#polishmetal — Public Fediverse posts

After weeks of hacking through uncharted wilderness, you break through the brush and into a large clearing. Ruins of long-abandoned homes and shops line the main drag. You walk down what was once a bustling Main Street, which eventually leads to a large and overgrown village green. In the center stands a modest and surprisingly intact…church? Sepulcher? Town hall? You’re unsure, but at least you know you didn’t pay for a wild goose chase. A suspiciously knowledgeable drunk in a nameless bar told you about a building in a long-forgotten town in what would—in a different universe—become Warsaw, Poland. Built by the trio Torpor, the halls beneath this temple promise mystery, danger, ancient power, and above all, treasure. So, intrepid adventurer, do you have what it takes to brave this Đungeon Đescent?

As you cross the threshold and make your “Entrance,” the atmosphere is transient and expeditious, the lilting melody worthy of adventure. It’s not long before you find the hidden staircase and descend, “Trespassing the Sanctuary” proper. Initial impressions of Mike Magister IV’s lo-fi tremolos and Bloodhammer’s blast beats would indicate a largely blackened structure, but Torpor is not so one-note. Franciszek Archont’s clear and clean pipes echo along the walls and reveal Đungeon Đescent to truly be trad/heavy metal by way of Bathory. Even as you square off with an “Armoured Skeleton,” you can’t help but appreciate how the punky tilt of its percussive attacks matches flawlessly with its searing axe work. Wandering through these underground halls, the seamless mix of early black metal’s intensity and grit with sword and sorcery atmosphere makes this a unique yet familiar Đungeon Đescent.

On, the dungeon descends. Like a bard or a storyteller in a tavern, Archont narrates your journey, evoking Blind Guardian’s iconic Hansi Kürsch. He shies from naught, even as the “Đungeon Đwellers” squeal their alarm on ancient, echoing strings and begin to hunt you down, the first trespasser they’ve known in ages. Harried further into the tunnels, you eventually lose your pursuers, marked by the slick bass solo rumbling and bouncing further into the distance. In the chase, though, you’ve lost your way! Wandering aimlessly, your hopes rise as you enter a chamber whose blast beats and acoustic flourishes recall the “…Sanctuary” above. Alas, the exit this is not! A monstrous creature stands at the far end of the chamber, manning a terrifying, nigh mythical machine: the “Polybolos.”1 Steel-tipped bolts fly toward you with a triumphant, glorious rhythm, echoing the machine’s name as they miss and clang on the wall behind you.

After all the dangers you’ve faced on this Đungeon Đescent, the “Polybolos” was the breaking point, and you’ve never wanted to “Return to the Surface” more. The walls listen maliciously as your panic skyrockets with Bloodhammer’s methodically increasing tempo. In this mad dash for safety, a moment of clarity stops you dead in your tracks. You will never leave this place. You will die here. With this realization, Magister IV’s acoustic musings transform into a frantic and gritty solo, his strings’ screams matching your own. As you tire and accept this death sentence, you decide it will be far better to pass away in a daydream than to remain rooted in this hell of Torpor’s creation. And so, you drift off. Lo-fi scalar riffs and medieval strings color the scenes of your memories. One “Scythian Chase” among many, you lead hordes of horse like thunderous double bass down the planes to torture and scalp your enemies for the queen. Here at the end, as you remember with advantage what feats you did that day, a thrumming bassline and nostalgically raw solo gently shepherd you into the great silence.

Not every D&D session ends happily, but as your DM rips up your character sheet, you realize Torpor’s Đungeon Đescent was a hell of a ride. It’s fairly short, clocking in at 32 minutes, but that half hour is filled to the brim with athletic and acrobatic songcraft. The mix, which is spacious and gritty, only amplifies the impressive performances across the board—especially Archont, whose vocals are undeniably the star of the show. A unique reconstruction of known touchpoints, Torpor’s debut is accessible, nostalgic, and instantly enjoyable. Your character may not have found the treasure, but in checking out Đungeon Đescent in the first place, you sure did.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: July 24th, 2026

After weeks of hacking through uncharted wilderness, you break through the brush and into a large clearing. Ruins of long-abandoned homes and shops line the main drag. You walk down what was once a bustling Main Street, which eventually leads to a large and overgrown village green. In the center stands a modest and surprisingly intact…church? Sepulcher? Town hall? You’re unsure, but at least you know you didn’t pay for a wild goose chase. A suspiciously knowledgeable drunk in a nameless bar told you about a building in a long-forgotten town in what would—in a different universe—become Warsaw, Poland. Built by the trio Torpor, the halls beneath this temple promise mystery, danger, ancient power, and above all, treasure. So, intrepid adventurer, do you have what it takes to brave this Đungeon Đescent?

As you cross the threshold and make your “Entrance,” the atmosphere is transient and expeditious, the lilting melody worthy of adventure. It’s not long before you find the hidden staircase and descend, “Trespassing the Sanctuary” proper. Initial impressions of Mike Magister IV’s lo-fi tremolos and Bloodhammer’s blast beats would indicate a largely blackened structure, but Torpor is not so one-note. Franciszek Archont’s clear and clean pipes echo along the walls and reveal Đungeon Đescent to truly be trad/heavy metal by way of Bathory. Even as you square off with an “Armoured Skeleton,” you can’t help but appreciate how the punky tilt of its percussive attacks matches flawlessly with its searing axe work. Wandering through these underground halls, the seamless mix of early black metal’s intensity and grit with sword and sorcery atmosphere makes this a unique yet familiar Đungeon Đescent.

