searching for a near-end-of-year something new. When I saw Antinoë’s Dark Essence Records debut, The Fold, blurbily described as ‘Neoclassical Folk meets melancholy Pop with a Metal attitude,’ I was intrigued. Descending from the mountains of Madrid, Antinoë is the passion project of pianist and vocalist Teresa Marraco. Launched in 2021, Antinoë’s 2023 release, Whispers from the Dark Past, offered a unique piano tribute to the 90s Norwegian black metal scene, with Marraco covering everything from Emperor’s “I Am the Black Wizards” to Mayhem’s “Life Eternal” and Dimmu Borgir’s “Mourning Palace.”1 Poised to challenge the very fluid boundaries of what metal can be, let’s see if The Fold has the warmth necessary to keep those wintery winds at bay.

Void of instrumental trappings associated with most traditional metal, Antinoë relies solely on Marraco’s beautifully resonant voice and her expansive piano compositions to weave stygian tapestries. Conceptually, The Fold navigates the odyssey of accepting death, inviting listeners to tread a path through the idiomatic depths of grief’s different stages, as it traces the process of ‘folding inward.’ From the outset, as cricket-song fades into “Night Falls,” with its delicately crafted, darkly haunting piano melody and celestial vocals, the track pulls at melancholy heartstrings, drawing you into Antinoë’s dark world and setting the stage for what’s to come. The Fold offers an immersive, piano-led experience, peppered with pummeled ivories that shift with metallic force beneath sustained choral harmonies (“The Devil’s Voice”), as wispy trails of folky, Enya-esque ambiance waft amid airy, Dead Can Dance-like atmospheres (“Når Du Dør”). Not unlike Darkher, Antinoë succeeds at tapping into inscrutable emotion by minimalist means, but where Maiven casts spells webbed in doom, Marraco’s magic leans more toward the black arts.

While Antinoë draws much of its ‘metal’ from lyrical themes that explore the dense nature of grief and death, that doesn’t mean The Fold is musically bereft of heavier fare. Death angels descend on Emperor wings with halos of Dimmu Borgir to hover over the opening chords of “Threshold,” heralding dark omens in a chorus of swarming harmonies, witchy laughter, and raspy breaths, all as Antinoë pounds and trills her way through octaves in true symphonic black metal fashion.2 Is it still just a girl and her piano? Yes, but it’s by far the ‘heaviest’ song on the album. Which gives way to the excellently murky pop of “Chaos in the Sky,” another album highlight that had my neck snapped to rapt attention when Marracos, in her smoky voice, opened with “Who the fuck are you? Who the fuck am I?” like some dark-alt Adele, creating another moment more metal than not.

Drenched in warmth, The Fold’s production captures the beauty of Antinoë’s neo-classical elegance and marries it perfectly to its atmospherically blackened weight, providing a full-on musical experience. Whether it’s the delicate last minute of “The Devil’s Voice,” which flirts with a “Lágnætti” melody, off the Sólstafir magnum opus Ottá, or the inquisitive, childlike mystery of the whispers and keys on “Flock,” to the somber dirge of vocals from “Light Bringer,” listening to Antinoë is to become utterly immersed. I have little to critique, so enamored am I by Antinoë’s ability to impart complex ideas in the simplest of terms. I suppose there’s a minute or two that Marraco could have shaved from the two instrumentals, but in all honesty, there’s not a minute of The Fold that I would cut or change.

One of the things I’ve always appreciated about AMG is its fearlessness in shedding light on bands that are categorically not metal. Case in point, among many, is Dolphin Whisperer’s review of Maud the Moth’s excellent The Distaff this year. Antinoë has recorded an emotional album for healing hearts, and as I look back on the last few years of losses I’ve experienced, I’m unsurprised by how impactful it’s been to me. I wasn’t expecting something of this caliber to come sweeping in so close to list season, but here we are. I’ll gladly wrap myself in a warm blanket next to a cozy fire, slip on my favorite pair of headphones, and sip a smoky porter while letting The Fold envelop me against the impending winter’s chill.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Essence Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#2025 #40 #ambient #antinoe #darkher #deadCanDance #dimmuBorgir #emperor #enya #notMetal #nov25 #piano #review #spanishMetal #theFold

Antinoë – The Fold Review

By Tyme

As the whispering winds of winter begin to blow colder through my neck of the woods, a time of year when fires get cozier, quaffed beers get darker, and we here at AMG begin to rhapsodize on things missed and regale readers with things listed, I found myself still searching for a near-end-of-year something new. When I saw Antinoë’s Dark Essence Records debut, The Fold, blurbily described as ‘Neoclassical Folk meets melancholy Pop with a Metal attitude,’ I was intrigued. Descending from the mountains of Madrid, Antinoë is the passion project of pianist and vocalist Teresa Marraco. Launched in 2021, Antinoë’s 2023 release, Whispers from the Dark Past, offered a unique piano tribute to the 90s Norwegian black metal scene, with Marraco covering everything from Emperor’s “I Am the Black Wizards” to Mayhem’s “Life Eternal” and Dimmu Borgir’s “Mourning Palace.”1 Poised to challenge the very fluid boundaries of what metal can be, let’s see if The Fold has the warmth necessary to keep those wintery winds at bay.

Void of instrumental trappings associated with most traditional metal, Antinoë relies solely on Marraco’s beautifully resonant voice and her expansive piano compositions to weave stygian tapestries. Conceptually, The Fold navigates the odyssey of accepting death, inviting listeners to tread a path through the idiomatic depths of grief’s different stages, as it traces the process of ‘folding inward.’ From the outset, as cricket-song fades into “Night Falls,” with its delicately crafted, darkly haunting piano melody and celestial vocals, the track pulls at melancholy heartstrings, drawing you into Antinoë’s dark world and setting the stage for what’s to come. The Fold offers an immersive, piano-led experience, peppered with pummeled ivories that shift with metallic force beneath sustained choral harmonies (“The Devil’s Voice”), as wispy trails of folky, Enya-esque ambiance waft amid airy, Dead Can Dance-like atmospheres (“Når Du Dør”). Not unlike Darkher, Antinoë succeeds at tapping into inscrutable emotion by minimalist means, but where Maiven casts spells webbed in doom, Marraco’s magic leans more toward the black arts.

While Antinoë draws much of its ‘metal’ from lyrical themes that explore the dense nature of grief and death, that doesn’t mean The Fold is musically bereft of heavier fare. Death angels descend on Emperor wings with halos of Dimmu Borgir to hover over the opening chords of “Threshold,” heralding dark omens in a chorus of swarming harmonies, witchy laughter, and raspy breaths, all as Antinoë pounds and trills her way through octaves in true symphonic black metal fashion.2 Is it still just a girl and her piano? Yes, but it’s by far the ‘heaviest’ song on the album. Which gives way to the excellently murky pop of “Chaos in the Sky,” another album highlight that had my neck snapped to rapt attention when Marracos, in her smoky voice, opened with “Who the fuck are you? Who the fuck am I?” like some dark-alt Adele, creating another moment more metal than not.

Drenched in warmth, The Fold’s production captures the beauty of Antinoë’s neo-classical elegance and marries it perfectly to its atmospherically blackened weight, providing a full-on musical experience. Whether it’s the delicate last minute of “The Devil’s Voice,” which flirts with a “Lágnætti” melody, off the Sólstafir magnum opus Ottá, or the inquisitive, childlike mystery of the whispers and keys on “Flock,” to the somber dirge of vocals from “Light Bringer,” listening to Antinoë is to become utterly immersed. I have little to critique, so enamored am I by Antinoë’s ability to impart complex ideas in the simplest of terms. I suppose there’s a minute or two that Marraco could have shaved from the two instrumentals, but in all honesty, there’s not a minute of The Fold that I would cut or change.

One of the things I’ve always appreciated about AMG is its fearlessness in shedding light on bands that are categorically not metal. Case in point, among many, is Dolphin Whisperer’s review of Maud the Moth’s excellent The Distaff this year. Antinoë has recorded an emotional album for healing hearts, and as I look back on the last few years of losses I’ve experienced, I’m unsurprised by how impactful it’s been to me. I wasn’t expecting something of this caliber to come sweeping in so close to list season, but here we are. I’ll gladly wrap myself in a warm blanket next to a cozy fire, slip on my favorite pair of headphones, and sip a smoky porter while letting The Fold envelop me against the impending winter’s chill.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Essence Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#2025 #40 #ambient #antinoe #darkher #deadCanDance #dimmuBorgir #emperor #enya #notMetal #nov25 #piano #review #spanishMetal #theFold

Bloodbound – Field of Swords Review

By Baguette of Bodom

Bloodbound has always been a band with a confusing identity. These Swedes lit up a storm with debut Nosferatu in 2006, an underappreciated heavy/power gem fusing the best of Iron Maiden’s gallops with the hooks of Helloween and HammerFall. The golden pipes of Urban Breed (ex-Tad Morose) were the cherry on top. However, the curse of unstable lineups would strike. Urban Breed would leave for one album, rejoin for the odd-but-good, progpower-meets-Kalmah melodeath sound of Tabula Rasa, and promptly leave again. A decade of struggles followed, ranging from watered-down HammerFall to withered Sabaton to simply tepid heavy metal. 2021’s Creatures of the Dark Realm was a surprising resurgence, drifting Bloodbound more towards saccharine Europower. This brings us to newcomer Field of Swords. Where does it fit into this unconventional discography?

Field of Swords doubles down on Bloodbound’s recent melodic adventures. The double bass drumming of ’90s power metal is immediately recognizable, following in the steps of Stratovarius and HammerFall. The guitar work, too, has rejuvenated. Gone are almost all of the Sabatonisms that marred some of the band’s lowest points; here, the Olsson brothers’ rhythmic assault is simple but effective (“As Empires Fall,” “Born to Be King”), and its attitude carries the medieval fantasy spirit of [Luca Turilli(‘s) / Lione] Rhapsody [of Fire] minus the wank. The vocals of Patrik J. Selleby fit this style like a glove, his adapted performance being one of the strongest of his tenure thus far.

Bloodbound’s newfound breakneck pace and consistency are their greatest assets. The decision to go borderline sparkly on Field of Swords could have backfired, marking yet another sudden left turn in a discography full of them. Instead, it feels like a natural development from the past three albums. While the album on the surface is written like standard ’90s–’00s melodic power metal (“Field of Swords”), the execution of classic power chord choruses leading into blazing solos (“The Code of Warriors,” “Forged in Iron”) is surprisingly fiery and fun. Most importantly, Field of Swords forgoes balladry and prioritizes speed for a lion’s share of its 45-minute runtime. The record has a unified image unusual of Bloodbound. It’s not infallible—the unnecessary Sabaton sing-along stomp rears its head on the second half of “Pain and Glory”—but it is tightly-knit in a way I greatly appreciate.

As catchy as Field of Swords is, there are a few things preventing it from being a resounding success. For one, Bloodbound rely too much on one-note Battle Beastian disco synths. While Fredrik Bergh contributes plenty of pleasant backing bombast to the album as well, his main weapon of choice is sharp and high up in the mix, leading to fatigue on some otherwise strong choruses (“Defenders of Jerusalem,” “Light the Sky”). The band is still not immune to odd songwriting shifts either. In addition to the aforementioned “Pain and Glory” stumble, closing track “The Nine Crusades” features Unleash the Archers’ talented Brittney Slayes, only for her voice to drown under sappiness unfit for the record. Even so, the concoction here is potent. Cuts like “Land of the Brave” and “Light the Sky” are some of Bloodbound’s fastest and most energetic to date, and this sudden burst of frenzy is admirable of a veteran band.

For the first time in a while, Bloodbound’s sound has a true sense of direction. Field of Swords’ all-gas, no-brakes approach gives the record more urgency than they’ve had in forever, and both the songwriting and album flow greatly benefit in return. Despite some lingering issues, Field of Swords ends up being one of the better albums in the band’s catalog. Both Creatures of the Dark Realm and this album indicate the Europower-forward realignment continues to work in their favor. I can’t say I don’t still long for the days of Nosferatu, and Bloodbound could place a bit more faith in their strong guitar work and vocal lines, but whatever they’re doing is paying off once more. I can only hope this progress continues.

Rating: Good!
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream o’ Piss
Label: Napalm Records | Bandcamp
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#lucaTurillisLioneRhapsodyOfFire #2025 #30 #battleBeast #bloodbound #fieldOfSwords #hammerfall #helloween #ironMaiden #kalmah #napalmRecords #nov25 #powerMetal #review #reviews #sabaton #stratovarius #swedishMetal #tadMorose #unleashTheArchers

Bloodbound – Field of Swords Review

By Baguette of Bodom

Bloodbound has always been a band with a confusing identity. These Swedes lit up a storm with debut Nosferatu in 2006, an underappreciated heavy/power gem fusing the best of Iron Maiden’s gallops with the hooks of Helloween and HammerFall. The golden pipes of Urban Breed (ex-Tad Morose) were the cherry on top. However, the curse of unstable lineups would strike. Urban Breed would leave for one album, rejoin for the odd-but-good, progpower-meets-Kalmah melodeath sound of Tabula Rasa, and promptly leave again. A decade of struggles followed, ranging from watered-down HammerFall to withered Sabaton to simply tepid heavy metal. 2021’s Creatures of the Dark Realm was a surprising resurgence, drifting Bloodbound more towards saccharine Europower. This brings us to newcomer Field of Swords. Where does it fit into this unconventional discography?

Field of Swords doubles down on Bloodbound’s recent melodic adventures. The double bass drumming of ’90s power metal is immediately recognizable, following in the steps of Stratovarius and HammerFall. The guitar work, too, has rejuvenated. Gone are almost all of the Sabatonisms that marred some of the band’s lowest points; here, the Olsson brothers’ rhythmic assault is simple but effective (“As Empires Fall,” “Born to Be King”), and its attitude carries the medieval fantasy spirit of [Luca Turilli(‘s) / Lione] Rhapsody [of Fire] minus the wank. The vocals of Patrik J. Selleby fit this style like a glove, his adapted performance being one of the strongest of his tenure thus far.

