#nuclearblastrecords — Public Fediverse posts

Green Lung has always flirted with metal’s ponderous weight and classic rock’s sly melodicism, uniting two musical forces I love. Before I dove into metal whole hog, I spent years soaking up the classics. Rush and Boston were in constant rotation alongside Black Sabbath and Metallica, looping endlessly on my 5-disc CD stereo through high school and college. Gradually, my listening gave way to more extreme acts as I succumbed to what my mother endearingly calls ‘devil music.’ Despite my unflinching commitment to placing my immortal soul in peril, I just can’t resist acts that channel the music I grew up listening to, and London’s Green Lung sticks this balance expertly. Hypnotic grooves, bouncing riffs, and heartfelt vocals run rampant across Green Lung’s fourth album Necropolitan, invoking the rumble of ecclesiastical dynamite and ghoulish glee. But are Necropolitan’s enchanting atmospheres and retro pleasures enough to wreck your Nec to?

Since forming in 2017, Green Lung has celebrated nature and the ways of olde, often through a lens of freewheeling paganism. Their earliest material saturated sylvan rituals with fuzz and thunder, ensconcing songs in the Green haze of stoner metal. Black Harvest redirected attention to elements of occult rituals recalling 1970s horror films like The Wicker Man and The Blood on Satan’s Claw, placing a greater emphasis on hooky riffs and John Wright’s organ, while This Heathen Land adopted a backdrop rooted in history that found Green Lung wallowing in doomier arrangements. Necropolitan hews much closer to Black Harvest, crafting a bevy of heavy earworms and begetting their catchiest and most immediate platter to date. Conceptually, Necropolitan finds Green Lung drawing inspiration from the sprawling necropolis grounds built during the Victorian era to resolve the calculus of too many bodies and too few burial plots. The upkeep of these gardens collapsed in the 1960s, and since then Earth has slowly reclaimed and transformed these gravesites into pockets of wilderness, incidentally furnishing Necropolitan with a fascinating intersection of nature and the occult.

Reference points abound on Necropolitan, although Green Lung always adheres to their own guiding sonic principles. Vocalist Tom Templar’s voice strongly echoes Tobias Forge’s, and there’s also a smidge of Ian Gillan’s upper register as well,1 albeit with punky snottiness. Speaking of Gillan, “Necropolitan Line” is the best song Deep Purple never wrote (and might be my “Mambo No. 5”), and “Evil in This House” strikes me as a more upbeat musical take on Sabbath’s “Electric Funeral.” “Oxymandias” oozes with a swagger that reminds me of Clutch, “Black Magic Radio” marries the pop-forward sensibilities of Ghost with the heft of Black Sabbath or Cathedral, and closer “To the Gallows Born” begins with gorgeous harmonization reminiscent of “The Wellerman”2 before dipping into Wytch Hazel levels of lilting beauty.

Throughout Necropolitan Green Lung dispenses sharp performances in a lean package that offers enough to satisfy yet leaves me wanting more. Templar’s voice smolders as he directs listeners through Necropolitan’s lush landscapes. “Dance to the Grave” and “Black Magic Radio” mesh his top-notch croon with elephantine riffs while “Necropolitan Line” and “To the Gallows Born” gush with Templar’s sweltering magnetism. Guitarist Scott Black wields his fuzz tone with surgical precision, hitting swells and transitions with impeccable instincts and sexy tones (the solo into the bridge on “Oxymandias,” for example) while John Wright’s organ grinding ignites melodies with fabulous vintage verve. Meanwhile, bassist Joseph Ghast unchains a terrific low-end showcase with audible yet unobtrusive obbligatos (“Necropolitan Line,” “To the Gallows Born”) and drummer Matt Wiseman looses frills and fills with measured gusto (“Black Magic Radio,” “Evil in this House”). In all, everyone in Green Lung brings their A-game to Necropolitan.