On, the dungeon descends. Like a bard or a storyteller in a tavern, Archont narrates your journey, evoking Blind Guardian’s iconic Hansi Kürsch. He shies from naught, even as the “Đungeon Đwellers” squeal their alarm on ancient, echoing strings and begin to hunt you down, the first trespasser they’ve known in ages. Harried further into the tunnels, you eventually lose your pursuers, marked by the slick bass solo rumbling and bouncing further into the distance. In the chase, though, you’ve lost your way! Wandering aimlessly, your hopes rise as you enter a chamber whose blast beats and acoustic flourishes recall the “…Sanctuary” above. Alas, the exit this is not! A monstrous creature stands at the far end of the chamber, manning a terrifying, nigh mythical machine: the “Polybolos.”1 Steel-tipped bolts fly toward you with a triumphant, glorious rhythm, echoing the machine’s name as they miss and clang on the wall behind you.

After all the dangers you’ve faced on this Đungeon Đescent, the “Polybolos” was the breaking point, and you’ve never wanted to “Return to the Surface” more. The walls listen maliciously as your panic skyrockets with Bloodhammer’s methodically increasing tempo. In this mad dash for safety, a moment of clarity stops you dead in your tracks. You will never leave this place. You will die here. With this realization, Magister IV’s acoustic musings transform into a frantic and gritty solo, his strings’ screams matching your own. As you tire and accept this death sentence, you decide it will be far better to pass away in a daydream than to remain rooted in this hell of Torpor’s creation. And so, you drift off. Lo-fi scalar riffs and medieval strings color the scenes of your memories. One “Scythian Chase” among many, you lead hordes of horse like thunderous double bass down the planes to torture and scalp your enemies for the queen. Here at the end, as you remember with advantage what feats you did that day, a thrumming bassline and nostalgically raw solo gently shepherd you into the great silence.

Not every D&D session ends happily, but as your DM rips up your character sheet, you realize Torpor’s Đungeon Đescent was a hell of a ride. It’s fairly short, clocking in at 32 minutes, but that half hour is filled to the brim with athletic and acrobatic songcraft. The mix, which is spacious and gritty, only amplifies the impressive performances across the board—especially Archont, whose vocals are undeniably the star of the show. A unique reconstruction of known touchpoints, Torpor’s debut is accessible, nostalgic, and instantly enjoyable. Your character may not have found the treasure, but in checking out Đungeon Đescent in the first place, you sure did.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: July 24th, 2026

After weeks of hacking through uncharted wilderness, you break through the brush and into a large clearing. Ruins of long-abandoned homes and shops line the main drag. You walk down what was once a bustling Main Street, which eventually leads to a large and overgrown village green. In the center stands a modest and surprisingly intact…church? Sepulcher? Town hall? You’re unsure, but at least you know you didn’t pay for a wild goose chase. A suspiciously knowledgeable drunk in a nameless bar told you about a building in a long-forgotten town in what would—in a different universe—become Warsaw, Poland. Built by the trio Torpor, the halls beneath this temple promise mystery, danger, ancient power, and above all, treasure. So, intrepid adventurer, do you have what it takes to brave this Đungeon Đescent?

As you cross the threshold and make your “Entrance,” the atmosphere is transient and expeditious, the lilting melody worthy of adventure. It’s not long before you find the hidden staircase and descend, “Trespassing the Sanctuary” proper. Initial impressions of Mike Magister IV’s lo-fi tremolos and Bloodhammer’s blast beats would indicate a largely blackened structure, but Torpor is not so one-note. Franciszek Archont’s clear and clean pipes echo along the walls and reveal Đungeon Đescent to truly be trad/heavy metal by way of Bathory. Even as you square off with an “Armoured Skeleton,” you can’t help but appreciate how the punky tilt of its percussive attacks matches flawlessly with its searing axe work. Wandering through these underground halls, the seamless mix of early black metal’s intensity and grit with sword and sorcery atmosphere makes this a unique yet familiar Đungeon Đescent.

On, the dungeon descends. Like a bard or a storyteller in a tavern, Archont narrates your journey, evoking Blind Guardian’s iconic Hansi Kürsch. He shies from naught, even as the “Đungeon Đwellers” squeal their alarm on ancient, echoing strings and begin to hunt you down, the first trespasser they’ve known in ages. Harried further into the tunnels, you eventually lose your pursuers, marked by the slick bass solo rumbling and bouncing further into the distance. In the chase, though, you’ve lost your way! Wandering aimlessly, your hopes rise as you enter a chamber whose blast beats and acoustic flourishes recall the “…Sanctuary” above. Alas, the exit this is not! A monstrous creature stands at the far end of the chamber, manning a terrifying, nigh mythical machine: the “Polybolos.”1 Steel-tipped bolts fly toward you with a triumphant, glorious rhythm, echoing the machine’s name as they miss and clang on the wall behind you.