Bloodbound’s newfound breakneck pace and consistency are their greatest assets. The decision to go borderline sparkly on Field of Swords could have backfired, marking yet another sudden left turn in a discography full of them. Instead, it feels like a natural development from the past three albums. While the album on the surface is written like standard ’90s–’00s melodic power metal (“Field of Swords”), the execution of classic power chord choruses leading into blazing solos (“The Code of Warriors,” “Forged in Iron”) is surprisingly fiery and fun. Most importantly, Field of Swords forgoes balladry and prioritizes speed for a lion’s share of its 45-minute runtime. The record has a unified image unusual of Bloodbound. It’s not infallible—the unnecessary Sabaton sing-along stomp rears its head on the second half of “Pain and Glory”—but it is tightly-knit in a way I greatly appreciate.

As catchy as Field of Swords is, there are a few things preventing it from being a resounding success. For one, Bloodbound rely too much on one-note Battle Beastian disco synths. While Fredrik Bergh contributes plenty of pleasant backing bombast to the album as well, his main weapon of choice is sharp and high up in the mix, leading to fatigue on some otherwise strong choruses (“Defenders of Jerusalem,” “Light the Sky”). The band is still not immune to odd songwriting shifts either. In addition to the aforementioned “Pain and Glory” stumble, closing track “The Nine Crusades” features Unleash the Archers’ talented Brittney Slayes, only for her voice to drown under sappiness unfit for the record. Even so, the concoction here is potent. Cuts like “Land of the Brave” and “Light the Sky” are some of Bloodbound’s fastest and most energetic to date, and this sudden burst of frenzy is admirable of a veteran band.

For the first time in a while, Bloodbound’s sound has a true sense of direction. Field of Swords’ all-gas, no-brakes approach gives the record more urgency than they’ve had in forever, and both the songwriting and album flow greatly benefit in return. Despite some lingering issues, Field of Swords ends up being one of the better albums in the band’s catalog. Both Creatures of the Dark Realm and this album indicate the Europower-forward realignment continues to work in their favor. I can’t say I don’t still long for the days of Nosferatu, and Bloodbound could place a bit more faith in their strong guitar work and vocal lines, but whatever they’re doing is paying off once more. I can only hope this progress continues.

Rating: Good!
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: Stream o’ Piss
Label: Napalm Records | Bandcamp
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#lucaTurillisLioneRhapsodyOfFire #2025 #30 #battleBeast #bloodbound #fieldOfSwords #hammerfall #helloween #ironMaiden #kalmah #napalmRecords #nov25 #powerMetal #review #reviews #sabaton #stratovarius #swedishMetal #tadMorose #unleashTheArchers

Insidius – Vulgus Illustrata Review

By Lavender Larcenist

A Polish, blackened death metal record a day keeps the doctor away, or so I have heard. If so, Insidius (so tired of mispelled band names that make things impossible to search for) is your latest shot of hyper technical, searingly fast loud noises from the Poles. Quietly chugging along in the background, this Olsztyn-based fivesome has been producing solid blackened death since their debut, Shadows of Humanity, in 2016. While the album cover for Vulgus Illustrata may look like it contains some atmospheric depressive black metal, the eight tracks inside are nonstop meat grinders of chainsaw riffing with thick bass, otherworldly drumming, and pure rage. While Insidius plays with the familiar and the foundational, does Vulgus Illustrata survive comparison to its heavyweight counterparts like Dormant Ordeal and Behemoth, or is it dragged to the bottom, each unoriginal idea weighing it down like cinderblocks tied to a corpse?

For starters, Insidius knows what they are doing. They’ve toured for years alongside bands like Vader, Grave, and Nervosa, and Vulgus Illustrata is full of dizzying instrumentation throughout. Tomasz Choiński and Jakub Janowicz wield their guitars like two buzzsaw-toting murderous surgeons, hacking and slicing at every turn with savage tremolo riffs and tilting dissonance. “Orgiastic” leads with a stop-start staccato riff, morphing with the introduction of Łukasz Usydus’s pirouetting bass. Of course, a blackened death metal album would be nowhere without some absurdly technical drumming, and Michał Andrzejczyk is no slouch. Inhuman fills, insane blasts, and rolling rhythms bring cohesion to Vulgus Illustrata, making for an album more akin to a face pummeling than a headbangers ball. Lastly, Rafał Tasak offers a competent if unflashy performance with his barking ferocity and pitched screaming. While the register remains generally on the low end, he has that pushing force that hurts your diaphragm to listen to. Think Cannibal Corpse, Vader, and Immolation, and you have the right idea.

Insidius has all the individual elements, but each track can’t help but bleed into the next, and even at a tight thirty-eight minutes, Vulgus Illustrata can feel long. Where bands like Dormant Ordeal mastered atmosphere, lead-ups, and the ebb and flow of a great blackened death song, Insidius feels too focused on in-your-face brutality. There are much-needed breaks here and there, with some genuinely great atmosphere, such as on the intro to “A Darkness That Divides” or “Censure”, and the entirety of the album closer “Forge of Our Hatred”. Unfortunately, these are few and far between, like ballasts in a storm that leave you hanging on for dear life. I like a good pummeling as much as the next fool, but only when it is consensual.

Maybe it is my undying love of blackened, Polish death metal, but I feel like I have seen everything Insidius has to offer done better elsewhere. Behemoth has a lock on hating god and the bombastic, theatrical edgelord side of things. Dormant Ordeal has technicality in spades alongside great songwriting, incredible atmosphere, and hidden hooks for days. Bands like Hath and Olkoth show that you don’t need to be from Poland to make good blackened death, either, so competition is fierce. Insidius feels late to the party, all dressed up, but nobody is there. They are doing everything right, but it isn’t quite clicking.

To be fair, some of you sick freaks will like getting absolutely brutalized and love every minute of Vulgus Illustrata, singing along as Tasak screams “Shit, cum and blood paint the wall of your prison”. I am not here to rain on your parade, and I don’t want to undersell Insidius. Vulgus Illustrata is heavy, consistent, competent, and genuinely engaging at times, but it feels tired. Insidius has the talent and the energy, but someone needs to point their ballistic missile of blackened death in the right direction for a direct hit. If you are a superfan of the genre, you may get some choice cuts from this slab of beef, but even still, you are better off eating with the bands that brought you here. Another victim to hang from the 3.0 tree, let’s tie the noose and be done with it.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Black Lion Records
Websites: insidiusblacklion.bandcamp.com/album/vulgus-illustrata
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#2025 #30 #behemoth #blackLionRecords #blackenedDeathMetal #dormantOrdeal #grave #hath #insidius #nervosa #nov25 #olkoth #poland #polishMetal #review #reviews #vader #vulgusIllustrata

Insidius – Vulgus Illustrata Review

By Lavender Larcenist

A Polish, blackened death metal record a day keeps the doctor away, or so I have heard. If so, Insidius (so tired of mispelled band names that make things impossible to search for) is your latest shot of hyper technical, searingly fast loud noises from the Poles. Quietly chugging along in the background, this Olsztyn-based fivesome has been producing solid blackened death since their debut, Shadows of Humanity, in 2016. While the album cover for Vulgus Illustrata may look like it contains some atmospheric depressive black metal, the eight tracks inside are nonstop meat grinders of chainsaw riffing with thick bass, otherworldly drumming, and pure rage. While Insidius plays with the familiar and the foundational, does Vulgus Illustrata survive comparison to its heavyweight counterparts like Dormant Ordeal and Behemoth, or is it dragged to the bottom, each unoriginal idea weighing it down like cinderblocks tied to a corpse?

For starters, Insidius knows what they are doing. They’ve toured for years alongside bands like Vader, Grave, and Nervosa, and Vulgus Illustrata is full of dizzying instrumentation throughout. Tomasz Choiński and Jakub Janowicz wield their guitars like two buzzsaw-toting murderous surgeons, hacking and slicing at every turn with savage tremolo riffs and tilting dissonance. “Orgiastic” leads with a stop-start staccato riff, morphing with the introduction of Łukasz Usydus’s pirouetting bass. Of course, a blackened death metal album would be nowhere without some absurdly technical drumming, and Michał Andrzejczyk is no slouch. Inhuman fills, insane blasts, and rolling rhythms bring cohesion to Vulgus Illustrata, making for an album more akin to a face pummeling than a headbangers ball. Lastly, Rafał Tasak offers a competent if unflashy performance with his barking ferocity and pitched screaming. While the register remains generally on the low end, he has that pushing force that hurts your diaphragm to listen to. Think Cannibal Corpse, Vader, and Immolation, and you have the right idea.

Insidius has all the individual elements, but each track can’t help but bleed into the next, and even at a tight thirty-eight minutes, Vulgus Illustrata can feel long. Where bands like Dormant Ordeal mastered atmosphere, lead-ups, and the ebb and flow of a great blackened death song, Insidius feels too focused on in-your-face brutality. There are much-needed breaks here and there, with some genuinely great atmosphere, such as on the intro to “A Darkness That Divides” or “Censure”, and the entirety of the album closer “Forge of Our Hatred”. Unfortunately, these are few and far between, like ballasts in a storm that leave you hanging on for dear life. I like a good pummeling as much as the next fool, but only when it is consensual.

Maybe it is my undying love of blackened, Polish death metal, but I feel like I have seen everything Insidius has to offer done better elsewhere. Behemoth has a lock on hating god and the bombastic, theatrical edgelord side of things. Dormant Ordeal has technicality in spades alongside great songwriting, incredible atmosphere, and hidden hooks for days. Bands like Hath and Olkoth show that you don’t need to be from Poland to make good blackened death, either, so competition is fierce. Insidius feels late to the party, all dressed up, but nobody is there. They are doing everything right, but it isn’t quite clicking.

To be fair, some of you sick freaks will like getting absolutely brutalized and love every minute of Vulgus Illustrata, singing along as Tasak screams “Shit, cum and blood paint the wall of your prison”. I am not here to rain on your parade, and I don’t want to undersell Insidius. Vulgus Illustrata is heavy, consistent, competent, and genuinely engaging at times, but it feels tired. Insidius has the talent and the energy, but someone needs to point their ballistic missile of blackened death in the right direction for a direct hit. If you are a superfan of the genre, you may get some choice cuts from this slab of beef, but even still, you are better off eating with the bands that brought you here. Another victim to hang from the 3.0 tree, let’s tie the noose and be done with it.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Black Lion Records
Websites: insidiusblacklion.bandcamp.com/album/vulgus-illustrata
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#2025 #30 #behemoth #blackLionRecords #blackenedDeathMetal #dormantOrdeal #grave #hath #insidius #nervosa #nov25 #olkoth #poland #polishMetal #review #reviews #vader #vulgusIllustrata

Sun of the Dying – A Throne of Ashes Review

By Thus Spoke

Autumn is well and truly here, so it’s about time I reviewed some doom. Though my ears have been diverted towards certain listworthy death/black drops these past few weeks, the pull of the gloom grows stronger in proportion with the shortening of the days. But rather than the icy climes of Scandinavia, or wintry North America, or even rainy old England, my long-awaited dose of darkness came from Spain. In less than three-quarters of an hour, Madrid’s Sun of the Dying proved that you don’t need miserable, cold weather to make music about misery. A Throne of Ashes, the group’s third LP, is a bold, strong, and stirring mélange of death-doom styles that both filled the void in my musical life and made me downright embarrassed not to have listened to them before.

Sun of the Dying borrow from across the spectrum to craft their compositions, creating richly layered soundscapes. Gracing soaring melodies with dolorous piano, they channel Swallow the Sun on the highs, and Endonomos on the lows. Sweetly sad strings and soft singing recall My Dying Bride, and a duet over warm, vibrating chords and resonant atmosphere Draconian.1 But all this familiarity detracts not one iota from the authenticity of A Throne of Ashes; if anything, it makes it easier to love. By combining the best aspects of these influences with a heavy dose of character, Sun of the Dying make them their own, constructing a powerful whole that simply oozes feeling and personality.

As an indicator of how well A Throne of Ashes communicates emotion by way of staggering death-doom, it contains not just one, but two Song-o-the-year list contenders. Contender one, opener “Martyrs,” had me sitting back in my chair completely still, to give it my full attention. Its graceful dynamism between uplifting guitars and hushed cymbal, narrated by Eduardo Guilló’s beautiful singing and untempered roars, is matched for pathos only by fellow highlight “House of Asterion.” The latter leans into the orchestral more heavily, accenting melancholy descents with ever more dramatic flourishes of strings in a way designed to stamp them into the listener’s heart. These two exemplify Sun of the Dying’s knack for creating depth of feeling and composition with careful weaving of delicacy and sturdiness— the mark of all great doom. As refrains pass between piano, synths, and guitar, they wax, wane, and build gracefully. Spacious resonance over which solo piano (“With Wings Aflame,” “Of Absence”) or strumming, or the sounds of someone sobbing (“Of Absence”) float over and bleed into, prefigures or breaks the gradual escalation into screaming strings (“The House of Asterion”), or white-hot tremolo (“Martyrs”), or the blows of shuddering riff and cymbal (“The Longest Winter,” “Of Absence”). The fullness of even the quieter moments, with bittersweet melodies detailed with touches of choir and orchestrals and multi-tracked vocals and the warm heartbeat of percussion, makes the experience powerfully immersive, heightening the climaxes and deepening the nadirs.

So strong is Sun of the Dying’s ability to draw its listener in and wring their heart out that one almost forgives their occasional structural missteps. Advance track “Black Birds Beneath Your Sky” is a crushing slab of comparatively aggressive doom-death whose string-swelling, group-sung chorus yet exemplifies most explicitly the anthemic feel that other songs hint at. It’s a good song—particularly in its more soaring second act—but it sits awkwardly between the mournful “Martyrs” and “With Wings Aflame,” suddenly brushing aside the rapturous mist of sadness only for it to descend again right after. Its mood-breaking grit is echoed, albeit faintly, by “The Greatest Winter,”‘s more grey and stolid riffing, and there’s the quiet sensation that the pair don’t quite belong with their more sombre companions. Without them, however, the album would be very short, and so rather than removing them, their use of dark and light, soft and heavy elements might simply need to be adjusted.

Even if its atmosphere isn’t perfectly sealed, A Throne of Ashes proves transportive and engrossing all the same. Heartfelt and compelling, it distils an ideal of modern doom and had me scrambling to hear Sun of the Dying’s back catalogue. Don’t let the year end without a walk on a grey day and A Throne of Ashes in your ears.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: AOP Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#2025 #35 #aThroneOfAshes #aopRecords #deathDoom #doomMetal #draconian #endonomos #myDyingBride #nov25 #review #reviews #spanishMetal #sunOfTheDying #swallowTheSun

Sun of the Dying – A Throne of Ashes Review

By Thus Spoke

Autumn is well and truly here, so it’s about time I reviewed some doom. Though my ears have been diverted towards certain listworthy death/black drops these past few weeks, the pull of the gloom grows stronger in proportion with the shortening of the days. But rather than the icy climes of Scandinavia, or wintry North America, or even rainy old England, my long-awaited dose of darkness came from Spain. In less than three-quarters of an hour, Madrid’s Sun of the Dying proved that you don’t need miserable, cold weather to make music about misery. A Throne of Ashes, the group’s third LP, is a bold, strong, and stirring mélange of death-doom styles that both filled the void in my musical life and made me downright embarrassed not to have listened to them before.