Everything about Necropolitan leaves me wanting more, and I can’t stop listening to the damned thing. At forty-one minutes, it’s an irresistibly easy listen and has quickly become one of my most played albums this year. The guitar-and-keys interplay is exquisite, the grooves bowl me over with unholy spirit, and the choruses make a fool of me as I try to sing along. Admittedly, “Together in Death” lacks the indispensability of other tracks, and “Dance to the Grave” and “Black Magic Radio” blur together a tad one after the other, but these are minor cavils in what is one of the best damn stoner-adjacent releases this year. So don’t let Green Lung and their latest wares pass you by—hop a rail down “Necropolitan Line” and breathe in the Greatness.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 11th, 2026

Green Lung has always flirted with metal’s ponderous weight and classic rock’s sly melodicism, uniting two musical forces I love. Before I dove into metal whole hog, I spent years soaking up the classics. Rush and Boston were in constant rotation alongside Black Sabbath and Metallica, looping endlessly on my 5-disc CD stereo through high school and college. Gradually, my listening gave way to more extreme acts as I succumbed to what my mother endearingly calls ‘devil music.’ Despite my unflinching commitment to placing my immortal soul in peril, I just can’t resist acts that channel the music I grew up listening to, and London’s Green Lung sticks this balance expertly. Hypnotic grooves, bouncing riffs, and heartfelt vocals run rampant across Green Lung’s fourth album Necropolitan, invoking the rumble of ecclesiastical dynamite and ghoulish glee. But are Necropolitan’s enchanting atmospheres and retro pleasures enough to wreck your Nec to?

Since forming in 2017, Green Lung has celebrated nature and the ways of olde, often through a lens of freewheeling paganism. Their earliest material saturated sylvan rituals with fuzz and thunder, ensconcing songs in the Green haze of stoner metal. Black Harvest redirected attention to elements of occult rituals recalling 1970s horror films like The Wicker Man and The Blood on Satan’s Claw, placing a greater emphasis on hooky riffs and John Wright’s organ, while This Heathen Land adopted a backdrop rooted in history that found Green Lung wallowing in doomier arrangements. Necropolitan hews much closer to Black Harvest, crafting a bevy of heavy earworms and begetting their catchiest and most immediate platter to date. Conceptually, Necropolitan finds Green Lung drawing inspiration from the sprawling necropolis grounds built during the Victorian era to resolve the calculus of too many bodies and too few burial plots. The upkeep of these gardens collapsed in the 1960s, and since then Earth has slowly reclaimed and transformed these gravesites into pockets of wilderness, incidentally furnishing Necropolitan with a fascinating intersection of nature and the occult.

Reference points abound on Necropolitan, although Green Lung always adheres to their own guiding sonic principles. Vocalist Tom Templar’s voice strongly echoes Tobias Forge’s, and there’s also a smidge of Ian Gillan’s upper register as well,1 albeit with punky snottiness. Speaking of Gillan, “Necropolitan Line” is the best song Deep Purple never wrote (and might be my “Mambo No. 5”), and “Evil in This House” strikes me as a more upbeat musical take on Sabbath’s “Electric Funeral.” “Oxymandias” oozes with a swagger that reminds me of Clutch, “Black Magic Radio” marries the pop-forward sensibilities of Ghost with the heft of Black Sabbath or Cathedral, and closer “To the Gallows Born” begins with gorgeous harmonization reminiscent of “The Wellerman”2 before dipping into Wytch Hazel levels of lilting beauty.

Throughout Necropolitan Green Lung dispenses sharp performances in a lean package that offers enough to satisfy yet leaves me wanting more. Templar’s voice smolders as he directs listeners through Necropolitan’s lush landscapes. “Dance to the Grave” and “Black Magic Radio” mesh his top-notch croon with elephantine riffs while “Necropolitan Line” and “To the Gallows Born” gush with Templar’s sweltering magnetism. Guitarist Scott Black wields his fuzz tone with surgical precision, hitting swells and transitions with impeccable instincts and sexy tones (the solo into the bridge on “Oxymandias,” for example) while John Wright’s organ grinding ignites melodies with fabulous vintage verve. Meanwhile, bassist Joseph Ghast unchains a terrific low-end showcase with audible yet unobtrusive obbligatos (“Necropolitan Line,” “To the Gallows Born”) and drummer Matt Wiseman looses frills and fills with measured gusto (“Black Magic Radio,” “Evil in this House”). In all, everyone in Green Lung brings their A-game to Necropolitan.