After all the dangers you’ve faced on this Đungeon Đescent, the “Polybolos” was the breaking point, and you’ve never wanted to “Return to the Surface” more. The walls listen maliciously as your panic skyrockets with Bloodhammer’s methodically increasing tempo. In this mad dash for safety, a moment of clarity stops you dead in your tracks. You will never leave this place. You will die here. With this realization, Magister IV’s acoustic musings transform into a frantic and gritty solo, his strings’ screams matching your own. As you tire and accept this death sentence, you decide it will be far better to pass away in a daydream than to remain rooted in this hell of Torpor’s creation. And so, you drift off. Lo-fi scalar riffs and medieval strings color the scenes of your memories. One “Scythian Chase” among many, you lead hordes of horse like thunderous double bass down the planes to torture and scalp your enemies for the queen. Here at the end, as you remember with advantage what feats you did that day, a thrumming bassline and nostalgically raw solo gently shepherd you into the great silence.

Not every D&D session ends happily, but as your DM rips up your character sheet, you realize Torpor’s Đungeon Đescent was a hell of a ride. It’s fairly short, clocking in at 32 minutes, but that half hour is filled to the brim with athletic and acrobatic songcraft. The mix, which is spacious and gritty, only amplifies the impressive performances across the board—especially Archont, whose vocals are undeniably the star of the show. A unique reconstruction of known touchpoints, Torpor’s debut is accessible, nostalgic, and instantly enjoyable. Your character may not have found the treasure, but in checking out Đungeon Đescent in the first place, you sure did.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: July 24th, 2026

After weeks of hacking through uncharted wilderness, you break through the brush and into a large clearing. Ruins of long-abandoned homes and shops line the main drag. You walk down what was once a bustling Main Street, which eventually leads to a large and overgrown village green. In the center stands a modest and surprisingly intact…church? Sepulcher? Town hall? You’re unsure, but at least you know you didn’t pay for a wild goose chase. A suspiciously knowledgeable drunk in a nameless bar told you about a building in a long-forgotten town in what would—in a different universe—become Warsaw, Poland. Built by the trio Torpor, the halls beneath this temple promise mystery, danger, ancient power, and above all, treasure. So, intrepid adventurer, do you have what it takes to brave this Đungeon Đescent?

As you cross the threshold and make your “Entrance,” the atmosphere is transient and expeditious, the lilting melody worthy of adventure. It’s not long before you find the hidden staircase and descend, “Trespassing the Sanctuary” proper. Initial impressions of Mike Magister IV’s lo-fi tremolos and Bloodhammer’s blast beats would indicate a largely blackened structure, but Torpor is not so one-note. Franciszek Archont’s clear and clean pipes echo along the walls and reveal Đungeon Đescent to truly be trad/heavy metal by way of Bathory. Even as you square off with an “Armoured Skeleton,” you can’t help but appreciate how the punky tilt of its percussive attacks matches flawlessly with its searing axe work. Wandering through these underground halls, the seamless mix of early black metal’s intensity and grit with sword and sorcery atmosphere makes this a unique yet familiar Đungeon Đescent.

On, the dungeon descends. Like a bard or a storyteller in a tavern, Archont narrates your journey, evoking Blind Guardian’s iconic Hansi Kürsch. He shies from naught, even as the “Đungeon Đwellers” squeal their alarm on ancient, echoing strings and begin to hunt you down, the first trespasser they’ve known in ages. Harried further into the tunnels, you eventually lose your pursuers, marked by the slick bass solo rumbling and bouncing further into the distance. In the chase, though, you’ve lost your way! Wandering aimlessly, your hopes rise as you enter a chamber whose blast beats and acoustic flourishes recall the “…Sanctuary” above. Alas, the exit this is not! A monstrous creature stands at the far end of the chamber, manning a terrifying, nigh mythical machine: the “Polybolos.”1 Steel-tipped bolts fly toward you with a triumphant, glorious rhythm, echoing the machine’s name as they miss and clang on the wall behind you.

After all the dangers you’ve faced on this Đungeon Đescent, the “Polybolos” was the breaking point, and you’ve never wanted to “Return to the Surface” more. The walls listen maliciously as your panic skyrockets with Bloodhammer’s methodically increasing tempo. In this mad dash for safety, a moment of clarity stops you dead in your tracks. You will never leave this place. You will die here. With this realization, Magister IV’s acoustic musings transform into a frantic and gritty solo, his strings’ screams matching your own. As you tire and accept this death sentence, you decide it will be far better to pass away in a daydream than to remain rooted in this hell of Torpor’s creation. And so, you drift off. Lo-fi scalar riffs and medieval strings color the scenes of your memories. One “Scythian Chase” among many, you lead hordes of horse like thunderous double bass down the planes to torture and scalp your enemies for the queen. Here at the end, as you remember with advantage what feats you did that day, a thrumming bassline and nostalgically raw solo gently shepherd you into the great silence.

Not every D&D session ends happily, but as your DM rips up your character sheet, you realize Torpor’s Đungeon Đescent was a hell of a ride. It’s fairly short, clocking in at 32 minutes, but that half hour is filled to the brim with athletic and acrobatic songcraft. The mix, which is spacious and gritty, only amplifies the impressive performances across the board—especially Archont, whose vocals are undeniably the star of the show. A unique reconstruction of known touchpoints, Torpor’s debut is accessible, nostalgic, and instantly enjoyable. Your character may not have found the treasure, but in checking out Đungeon Đescent in the first place, you sure did.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: July 24th, 2026

After weeks of hacking through uncharted wilderness, you break through the brush and into a large clearing. Ruins of long-abandoned homes and shops line the main drag. You walk down what was once a bustling Main Street, which eventually leads to a large and overgrown village green. In the center stands a modest and surprisingly intact…church? Sepulcher? Town hall? You’re unsure, but at least you know you didn’t pay for a wild goose chase. A suspiciously knowledgeable drunk in a nameless bar told you about a building in a long-forgotten town in what would—in a different universe—become Warsaw, Poland. Built by the trio Torpor, the halls beneath this temple promise mystery, danger, ancient power, and above all, treasure. So, intrepid adventurer, do you have what it takes to brave this Đungeon Đescent?