Sun of the Dying borrow from across the spectrum to craft their compositions, creating richly layered soundscapes. Gracing soaring melodies with dolorous piano, they channel Swallow the Sun on the highs, and Endonomos on the lows. Sweetly sad strings and soft singing recall My Dying Bride, and a duet over warm, vibrating chords and resonant atmosphere Draconian.1 But all this familiarity detracts not one iota from the authenticity of A Throne of Ashes; if anything, it makes it easier to love. By combining the best aspects of these influences with a heavy dose of character, Sun of the Dying make them their own, constructing a powerful whole that simply oozes feeling and personality.

As an indicator of how well A Throne of Ashes communicates emotion by way of staggering death-doom, it contains not just one, but two Song-o-the-year list contenders. Contender one, opener “Martyrs,” had me sitting back in my chair completely still, to give it my full attention. Its graceful dynamism between uplifting guitars and hushed cymbal, narrated by Eduardo Guilló’s beautiful singing and untempered roars, is matched for pathos only by fellow highlight “House of Asterion.” The latter leans into the orchestral more heavily, accenting melancholy descents with ever more dramatic flourishes of strings in a way designed to stamp them into the listener’s heart. These two exemplify Sun of the Dying’s knack for creating depth of feeling and composition with careful weaving of delicacy and sturdiness— the mark of all great doom. As refrains pass between piano, synths, and guitar, they wax, wane, and build gracefully. Spacious resonance over which solo piano (“With Wings Aflame,” “Of Absence”) or strumming, or the sounds of someone sobbing (“Of Absence”) float over and bleed into, prefigures or breaks the gradual escalation into screaming strings (“The House of Asterion”), or white-hot tremolo (“Martyrs”), or the blows of shuddering riff and cymbal (“The Longest Winter,” “Of Absence”). The fullness of even the quieter moments, with bittersweet melodies detailed with touches of choir and orchestrals and multi-tracked vocals and the warm heartbeat of percussion, makes the experience powerfully immersive, heightening the climaxes and deepening the nadirs.

So strong is Sun of the Dying’s ability to draw its listener in and wring their heart out that one almost forgives their occasional structural missteps. Advance track “Black Birds Beneath Your Sky” is a crushing slab of comparatively aggressive doom-death whose string-swelling, group-sung chorus yet exemplifies most explicitly the anthemic feel that other songs hint at. It’s a good song—particularly in its more soaring second act—but it sits awkwardly between the mournful “Martyrs” and “With Wings Aflame,” suddenly brushing aside the rapturous mist of sadness only for it to descend again right after. Its mood-breaking grit is echoed, albeit faintly, by “The Greatest Winter,”‘s more grey and stolid riffing, and there’s the quiet sensation that the pair don’t quite belong with their more sombre companions. Without them, however, the album would be very short, and so rather than removing them, their use of dark and light, soft and heavy elements might simply need to be adjusted.

Even if its atmosphere isn’t perfectly sealed, A Throne of Ashes proves transportive and engrossing all the same. Heartfelt and compelling, it distils an ideal of modern doom and had me scrambling to hear Sun of the Dying’s back catalogue. Don’t let the year end without a walk on a grey day and A Throne of Ashes in your ears.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: AOP Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#2025 #35 #aThroneOfAshes #aopRecords #deathDoom #doomMetal #draconian #endonomos #myDyingBride #nov25 #review #reviews #spanishMetal #sunOfTheDying #swallowTheSun

Old Night – Mediterranean Melancholy Review

By ClarkKent

Loneliness is a theme ripe for the sadboi genre, and given the epidemic of loneliness in our modern era, it’s a relatable one. Yet Croatian doom outfit, Old Night, tackles a more obscure topic on Mediterranean Melancholy—lighthouse keepers.1 This record marks the quintet’s fourth since forming ten years ago, and it’s the first with Ivan Hanžek stepping up as lead vocalist, following the departure of his brother, Matej, who left for personal reasons. Sadboi doom is typically ape fodder, as evidenced by the glowing review for Dawn of Solace earlier this year, yet somehow this ended up in my lap. Time to find out if Steel Druhm will be shedding tears at this missed opportunity to review one of his favorite genres.

Old Night certainly has a lot in common with sadboi stalwarts, Dawn of Solace. They mix pensive cleans with harsher growls, leaning much more heavily into the cleans. Songs often begin with melancholic guitar leads, Insomnium-style, and delve into Novembers Doom-esque rhythmic chugs, but Old Night plays at a much slower pace than these other bands. These elements mix nicely on tunes like “Stormbirds,” where an Eastern-tinged melody combines with Hanžek’s solemn tones to tug at the heartstrings. It builds up to an impassioned call to “Unleash the storm / unleash the stormbirds,” among the record’s highlight moments. The formula throughout Mediterranean Melancholy is consistent, but breaks on the finale, “The Loneliness of Lighthouse Keepers.” This song opens with a bit of soft rock arpeggios before Hanžek croons about a lighthouse keeper and a man on the moon. It mixes magical realism with raw emotion and gentle strums with heavy riffs to wring tears from attentive listeners. It stands as the album’s emotional peak.

Compared to the likes of Dawn of Solace, Old Night proves to be a bit rough around the edges. This is most apparent in the vocals. Hanžek sings his heart out, but his pitch is all over the place. He fares better when singing at a lower pitch, such as the beginning of “Chasing Yesterdays,” but at higher volumes, his voice leans more shout-y than sing-y. Luka Petrović’s growls similarly lack the oomph required to be effective. A good growl here and there would certainly help to darken the tone, but it feels like Petrović holds himself back the few times he steps in. Instrumentally, Old Night fares better. On guitars, Bojan Frian and Ivan Hanžek excel at the sort of melodic leads that ooze sorrow. They strum some memorable hooks, though I wish these hooks had more airtime. The production doesn’t often allow Petrović’s bass to make itself known, but he lets loose with a nice bass line on the finale. Similarly, Nikola Jovanović commands the kit with some hefty, slow-paced beats that add to the record’s gravitas. These guys can play, but are let down by production and songwriting choices.

Underwhelming vocals are rarely a dealbreaker for me, but Old Night’s biggest issue lies in its songwriting. While the record wraps up at a tidy 43 minutes, each tune ranges from the seven to nine-minute mark, and not a single one earns its stay. While Mediterranean Melancholy features traditional song structures better suited to four to five-minute bites, Old Night pads each track with tedious instrumental passages and slow, repetitive choruses. Most egregious is “Ghosts,” which gets through its full progression after four minutes but continues on for another five and a half minutes, seemingly in search of a reason to keep going. Only “The Loneliness of Lighthouse Keepers” justifies going beyond six minutes, but even this could benefit from snipping a minute or two off.

Sadly, Old Night doesn’t quite scratch that sadboi itch. The elements are all there: the melodies, the lyrical content, the musicianship. Yet they fall prey to a common pitfall—bloat. With some cutting, Mediterranean Melancholy could have been a serviceable EP. As it stands, the long, meandering songs reveal how tough it is for doom to toe the line between causing listeners to shed tears of sorrow or tears of boredom. Next time I hope they can hone in on their strengths and trim the fat.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Meuse Music Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#20 #2025 #croatianMetal #dawnOfSolace #doomMetal #insomnium #mediterraneanMelancholy #meuseMusicRecords #nov25 #novembersDoom #oldNight #review #reviews

Old Night – Mediterranean Melancholy Review

By ClarkKent

Loneliness is a theme ripe for the sadboi genre, and given the epidemic of loneliness in our modern era, it’s a relatable one. Yet Croatian doom outfit, Old Night, tackles a more obscure topic on Mediterranean Melancholy—lighthouse keepers.1 This record marks the quintet’s fourth since forming ten years ago, and it’s the first with Ivan Hanžek stepping up as lead vocalist, following the departure of his brother, Matej, who left for personal reasons. Sadboi doom is typically ape fodder, as evidenced by the glowing review for Dawn of Solace earlier this year, yet somehow this ended up in my lap. Time to find out if Steel Druhm will be shedding tears at this missed opportunity to review one of his favorite genres.

Old Night certainly has a lot in common with sadboi stalwarts, Dawn of Solace. They mix pensive cleans with harsher growls, leaning much more heavily into the cleans. Songs often begin with melancholic guitar leads, Insomnium-style, and delve into Novembers Doom-esque rhythmic chugs, but Old Night plays at a much slower pace than these other bands. These elements mix nicely on tunes like “Stormbirds,” where an Eastern-tinged melody combines with Hanžek’s solemn tones to tug at the heartstrings. It builds up to an impassioned call to “Unleash the storm / unleash the stormbirds,” among the record’s highlight moments. The formula throughout Mediterranean Melancholy is consistent, but breaks on the finale, “The Loneliness of Lighthouse Keepers.” This song opens with a bit of soft rock arpeggios before Hanžek croons about a lighthouse keeper and a man on the moon. It mixes magical realism with raw emotion and gentle strums with heavy riffs to wring tears from attentive listeners. It stands as the album’s emotional peak.

Compared to the likes of Dawn of Solace, Old Night proves to be a bit rough around the edges. This is most apparent in the vocals. Hanžek sings his heart out, but his pitch is all over the place. He fares better when singing at a lower pitch, such as the beginning of “Chasing Yesterdays,” but at higher volumes, his voice leans more shout-y than sing-y. Luka Petrović’s growls similarly lack the oomph required to be effective. A good growl here and there would certainly help to darken the tone, but it feels like Petrović holds himself back the few times he steps in. Instrumentally, Old Night fares better. On guitars, Bojan Frian and Ivan Hanžek excel at the sort of melodic leads that ooze sorrow. They strum some memorable hooks, though I wish these hooks had more airtime. The production doesn’t often allow Petrović’s bass to make itself known, but he lets loose with a nice bass line on the finale. Similarly, Nikola Jovanović commands the kit with some hefty, slow-paced beats that add to the record’s gravitas. These guys can play, but are let down by production and songwriting choices.

Underwhelming vocals are rarely a dealbreaker for me, but Old Night’s biggest issue lies in its songwriting. While the record wraps up at a tidy 43 minutes, each tune ranges from the seven to nine-minute mark, and not a single one earns its stay. While Mediterranean Melancholy features traditional song structures better suited to four to five-minute bites, Old Night pads each track with tedious instrumental passages and slow, repetitive choruses. Most egregious is “Ghosts,” which gets through its full progression after four minutes but continues on for another five and a half minutes, seemingly in search of a reason to keep going. Only “The Loneliness of Lighthouse Keepers” justifies going beyond six minutes, but even this could benefit from snipping a minute or two off.

Sadly, Old Night doesn’t quite scratch that sadboi itch. The elements are all there: the melodies, the lyrical content, the musicianship. Yet they fall prey to a common pitfall—bloat. With some cutting, Mediterranean Melancholy could have been a serviceable EP. As it stands, the long, meandering songs reveal how tough it is for doom to toe the line between causing listeners to shed tears of sorrow or tears of boredom. Next time I hope they can hone in on their strengths and trim the fat.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Meuse Music Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Site
Releases Worldwide: November 21st, 2025

#20 #2025 #croatianMetal #dawnOfSolace #doomMetal #insomnium #mediterraneanMelancholy #meuseMusicRecords #nov25 #novembersDoom #oldNight #review #reviews

Strigiform – Aconite Review

By Samguineous Maximus

Sometimes, you catch a glint from deep within the festering promo heap and you know exactly what kind of beast you’re about to prod. Strigiform’s debut, Aconite, radiates the unmistakable stench of “I, Voidhanger-core”—that wonderfully cursed strain of aural decimation that critics slobber over while normal metalheads back away slowly, usually on smaller wierdo labels like I, Voidhanger or Transcending Obscurity. Think along the lines of AMG darlings from this year like Hexrot, Patristic and Ritual Ascension. Let’s check the boxes, just for safe measure. Genre tag reads “avant-garde black/death” (Check). Hails from Italy, where pretension and brilliance are often bedfellows (Check). Cover art looks like a philosophy major’s panic attack rendered in oil paint (Check). Pretentious song titles? “Knell of Nethermost Withdrawal” (Triple Check). This is the kind of swirling, self-immolating chaos that promises either transcendence or a migraine.

Luckily for Strigiform, their songcraft does anything but check boxes, and the compositions on Aconite are nuanced and powered by a crack team of impeccable musicians. This is a quartet of underground metal veterans, from bands such as Vertebra Atlantis, Afraid of Destiny and Thirst Prayer, showing every bit of their pedigree across a lean 34-minute runtime. They merge the reality-altering riffcraft of mid-period Blut Aus Nord, the crystalline cleans of Haunter’s lighter moments and the sly virtuosity of Serpent Column into something entirely their own. Guitarist Saprovore careens between satisfying second-wave tremolos, uncomfortable suspended arpeggios, and spacey, phaser-coated clean sections dripping with a subtle menace. This delectable guitar work is backed by a tasty, jazz-fueled bass performance by Aiokos, who anchors the 6-string haze with a warm, meaty backbone, guiding the ear through these twisted compositions with melodic fills and supporting the eldritch riffery when necessary. The instrumental trio is rounded out by Morte Rossa on drums, who blasts and gallops as expected during the more anarchic moments, but also brings a gentle rhythmic touch to the record’s softer motifs. Each performance is impressive in its own right, but it’s the synthesis of these talented players working together to create considered compositions that elevate Aconite to a higher plane of perverse consciousness.

On Aconite, songs unfold naturally, brimming with skronktastic chaos and understated melodies. Strigiform understands the necessary push and pull to accent a work’s heavier moments, spending almost as much time lulling you into a sense of hypnotic false security as they do pummeling your eardrums with unholy blackened fury. The more aggressive cuts (“Adamant,” “Obsecration”) are led by omnidimensional death-tinged riffs and octopus-armed drum grooves while vocalist N shrieks abstract void poetry atop it all, but the rest of the album leaves plenty of room for brooding atmosphere. “Scorched and Hostile” emerges from its aural onslaught and ends on a sickening off-time chordal refrain, while album highlight “Hypnagogic Allure” weaves around a gorgeously haunting, Imperial Triumphant-esque clean arpeggio, building towards a dissonant freak-out as its poignant conclusion. Aconite demonstrates a pointed and deliberate pacing that often eludes bands of this ilk. Whenever a section might overstay its welcome, Strigiform interject with a novel, mind-bending part which furthers the song, easing up on the gas when necessary, but always deepening the band’s twisted vision.

