#nuclearblastrecords — Public Fediverse posts

Immolation are the uncommon band that sits both on top of their chosen genre and outside of it simultaneously. As one of the titans of early days death metal, the natural inclination is to lump them in with all the other old school death acts from the late 80s and early 90s. While that wouldn’t be entirely wrong based on their Dawn of Possession debut, over time Immolation have evolved into something else – Still classic death metal, but much more too. And while their style can seem too opaque at times to tickle the casual OSDM lizard brain, there’s something truly primordial to their sound that exemplifies death metal like no other. They’ve also been the most consistent brand in death over the decades, releasing 11 albums of high-quality material with no duds. 2022s Acts of God saw the band move in a slightly different direction, stripping down some of their more extravagantly creative impulses and hardening around a muscular core of dissonance and punishing ugliness. Now comes Descent. What do founding members Robert Vigna and Ross Dolan have in store for us this time? You know it will be something enormous and crushing, but what else awaits your feeble ears?

In a nutshell, Descent is a continuation of what Immolation did on Acts of God, but the soundscape is now subject to a carefully curated tension between their usual penchant for brutality and dissonance and an on-and-off experimentation with a more grandiose and vaguely symphonic vibe. These diverse elements grate upon each other like opposing grindstones, and the result is often quite dramatic. Opener “These Vengeful Winds” is heavy as an anvil pyramid, crushing you beneath waves of corckscrewing, twisting riffs that feel too weighty to move, yet move they do like Cthulu’s hideous face tendrils. This is Immolation at their most basic and threatening, and it’s a grotesque joy to experience. “God’s Last Breath” delivers a crushing midtempo assault peppered with hateful guitar flourishes before lapsing into a massive stomping groove that feels dangerous and unhinged. Soon, everything goes utterly insane, and blastbeats and mind-flaying riffs try to unbalance your sanity. It’s special. It isn’t until “Bend Toward the Dark” arrives that Immolation show you all their cards. The song is pummeling and ridiculously heavy, and hidden in the swirling maelstrom is a vague SepticFlesh vibe that almost feels symphonic, but not quite. It’s strange, but it fits, and Ross Dolan extends his vocal range ever so slightly to sound more Deity-like.

Later cut, “Host” stands apart from the rest of Descent due to its unconventional and experimental approach. It feels like a fever dream in the way it leaps from idea to idea, and it can feel a bit disjointed, but it’s massive and rocks a relentlessly evil vibe that chills the bone marrow. It took several spins to “get it,” but once I got used to the strange ebb and flow, it worked more often than it didn’t. “False Ascent” is a direct, savage assault with little effort to be clever, and because of that, it hits extra hard. The closing title track is like the best moments of Immolation condensed into an almost 6-minute brain injection. It will destroy your body, but you need it nonetheless. Is everything this killer? Well, “Attriton” has many good pieces, but it doesn’t quite gel for me as a cohesive entity. Could I do without the instrumental “Banished”? Yes, as it does more to disrupt the album’s flow than add anything truly meaningful. At 42 minutes, Descent feels shorter and less overstuffed with ideas than Acts of God, and it’s easier to process. The production by Zack “Sometimes Friend o’ the Blog” Ohren is quite loud and confrontational, but less smashed than the DR 5 might suggest. The guitar tone is menacing as fuck, and the drums have a titanic force behind them. Most importantly, there’s enough cavern murk and scuzz to round out the existential dread Immolation traffics in.

I know it’s a waste of time to discuss how talented Immolation is at this point, but I’m going to anyway. Robert Vigna deserves his own wing in the Death Metal Guitarist Hall of Fame, and his strange style continues to bear rotting fruit at every turn of the thumbscrews. His playing is unlike anyone else, and his offbeat perspective on death metal riffing is why Immolation stand out as they do. He and Alex Bouks put on a clinic on how to decorate a death metal song with riff gold, and they build dark, threatening worlds as easily as you or I build a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. Ross Dolan is a tremendous death vocalist and always delivers the goods, and Steve Shalaty’s drumming is next-level insane and technical.