As you cross the threshold and make your “Entrance,” the atmosphere is transient and expeditious, the lilting melody worthy of adventure. It’s not long before you find the hidden staircase and descend, “Trespassing the Sanctuary” proper. Initial impressions of Mike Magister IV’s lo-fi tremolos and Bloodhammer’s blast beats would indicate a largely blackened structure, but Torpor is not so one-note. Franciszek Archont’s clear and clean pipes echo along the walls and reveal Đungeon Đescent to truly be trad/heavy metal by way of Bathory. Even as you square off with an “Armoured Skeleton,” you can’t help but appreciate how the punky tilt of its percussive attacks matches flawlessly with its searing axe work. Wandering through these underground halls, the seamless mix of early black metal’s intensity and grit with sword and sorcery atmosphere makes this a unique yet familiar Đungeon Đescent.

On, the dungeon descends. Like a bard or a storyteller in a tavern, Archont narrates your journey, evoking Blind Guardian’s iconic Hansi Kürsch. He shies from naught, even as the “Đungeon Đwellers” squeal their alarm on ancient, echoing strings and begin to hunt you down, the first trespasser they’ve known in ages. Harried further into the tunnels, you eventually lose your pursuers, marked by the slick bass solo rumbling and bouncing further into the distance. In the chase, though, you’ve lost your way! Wandering aimlessly, your hopes rise as you enter a chamber whose blast beats and acoustic flourishes recall the “…Sanctuary” above. Alas, the exit this is not! A monstrous creature stands at the far end of the chamber, manning a terrifying, nigh mythical machine: the “Polybolos.”1 Steel-tipped bolts fly toward you with a triumphant, glorious rhythm, echoing the machine’s name as they miss and clang on the wall behind you.

After all the dangers you’ve faced on this Đungeon Đescent, the “Polybolos” was the breaking point, and you’ve never wanted to “Return to the Surface” more. The walls listen maliciously as your panic skyrockets with Bloodhammer’s methodically increasing tempo. In this mad dash for safety, a moment of clarity stops you dead in your tracks. You will never leave this place. You will die here. With this realization, Magister IV’s acoustic musings transform into a frantic and gritty solo, his strings’ screams matching your own. As you tire and accept this death sentence, you decide it will be far better to pass away in a daydream than to remain rooted in this hell of Torpor’s creation. And so, you drift off. Lo-fi scalar riffs and medieval strings color the scenes of your memories. One “Scythian Chase” among many, you lead hordes of horse like thunderous double bass down the planes to torture and scalp your enemies for the queen. Here at the end, as you remember with advantage what feats you did that day, a thrumming bassline and nostalgically raw solo gently shepherd you into the great silence.

Not every D&D session ends happily, but as your DM rips up your character sheet, you realize Torpor’s Đungeon Đescent was a hell of a ride. It’s fairly short, clocking in at 32 minutes, but that half hour is filled to the brim with athletic and acrobatic songcraft. The mix, which is spacious and gritty, only amplifies the impressive performances across the board—especially Archont, whose vocals are undeniably the star of the show. A unique reconstruction of known touchpoints, Torpor’s debut is accessible, nostalgic, and instantly enjoyable. Your character may not have found the treasure, but in checking out Đungeon Đescent in the first place, you sure did.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dying Victims Productions
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: July 24th, 2026

In a time where one side-eyes many an image or video online for fear of its having been created with generative AI, it’s bemusing when an artist actively markets themselves as robotic. Calling themselves a “real-fiction metal band,” centering the project on the transmissions of powerful, hyper-intelligent cyborgs, and initially appearing to have zero discoverable human presence on the internet, Polish act Eutanor might have gone a little too far with the gimmick. They are, as it turns out, so extremely far underground that neither Metal Archives, nor Bandcamp, nor any streaming service will offer you their music.1 It was only once I started pasting Google-translated Polish into my search engine that I happened upon reviews and YouTube playlists of the band’s debut, Assembling Tomorrow. The mechanical concept explicitly informs the music’s sound—a self-described “funeral djent”—that every source emphasized being difficult to absorb. But is there more man or machine in Automatocrat?