Musically, Aconite is superb, but the work as a whole is elevated by Strigiform’s keen sense of thematics. The six songs on Aconite are ordered from shortest to longest, with each piece becoming more and more expansive until the 8-minute finale “Knell of Nethermost Withdrawal,” a tune that begins with nearly two minutes of abstract noise before the band’s familiar groaning lurch explodes into action. A full album listen gives the sense of descending into the Conradian darkness of some sinister subterranea. This is aided by some truly standout lyrics which evoke a poetic nihilism with the flourish of French symbolists like Baudelaire or Rimbaud. Such evocative lines as “Encapsulation of screaming cells / Inebriated by rotten velvet / Heal me with your aconite hands / Soak me in crimson flames / Turn my wrath to limestone / Drown in smoke” or “Molten into iridescent hallucinations / of devoured perception / yet again, another moment of consciousness / coerced into contemplation.” set my inner English major’s heart ablaze and are clear evidence that Aconite has the narrative weight to match its outstanding musicianship.

With Aconite, Strigiform have crafted a fully realized artistic statement that pushes the boundaries of esoteric underground metal. It’s the kind of album that makes all the trials and tribulations of music reviewing worthwhile—a debut from an unknown band on a modest label that completely floors you. Aconite is dynamic, intricate, and richly layered, a record every fan of avant-garde metal should hear. I can’t wait to see what Strigiform do next

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger Records
Websites: i-voidhangerrecords.bandcamp.com/album/aconite
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #40 #aconite #afraidOfDestiny #avantGarde #blackMetal #blackenedDeathMetal #blutAusNord #deathMetal #experimentalMetal #haunter #i #iVoidhanger #imperialTriumphant #italianMetal #nov25 #review #reviews #serpentColumn #strigiform #thirstPrayer #vertebraAtlantis

Strigiform – Aconite Review

By Samguineous Maximus

Sometimes, you catch a glint from deep within the festering promo heap and you know exactly what kind of beast you’re about to prod. Strigiform’s debut, Aconite, radiates the unmistakable stench of “I, Voidhanger-core”—that wonderfully cursed strain of aural decimation that critics slobber over while normal metalheads back away slowly, usually on smaller wierdo labels like I, Voidhanger or Transcending Obscurity. Think along the lines of AMG darlings from this year like Hexrot, Patristic and Ritual Ascension. Let’s check the boxes, just for safe measure. Genre tag reads “avant-garde black/death” (Check). Hails from Italy, where pretension and brilliance are often bedfellows (Check). Cover art looks like a philosophy major’s panic attack rendered in oil paint (Check). Pretentious song titles? “Knell of Nethermost Withdrawal” (Triple Check). This is the kind of swirling, self-immolating chaos that promises either transcendence or a migraine.

Luckily for Strigiform, their songcraft does anything but check boxes, and the compositions on Aconite are nuanced and powered by a crack team of impeccable musicians. This is a quartet of underground metal veterans, from bands such as Vertebra Atlantis, Afraid of Destiny and Thirst Prayer, showing every bit of their pedigree across a lean 34-minute runtime. They merge the reality-altering riffcraft of mid-period Blut Aus Nord, the crystalline cleans of Haunter’s lighter moments and the sly virtuosity of Serpent Column into something entirely their own. Guitarist Saprovore careens between satisfying second-wave tremolos, uncomfortable suspended arpeggios, and spacey, phaser-coated clean sections dripping with a subtle menace. This delectable guitar work is backed by a tasty, jazz-fueled bass performance by Aiokos, who anchors the 6-string haze with a warm, meaty backbone, guiding the ear through these twisted compositions with melodic fills and supporting the eldritch riffery when necessary. The instrumental trio is rounded out by Morte Rossa on drums, who blasts and gallops as expected during the more anarchic moments, but also brings a gentle rhythmic touch to the record’s softer motifs. Each performance is impressive in its own right, but it’s the synthesis of these talented players working together to create considered compositions that elevate Aconite to a higher plane of perverse consciousness.

On Aconite, songs unfold naturally, brimming with skronktastic chaos and understated melodies. Strigiform understands the necessary push and pull to accent a work’s heavier moments, spending almost as much time lulling you into a sense of hypnotic false security as they do pummeling your eardrums with unholy blackened fury. The more aggressive cuts (“Adamant,” “Obsecration”) are led by omnidimensional death-tinged riffs and octopus-armed drum grooves while vocalist N shrieks abstract void poetry atop it all, but the rest of the album leaves plenty of room for brooding atmosphere. “Scorched and Hostile” emerges from its aural onslaught and ends on a sickening off-time chordal refrain, while album highlight “Hypnagogic Allure” weaves around a gorgeously haunting, Imperial Triumphant-esque clean arpeggio, building towards a dissonant freak-out as its poignant conclusion. Aconite demonstrates a pointed and deliberate pacing that often eludes bands of this ilk. Whenever a section might overstay its welcome, Strigiform interject with a novel, mind-bending part which furthers the song, easing up on the gas when necessary, but always deepening the band’s twisted vision.

Musically, Aconite is superb, but the work as a whole is elevated by Strigiform’s keen sense of thematics. The six songs on Aconite are ordered from shortest to longest, with each piece becoming more and more expansive until the 8-minute finale “Knell of Nethermost Withdrawal,” a tune that begins with nearly two minutes of abstract noise before the band’s familiar groaning lurch explodes into action. A full album listen gives the sense of descending into the Conradian darkness of some sinister subterranea. This is aided by some truly standout lyrics which evoke a poetic nihilism with the flourish of French symbolists like Baudelaire or Rimbaud. Such evocative lines as “Encapsulation of screaming cells / Inebriated by rotten velvet / Heal me with your aconite hands / Soak me in crimson flames / Turn my wrath to limestone / Drown in smoke” or “Molten into iridescent hallucinations / of devoured perception / yet again, another moment of consciousness / coerced into contemplation.” set my inner English major’s heart ablaze and are clear evidence that Aconite has the narrative weight to match its outstanding musicianship.

With Aconite, Strigiform have crafted a fully realized artistic statement that pushes the boundaries of esoteric underground metal. It’s the kind of album that makes all the trials and tribulations of music reviewing worthwhile—a debut from an unknown band on a modest label that completely floors you. Aconite is dynamic, intricate, and richly layered, a record every fan of avant-garde metal should hear. I can’t wait to see what Strigiform do next

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger Records
Websites: i-voidhangerrecords.bandcamp.com/album/aconite
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #40 #aconite #afraidOfDestiny #avantGarde #blackMetal #blackenedDeathMetal #blutAusNord #deathMetal #experimentalMetal #haunter #i #iVoidhanger #imperialTriumphant #italianMetal #nov25 #review #reviews #serpentColumn #strigiform #thirstPrayer #vertebraAtlantis

Tzevaot – The Hermetic Way Review

By Thus Spoke

Oh, to have half the confidence of the average solo artist dabbling in the esoteric. Their avant-garde opuses can’t all be the status-quo-subverting masterworks of music and philosophy they claim to be. For some reason, I, Voidhanger keeps signing them, and for equally opaque reasons, we keep choosing to review their albums. Tzevaot is the experimental black metal1 project of an individual known only as The Orator, who in The Hermetic Way explores occult ideas purported to unveil “actual hidden mechanisms of reality,” with heavy inspiration from the magical tradition made popular by who else but Aleister Crowley. And while everything from the flowery promo blurb to the time-stamped lyrics2 and the solemn spoken-word poetry tries to convince you of its significance. The Hermetic Way completely fails to impart much more than consternation.

It’s difficult to know where to even begin with The Hermetic Way, and its brand of wisdom. At every turn, things somehow go wrong. The core sound is something akin to Esoctrilihum—barking screams, twisty guitars, and a propensity for echo on everything—only with a mix you’d barely forgive a bedroom project for, and a compositional style that makes said Esoctrilihum sound catchy. Tzevaot jumbles synths, piano, and guitars that seem to hit upon a genuine groove of Emperor-esque theatrics or Absu-level style completely by accident; the fact that the best melodies are never reprised only supports this theory. The drumming—which may well be a machine for all I can discern3—is flat and dull, buried by the wall of heavy reverb between the sharp stab of the vocals and the other instruments. This intensifies the feeling of aggravated confusion that defines the listening experience, as one struggles to keep up with the nonsensical rhythmic trades, sudden inclusion of solo synth or piano, and yet more spoken-word. This is not the nuanced placelessness of an intelligent, complex extreme metal, where discordance and strange rhythms develop impossibly but seamlessly into new forms; this is a mess.

As with many similar works of art, all of The Hermetic Way’s failures arise from the hubris of their creator. The indulgence of every idea, at the expense of their development, integration, and refinement, causes the record to swing pendulously between mind-numbing boredom and toe-curling cringe. Without fail, songs go in the most annoying possible direction, dropping tension like a hot potato and throwing out a rare good musical passage in favour of the most jarring refrains (“Solve et Coagula,” “Pyres of Meaning Light the New Aeon’s Way”), or another arrangement of noise to a jaunty tempo that makes a mockery of the previous composition (“Zosimos the Alchemist”). Elements are often so poorly integrated, that sections clearly designed for drama—stripped-back keys or solemn recitations—fail to land; the sample of famed occult author Lon Milo DuQuette is barely audible past the fickle interchanges of organs, riffs, and drums. The Oracle persistently delivers vocals in a monotonous, rapid-fire bark that gets grating fast, particularly when combined with Tzevaot’s fondness for stacking tempos and synth accompaniments like dominos one after another. But I would listen to hours of all the above barks rather than sit just once more through horror show “The Hero of Megiddo,” a skin-crawling ditty whose redemptive brevity is made moot by its being the only thing on the record with a memorable tune, causing the perverse singing and jangling chords to turn around in your brain like an inescapable merri-go-round.

Most painful of all is that The Hermetic Way could have been so much better. Tzevaot might try to borrow the label of “jazz” to elevate whatever’s going on with piano and cymbals at various points. While that’s not really justified, it’s nonetheless striking that every single isolated passage of good music on The Hermetic Way involves piano4 (“The Emerald Tablet of Thoth,” “Air Fire Water Earth,” “Metempsychosis”). These fleeting moments, which comprise approximately five percent of the runtime combine key slides and arpeggios in a stylish, interesting way that’s very cool, and variously reminiscent of Wreche, Vengeur, and once again Emperor. In an hour of music that is otherwise so exhausting, this is obviously not enough. By the time the best parts of the album arrive in closer “Metempsychosis,” you’re likely too checked out to care, if you’re even still listening.

The Hermetic Way’s title is apt. Not only as it divulges supposed profound truths through the visionary teachings of the self-imposed hermit, who has reached enlightenment through years of solitary contemplation. But also because that’s quite a good analogy for the solo metal musician of the esoteric bent. Maybe Tzevaot harbors real genius, and I’m simply too blind and deaf to see or hear it in their work. More likely it’s another case of talent foiled by delusion.

Rating: Bad
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 265 kb/s mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#15 #2025 #avantGardeMetal #blackMetal #emperor #esoctrilihum #esotericBlackMetal #experimentalMetal #iVoidhangerRecords #nov25 #review #reviews #theHermeticWay #tzevaot

Tzevaot – The Hermetic Way Review

By Thus Spoke

Oh, to have half the confidence of the average solo artist dabbling in the esoteric. Their avant-garde opuses can’t all be the status-quo-subverting masterworks of music and philosophy they claim to be. For some reason, I, Voidhanger keeps signing them, and for equally opaque reasons, we keep choosing to review their albums. Tzevaot is the experimental black metal1 project of an individual known only as The Orator, who in The Hermetic Way explores occult ideas purported to unveil “actual hidden mechanisms of reality,” with heavy inspiration from the magical tradition made popular by who else but Aleister Crowley. And while everything from the flowery promo blurb to the time-stamped lyrics2 and the solemn spoken-word poetry tries to convince you of its significance. The Hermetic Way completely fails to impart much more than consternation.

It’s difficult to know where to even begin with The Hermetic Way, and its brand of wisdom. At every turn, things somehow go wrong. The core sound is something akin to Esoctrilihum—barking screams, twisty guitars, and a propensity for echo on everything—only with a mix you’d barely forgive a bedroom project for, and a compositional style that makes said Esoctrilihum sound catchy. Tzevaot jumbles synths, piano, and guitars that seem to hit upon a genuine groove of Emperor-esque theatrics or Absu-level style completely by accident; the fact that the best melodies are never reprised only supports this theory. The drumming—which may well be a machine for all I can discern3—is flat and dull, buried by the wall of heavy reverb between the sharp stab of the vocals and the other instruments. This intensifies the feeling of aggravated confusion that defines the listening experience, as one struggles to keep up with the nonsensical rhythmic trades, sudden inclusion of solo synth or piano, and yet more spoken-word. This is not the nuanced placelessness of an intelligent, complex extreme metal, where discordance and strange rhythms develop impossibly but seamlessly into new forms; this is a mess.

As with many similar works of art, all of The Hermetic Way’s failures arise from the hubris of their creator. The indulgence of every idea, at the expense of their development, integration, and refinement, causes the record to swing pendulously between mind-numbing boredom and toe-curling cringe. Without fail, songs go in the most annoying possible direction, dropping tension like a hot potato and throwing out a rare good musical passage in favour of the most jarring refrains (“Solve et Coagula,” “Pyres of Meaning Light the New Aeon’s Way”), or another arrangement of noise to a jaunty tempo that makes a mockery of the previous composition (“Zosimos the Alchemist”). Elements are often so poorly integrated, that sections clearly designed for drama—stripped-back keys or solemn recitations—fail to land; the sample of famed occult author Lon Milo DuQuette is barely audible past the fickle interchanges of organs, riffs, and drums. The Oracle persistently delivers vocals in a monotonous, rapid-fire bark that gets grating fast, particularly when combined with Tzevaot’s fondness for stacking tempos and synth accompaniments like dominos one after another. But I would listen to hours of all the above barks rather than sit just once more through horror show “The Hero of Megiddo,” a skin-crawling ditty whose redemptive brevity is made moot by its being the only thing on the record with a memorable tune, causing the perverse singing and jangling chords to turn around in your brain like an inescapable merri-go-round.