Everything about Necropolitan leaves me wanting more, and I can’t stop listening to the damned thing. At forty-one minutes, it’s an irresistibly easy listen and has quickly become one of my most played albums this year. The guitar-and-keys interplay is exquisite, the grooves bowl me over with unholy spirit, and the choruses make a fool of me as I try to sing along. Admittedly, “Together in Death” lacks the indispensability of other tracks, and “Dance to the Grave” and “Black Magic Radio” blur together a tad one after the other, but these are minor cavils in what is one of the best damn stoner-adjacent releases this year. So don’t let Green Lung and their latest wares pass you by—hop a rail down “Necropolitan Line” and breathe in the Greatness.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 11th, 2026

Green Lung has always flirted with metal’s ponderous weight and classic rock’s sly melodicism, uniting two musical forces I love. Before I dove into metal whole hog, I spent years soaking up the classics. Rush and Boston were in constant rotation alongside Black Sabbath and Metallica, looping endlessly on my 5-disc CD stereo through high school and college. Gradually, my listening gave way to more extreme acts as I succumbed to what my mother endearingly calls ‘devil music.’ Despite my unflinching commitment to placing my immortal soul in peril, I just can’t resist acts that channel the music I grew up listening to, and London’s Green Lung sticks this balance expertly. Hypnotic grooves, bouncing riffs, and heartfelt vocals run rampant across Green Lung’s fourth album Necropolitan, invoking the rumble of ecclesiastical dynamite and ghoulish glee. But are Necropolitan’s enchanting atmospheres and retro pleasures enough to wreck your Nec to?

Since forming in 2017, Green Lung has celebrated nature and the ways of olde, often through a lens of freewheeling paganism. Their earliest material saturated sylvan rituals with fuzz and thunder, ensconcing songs in the Green haze of stoner metal. Black Harvest redirected attention to elements of occult rituals recalling 1970s horror films like The Wicker Man and The Blood on Satan’s Claw, placing a greater emphasis on hooky riffs and John Wright’s organ, while This Heathen Land adopted a backdrop rooted in history that found Green Lung wallowing in doomier arrangements. Necropolitan hews much closer to Black Harvest, crafting a bevy of heavy earworms and begetting their catchiest and most immediate platter to date. Conceptually, Necropolitan finds Green Lung drawing inspiration from the sprawling necropolis grounds built during the Victorian era to resolve the calculus of too many bodies and too few burial plots. The upkeep of these gardens collapsed in the 1960s, and since then Earth has slowly reclaimed and transformed these gravesites into pockets of wilderness, incidentally furnishing Necropolitan with a fascinating intersection of nature and the occult.

Reference points abound on Necropolitan, although Green Lung always adheres to their own guiding sonic principles. Vocalist Tom Templar’s voice strongly echoes Tobias Forge’s, and there’s also a smidge of Ian Gillan’s upper register as well,1 albeit with punky snottiness. Speaking of Gillan, “Necropolitan Line” is the best song Deep Purple never wrote (and might be my “Mambo No. 5”), and “Evil in This House” strikes me as a more upbeat musical take on Sabbath’s “Electric Funeral.” “Oxymandias” oozes with a swagger that reminds me of Clutch, “Black Magic Radio” marries the pop-forward sensibilities of Ghost with the heft of Black Sabbath or Cathedral, and closer “To the Gallows Born” begins with gorgeous harmonization reminiscent of “The Wellerman”2 before dipping into Wytch Hazel levels of lilting beauty.

Throughout Necropolitan Green Lung dispenses sharp performances in a lean package that offers enough to satisfy yet leaves me wanting more. Templar’s voice smolders as he directs listeners through Necropolitan’s lush landscapes. “Dance to the Grave” and “Black Magic Radio” mesh his top-notch croon with elephantine riffs while “Necropolitan Line” and “To the Gallows Born” gush with Templar’s sweltering magnetism. Guitarist Scott Black wields his fuzz tone with surgical precision, hitting swells and transitions with impeccable instincts and sexy tones (the solo into the bridge on “Oxymandias,” for example) while John Wright’s organ grinding ignites melodies with fabulous vintage verve. Meanwhile, bassist Joseph Ghast unchains a terrific low-end showcase with audible yet unobtrusive obbligatos (“Necropolitan Line,” “To the Gallows Born”) and drummer Matt Wiseman looses frills and fills with measured gusto (“Black Magic Radio,” “Evil in this House”). In all, everyone in Green Lung brings their A-game to Necropolitan.