Sources were not wrong: Automatocrat is no easy listening. Even the track titles are hard to process, being an ordinal series of numbers in rough magnitude of 1.7-1.85Bn. If funeral djent is intended to invoke a blend of syncopated, drop-tuned chugs and erratic rhythms with low, slow riffs and a morose vibe, then it’s somewhat apt since the prevailing pace is slow even as the structures are fickle. But Eutanor take cues from a spectrum of subgenres besides, leaning heavily at uneven intervals towards black metal (“1804068394”), sludge (“1731543705”), stoner (“1771078223”), electronica, brutal death, and grind (“1800748752”)2. Whilst the rhythms and guitar patterns fluctuate a little in turn, the vocals sit almost entirely in some liminal space between what would be appropriate for any of these styles: a gravelly, drawn-out kind of rasp. Really, the main thing Automatocrat shares with the funereal is reverb, and with djent an experimental approach to groove. “Experimental” is probably the best descriptor for the music in general, but while innovation and complexity can make for fantastic metal, in Eutanor’s case, “experimental” is a euphemism.3

Automatocrat is mechanical only in its obstinacy in sounding as bad as possible. Well, that and the computer-generated female voice that appears at some point on every song to read out the number that names it.4 The latter would be funny if the surrounding music weren’t steadily sapping your will to live through a combination of muddled movements, messy execution, and migraine-inducing mixing. At its least offensive, the music could be considered monotonous, with flattened tremolo picking (“1804068394”), trudging doom-death (“1731543705”) or stoner-coded (“1771078223”) riffs accompanied by a basic beat. Even here, you can’t escape from the vocals, croaking—and sometimes, horrifyingly shout-speaking (“1731543705,” “1804068394”)—that scrape the insides of your skull like a rusty spoon. The reverb, which spares no expense in muddying the vocals, guitars, and cymbals alike, mocks you (“1735064161,” “1771078223”, “1804068394”). When you think it can’t get worse, Eutanor put down their metronome for a token exploration so uncoordinated and lacking in imagination it would be generous to call it a jam. Random snippets of electronica are chucked about for all of a second (“1735064161,” “1800748752”), drums have intermittent fits of failed syncopation (“1713721976,” “1804068394”), and guitar lines materialise disconnectedly only to be choked by their mediocre riff peers and endless resonance (“1731543705,” “1771078223”), or simply feint away from development (“1846444894”).

But the hardest thing to digest about Automatocrat may not be its confusing nature or meaningless attempts at experimentation, but how awful it sounds in general. The production is so bad it actually made me angry, because it suggests that Eutanor simply didn’t put much effort in. Just like the lifeless chaos that defines the music’s composition, the relentless forward crush of everything—except of course, the parts that might actually be interesting—and the fuzzy muck smothering the rise of layered guitars while sharpening vocals beyond potency implies a lack of care. There are some good ideas—a cool riff here (“1731543705”), a piece of rhythmic weirdness that works there (“1800748752”)—but they need to be properly audible, and given the room and the treatment to shine. Yes, Eutanor are small and probably low-budget, but this album sounds worse than low-fi and only compounds the structural and aesthetic problems with the music itself.

After my time with Automatocrat, I still can’t decipher the artistic intent behind it, let alone the person or persons responsible. Too boring to earn the label of “avant-garde,” too ugly and messy to be enjoyable, and too bad to feel like a sincere statement, I struggle to see an audience who would appreciate it. The lack of personality and imagination in Euatnor’s grating pretences to music is fitting for inhuman machinery, but its sloppiness feels all too human.

Rating: Unlistenable
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Official
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

In a time where one side-eyes many an image or video online for fear of its having been created with generative AI, it’s bemusing when an artist actively markets themselves as robotic. Calling themselves a “real-fiction metal band,” centering the project on the transmissions of powerful, hyper-intelligent cyborgs, and initially appearing to have zero discoverable human presence on the internet, Polish act Eutanor might have gone a little too far with the gimmick. They are, as it turns out, so extremely far underground that neither Metal Archives, nor Bandcamp, nor any streaming service will offer you their music.1 It was only once I started pasting Google-translated Polish into my search engine that I happened upon reviews and YouTube playlists of the band’s debut, Assembling Tomorrow. The mechanical concept explicitly informs the music’s sound—a self-described “funeral djent”—that every source emphasized being difficult to absorb. But is there more man or machine in Automatocrat?

Sources were not wrong: Automatocrat is no easy listening. Even the track titles are hard to process, being an ordinal series of numbers in rough magnitude of 1.7-1.85Bn. If funeral djent is intended to invoke a blend of syncopated, drop-tuned chugs and erratic rhythms with low, slow riffs and a morose vibe, then it’s somewhat apt since the prevailing pace is slow even as the structures are fickle. But Eutanor take cues from a spectrum of subgenres besides, leaning heavily at uneven intervals towards black metal (“1804068394”), sludge (“1731543705”), stoner (“1771078223”), electronica, brutal death, and grind (“1800748752”)2. Whilst the rhythms and guitar patterns fluctuate a little in turn, the vocals sit almost entirely in some liminal space between what would be appropriate for any of these styles: a gravelly, drawn-out kind of rasp. Really, the main thing Automatocrat shares with the funereal is reverb, and with djent an experimental approach to groove. “Experimental” is probably the best descriptor for the music in general, but while innovation and complexity can make for fantastic metal, in Eutanor’s case, “experimental” is a euphemism.3

Automatocrat is mechanical only in its obstinacy in sounding as bad as possible. Well, that and the computer-generated female voice that appears at some point on every song to read out the number that names it.4 The latter would be funny if the surrounding music weren’t steadily sapping your will to live through a combination of muddled movements, messy execution, and migraine-inducing mixing. At its least offensive, the music could be considered monotonous, with flattened tremolo picking (“1804068394”), trudging doom-death (“1731543705”) or stoner-coded (“1771078223”) riffs accompanied by a basic beat. Even here, you can’t escape from the vocals, croaking—and sometimes, horrifyingly shout-speaking (“1731543705,” “1804068394”)—that scrape the insides of your skull like a rusty spoon. The reverb, which spares no expense in muddying the vocals, guitars, and cymbals alike, mocks you (“1735064161,” “1771078223”, “1804068394”). When you think it can’t get worse, Eutanor put down their metronome for a token exploration so uncoordinated and lacking in imagination it would be generous to call it a jam. Random snippets of electronica are chucked about for all of a second (“1735064161,” “1800748752”), drums have intermittent fits of failed syncopation (“1713721976,” “1804068394”), and guitar lines materialise disconnectedly only to be choked by their mediocre riff peers and endless resonance (“1731543705,” “1771078223”), or simply feint away from development (“1846444894”).