Most painful of all is that The Hermetic Way could have been so much better. Tzevaot might try to borrow the label of “jazz” to elevate whatever’s going on with piano and cymbals at various points. While that’s not really justified, it’s nonetheless striking that every single isolated passage of good music on The Hermetic Way involves piano4 (“The Emerald Tablet of Thoth,” “Air Fire Water Earth,” “Metempsychosis”). These fleeting moments, which comprise approximately five percent of the runtime combine key slides and arpeggios in a stylish, interesting way that’s very cool, and variously reminiscent of Wreche, Vengeur, and once again Emperor. In an hour of music that is otherwise so exhausting, this is obviously not enough. By the time the best parts of the album arrive in closer “Metempsychosis,” you’re likely too checked out to care, if you’re even still listening.

The Hermetic Way’s title is apt. Not only as it divulges supposed profound truths through the visionary teachings of the self-imposed hermit, who has reached enlightenment through years of solitary contemplation. But also because that’s quite a good analogy for the solo metal musician of the esoteric bent. Maybe Tzevaot harbors real genius, and I’m simply too blind and deaf to see or hear it in their work. More likely it’s another case of talent foiled by delusion.

Rating: Bad
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 265 kb/s mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#15 #2025 #avantGardeMetal #blackMetal #emperor #esoctrilihum #esotericBlackMetal #experimentalMetal #iVoidhangerRecords #nov25 #review #reviews #theHermeticWay #tzevaot

Asira – As Ink in Water Review

By Killjoy

I get the sense that the members of Asira are particularly meticulous. The last time we heard from this post/prog group from Reading, UK was back in 2017. In his review of their debut album, Efference, El Cuervo asserted that Asira was on the cusp of being the next Big Deal. Just four months later, he decided that they already were, invoking Contrite Metal Guy powers to amend Efference’s score from 3.5 to 4.5 (a Big Deal, indeed!). Perhaps Asira felt some pressure, because they took their time to craft the best possible follow-up. As Ink in Water is an effervescent opus about the breadth and depth of human emotion, it was worth the wait.

One way that Asira describes their music is “gold-tinged black metal,”1 but I would be more inclined to call it black-tinged gold metal. As Ink in Water is resplendent in like manner to Deadly Carnage’s Endless Blue, both of which are buoyed by similarly soaring vocals. Jack Reynolds has some of the best cleans in the business, harmonizing neatly with Martin and Lydia Williams when the occasion calls for it. The smooth, invigorating guitars have carried over from Efference, particularly during the more tranquil moments, but most vestiges of blackgaze have evaporated. The remaining black metal influence on As Ink in Water comes when the vocals sometimes switch to sharp rasps. In less scrupulous hands, these opposites could have easily clashed unpleasantly.

Luckily, Asira has an incredibly strong mastery of the art of contrast. The verses of “Cauterise” are commanded by wild blast beats and furious growls, yet they willingly give way to the glowing, clean-sung choruses like the night yielding to the rising sun. Speaking of which, “In Sunrise” is, in my estimation, the crown jewel of As Ink in Water. While mainly consisting of bright guitar arpeggios and infectious melodies, the juxtaposition of Reynolds’ snarls and Lydia Williams’ soprano at the midpoint is chill-inducing. This polarity also exists between the individual songs; the fact that the aggression of “Cauterise” and the tenderness of “Clarity” can sound like they belong on the same record is a testament to Asira’s skill as songwriters.

It’s clear that Asira put a great deal of thought and care into the compositions of As Ink in Water. El Cuervo’s wish for less repetition and more variety in the quieter parts of Efference has been granted. No matter the intensity, the songs never stall or stop moving forward. Even those that appear unassuming on the surface manifest important details upon closer listening, such as the delicate bass grooves in “Clarity” or the deliberate arrangement of backing vocals in “Still.” These songs might require a bit more patience than the others, but they are just as important to the overall canvas of color. The only tracks that don’t add much are the twin interludes, “Descent” and “Ascent,” though at just one minute apiece, this is easy to forgive.

Asira has fashioned a truly unique and heartwarming work of art that defies easy description. As the title of As Ink in Water implies, the light and dark elements may seem disparate at first, but over time, they mix perfectly together. Asira set out to portray the universal human experiences of “anxiety, grief, fury, compassion, and healing,” all of which can easily be both heard and felt. I find myself emotionally invested in As Ink in Water to the point where multiple 11-minute songs seem to vanish in the blink of an eye. Although this year is getting late, I feel confident that this special record will stick with me into and beyond the next.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Self-Release
Websites: asira.bandcamp.com | asira-band.com | facebook.com/asirauk
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #40 #asInkInWater #asira #blackMetal #britishMetal #deadlyCarnage #nov25 #postRock #progressiveMetal #progressiveRock #review #reviews #selfRelease

Asira – As Ink in Water Review

By Killjoy

I get the sense that the members of Asira are particularly meticulous. The last time we heard from this post/prog group from Reading, UK was back in 2017. In his review of their debut album, Efference, El Cuervo asserted that Asira was on the cusp of being the next Big Deal. Just four months later, he decided that they already were, invoking Contrite Metal Guy powers to amend Efference’s score from 3.5 to 4.5 (a Big Deal, indeed!). Perhaps Asira felt some pressure, because they took their time to craft the best possible follow-up. As Ink in Water is an effervescent opus about the breadth and depth of human emotion, it was worth the wait.

One way that Asira describes their music is “gold-tinged black metal,”1 but I would be more inclined to call it black-tinged gold metal. As Ink in Water is resplendent in like manner to Deadly Carnage’s Endless Blue, both of which are buoyed by similarly soaring vocals. Jack Reynolds has some of the best cleans in the business, harmonizing neatly with Martin and Lydia Williams when the occasion calls for it. The smooth, invigorating guitars have carried over from Efference, particularly during the more tranquil moments, but most vestiges of blackgaze have evaporated. The remaining black metal influence on As Ink in Water comes when the vocals sometimes switch to sharp rasps. In less scrupulous hands, these opposites could have easily clashed unpleasantly.

Luckily, Asira has an incredibly strong mastery of the art of contrast. The verses of “Cauterise” are commanded by wild blast beats and furious growls, yet they willingly give way to the glowing, clean-sung choruses like the night yielding to the rising sun. Speaking of which, “In Sunrise” is, in my estimation, the crown jewel of As Ink in Water. While mainly consisting of bright guitar arpeggios and infectious melodies, the juxtaposition of Reynolds’ snarls and Lydia Williams’ soprano at the midpoint is chill-inducing. This polarity also exists between the individual songs; the fact that the aggression of “Cauterise” and the tenderness of “Clarity” can sound like they belong on the same record is a testament to Asira’s skill as songwriters.

It’s clear that Asira put a great deal of thought and care into the compositions of As Ink in Water. El Cuervo’s wish for less repetition and more variety in the quieter parts of Efference has been granted. No matter the intensity, the songs never stall or stop moving forward. Even those that appear unassuming on the surface manifest important details upon closer listening, such as the delicate bass grooves in “Clarity” or the deliberate arrangement of backing vocals in “Still.” These songs might require a bit more patience than the others, but they are just as important to the overall canvas of color. The only tracks that don’t add much are the twin interludes, “Descent” and “Ascent,” though at just one minute apiece, this is easy to forgive.

Asira has fashioned a truly unique and heartwarming work of art that defies easy description. As the title of As Ink in Water implies, the light and dark elements may seem disparate at first, but over time, they mix perfectly together. Asira set out to portray the universal human experiences of “anxiety, grief, fury, compassion, and healing,” all of which can easily be both heard and felt. I find myself emotionally invested in As Ink in Water to the point where multiple 11-minute songs seem to vanish in the blink of an eye. Although this year is getting late, I feel confident that this special record will stick with me into and beyond the next.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Self-Release
Websites: asira.bandcamp.com | asira-band.com | facebook.com/asirauk
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #40 #asInkInWater #asira #blackMetal #britishMetal #deadlyCarnage #nov25 #postRock #progressiveMetal #progressiveRock #review #reviews #selfRelease

Christiano Filippini’s Flames of Heaven – Symphony of the Universe Review

By Twelve

Choosing new music to review is an interesting process. Once you pick a thing, you’re pretty much locked into it. So I try to forecast: what will I be okay with listening to over and over again for the next week or two? Having just reviewed Lykke, I was very much in the mood for something more upbeat, and I didn’t have to read far past the band name Christiano Filippini’s Flames of Heaven to know Symphony of the Universe fit the bill. Indeed, when I requested the files for review, Dolphin Whisperer, overheard the request. “Is that Italian power metal?” he asked. “It sounds like Italian power metal.” “I didn’t check,” I answered. “But yes.” We were right. Symphony of the Universe is Flames of Heaven’s sophomore full-length, and it is as Italian, power-y, and cheesy as you’re thinking. In that way, you and D.W. are very much alike.

On that note, I’m having trouble getting this review going because Flames of Heaven really does sound exactly like you might expect given its name, origin, and album photo. Their hallmark: fast, bombastic power metal in the Rhapsody of Fire vein, augmented with keys and arrangements (from Filippini himself), but largely focusing on symphonic/power riffs (Michele Vioni) and high-tenor vocals (Marco Pastorino, Fallen Sanctuary). After a brief orchestral intro track, “On the Wings of Phoenix” sets the stage expertly: the main melody carried by lead guitars in perfect emulation of the impressively catchy chorus, the whole a dedication to adventure, rebirth, and hope. “The Archangel’s Warcry” puts keys at the forefront, creating an epic feel while also boasting one of the most impressive guitar solos on the album. Again, we hear it: a catchy chorus, an upbeat style, a sense of venturing that gets the head nodding even hours later. This is Flames of Heaven’s style, and they’re comfortable in it.

Not that there’s no variety on Symphony of the Universe, though it is a bit sparser than I’d personally prefer. There are straightforward European-style power metal tracks like “Midnight Riders” and “On the Wings of Phoenix,” epics like “The Archangels’ Warcry” and “Symphony of the Universe,” and then traditionally-inspired songs like “Don’t Leave Me Tonight”—the requisite power ballad—and “Tears of Love and Hate.” These songs dial back on the epic fantasy imagery and tread even more familiar roads—love, heartbreak, relationships. The music style similarly changes, dialing back the speed and “power” for a more trad-metal sound (though they do give bassist Giorgio Terenziani a somewhat-rare chance to shine, which is welcome). “When Love Burns” even reminds me of Brother Firetribe, which is not something I say often.

That means there’s a lot going on in Symphony of the Universe. The whole album runs sixty-nine minutes over thirteen tracks, two of which are instrumental bookends. It shifts styles often, though the base formula stays firmly in the “cheesy” Euro-power style. This means it’s a lot to listen to all at once, and I would even suggest that every song could have at least one minute trimmed from it without negatively impacting its quality, and no song over seven minutes needs to be longer than five, especially in “Darkside of Gemini” and “On the Wings of Phoenix.” The number of false stops, “one last chorus” instances, and lengthy interludes add up; I honestly think Symphony of the Universe could be twenty to thirty minutes shorter and better for it, because there wouldn’t be time for ear fatigue to build up. Whether by removing stylistically-clashing songs like “Tears of Love and Hate” (especially jarring, as it follows the monumental “The Archangel’s Warcry”), or cutting down on excess choruses and add-ons at the end of long songs, it seems Flames of Heaven could have edited a lot more of this project than they have.

My feelings for Symphony of the Universe are conflicted: it’s a genuinely fun, catchy album and a reliable, if predictable, sample of modern European power metal. I got the power metal pick-me-up I was hunting for, but there’s simply too much of it—and so much relies on an industry-standard formula. As a whole, Symphony of the Universe splinters under its enormous weight. There’s a great album in here, but the whole feels less than the sum of its parts.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Limb Music
Websites: flamesofheaven.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/cristianofilippinisflamesofheaven
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#25 #2025 #brotherFiretribe #christianoFilippinisFlamesOfHeaven #fallenSanctuary #italianMetal #limbMusic #nov25 #powerMetal #review #reviews #rhapsodyOfFire #symphonicMetal #symphonyOfTheUniverse

Christiano Filippini’s Flames of Heaven – Symphony of the Universe Review

By Twelve

Choosing new music to review is an interesting process. Once you pick a thing, you’re pretty much locked into it. So I try to forecast: what will I be okay with listening to over and over again for the next week or two? Having just reviewed Lykke, I was very much in the mood for something more upbeat, and I didn’t have to read far past the band name Christiano Filippini’s Flames of Heaven to know Symphony of the Universe fit the bill. Indeed, when I requested the files for review, Dolphin Whisperer, overheard the request. “Is that Italian power metal?” he asked. “It sounds like Italian power metal.” “I didn’t check,” I answered. “But yes.” We were right. Symphony of the Universe is Flames of Heaven’s sophomore full-length, and it is as Italian, power-y, and cheesy as you’re thinking. In that way, you and D.W. are very much alike.

On that note, I’m having trouble getting this review going because Flames of Heaven really does sound exactly like you might expect given its name, origin, and album photo. Their hallmark: fast, bombastic power metal in the Rhapsody of Fire vein, augmented with keys and arrangements (from Filippini himself), but largely focusing on symphonic/power riffs (Michele Vioni) and high-tenor vocals (Marco Pastorino, Fallen Sanctuary). After a brief orchestral intro track, “On the Wings of Phoenix” sets the stage expertly: the main melody carried by lead guitars in perfect emulation of the impressively catchy chorus, the whole a dedication to adventure, rebirth, and hope. “The Archangel’s Warcry” puts keys at the forefront, creating an epic feel while also boasting one of the most impressive guitar solos on the album. Again, we hear it: a catchy chorus, an upbeat style, a sense of venturing that gets the head nodding even hours later. This is Flames of Heaven’s style, and they’re comfortable in it.

Not that there’s no variety on Symphony of the Universe, though it is a bit sparser than I’d personally prefer. There are straightforward European-style power metal tracks like “Midnight Riders” and “On the Wings of Phoenix,” epics like “The Archangels’ Warcry” and “Symphony of the Universe,” and then traditionally-inspired songs like “Don’t Leave Me Tonight”—the requisite power ballad—and “Tears of Love and Hate.” These songs dial back on the epic fantasy imagery and tread even more familiar roads—love, heartbreak, relationships. The music style similarly changes, dialing back the speed and “power” for a more trad-metal sound (though they do give bassist Giorgio Terenziani a somewhat-rare chance to shine, which is welcome). “When Love Burns” even reminds me of Brother Firetribe, which is not something I say often.