Everything about Necropolitan leaves me wanting more, and I can’t stop listening to the damned thing. At forty-one minutes, it’s an irresistibly easy listen and has quickly become one of my most played albums this year. The guitar-and-keys interplay is exquisite, the grooves bowl me over with unholy spirit, and the choruses make a fool of me as I try to sing along. Admittedly, “Together in Death” lacks the indispensability of other tracks, and “Dance to the Grave” and “Black Magic Radio” blur together a tad one after the other, but these are minor cavils in what is one of the best damn stoner-adjacent releases this year. So don’t let Green Lung and their latest wares pass you by—hop a rail down “Necropolitan Line” and breathe in the Greatness.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 11th, 2026

Green Lung has always flirted with metal’s ponderous weight and classic rock’s sly melodicism, uniting two musical forces I love. Before I dove into metal whole hog, I spent years soaking up the classics. Rush and Boston were in constant rotation alongside Black Sabbath and Metallica, looping endlessly on my 5-disc CD stereo through high school and college. Gradually, my listening gave way to more extreme acts as I succumbed to what my mother endearingly calls ‘devil music.’ Despite my unflinching commitment to placing my immortal soul in peril, I just can’t resist acts that channel the music I grew up listening to, and London’s Green Lung sticks this balance expertly. Hypnotic grooves, bouncing riffs, and heartfelt vocals run rampant across Green Lung’s fourth album Necropolitan, invoking the rumble of ecclesiastical dynamite and ghoulish glee. But are Necropolitan’s enchanting atmospheres and retro pleasures enough to wreck your Nec to?

Since forming in 2017, Green Lung has celebrated nature and the ways of olde, often through a lens of freewheeling paganism. Their earliest material saturated sylvan rituals with fuzz and thunder, ensconcing songs in the Green haze of stoner metal. Black Harvest redirected attention to elements of occult rituals recalling 1970s horror films like The Wicker Man and The Blood on Satan’s Claw, placing a greater emphasis on hooky riffs and John Wright’s organ, while This Heathen Land adopted a backdrop rooted in history that found Green Lung wallowing in doomier arrangements. Necropolitan hews much closer to Black Harvest, crafting a bevy of heavy earworms and begetting their catchiest and most immediate platter to date. Conceptually, Necropolitan finds Green Lung drawing inspiration from the sprawling necropolis grounds built during the Victorian era to resolve the calculus of too many bodies and too few burial plots. The upkeep of these gardens collapsed in the 1960s, and since then Earth has slowly reclaimed and transformed these gravesites into pockets of wilderness, incidentally furnishing Necropolitan with a fascinating intersection of nature and the occult.

Reference points abound on Necropolitan, although Green Lung always adheres to their own guiding sonic principles. Vocalist Tom Templar’s voice strongly echoes Tobias Forge’s, and there’s also a smidge of Ian Gillan’s upper register as well,1 albeit with punky snottiness. Speaking of Gillan, “Necropolitan Line” is the best song Deep Purple never wrote (and might be my “Mambo No. 5”), and “Evil in This House” strikes me as a more upbeat musical take on Sabbath’s “Electric Funeral.” “Oxymandias” oozes with a swagger that reminds me of Clutch, “Black Magic Radio” marries the pop-forward sensibilities of Ghost with the heft of Black Sabbath or Cathedral, and closer “To the Gallows Born” begins with gorgeous harmonization reminiscent of “The Wellerman”2 before dipping into Wytch Hazel levels of lilting beauty.

Throughout Necropolitan Green Lung dispenses sharp performances in a lean package that offers enough to satisfy yet leaves me wanting more. Templar’s voice smolders as he directs listeners through Necropolitan’s lush landscapes. “Dance to the Grave” and “Black Magic Radio” mesh his top-notch croon with elephantine riffs while “Necropolitan Line” and “To the Gallows Born” gush with Templar’s sweltering magnetism. Guitarist Scott Black wields his fuzz tone with surgical precision, hitting swells and transitions with impeccable instincts and sexy tones (the solo into the bridge on “Oxymandias,” for example) while John Wright’s organ grinding ignites melodies with fabulous vintage verve. Meanwhile, bassist Joseph Ghast unchains a terrific low-end showcase with audible yet unobtrusive obbligatos (“Necropolitan Line,” “To the Gallows Born”) and drummer Matt Wiseman looses frills and fills with measured gusto (“Black Magic Radio,” “Evil in this House”). In all, everyone in Green Lung brings their A-game to Necropolitan.