But the hardest thing to digest about Automatocrat may not be its confusing nature or meaningless attempts at experimentation, but how awful it sounds in general. The production is so bad it actually made me angry, because it suggests that Eutanor simply didn’t put much effort in. Just like the lifeless chaos that defines the music’s composition, the relentless forward crush of everything—except of course, the parts that might actually be interesting—and the fuzzy muck smothering the rise of layered guitars while sharpening vocals beyond potency implies a lack of care. There are some good ideas—a cool riff here (“1731543705”), a piece of rhythmic weirdness that works there (“1800748752”)—but they need to be properly audible, and given the room and the treatment to shine. Yes, Eutanor are small and probably low-budget, but this album sounds worse than low-fi and only compounds the structural and aesthetic problems with the music itself.

After my time with Automatocrat, I still can’t decipher the artistic intent behind it, let alone the person or persons responsible. Too boring to earn the label of “avant-garde,” too ugly and messy to be enjoyable, and too bad to feel like a sincere statement, I struggle to see an audience who would appreciate it. The lack of personality and imagination in Euatnor’s grating pretences to music is fitting for inhuman machinery, but its sloppiness feels all too human.

Rating: Unlistenable
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Official
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

In a time where one side-eyes many an image or video online for fear of its having been created with generative AI, it’s bemusing when an artist actively markets themselves as robotic. Calling themselves a “real-fiction metal band,” centering the project on the transmissions of powerful, hyper-intelligent cyborgs, and initially appearing to have zero discoverable human presence on the internet, Polish act Eutanor might have gone a little too far with the gimmick. They are, as it turns out, so extremely far underground that neither Metal Archives, nor Bandcamp, nor any streaming service will offer you their music.1 It was only once I started pasting Google-translated Polish into my search engine that I happened upon reviews and YouTube playlists of the band’s debut, Assembling Tomorrow. The mechanical concept explicitly informs the music’s sound—a self-described “funeral djent”—that every source emphasized being difficult to absorb. But is there more man or machine in Automatocrat?

Sources were not wrong: Automatocrat is no easy listening. Even the track titles are hard to process, being an ordinal series of numbers in rough magnitude of 1.7-1.85Bn. If funeral djent is intended to invoke a blend of syncopated, drop-tuned chugs and erratic rhythms with low, slow riffs and a morose vibe, then it’s somewhat apt since the prevailing pace is slow even as the structures are fickle. But Eutanor take cues from a spectrum of subgenres besides, leaning heavily at uneven intervals towards black metal (“1804068394”), sludge (“1731543705”), stoner (“1771078223”), electronica, brutal death, and grind (“1800748752”)2. Whilst the rhythms and guitar patterns fluctuate a little in turn, the vocals sit almost entirely in some liminal space between what would be appropriate for any of these styles: a gravelly, drawn-out kind of rasp. Really, the main thing Automatocrat shares with the funereal is reverb, and with djent an experimental approach to groove. “Experimental” is probably the best descriptor for the music in general, but while innovation and complexity can make for fantastic metal, in Eutanor’s case, “experimental” is a euphemism.3

Automatocrat is mechanical only in its obstinacy in sounding as bad as possible. Well, that and the computer-generated female voice that appears at some point on every song to read out the number that names it.4 The latter would be funny if the surrounding music weren’t steadily sapping your will to live through a combination of muddled movements, messy execution, and migraine-inducing mixing. At its least offensive, the music could be considered monotonous, with flattened tremolo picking (“1804068394”), trudging doom-death (“1731543705”) or stoner-coded (“1771078223”) riffs accompanied by a basic beat. Even here, you can’t escape from the vocals, croaking—and sometimes, horrifyingly shout-speaking (“1731543705,” “1804068394”)—that scrape the insides of your skull like a rusty spoon. The reverb, which spares no expense in muddying the vocals, guitars, and cymbals alike, mocks you (“1735064161,” “1771078223”, “1804068394”). When you think it can’t get worse, Eutanor put down their metronome for a token exploration so uncoordinated and lacking in imagination it would be generous to call it a jam. Random snippets of electronica are chucked about for all of a second (“1735064161,” “1800748752”), drums have intermittent fits of failed syncopation (“1713721976,” “1804068394”), and guitar lines materialise disconnectedly only to be choked by their mediocre riff peers and endless resonance (“1731543705,” “1771078223”), or simply feint away from development (“1846444894”).