That means there’s a lot going on in Symphony of the Universe. The whole album runs sixty-nine minutes over thirteen tracks, two of which are instrumental bookends. It shifts styles often, though the base formula stays firmly in the “cheesy” Euro-power style. This means it’s a lot to listen to all at once, and I would even suggest that every song could have at least one minute trimmed from it without negatively impacting its quality, and no song over seven minutes needs to be longer than five, especially in “Darkside of Gemini” and “On the Wings of Phoenix.” The number of false stops, “one last chorus” instances, and lengthy interludes add up; I honestly think Symphony of the Universe could be twenty to thirty minutes shorter and better for it, because there wouldn’t be time for ear fatigue to build up. Whether by removing stylistically-clashing songs like “Tears of Love and Hate” (especially jarring, as it follows the monumental “The Archangel’s Warcry”), or cutting down on excess choruses and add-ons at the end of long songs, it seems Flames of Heaven could have edited a lot more of this project than they have.

My feelings for Symphony of the Universe are conflicted: it’s a genuinely fun, catchy album and a reliable, if predictable, sample of modern European power metal. I got the power metal pick-me-up I was hunting for, but there’s simply too much of it—and so much relies on an industry-standard formula. As a whole, Symphony of the Universe splinters under its enormous weight. There’s a great album in here, but the whole feels less than the sum of its parts.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Limb Music
Websites: flamesofheaven.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/cristianofilippinisflamesofheaven
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#25 #2025 #brotherFiretribe #christianoFilippinisFlamesOfHeaven #fallenSanctuary #italianMetal #limbMusic #nov25 #powerMetal #review #reviews #rhapsodyOfFire #symphonicMetal #symphonyOfTheUniverse

Mezzrow – Embrace the Awakening Review

By Dr. A.N. Grier

Two years ago, I reviewed Mezzrow’s comeback record, Summon Thy Demons—a return that was thirty-three fucking years in the making. Being that they only had one record before their 2023 comeback, I can’t say they’ve left a lasting legacy on the Swedish thrash genre—especially with so many legends that dominated the Swethrash space. With age and wisdom, it appears this quintet is looking to make an impact decades after the heydays of this unique flavor of thrash came and went. The energy, since the release of Summon Thy Demons, must continue to surge in their veins because I’m back to deliver a review of this year’s Embrace the Awakening. While none of their albums are terrible by any means, will the ‘third-times-the-charm’ bring Mezzrow the breakout success they seek?

After unloading three decades of bent-up riffage with their return, Mezzrow has cut the fat with this newest release, reducing the amount of output by fifteen minutes. This move is good for the band because they’ll continue to throw everything they have at a song, but without exhausting their listeners with the vast amount of content. Trimmed to a tight eight tracks, Embrace the Awakening delivers everything from simple thrashers meant to pummel and retreat to others that fill every nook and cranny of living space with all kinds of trinkets. Always with a dark, sinister tone in their songwriting, this new record sees them following familiar territory, combining Bay Area thrash with Swethrash influences like Sodom, Witchery, and At the Gates, to deliver a maelstrom of thrashy licks, melodic choruses, and adventurous solo work. Time to awaken deez nutz.

Embrace the Awakening gets rolling in a classic thrash-metal style with “Architects of the Silent War,” marching through an intro that builds and builds on itself before settling into a solid, sinister groove. When we arrive at the chorus, it ends up being a solid effort with plenty of gang shouts but not a lot of memorability. Which also applies to the new riff change on the back half. While not as strong an opener as the one on the previous album, the rest of the front half of Embrace the Awakening is banging. “Sleeping Cataclysm” opens with some killer blastbeats and a badass lick that successfully transitions through a punchy pre-chorus and soaring, melodic chorus. Even the back-end chugtastic lick kicks some major ass. “Foreshadowing” is a fun little ditty whose foundation is built around an old-school Witchery assault. Throughout, it alternates between slower, melodic sessions, verses that pick up pace as they progress, and an evil fucking chorus with massive gang shouts.

“In Shadows Deep” is another with some Witchery tendencies, but this time in the song’s melodic chorus. Surrounding it is a razor-sharp introduction, chugging verses, and a hefty conclusion. For more diversity, “Symphony of Twisted Souls” tosses in some clean bass and guitars, then it traverses through a couple of headbangable riffs before erupting into the chorus. After completely collapsing on the back half, things get really weird with the lonesome bass and vocal effects that remind me of that weird, mid-career shit Megadeth did because Mustaine realized he sucks at singing. Yet, somehow, through all these strange mood shifts, it pulls itself back together to conclude as a well-rounded song.

Along with some of the songwriting decisions in the opener, that leaves something to be desired, “The Moment to Arise” is a short little piece that is as filler as it gets. From bland riffs to a bland chorus, it’s the most forgettable song on the record. But it’s an easier piece to listen to than “Inside the Burning Twilight,” a boring-as-fuck chorus, and its desire to continue one minute longer than necessary. That said, Embrace the Awakening is a solid outing that continues where the comeback release left off. The first half is stronger than the second, but when the riffs hit, they hit pretty hard. And, when the choruses work, they work well. Otherwise, the album suffers from forgettable moments and filler pieces.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Rock of Angels Records
Websites: mezzrow.black | facebook.com/mezzrowsweden
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#25 #2025 #atTheGates #embraceTheAwakening #megadeth #mezzrow #nov25 #review #reviews #rockOfAngelsRecords #sodom #swedishMetal #thrashMetal #witchery

Mezzrow – Embrace the Awakening Review

By Dr. A.N. Grier

Two years ago, I reviewed Mezzrow’s comeback record, Summon Thy Demons—a return that was thirty-three fucking years in the making. Being that they only had one record before their 2023 comeback, I can’t say they’ve left a lasting legacy on the Swedish thrash genre—especially with so many legends that dominated the Swethrash space. With age and wisdom, it appears this quintet is looking to make an impact decades after the heydays of this unique flavor of thrash came and went. The energy, since the release of Summon Thy Demons, must continue to surge in their veins because I’m back to deliver a review of this year’s Embrace the Awakening. While none of their albums are terrible by any means, will the ‘third-times-the-charm’ bring Mezzrow the breakout success they seek?

After unloading three decades of bent-up riffage with their return, Mezzrow has cut the fat with this newest release, reducing the amount of output by fifteen minutes. This move is good for the band because they’ll continue to throw everything they have at a song, but without exhausting their listeners with the vast amount of content. Trimmed to a tight eight tracks, Embrace the Awakening delivers everything from simple thrashers meant to pummel and retreat to others that fill every nook and cranny of living space with all kinds of trinkets. Always with a dark, sinister tone in their songwriting, this new record sees them following familiar territory, combining Bay Area thrash with Swethrash influences like Sodom, Witchery, and At the Gates, to deliver a maelstrom of thrashy licks, melodic choruses, and adventurous solo work. Time to awaken deez nutz.

Embrace the Awakening gets rolling in a classic thrash-metal style with “Architects of the Silent War,” marching through an intro that builds and builds on itself before settling into a solid, sinister groove. When we arrive at the chorus, it ends up being a solid effort with plenty of gang shouts but not a lot of memorability. Which also applies to the new riff change on the back half. While not as strong an opener as the one on the previous album, the rest of the front half of Embrace the Awakening is banging. “Sleeping Cataclysm” opens with some killer blastbeats and a badass lick that successfully transitions through a punchy pre-chorus and soaring, melodic chorus. Even the back-end chugtastic lick kicks some major ass. “Foreshadowing” is a fun little ditty whose foundation is built around an old-school Witchery assault. Throughout, it alternates between slower, melodic sessions, verses that pick up pace as they progress, and an evil fucking chorus with massive gang shouts.

“In Shadows Deep” is another with some Witchery tendencies, but this time in the song’s melodic chorus. Surrounding it is a razor-sharp introduction, chugging verses, and a hefty conclusion. For more diversity, “Symphony of Twisted Souls” tosses in some clean bass and guitars, then it traverses through a couple of headbangable riffs before erupting into the chorus. After completely collapsing on the back half, things get really weird with the lonesome bass and vocal effects that remind me of that weird, mid-career shit Megadeth did because Mustaine realized he sucks at singing. Yet, somehow, through all these strange mood shifts, it pulls itself back together to conclude as a well-rounded song.

Along with some of the songwriting decisions in the opener, that leaves something to be desired, “The Moment to Arise” is a short little piece that is as filler as it gets. From bland riffs to a bland chorus, it’s the most forgettable song on the record. But it’s an easier piece to listen to than “Inside the Burning Twilight,” a boring-as-fuck chorus, and its desire to continue one minute longer than necessary. That said, Embrace the Awakening is a solid outing that continues where the comeback release left off. The first half is stronger than the second, but when the riffs hit, they hit pretty hard. And, when the choruses work, they work well. Otherwise, the album suffers from forgettable moments and filler pieces.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Rock of Angels Records
Websites: mezzrow.black | facebook.com/mezzrowsweden
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#25 #2025 #atTheGates #embraceTheAwakening #megadeth #mezzrow #nov25 #review #reviews #rockOfAngelsRecords #sodom #swedishMetal #thrashMetal #witchery

Cold Steel – Discipline & Punish Review

By Lavender Larcenist

Debut albums are a fickle thing. Often the strongest release by a band for years to come, even giving rise to the term “sophomore slump” when the inevitable follow-up can’t hit the same highs. And so, debuts are make-or-break. For Tampa’s Cold Steel, Discipline & Punish is such a piping hot serving of crossover thrash, I can’t help but be excited for their future. The Florida sextet’s first LP feels so cohesive and energetic; keeping pace will be a challenge. For now, we can revel in the absolute monster that is Discipline & Punish and enjoy a young band that is clearly firing on all cylinders and loving every minute of it.

I had no clue Cold Steel existed before their debut LP showed up in AMG’s promo pile-up, but the great hooks and a sick album cover (I am a simple woman) piqued my interest. I was immediately addicted to the catchy songs, frantic pacing, and infectious energy. Power Trip is fucking awesome (original take), and they constantly came to mind while I spun Discipline & Punish on repeat. It was no surprise then, when I learned that Cold Steel’s debut was produced by none other than Arthur Rizk (Blood Incantation, Undeath, Power Trip), it makes sense that they are the first band in a while that capture that same brand of hook-driven, manic energy that makes you wanna break a bottle on your head and start a bar fight. Jose Menedez’s vocals immediately reminded me of Riley Gale’s (RIP) signature mix of thrash edge and punk passion, mirroring some Power Trip greats, like “Firing Squad” and “Waiting Around to Die”.

It comes as no surprise, then, that the production suits Discipline & Punish perfectly. Things never get as grimy or lo-fi as many of their inspirations; Menendez’s voice is crisp and clear while leaving space for a raw edge that keeps Discipline & Punish sounding immediate and decidedly trash. Every instrument has space to thrive as massive hardcore breakdowns mix perfectly with intertwining thrash riffs. The triple (yes, triple) guitar assault of Rafi Carbonell, Shawn Wallen, and Rafael Calderon weaves between criss-crossing rhythms, hooky leads, and melting faces. As a cherry on top, Janpierre Mojica’s bass sounds thick and juicy, slamming along like a lumbering beast through the warzone of sound. Brandon Thrift’s drums tie the whole thing together, with clear percussion, driving kicks, and a military-esque tinge that fits the album’s theming well.

Menendez is a high point of Discipline & Punish. His vocal phrasing and energy drive the whole album. You can’t help but bounce along as he screeches “Blood by the liters, they’re not gonna need em” on “Killing Season”, or ripping through “Front to Enemy” alongside a feature with Aaron Heard of Jesus Piece. Like a snowball in an avalanche, Menendez gains more speed, momentum, and ferocity throughout the record, barreling over everything in his path. The biggest surprise on an album full of rippers is “Smoking Mirrors,” featuring local hip-hop/hardcore duo Two-Piece. The combination of ’80s-esque record scratches and looping off-tone siren mixes perfectly with the hooky, chugging riffs and Menendez’s manic energy. Cold Steel takes an idea that should end up like oil and water, and turns it into chocolate and peanut butter.

There are so many good things to say about Discipline & Punish. The record is tight but not too short at ten tracks and thirty-five minutes, making for a listen that is all killer, no filler. It is impossible to even pick highlights between so many standouts. From the unhinged “Front to Enemy” to the crushing “Blacksmith of Damnation” or the bouncing “Killing Season”, there is something for everyone. Then there is the surprising “Smoking Mirrors”, the atmospheric “Fever Dreaming”, and the epic closing track “The Coldest Death”, with a finale that brought to mind Horrendous of all things. Cold Steel keeps you on your toes the whole time. It is an embarrassment of riches with Discipline & Punish, an album that demands you hit the play button one more time with every spin. No album is perfect, but Discipline & Punish is a hell of a start for a young band making their foray into a storied and crowded genre. Luckily, it already looks like Cold Steel doesn’t intend to rest on its laurels, with a mix of genre-bending tracks that stretch the lines of crossover thrash and hardcore. The title may call to mind authoritarian torture, but if Cold Steel is administering the pain, you are in for a good time.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: NA | Format Reviewed: A goddamned stream
Label: Spinefarm
Websites: coldsteel813.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/coldsteelbandfl
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#2025 #40 #americanMetal #bloodIncantation #coldSteel #crossover #crossoverThrash #disciplinePunish #hardcore #hardcorePunk #hipHop #horrendous #jesusPiece #nov25 #powerTrip #review #reviews #spinefarm #twoPiece #undeath

Cold Steel – Discipline & Punish Review

By Lavender Larcenist

Debut albums are a fickle thing. Often the strongest release by a band for years to come, even giving rise to the term “sophomore slump” when the inevitable follow-up can’t hit the same highs. And so, debuts are make-or-break. For Tampa’s Cold Steel, Discipline & Punish is such a piping hot serving of crossover thrash, I can’t help but be excited for their future. The Florida sextet’s first LP feels so cohesive and energetic; keeping pace will be a challenge. For now, we can revel in the absolute monster that is Discipline & Punish and enjoy a young band that is clearly firing on all cylinders and loving every minute of it.