Everything about Necropolitan leaves me wanting more, and I can’t stop listening to the damned thing. At forty-one minutes, it’s an irresistibly easy listen and has quickly become one of my most played albums this year. The guitar-and-keys interplay is exquisite, the grooves bowl me over with unholy spirit, and the choruses make a fool of me as I try to sing along. Admittedly, “Together in Death” lacks the indispensability of other tracks, and “Dance to the Grave” and “Black Magic Radio” blur together a tad one after the other, but these are minor cavils in what is one of the best damn stoner-adjacent releases this year. So don’t let Green Lung and their latest wares pass you by—hop a rail down “Necropolitan Line” and breathe in the Greatness.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 11th, 2026

Green Lung has always flirted with metal’s ponderous weight and classic rock’s sly melodicism, uniting two musical forces I love. Before I dove into metal whole hog, I spent years soaking up the classics. Rush and Boston were in constant rotation alongside Black Sabbath and Metallica, looping endlessly on my 5-disc CD stereo through high school and college. Gradually, my listening gave way to more extreme acts as I succumbed to what my mother endearingly calls ‘devil music.’ Despite my unflinching commitment to placing my immortal soul in peril, I just can’t resist acts that channel the music I grew up listening to, and London’s Green Lung sticks this balance expertly. Hypnotic grooves, bouncing riffs, and heartfelt vocals run rampant across Green Lung’s fourth album Necropolitan, invoking the rumble of ecclesiastical dynamite and ghoulish glee. But are Necropolitan’s enchanting atmospheres and retro pleasures enough to wreck your Nec to?

Since forming in 2017, Green Lung has celebrated nature and the ways of olde, often through a lens of freewheeling paganism. Their earliest material saturated sylvan rituals with fuzz and thunder, ensconcing songs in the Green haze of stoner metal. Black Harvest redirected attention to elements of occult rituals recalling 1970s horror films like The Wicker Man and The Blood on Satan’s Claw, placing a greater emphasis on hooky riffs and John Wright’s organ, while This Heathen Land adopted a backdrop rooted in history that found Green Lung wallowing in doomier arrangements. Necropolitan hews much closer to Black Harvest, crafting a bevy of heavy earworms and begetting their catchiest and most immediate platter to date. Conceptually, Necropolitan finds Green Lung drawing inspiration from the sprawling necropolis grounds built during the Victorian era to resolve the calculus of too many bodies and too few burial plots. The upkeep of these gardens collapsed in the 1960s, and since then Earth has slowly reclaimed and transformed these gravesites into pockets of wilderness, incidentally furnishing Necropolitan with a fascinating intersection of nature and the occult.

Reference points abound on Necropolitan, although Green Lung always adheres to their own guiding sonic principles. Vocalist Tom Templar’s voice strongly echoes Tobias Forge’s, and there’s also a smidge of Ian Gillan’s upper register as well,1 albeit with punky snottiness. Speaking of Gillan, “Necropolitan Line” is the best song Deep Purple never wrote (and might be my “Mambo No. 5”), and “Evil in This House” strikes me as a more upbeat musical take on Sabbath’s “Electric Funeral.” “Oxymandias” oozes with a swagger that reminds me of Clutch, “Black Magic Radio” marries the pop-forward sensibilities of Ghost with the heft of Black Sabbath or Cathedral, and closer “To the Gallows Born” begins with gorgeous harmonization reminiscent of “The Wellerman”2 before dipping into Wytch Hazel levels of lilting beauty.

Throughout Necropolitan Green Lung dispenses sharp performances in a lean package that offers enough to satisfy yet leaves me wanting more. Templar’s voice smolders as he directs listeners through Necropolitan’s lush landscapes. “Dance to the Grave” and “Black Magic Radio” mesh his top-notch croon with elephantine riffs while “Necropolitan Line” and “To the Gallows Born” gush with Templar’s sweltering magnetism. Guitarist Scott Black wields his fuzz tone with surgical precision, hitting swells and transitions with impeccable instincts and sexy tones (the solo into the bridge on “Oxymandias,” for example) while John Wright’s organ grinding ignites melodies with fabulous vintage verve. Meanwhile, bassist Joseph Ghast unchains a terrific low-end showcase with audible yet unobtrusive obbligatos (“Necropolitan Line,” “To the Gallows Born”) and drummer Matt Wiseman looses frills and fills with measured gusto (“Black Magic Radio,” “Evil in this House”). In all, everyone in Green Lung brings their A-game to Necropolitan.