But the hardest thing to digest about Automatocrat may not be its confusing nature or meaningless attempts at experimentation, but how awful it sounds in general. The production is so bad it actually made me angry, because it suggests that Eutanor simply didn’t put much effort in. Just like the lifeless chaos that defines the music’s composition, the relentless forward crush of everything—except of course, the parts that might actually be interesting—and the fuzzy muck smothering the rise of layered guitars while sharpening vocals beyond potency implies a lack of care. There are some good ideas—a cool riff here (“1731543705”), a piece of rhythmic weirdness that works there (“1800748752”)—but they need to be properly audible, and given the room and the treatment to shine. Yes, Eutanor are small and probably low-budget, but this album sounds worse than low-fi and only compounds the structural and aesthetic problems with the music itself.

After my time with Automatocrat, I still can’t decipher the artistic intent behind it, let alone the person or persons responsible. Too boring to earn the label of “avant-garde,” too ugly and messy to be enjoyable, and too bad to feel like a sincere statement, I struggle to see an audience who would appreciate it. The lack of personality and imagination in Euatnor’s grating pretences to music is fitting for inhuman machinery, but its sloppiness feels all too human.

Rating: Unlistenable
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Official
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

In a time where one side-eyes many an image or video online for fear of its having been created with generative AI, it’s bemusing when an artist actively markets themselves as robotic. Calling themselves a “real-fiction metal band,” centering the project on the transmissions of powerful, hyper-intelligent cyborgs, and initially appearing to have zero discoverable human presence on the internet, Polish act Eutanor might have gone a little too far with the gimmick. They are, as it turns out, so extremely far underground that neither Metal Archives, nor Bandcamp, nor any streaming service will offer you their music.1 It was only once I started pasting Google-translated Polish into my search engine that I happened upon reviews and YouTube playlists of the band’s debut, Assembling Tomorrow. The mechanical concept explicitly informs the music’s sound—a self-described “funeral djent”—that every source emphasized being difficult to absorb. But is there more man or machine in Automatocrat?

Sources were not wrong: Automatocrat is no easy listening. Even the track titles are hard to process, being an ordinal series of numbers in rough magnitude of 1.7-1.85Bn. If funeral djent is intended to invoke a blend of syncopated, drop-tuned chugs and erratic rhythms with low, slow riffs and a morose vibe, then it’s somewhat apt since the prevailing pace is slow even as the structures are fickle. But Eutanor take cues from a spectrum of subgenres besides, leaning heavily at uneven intervals towards black metal (“1804068394”), sludge (“1731543705”), stoner (“1771078223”), electronica, brutal death, and grind (“1800748752”)2. Whilst the rhythms and guitar patterns fluctuate a little in turn, the vocals sit almost entirely in some liminal space between what would be appropriate for any of these styles: a gravelly, drawn-out kind of rasp. Really, the main thing Automatocrat shares with the funereal is reverb, and with djent an experimental approach to groove. “Experimental” is probably the best descriptor for the music in general, but while innovation and complexity can make for fantastic metal, in Eutanor’s case, “experimental” is a euphemism.3

Automatocrat is mechanical only in its obstinacy in sounding as bad as possible. Well, that and the computer-generated female voice that appears at some point on every song to read out the number that names it.4 The latter would be funny if the surrounding music weren’t steadily sapping your will to live through a combination of muddled movements, messy execution, and migraine-inducing mixing. At its least offensive, the music could be considered monotonous, with flattened tremolo picking (“1804068394”), trudging doom-death (“1731543705”) or stoner-coded (“1771078223”) riffs accompanied by a basic beat. Even here, you can’t escape from the vocals, croaking—and sometimes, horrifyingly shout-speaking (“1731543705,” “1804068394”)—that scrape the insides of your skull like a rusty spoon. The reverb, which spares no expense in muddying the vocals, guitars, and cymbals alike, mocks you (“1735064161,” “1771078223”, “1804068394”). When you think it can’t get worse, Eutanor put down their metronome for a token exploration so uncoordinated and lacking in imagination it would be generous to call it a jam. Random snippets of electronica are chucked about for all of a second (“1735064161,” “1800748752”), drums have intermittent fits of failed syncopation (“1713721976,” “1804068394”), and guitar lines materialise disconnectedly only to be choked by their mediocre riff peers and endless resonance (“1731543705,” “1771078223”), or simply feint away from development (“1846444894”).

But the hardest thing to digest about Automatocrat may not be its confusing nature or meaningless attempts at experimentation, but how awful it sounds in general. The production is so bad it actually made me angry, because it suggests that Eutanor simply didn’t put much effort in. Just like the lifeless chaos that defines the music’s composition, the relentless forward crush of everything—except of course, the parts that might actually be interesting—and the fuzzy muck smothering the rise of layered guitars while sharpening vocals beyond potency implies a lack of care. There are some good ideas—a cool riff here (“1731543705”), a piece of rhythmic weirdness that works there (“1800748752”)—but they need to be properly audible, and given the room and the treatment to shine. Yes, Eutanor are small and probably low-budget, but this album sounds worse than low-fi and only compounds the structural and aesthetic problems with the music itself.

After my time with Automatocrat, I still can’t decipher the artistic intent behind it, let alone the person or persons responsible. Too boring to earn the label of “avant-garde,” too ugly and messy to be enjoyable, and too bad to feel like a sincere statement, I struggle to see an audience who would appreciate it. The lack of personality and imagination in Euatnor’s grating pretences to music is fitting for inhuman machinery, but its sloppiness feels all too human.