I had no clue Cold Steel existed before their debut LP showed up in AMG’s promo pile-up, but the great hooks and a sick album cover (I am a simple woman) piqued my interest. I was immediately addicted to the catchy songs, frantic pacing, and infectious energy. Power Trip is fucking awesome (original take), and they constantly came to mind while I spun Discipline & Punish on repeat. It was no surprise then, when I learned that Cold Steel’s debut was produced by none other than Arthur Rizk (Blood Incantation, Undeath, Power Trip), it makes sense that they are the first band in a while that capture that same brand of hook-driven, manic energy that makes you wanna break a bottle on your head and start a bar fight. Jose Menedez’s vocals immediately reminded me of Riley Gale’s (RIP) signature mix of thrash edge and punk passion, mirroring some Power Trip greats, like “Firing Squad” and “Waiting Around to Die”.

It comes as no surprise, then, that the production suits Discipline & Punish perfectly. Things never get as grimy or lo-fi as many of their inspirations; Menendez’s voice is crisp and clear while leaving space for a raw edge that keeps Discipline & Punish sounding immediate and decidedly trash. Every instrument has space to thrive as massive hardcore breakdowns mix perfectly with intertwining thrash riffs. The triple (yes, triple) guitar assault of Rafi Carbonell, Shawn Wallen, and Rafael Calderon weaves between criss-crossing rhythms, hooky leads, and melting faces. As a cherry on top, Janpierre Mojica’s bass sounds thick and juicy, slamming along like a lumbering beast through the warzone of sound. Brandon Thrift’s drums tie the whole thing together, with clear percussion, driving kicks, and a military-esque tinge that fits the album’s theming well.

Menendez is a high point of Discipline & Punish. His vocal phrasing and energy drive the whole album. You can’t help but bounce along as he screeches “Blood by the liters, they’re not gonna need em” on “Killing Season”, or ripping through “Front to Enemy” alongside a feature with Aaron Heard of Jesus Piece. Like a snowball in an avalanche, Menendez gains more speed, momentum, and ferocity throughout the record, barreling over everything in his path. The biggest surprise on an album full of rippers is “Smoking Mirrors,” featuring local hip-hop/hardcore duo Two-Piece. The combination of ’80s-esque record scratches and looping off-tone siren mixes perfectly with the hooky, chugging riffs and Menendez’s manic energy. Cold Steel takes an idea that should end up like oil and water, and turns it into chocolate and peanut butter.

There are so many good things to say about Discipline & Punish. The record is tight but not too short at ten tracks and thirty-five minutes, making for a listen that is all killer, no filler. It is impossible to even pick highlights between so many standouts. From the unhinged “Front to Enemy” to the crushing “Blacksmith of Damnation” or the bouncing “Killing Season”, there is something for everyone. Then there is the surprising “Smoking Mirrors”, the atmospheric “Fever Dreaming”, and the epic closing track “The Coldest Death”, with a finale that brought to mind Horrendous of all things. Cold Steel keeps you on your toes the whole time. It is an embarrassment of riches with Discipline & Punish, an album that demands you hit the play button one more time with every spin. No album is perfect, but Discipline & Punish is a hell of a start for a young band making their foray into a storied and crowded genre. Luckily, it already looks like Cold Steel doesn’t intend to rest on its laurels, with a mix of genre-bending tracks that stretch the lines of crossover thrash and hardcore. The title may call to mind authoritarian torture, but if Cold Steel is administering the pain, you are in for a good time.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: NA | Format Reviewed: A goddamned stream
Label: Spinefarm
Websites: coldsteel813.bandcamp.com | instagram.com/coldsteelbandfl
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#2025 #40 #americanMetal #bloodIncantation #coldSteel #crossover #crossoverThrash #disciplinePunish #hardcore #hardcorePunk #hipHop #horrendous #jesusPiece #nov25 #powerTrip #review #reviews #spinefarm #twoPiece #undeath

Tempestuous Fall – The Descent of Mortals Past Review

By ClarkKent

In 2012, Australia’s Dis Pater released the debut record for his third active—at the time—one-man project: The Stars Would Not Awaken You by Tempestuous Fall, a work of epic funeral doom. The following year, Pater released what might be the strangest split I’ve heard of: a three-way between his own active projects. It ended up being a “[three] men enter, one man leaves” kind of deal, with Midnight Odyssey being the lone survivor.1 In that time, he has contributed to several other bands, from a Greek black metal group, Kawir, to a Slovakian black metal group, Aeon Winds, as well as a whopping nine LPs for Midnight Odyssey. Yet something about the funeral doom of Tempestuous Fall must have called Pater back. Backed by classical symphonic elements, it turns out he had rather ambitious goals for sophomore album, The Descent of Mortals Past.

The Descent of Mortals Past is a concept album focused on six mythological figures and their unfortunate adventures to the underworld. With themes based in the classics, and even some lyrics in Latin, it should be no surprise that Tempestuous Fall takes a classical approach to the music. “Theseus – Encased in the Stones of Hades” opens with some gorgeous, serene strings before adding on the usual funeral doom trappings of a heavy guitar and glacial pacing. You’ll also hear the melancholic tinkling of piano keys on songs like “Heracles – Dark is the Home of the Underworld,” showing off Pater’s versatility and ingenuity. It’s remarkable the way he melds these classical elements with doom guitars and growls to create lush, hooky funeral doom. “Psyche – Temptation of the Divine” goes all out, bringing in church organs, choral chants and hums, and operatic vocals from guest singer Alice Corvinus (Swords of Dis). This beautiful tune provides such an enticing melody you might follow it to the gates of Hades.

Of course, on the classics you don’t hear singers using demonic growls, but Tempestuous Fall might make them rethink that choice. Pater takes a My Dying Bride approach—alternating between low growls and cleans. He may not be as powerful as Aaron Stainthorpe, but he’s still effective. His growls contrast with the classical melodies and deliver the lyrics poetically, while his cleans provide memorable choruses that make you want to sing along. When the heavy guitars first join the strings on “Theseus…,” it’s a shock to the system like taking the polar plunge in nothing but your underpants. But they add a darkness and melancholy that’s fitting for doomed trips to the underworld. The production is a bit of a let-down, however, as the guitars take on a buzzy quality rather than the muscle of Evoken. Yet there is a charm to this raw, lo-fi quality that takes me back to the earlier Opeth records like Morningrise.

The back half of The Descent of Mortals Past has some unfortunate inconsistencies that keep it from matching the fantastic first half. None of these songs are bad, just different. The first is “Ulysses – Requiem of the Sea,” a doom cover of Mozart’s “Lacrimosa.” It’s a very cool track, but it also feels unoriginal, especially since it is among the most played classical tunes in modern pop culture—almost to the level of parody. Similarly, “Orpheus – In Dark Deathly Grey” is also quite good, but its focus on acoustics makes it sound more at home on a Dolven record than a symphonic funeral doom set. The finale, “Aeneas – Guide Me Home,” is a return to form that fits in much better with the front half. Like these earlier songs, it has strings, doom, and some melodic leads and cleans that end the LP on an uplifting note. Yet, being the longest tune at eleven minutes, it’s the only one that feels like it drags on due to too much repetition. Individually, the songs on the back half are solid and probably keep the record from sounding stale, yet they also break a spell the first half weaves.

While it doesn’t quite reach the level of last week’s Oromet, Tempestuous Fall has written another worthy platter of funeral doom for 2025. With how The Descent of Mortals Past sounds, it is understandable why Pater wanted to return to this funeral doom project after a thirteen-year hiatus. He has an ear for epic yarns, and his injection of doom adds gravity to the classics. I just hope that he doesn’t wait another thirteen years to release the next one.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #35 #aeonWinds #australianMetal #dolven #evoken #funeralDoom #iVoidhangerRecords #kawir #midnightOdyssey #mozart #myDyingBride #nov25 #opeth #oromet #review #reviews #swordsOfDis #symphonicMetal #tempestuousFall #theDescentOfMortalsPast

Tempestuous Fall – The Descent of Mortals Past Review

By ClarkKent

In 2012, Australia’s Dis Pater released the debut record for his third active—at the time—one-man project: The Stars Would Not Awaken You by Tempestuous Fall, a work of epic funeral doom. The following year, Pater released what might be the strangest split I’ve heard of: a three-way between his own active projects. It ended up being a “[three] men enter, one man leaves” kind of deal, with Midnight Odyssey being the lone survivor.1 In that time, he has contributed to several other bands, from a Greek black metal group, Kawir, to a Slovakian black metal group, Aeon Winds, as well as a whopping nine LPs for Midnight Odyssey. Yet something about the funeral doom of Tempestuous Fall must have called Pater back. Backed by classical symphonic elements, it turns out he had rather ambitious goals for sophomore album, The Descent of Mortals Past.

The Descent of Mortals Past is a concept album focused on six mythological figures and their unfortunate adventures to the underworld. With themes based in the classics, and even some lyrics in Latin, it should be no surprise that Tempestuous Fall takes a classical approach to the music. “Theseus – Encased in the Stones of Hades” opens with some gorgeous, serene strings before adding on the usual funeral doom trappings of a heavy guitar and glacial pacing. You’ll also hear the melancholic tinkling of piano keys on songs like “Heracles – Dark is the Home of the Underworld,” showing off Pater’s versatility and ingenuity. It’s remarkable the way he melds these classical elements with doom guitars and growls to create lush, hooky funeral doom. “Psyche – Temptation of the Divine” goes all out, bringing in church organs, choral chants and hums, and operatic vocals from guest singer Alice Corvinus (Swords of Dis). This beautiful tune provides such an enticing melody you might follow it to the gates of Hades.

Of course, on the classics you don’t hear singers using demonic growls, but Tempestuous Fall might make them rethink that choice. Pater takes a My Dying Bride approach—alternating between low growls and cleans. He may not be as powerful as Aaron Stainthorpe, but he’s still effective. His growls contrast with the classical melodies and deliver the lyrics poetically, while his cleans provide memorable choruses that make you want to sing along. When the heavy guitars first join the strings on “Theseus…,” it’s a shock to the system like taking the polar plunge in nothing but your underpants. But they add a darkness and melancholy that’s fitting for doomed trips to the underworld. The production is a bit of a let-down, however, as the guitars take on a buzzy quality rather than the muscle of Evoken. Yet there is a charm to this raw, lo-fi quality that takes me back to the earlier Opeth records like Morningrise.

The back half of The Descent of Mortals Past has some unfortunate inconsistencies that keep it from matching the fantastic first half. None of these songs are bad, just different. The first is “Ulysses – Requiem of the Sea,” a doom cover of Mozart’s “Lacrimosa.” It’s a very cool track, but it also feels unoriginal, especially since it is among the most played classical tunes in modern pop culture—almost to the level of parody. Similarly, “Orpheus – In Dark Deathly Grey” is also quite good, but its focus on acoustics makes it sound more at home on a Dolven record than a symphonic funeral doom set. The finale, “Aeneas – Guide Me Home,” is a return to form that fits in much better with the front half. Like these earlier songs, it has strings, doom, and some melodic leads and cleans that end the LP on an uplifting note. Yet, being the longest tune at eleven minutes, it’s the only one that feels like it drags on due to too much repetition. Individually, the songs on the back half are solid and probably keep the record from sounding stale, yet they also break a spell the first half weaves.

While it doesn’t quite reach the level of last week’s Oromet, Tempestuous Fall has written another worthy platter of funeral doom for 2025. With how The Descent of Mortals Past sounds, it is understandable why Pater wanted to return to this funeral doom project after a thirteen-year hiatus. He has an ear for epic yarns, and his injection of doom adds gravity to the classics. I just hope that he doesn’t wait another thirteen years to release the next one.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: I, Voidhanger Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #35 #aeonWinds #australianMetal #dolven #evoken #funeralDoom #iVoidhangerRecords #kawir #midnightOdyssey #mozart #myDyingBride #nov25 #opeth #oromet #review #reviews #swordsOfDis #symphonicMetal #tempestuousFall #theDescentOfMortalsPast

Degraved – Spectral Realm of Ruin Review

By Steel Druhm

Seattle-based old school deathers Degraved have been lurking in the back alleys since 2020, tweaking their rancid and rotten caveman-trapped-in-a-cesspool sound for maximum repulsion. 2025 sees them finally give birth to their debut full-length, Spectral Realm of Ruin, and let’s just say their offspring ain’t a looker. Sounding like a time-locked study into the effects of early 90s death on the human brain, you get a nauseating fusion of early Cianide,1 Incantation, Autopsy, and disEMBOWELMENT. This is low-grade, scuzzy, and exceptionally fetid skunk cabbage suitable only for the worst of us. And though the band is sunk up to their privates in the past, they bring enough vim and venom to make things passably fresh and only slightly maggot-infested. If you like your death moldy, oldy, and evil, this just might be your steaming gorilla biscuit.

What I enjoy about Degraved’s style is their blend of ogga-booga caveman idiocy with cavern crawling slime-tentacle riffage and the ever-present coating of muck, mire, and infected poo-crust. This shit just sounds raw, unholy, and filthy. Opener “Pariah of Death” wastes no time flinging waste with abandon, using moist and greasy riffs and thundering drums to backstop sub-human toilet huffing vocals that sound like the NYC subway announcements but a little angrier. Frantic solos, some of which reek of the early days of Death, and some plodding, menacing doom bits round out a crypt rocket of a tune that gets you raving in the fresh graves. “Sulfuric Embalming” is a nuclear bomb of unpleasant noise; blasty, chaotic, raw as fuck, and completely unhinged for the sake of lunacy. The unusually moody guitar phrasing that snakes into the song around the midway point is a nice touch, but this beast is here to swing the deathhammer, and you are all nails.

“Stalker of the Heard” is another piece of trashy nastiness with an extra shot of dissonance and dotted with Tom G. Warrior-esque “UHHs” and OHs” for added spice. This one is teeming with cavern-born Incantation and Immolation riffs that have never seen the light of day, and surprise, surprise, they all bite. There’s an ideal blend of power chugging, mid-tempo devastation, and blasting thrash to keep you off balance. The massive beefbrained chugs at 2:32 are exactly what my metal heart needs, and they feel so right (and wrong). Not everything Degraved do finds that sticky sweet level of decay, however. “Unseen” is the longest cut at over 7 minutes, but it’s the least entertaining cave cretin, lapsing between ooog booga idiocy and bits of Winter and Autopsy but without the charm of either. The quiet interlude in the back-half reeks of something off Death’s Human, and things emerge from this proggier stanza with some effectively brutalizing riffs, but as a whole, the song comes up a bit short. At a short and sharp 35-plus minutes, there’s more to love than tolerate on Spectral Realm of Ruin and the overall experience is appropriately horrific and gruesome. The production is a dead ringer for the shit that was dropping between 1990 and 1994, and the level of murk and reverb in the mix is superb.