I agonized over how to score Descent. Ultimately, I prefer it over Acts of God, but, as with most Immolation albums, the qualitative differences are minor and come down to small personal preferences.1 It’s a metal truism that you can buy any Immolation release without fear of disappointment, and Descent will certainly please the filthy death masses. Immolation remain a rare, altered beast among other repellent horrors, painting their uniquely disturbing soundscapes across history and time.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast
Websites: immolation.info | immolation.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/immolation | instagram.com/immolation_band
Releases Worldwide: April 10th, 2026

Kenstrosity

It’s been said before, but it bears repeating: Immolation need no introduction. Far and away the most consistently great act in death metal, the New York troupe forge a deadly blade with each new release, familiar in design and function but meticulously crafted to rise with distinction. A discography unmarred by blemishes or misfires ensures that no matter where your point of entry, listeners new to Immolation’s fatally sharp weaponry will find themselves summarily eviscerated in short order. Twelve albums and thirty-eight years in, Immolation nests Descent inside an already legendary catalog with astonishing ease.

Drawing from the rich pool of their own history, Immolation have little need to reference their peers for ideas or inspiration on Descent. Pulling the infernal energy of Close to a World Below (“These Vengeful Winds,” “Attrition”), merging it with the violent groove of Majesty and Decay (“The Ephemeral Curse,” “Descent”), and embedding purposeful structure into the resulting mesh by way of Atonement’s sweeping, multi-phase phrasing and intentionally scorched layers (“God’s Last Breath,” “Host”), Descent honors its ancestry in monstrous fashion. Rare is the death metal act that exudes class and elegance, but Immolation embodies those traits in Descent’s grander songwriting—particularly evocative of Communion-era SepticFlesh—which makes the whole all that much more imposing. That’s to say nothing of the riffs, which have the same verve and vitality as ever without sacrificing an iota of Immolation’s core identity—an astounding feat that needs to be heard to be believed.

Descent by Immolation

As water-cooler discussions in AMG HQ’s back alleys and seedy underbellies confirm, Descent creates an environment solely populated with muscular apex predators, leaving the staff gnashing teeth and sharpening claws to defend their favorite track as the best item on hand. Mine are “Adversary,” “Bend Towards the Dark,” and “False Ascent,” primarily because they invoke a horde of particularly fiery trem-picked leads, flourishes, and shimmers that provide a bright contrast to Immolation’s trademark deep roars, stomping motifs, and precisely punctuated percussion. Equally compelling, high-impact cuts like “The Ephemeral Curse,” “Attrition,” and gargantuan closer “Descent” boast the same or similar features, applied in other ways or in alternate locations to create varied textures and high-detail points of interest. No song proper drops the ball at any point, and at a remarkably tight 42 minutes, the album as a whole boasts ridiculous levels of immediacy and engagement.

Immediate though Descent is, time and attention are its best friends. Revisits unfurl and intensify Immolation’s latest salvo such that it effortlessly deflects distraction. Harmonized layers, multifaceted riffs, and tumbling transitions across the record expand in scope and grandeur in direct correlation to the number of times I hear it. Strict structuring and highly compartmentalized compositions loosen, relax, and bleed into rich sonic hombre, betraying an intricacy and sophistication that such blunt force instrumentation shouldn’t be capable of achieving. Even my initial misgivings towards penultimate interlude “Banished,” which feels fluffy and insubstantial at first, gained some justification as the days and weeks spent with Descent progress. What once felt like a rude interruption now feels more like a palate cleanser for the final course. Still, I could cut it from the runtime. Even though the ride to the end might feel a tad rougher for it, I am not convinced I would wholly miss the padding. My only other critique of import concerns production. While incredibly well-mixed all things considered, Descent is loud, crushed to within an inch of its life—a life that barely breathes only by the grace of meaty guitar tones and a snappy snare.

As I grow closer to this world below, I feel nothing but reverence for an act whose unflappable dedication to the death metal craft knows no equal. I am awestruck by the longevity of Immolation’s back catalog and the remarkable quality of their modern entries. Descent is no exception. It is, instead, exceptional. Taste amongst my peers polarizes to some extent as to which Immolation era earns the most flowers, but recognition of their collective elite status is universal. This twelfth album, soon upon us, perpetuates that standard and may even prove, with time, to have elevated it once again. At the very least, it ranks among my personal favorites by these New Yorkers. It is my intention, consequently, to spend every free moment basking in its consuming flame.

Rating: Great!