Everything about Necropolitan leaves me wanting more, and I can’t stop listening to the damned thing. At forty-one minutes, it’s an irresistibly easy listen and has quickly become one of my most played albums this year. The guitar-and-keys interplay is exquisite, the grooves bowl me over with unholy spirit, and the choruses make a fool of me as I try to sing along. Admittedly, “Together in Death” lacks the indispensability of other tracks, and “Dance to the Grave” and “Black Magic Radio” blur together a tad one after the other, but these are minor cavils in what is one of the best damn stoner-adjacent releases this year. So don’t let Green Lung and their latest wares pass you by—hop a rail down “Necropolitan Line” and breathe in the Greatness.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 11th, 2026

At their best, Dimmu Borgir exudes a wicked majesty, governing the forces of darkness with dispassionate contempt and an utter certainty in their ungodly mandate. This attitude, along with the confluence of grandeur and melodrama, defines what initially drew me to Dimmu Borgir years ago, and what has kept me interested despite the interminable gaps between releases. Since forming in 1993, Shagrath and Silenoz have consistently delivered symphonic black metal that tempers the unrelenting acrimony of second-wave black metal with wistful melodies, sculpting an extensive emotional palette. In 2000, Dimmu Borgir enlisted Old Man’s Child’s Galder as lead guitarist, and the three of them penned bewitching black metal for a quarter century. As with all good things, though, it didn’t last, and Galder departed in 2024 to focus on Old Man’s Child once more. Given the shakeup of a longtime winning formula, do Shagrath and Silenoz silence naysayers with Grand Serpent Rising, or are listeners saddled with Temu Borgir?1

As ever, Dimmu Borgir discharges extravagant theater through the lens of black metal, drenching Grand Serpent Rising in haunting atmospherics and lush orchestrations. Since Death Cult Armageddon, the incorporation of symphonic elements has steadily grown more prominent, and over the years, these Norwegians have carved out a niche that exists somewhere between Gorgoroth and Nightwish. And like Cradle of Filth, Dimmu Borgir goes for baroque, though instead of luxuriating in garish excess, they compose with nuanced sophistication. Grand Serpent Rising is the culmination of the intervening albums, with Galder’s departure pushing Dimmu Borgir to fill the void he left with more deliberate arrangements. Thankfully, Grand Serpent Rising advances what yielded success for the band over the last couple decades, dredging textural depths and honing the intricate interplays of instrumentation that didn’t reach quite far enough on Eonian.

Though Shagrath and Silenoz shoulder many of Grand Serpent Rising’s performances, a handful of guests play pivotal roles in defining one of Dimmu Borgir’s best-sounding records. Longtime session and live drummer Daray gets an immediate boost, where the drumheads’ natural timbres and resonances leap out of the mix to imbue a thunderous dimension missing from Eonian (“The Qryptfarer,” “Phantom of the Nemesis”). The orchestrations and keyboards also integrate better on Grand Serpent Rising,2 their presence is more intentional and interwoven in lieu of Galder’s nimble lead work. None of this should suggest that the guitars take a backseat, though, as Silenoz and Kjell ‘Damage’ Karlsen (Chrome Division)3 pluck and shred with conviction as songs demand (check the intro to “Repository of Divine Transmutation” and the solo in “Ascent”). The riffs and leads merit attention as well, with soaring melodies (“Slik Minnes en Alkymist”), crystalline cleans (“As Seen in the Unseen”), and trem-picked offensives emboldening the Serpent. All the while, Shagrath croaks (“Slik Minnes en Alkymist”) and croons (“Ascent”), supplying one of black metal’s least abrasive vocal styles.

Dimmu Borgir prevails throughout Grand Serpent Rising, although a few issues from previous albums linger. At sixty-nine minutes long, Grand Serpent Rising sprawls. To be fair, the album is dynamic and intricate enough that parts rarely (if ever) feel repetitive, and proceedings slither quicker than the length suggests. Yet condensing the runtime by ten minutes would improve the overarching impact and effectiveness. Compounding and confounding the duration is the complexity of Grand Serpent Rising’s arrangements—they richly reward those with the patience to fully engage for multiple listens, but present a hurdle for impatient or distracted listening. Still, while the album isn’t perfect, these complaints pale in comparison to the triumph Dimmu Burger devises on Grand Serpent Rising.

In the end, Dimmu Borgir has written an album that refines their sound rather than reinventing it. If you’ve listened to any of their recent albums and formed an opinion, Grand Serpent Rising won’t change it. Instead, it proves that Dimmu remains as skilled as ever at creating opulent symphoblack, regardless of how long it takes between albums or what crucial personnel changes they endure. Dimmu Borgir perseveres For all tid, and if you’re not wholly opposed to flamboyant black metal on principle, their latest awaits to stimulate, captivate, and ensure your Grand Serpent’s Rising.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 22nd, 2026