NE handles vocals and bass and does a bang-up job. His deathy mutterings and cave roaring are wonderful, and his occasional vomit and wretching noises are a twisted treat. MM and DZ handle the guitars and deliver a bevy of caustic, evil sounds that drip with evil and awful. The solo work is especially delightful and deserving of a round of applause and a spleen ‘n cheese soufflé. They pack that perfect blend of raw energy and somewhat thoughtful progression and add a lot to the dirt and sleaze. LP’s drum work is loud, abrasive, and rowdy, and that’s enough for me. A talented crew in search of cheap morgue space.

Spectral Realm of Ruin is not new, unusual, or groundbreaking, but it will fuck you up and piss on your grave (PISSGRAVE!!). It’s entertaining and disgusting, and sure to repel those whom you seek to offend. What do you have to lose by checking this out besides that shower-fresh feeling? Cleanliness is overrated anyway. I myself haven’t bathed in weeks! Now go get Degraved.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Descent
Websites: degraved.bandcamp.com/album | instagram.com/degraved
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #30 #americanMetal #autopsy #cianide #darkDescentRecords #deathMetal #degraved #disembowelment #incantation #nov25 #review #reviews #spectralRealmOfRuin

Degraved – Spectral Realm of Ruin Review

By Steel Druhm

Seattle-based old school deathers Degraved have been lurking in the back alleys since 2020, tweaking their rancid and rotten caveman-trapped-in-a-cesspool sound for maximum repulsion. 2025 sees them finally give birth to their debut full-length, Spectral Realm of Ruin, and let’s just say their offspring ain’t a looker. Sounding like a time-locked study into the effects of early 90s death on the human brain, you get a nauseating fusion of early Cianide,1 Incantation, Autopsy, and disEMBOWELMENT. This is low-grade, scuzzy, and exceptionally fetid skunk cabbage suitable only for the worst of us. And though the band is sunk up to their privates in the past, they bring enough vim and venom to make things passably fresh and only slightly maggot-infested. If you like your death moldy, oldy, and evil, this just might be your steaming gorilla biscuit.

What I enjoy about Degraved’s style is their blend of ogga-booga caveman idiocy with cavern crawling slime-tentacle riffage and the ever-present coating of muck, mire, and infected poo-crust. This shit just sounds raw, unholy, and filthy. Opener “Pariah of Death” wastes no time flinging waste with abandon, using moist and greasy riffs and thundering drums to backstop sub-human toilet huffing vocals that sound like the NYC subway announcements but a little angrier. Frantic solos, some of which reek of the early days of Death, and some plodding, menacing doom bits round out a crypt rocket of a tune that gets you raving in the fresh graves. “Sulfuric Embalming” is a nuclear bomb of unpleasant noise; blasty, chaotic, raw as fuck, and completely unhinged for the sake of lunacy. The unusually moody guitar phrasing that snakes into the song around the midway point is a nice touch, but this beast is here to swing the deathhammer, and you are all nails.

“Stalker of the Heard” is another piece of trashy nastiness with an extra shot of dissonance and dotted with Tom G. Warrior-esque “UHHs” and OHs” for added spice. This one is teeming with cavern-born Incantation and Immolation riffs that have never seen the light of day, and surprise, surprise, they all bite. There’s an ideal blend of power chugging, mid-tempo devastation, and blasting thrash to keep you off balance. The massive beefbrained chugs at 2:32 are exactly what my metal heart needs, and they feel so right (and wrong). Not everything Degraved do finds that sticky sweet level of decay, however. “Unseen” is the longest cut at over 7 minutes, but it’s the least entertaining cave cretin, lapsing between ooog booga idiocy and bits of Winter and Autopsy but without the charm of either. The quiet interlude in the back-half reeks of something off Death’s Human, and things emerge from this proggier stanza with some effectively brutalizing riffs, but as a whole, the song comes up a bit short. At a short and sharp 35-plus minutes, there’s more to love than tolerate on Spectral Realm of Ruin and the overall experience is appropriately horrific and gruesome. The production is a dead ringer for the shit that was dropping between 1990 and 1994, and the level of murk and reverb in the mix is superb.

NE handles vocals and bass and does a bang-up job. His deathy mutterings and cave roaring are wonderful, and his occasional vomit and wretching noises are a twisted treat. MM and DZ handle the guitars and deliver a bevy of caustic, evil sounds that drip with evil and awful. The solo work is especially delightful and deserving of a round of applause and a spleen ‘n cheese soufflé. They pack that perfect blend of raw energy and somewhat thoughtful progression and add a lot to the dirt and sleaze. LP’s drum work is loud, abrasive, and rowdy, and that’s enough for me. A talented crew in search of cheap morgue space.

Spectral Realm of Ruin is not new, unusual, or groundbreaking, but it will fuck you up and piss on your grave (PISSGRAVE!!). It’s entertaining and disgusting, and sure to repel those whom you seek to offend. What do you have to lose by checking this out besides that shower-fresh feeling? Cleanliness is overrated anyway. I myself haven’t bathed in weeks! Now go get Degraved.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Descent
Websites: degraved.bandcamp.com/album | instagram.com/degraved
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #30 #americanMetal #autopsy #cianide #darkDescentRecords #deathMetal #degraved #disembowelment #incantation #nov25 #review #reviews #spectralRealmOfRuin

Withering Soul – Passage of the Arcane Review

By Andy-War-Hall

Much has changed in the decade since Withering Soul last graced this website. I was in high school when Madam X placed a scarlet 2.5 on Adverse Portrait, a scoring I would agree with wholeheartedly.1 It was an enjoyable but unfocused work, and its Moonspell-akin gothic tendencies didn’t mesh well with the band’s Dissection worship. But in a development not covered here, Withering Soul leveled up with 2021’s Last Contact, dropping the Type O Negative vocals almost entirely and amping up their blackened core with beefier riffs and more engaging compositions. Some gothic elements remained, and what did felt far better integrated into their style than before. Withering Soul continue down this stylistic path through their fifth album Passage of the Arcane, centered on the theme of “human experiences traversing into cursed oblivion.” Have Withering Soul really discovered a path of subliminal qualities, or will Passage of the Arcane only lead to disappointment?

Passage of the Arcane is a sensible progression from Last Contact for Withering Soul. Sporting Dark Fortress atmospheres brute-forced to life through death-influenced Dissection riffage, Withering Soul have departed even further from goth rock than Last Contact in favor of even more blistering melodic black metal. Gone are the low, clean croons of Withering Soul’s past, with lead man Christopher2 relying entirely on his powerful, hoarse screams for vocals. But the songs remain snappy with strong, hooky riffs and seamless transitions between various musical ideas. Death metal grime stains Withering Soul’s sonic tapestry on “Grievance Eludes the Light” and “Among Covetous Eyes,” while the sheen of synthesizers coats “Gallery of the End” and “Burden of the Valiant.” Withering Soul are clearly a talented bunch and everyone gets a chance to shine on Passage of the Arcane; with guitarist Frank G. layering “Gallery of the End” with a bright, melodic solo; drummer Rick hitting slick fills on “Grievance Eludes the Light” and bassist Joel dropping fat, sneaky lines on “Trajectory.” Withering Soul don’t break the mold with Passage of the Arcane, but they did craft an album better than their last.

There’s real dirt in Passage of the Arcane. The opening one-two-three punch of “Attrition Horizon,” “Grievance Eludes the Light,” and “The Monolith Embodied” sees Withering Soul swing with heavyweight might as Christopher and Frank G.’s guitars pummel through power chord abusive, tremolo-heavy riffs of winding, thrashy and frost rimed-natures. Things get more exploratory as Passage of the Arcane progresses, but Withering Soul never let off that initial intensity. Passage of the Arcane’s punchy production makes Rick’s kick drums really thump, and Joel’s bass comes through big time in Withering Soul’s chuggier, groovier moments (“Trajectory”). There’s an embarrassment of good riffs here, and everything clear of fat until, unfortunately, the closer “Burden of the Valiant,” but even that song picks up eventually. Like the blackened counterpart to Dormant Ordeal from earlier this year, Withering Soul more often than not embody aggression, dealing out some truly cut-throat metal on Passage of the Arcane.

But Withering Soul is held back from greatness by a lack of variety in certain areas. Riffs are multitudinous, but almost every guitar lead on Passage feels identical, usually consisting of basic eighth note arpeggios overtop tremolo riffs that don’t really do much to spruce up the chords (“Attrition Horizon,” “Gallery of the End,” “Burden of the Valiant”). It just stinks that Withering Soul couldn’t bring the creativity they have for rhythm guitar to lead. Similarly (and a bit ironically), vocal monotony is an issue, as Christopher only uses one style of scream across Passage of the Arcane’s 41 minutes. Perhaps a little goth bass singing wouldn’t go amiss, as a treat? These complaints may verge on nitpicks, but they are prominent and persistent enough to somewhat sully my enthusiasm for Passage of the Arcane.

Withering Soul assembled Passage of the Arcane out of common ingredients to the sub-genre, but tight songwriting and strong performances elevate the material. Though an immediate album in many ways, Passage was a grower for me, as repeat listenings revealed little details and how the pieces move. If you like your black metal riff-centric and melodic, this is an easy recommendation. Withering Soul may have reduced their sonic palette over the years, but the downsizing only made them leaner and meaner, and Passage of the Arcane is a lean, mean listen.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Liminal Dread Productions
Websites: witheringsoul.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/witheringsoulband | instagram.com/witheringsoul_77
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #35 #americanMetal #blackMetal #darkFortress #deathMetal #dissection #dormantOrdeal #liminalDreadProductions #melodicBlackMetal #moonspell #nov25 #passageOfTheArcane #review #reviews #typeONegative #witheringSoul

Withering Soul – Passage of the Arcane Review

By Andy-War-Hall

Much has changed in the decade since Withering Soul last graced this website. I was in high school when Madam X placed a scarlet 2.5 on Adverse Portrait, a scoring I would agree with wholeheartedly.1 It was an enjoyable but unfocused work, and its Moonspell-akin gothic tendencies didn’t mesh well with the band’s Dissection worship. But in a development not covered here, Withering Soul leveled up with 2021’s Last Contact, dropping the Type O Negative vocals almost entirely and amping up their blackened core with beefier riffs and more engaging compositions. Some gothic elements remained, and what did felt far better integrated into their style than before. Withering Soul continue down this stylistic path through their fifth album Passage of the Arcane, centered on the theme of “human experiences traversing into cursed oblivion.” Have Withering Soul really discovered a path of subliminal qualities, or will Passage of the Arcane only lead to disappointment?

Passage of the Arcane is a sensible progression from Last Contact for Withering Soul. Sporting Dark Fortress atmospheres brute-forced to life through death-influenced Dissection riffage, Withering Soul have departed even further from goth rock than Last Contact in favor of even more blistering melodic black metal. Gone are the low, clean croons of Withering Soul’s past, with lead man Christopher2 relying entirely on his powerful, hoarse screams for vocals. But the songs remain snappy with strong, hooky riffs and seamless transitions between various musical ideas. Death metal grime stains Withering Soul’s sonic tapestry on “Grievance Eludes the Light” and “Among Covetous Eyes,” while the sheen of synthesizers coats “Gallery of the End” and “Burden of the Valiant.” Withering Soul are clearly a talented bunch and everyone gets a chance to shine on Passage of the Arcane; with guitarist Frank G. layering “Gallery of the End” with a bright, melodic solo; drummer Rick hitting slick fills on “Grievance Eludes the Light” and bassist Joel dropping fat, sneaky lines on “Trajectory.” Withering Soul don’t break the mold with Passage of the Arcane, but they did craft an album better than their last.

There’s real dirt in Passage of the Arcane. The opening one-two-three punch of “Attrition Horizon,” “Grievance Eludes the Light,” and “The Monolith Embodied” sees Withering Soul swing with heavyweight might as Christopher and Frank G.’s guitars pummel through power chord abusive, tremolo-heavy riffs of winding, thrashy and frost rimed-natures. Things get more exploratory as Passage of the Arcane progresses, but Withering Soul never let off that initial intensity. Passage of the Arcane’s punchy production makes Rick’s kick drums really thump, and Joel’s bass comes through big time in Withering Soul’s chuggier, groovier moments (“Trajectory”). There’s an embarrassment of good riffs here, and everything clear of fat until, unfortunately, the closer “Burden of the Valiant,” but even that song picks up eventually. Like the blackened counterpart to Dormant Ordeal from earlier this year, Withering Soul more often than not embody aggression, dealing out some truly cut-throat metal on Passage of the Arcane.

But Withering Soul is held back from greatness by a lack of variety in certain areas. Riffs are multitudinous, but almost every guitar lead on Passage feels identical, usually consisting of basic eighth note arpeggios overtop tremolo riffs that don’t really do much to spruce up the chords (“Attrition Horizon,” “Gallery of the End,” “Burden of the Valiant”). It just stinks that Withering Soul couldn’t bring the creativity they have for rhythm guitar to lead. Similarly (and a bit ironically), vocal monotony is an issue, as Christopher only uses one style of scream across Passage of the Arcane’s 41 minutes. Perhaps a little goth bass singing wouldn’t go amiss, as a treat? These complaints may verge on nitpicks, but they are prominent and persistent enough to somewhat sully my enthusiasm for Passage of the Arcane.

Withering Soul assembled Passage of the Arcane out of common ingredients to the sub-genre, but tight songwriting and strong performances elevate the material. Though an immediate album in many ways, Passage was a grower for me, as repeat listenings revealed little details and how the pieces move. If you like your black metal riff-centric and melodic, this is an easy recommendation. Withering Soul may have reduced their sonic palette over the years, but the downsizing only made them leaner and meaner, and Passage of the Arcane is a lean, mean listen.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Liminal Dread Productions
Websites: witheringsoul.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/witheringsoulband | instagram.com/witheringsoul_77
Releases Worldwide: November 14th, 2025

#2025 #35 #americanMetal #blackMetal #darkFortress #deathMetal #dissection #dormantOrdeal #liminalDreadProductions #melodicBlackMetal #moonspell #nov25 #passageOfTheArcane #review #reviews #typeONegative #witheringSoul