Conjurer – Unself Review

By Dear Hollow

I’m beginning to think Mire was a fluke. I’m not saying that as a bad thing, but I remember listening to Conjurer’s debut and thinking that it was a top post-metal album steeped in atmosphere and enigma, tied together with vicious vocals and vindictive weight.1 So then, I was immensely let down by follow-up Páthos because it seemed to shed substance for novelty: if I’m being honest, its stark dichotomy of heartwrenching melodies and kickass riffs felt inauthentic and shoehorned. Thus, I approached Unself carefully, hoping for something like Mire but tentatively expecting Páthos. What I got, however, was neither. You see, Mire was a fluke not in quality but in approach, because Unself proves that Conjurer prioritizes riff, weaponizing it for the very human tale of the deconstruction of self.

The title track enters with what I would expect from an early 2010s metalcore band intro,2 the Americana cover of 1919 gospel song “I Can’t Feel At Home in this World Anymore” morphing into a full-on dissodeath takedown via a barb of squealing dissonance. While this and the final song, “The World is Not My Home” seem to tie up the album into a thematic deconstruction of religion, Unself is a bit more complex than that. It reflects the journey of vocalist/guitarist Dani Nightingale through an autism diagnosis and discovery of them being non-binary. Similarly reflecting this complexity and remaining incredibly difficult to neatly categorize its sonic assault, Conjurer lays a foundation of post-metal’s meandering rhythmic hulk with death metal intensity, sludge tonal abuse, and a sleek modern production built atop, with – in Unself – hints of black metal. It’s not the second coming of Mire – it’s Unself and undeniably on-brand and completely authentic – and that’s perfectly okay for Conjurer.

Unself’s structure shows Conjurer’s devotion to natural growth, a welcome change from the shoehorned Páthos – largely because Nightingale’s sonic struggles with self-discovery undergird the movements. The two halves of the album are divided into three tracks, bookended by the Huntsmen-influenced thematic motif of the aforesaid “I Can’t Feel at Home in This World” morphed into ugly beatdowns and yearning sadness. The meat of the two suites fall into one of three categories: the relatively traditional post-metal waltzing of Amenra’s heavier moments in sprawling weight (“All Apart,” “Foreclosure”), the yearning chord progressions and melodies recalling Páthos’ emotive emphasis to a more effective degree (“There Is No Warmth,” “Let Us Live”), or the outright assaults of blackened sludge and -core breakdowns (“The Searing Glow,” “Hang Them in Your Head”). As the album progresses, so does the intensity. The latter, the most vicious of the bunch, feel like they nearly boil over, nearly forsaking the post-metal attack for an obscure death metal attack a la Convulsing or Adversarial – making interlude “A Plea” truly the eye of the storm in its minimalist approach, distant vocal samples, and acoustic strumming.

The balance between novelty and songwriting remains an issue for Conjurer. Because of the trichotomy of its sounds, Unself offers different levels of quality. At first, the more traditional post-metal cuts (“All Apart,” “Foreclosure”) feel like absolute bangers, touched with darkness and harmony – but then you hear the other two approaches and they suddenly feel overly long and uneventful in comparison. Likewise, there are several tracks that could stand a good trimming, simply because many feature a singular abrupt tonal shift from melodic to dissonant in its last respective third (“There is No Warmth,” “Let Us Live”). A more divisive take is that Conjurer’s production is very modern and sleek, the down-tuned leads more akin to 2010s metalcore acts like The Plot in You or The Sorrow, an accessibility largely contradicting post-metal’s historic opaqueness (Neurosis) and death metal’s hostility (Bolt Thrower), so while I liked its more “loud and ouchy” tones, others may not be so persuaded.

The novelty and the emotion are resolved in Unself, as Conjurer finally feels authentic and realized. No, Unself is not better than Mire, but it feels more genuine and human than Páthos, offering some of the act’s most intense material to date while chronicling the dismantling of the self into something more authentic. Not only does Dani Nightingale embark on a journey of self-discovery, but Conjurer does too. I’m just happy to be along for the ride.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast Records
Websites: conjureruk.bandcamp.com | conjureruk.com | facebook.com/conjureruk
Releases Worldwide: October 24th, 2025

#2025 #30 #Adversarial #Amenra #BlackMetal #BoltThrower #BritishMetal #Conjurer #Convulsing #DeathMetal #DissonantDeathMetal #Huntsmen #Neurosis #NuclearBlastRecords #Oct25 #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #SludgeMetal #TheOngoingConcept #ThePlotInYou #TheSorrow #Unself #VeilOfMaya

Testament – Para Bellum Review

By Steel Druhm

The greats of the original American thrash scene have fallen on hard times of late. Metallica dropped a predictably disappointing platter that critics still hailed as genius, Megadeth is Megadeth, Anthrax is MIA, and Slayer is in assisted living. These days, it seems like only Overkill still stands strong and defiant, defending the old guard. But let us not forget about Testament. I’ll always have a soft spot in my jaded metal heart for them. I fondly remember seeing them open for Slayer back in 87 when no one knew who they were and their debut was weeks from dropping. Despite a stereotypically unfriendly Slayer crowd, they won us over fast with macho thrash and Chuck Billy’s larger-than-life presence. Those early albums were stone-cold classics, and they’ve weathered the storms of time and trend without too many disasters. Still, thrash is a fickle mistress, and diminishing return stalks us all. That brings us to album 13, Para Bellum. Can these olden dawgs deliver something fresh and vital? They certainly bring some surprises to the party this time at the very least.

Things kick off intensely with “For the Love of Pain,” which is fast and furious thrash with a heaping helping of black metal influence. Some sections feel like epic second-wave blasting, and though Testament dabbled in this sound before, this is closer to Eric Petterson’s Dragonlord project than the band have drifted before. I don’t dislike it, and the blackened elements give their sound a kick in the arse for sure. They even cram in some djenty bits to further shake the stew. “Infanticide A.I.” keeps the blackened elements for a raging thrasher that borders on grind at times. Riffs fly every which way, Chuck sounds genuinely insane, and the drums blast you a new asshole for free. It’s not what I consider a Testament classic, but it shows these guys can still bring it hard when they want. From there, things wander around a bunch. You get a big, epic dose of emotional power balladry in “Meant to Be,” where Testament flexes their emo sadboi muscles and throw major pathos and beautiful playing your way. Then they digress into hard rock/metal light on “Nature of the Beast.” This sounds like Testament covering a Saxon song, and that idea sounds better on paper than on wax.

Oddly, most of my favorite tracks arrive late in the game. Starting with “Room 117,” Testament lock into a late-album groove with slick, memorable writing that sticks like a greased-up prison shank. It’s a slick blend of vintage Testament and classic metal, and they pull it off perfectly with scads of great vocal hooks and memorable guitar moments. The chorus is a winner, and it reminds me of the stuff off Practice What You Preach. “Havana Syndrome” is even better, finding that sweet spot between the classic Testament sound and 80s metal, with a distinct NWoBHM influence in the leads. The closing title track is overstuffed with ideas, but most of them are good, and the blend of thrash, classic metal, and blackened bits works well. Are there downers? Well, I don’t love the aforementioned “Nature of the Beast,” and “High Noon” with its Wild West gunslinger theme is cheesy as fook. That leaves Para Bellum a mixed bag of nuts and bolts, and the band’s genre-hopping makes the album feel incohesive at times, but there are more wins than losses on the scoreboard.

Given the musical talent that adorns a Testament album, you know you’ll get a cosmic fuckton of highly polished playing, and Para Bellum is full of impressive performances. Eric Peterson and Alex Skolnick are as good a guitar tandem as there is, and no matter what genre they dip into, they do it rich, creamy justice. The level of ferocity they lock into on tracks like “Infanticide A.I.” is shocking for greybeards like them, and the sheer emotional payout on “Meant to Be” is something else. Steve DiGiorgio is a bass legend, and he’s fairly audible on most tracks, his bubbling, rumbling basslines adding depth and weight to the material. New drummer Chris Dovas (ex-Seven Spires) is a top-level kitman, providing a large collection of beats, fills, rolls, and raw thunder. Do I wish Gene Hoglan were back there still? Of course. Can Dovas get the job done? Absolutely. And then there’s Big Chuck. He sounds youthful, large, and in charge, showing a lot more versatility than you might expect as he moves from thrash barks to blackened screams and clean singing. Talent is everywhere, and only a few songwriting kerfuffles dent the soup can.

So Testament lands on the right side of the thrash grave for another release. Para Bellum won’t replace the debut or The New Order in your hearts, but it’s a worthy addition to their oeuvre and shows them embracing diverse elements rather than just rehashing old ideas. Kudos to them for that! Keep on aging gracefully, gents.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast
Websites: testamentlegions.com/site | facebook.com/testamentlegions | instagram.com/testamentofficial
Releases Worldwide: October 10th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AmericanMetal #NuclearBlastRecords #Oct25 #ParaBellum #Review #Reviews #Testament #ThrashMetal #Warbringer