Rating: Unlistenable
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Official
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

In a time where one side-eyes many an image or video online for fear of its having been created with generative AI, it’s bemusing when an artist actively markets themselves as robotic. Calling themselves a “real-fiction metal band,” centering the project on the transmissions of powerful, hyper-intelligent cyborgs, and initially appearing to have zero discoverable human presence on the internet, Polish act Eutanor might have gone a little too far with the gimmick. They are, as it turns out, so extremely far underground that neither Metal Archives, nor Bandcamp, nor any streaming service will offer you their music.1 It was only once I started pasting Google-translated Polish into my search engine that I happened upon reviews and YouTube playlists of the band’s debut, Assembling Tomorrow. The mechanical concept explicitly informs the music’s sound—a self-described “funeral djent”—that every source emphasized being difficult to absorb. But is there more man or machine in Automatocrat?

Sources were not wrong: Automatocrat is no easy listening. Even the track titles are hard to process, being an ordinal series of numbers in rough magnitude of 1.7-1.85Bn. If funeral djent is intended to invoke a blend of syncopated, drop-tuned chugs and erratic rhythms with low, slow riffs and a morose vibe, then it’s somewhat apt since the prevailing pace is slow even as the structures are fickle. But Eutanor take cues from a spectrum of subgenres besides, leaning heavily at uneven intervals towards black metal (“1804068394”), sludge (“1731543705”), stoner (“1771078223”), electronica, brutal death, and grind (“1800748752”)2. Whilst the rhythms and guitar patterns fluctuate a little in turn, the vocals sit almost entirely in some liminal space between what would be appropriate for any of these styles: a gravelly, drawn-out kind of rasp. Really, the main thing Automatocrat shares with the funereal is reverb, and with djent an experimental approach to groove. “Experimental” is probably the best descriptor for the music in general, but while innovation and complexity can make for fantastic metal, in Eutanor’s case, “experimental” is a euphemism.3

Automatocrat is mechanical only in its obstinacy in sounding as bad as possible. Well, that and the computer-generated female voice that appears at some point on every song to read out the number that names it.4 The latter would be funny if the surrounding music weren’t steadily sapping your will to live through a combination of muddled movements, messy execution, and migraine-inducing mixing. At its least offensive, the music could be considered monotonous, with flattened tremolo picking (“1804068394”), trudging doom-death (“1731543705”) or stoner-coded (“1771078223”) riffs accompanied by a basic beat. Even here, you can’t escape from the vocals, croaking—and sometimes, horrifyingly shout-speaking (“1731543705,” “1804068394”)—that scrape the insides of your skull like a rusty spoon. The reverb, which spares no expense in muddying the vocals, guitars, and cymbals alike, mocks you (“1735064161,” “1771078223”, “1804068394”). When you think it can’t get worse, Eutanor put down their metronome for a token exploration so uncoordinated and lacking in imagination it would be generous to call it a jam. Random snippets of electronica are chucked about for all of a second (“1735064161,” “1800748752”), drums have intermittent fits of failed syncopation (“1713721976,” “1804068394”), and guitar lines materialise disconnectedly only to be choked by their mediocre riff peers and endless resonance (“1731543705,” “1771078223”), or simply feint away from development (“1846444894”).

But the hardest thing to digest about Automatocrat may not be its confusing nature or meaningless attempts at experimentation, but how awful it sounds in general. The production is so bad it actually made me angry, because it suggests that Eutanor simply didn’t put much effort in. Just like the lifeless chaos that defines the music’s composition, the relentless forward crush of everything—except of course, the parts that might actually be interesting—and the fuzzy muck smothering the rise of layered guitars while sharpening vocals beyond potency implies a lack of care. There are some good ideas—a cool riff here (“1731543705”), a piece of rhythmic weirdness that works there (“1800748752”)—but they need to be properly audible, and given the room and the treatment to shine. Yes, Eutanor are small and probably low-budget, but this album sounds worse than low-fi and only compounds the structural and aesthetic problems with the music itself.

After my time with Automatocrat, I still can’t decipher the artistic intent behind it, let alone the person or persons responsible. Too boring to earn the label of “avant-garde,” too ugly and messy to be enjoyable, and too bad to feel like a sincere statement, I struggle to see an audience who would appreciate it. The lack of personality and imagination in Euatnor’s grating pretences to music is fitting for inhuman machinery, but its sloppiness feels all too human.

Rating: Unlistenable
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Official
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

When Crystal Viper disbanded last August, the Polish power metallers left behind a consistent catalogue of (mostly) good-to-great albums. Shuttering the project left me with pangs of sorrow for what might have been and closed the chapter on a band I’ve followed since Queen of the Witches. In his review of that album, Grier loosed one of his most lucid and succinct observations to date: ‘Marta Gabriel kicks ass.’ That was true throughout Crystal Viper’s discography, and I’m happy to report it remains true on First Spell—Gabriel’s solo debut under the Leatherwitch banner. Yet it takes more than kicking ass to deliver great tunes. Shed of her former band, we must judge whether this Leatherwitch ensorcels with her First Spell, or if the incantation leaves us thinking, ‘Witch, please.’

Fans of Crystal Viper will find the transition to Leatherwitch as smooth as changing lanes on the open freeway, and just as inviting. First Spell boasts a slew of tracks that ache to be played at volumes unsafe for car stereos and eardrums, and that’s repeatedly how I engaged with it. Compared to Gabriel’s former band, Leatherwitch conjures a more stripped-down heavy metal mostly divested of power trappings. Just don’t mistake streamlined for simplistic—First Spell enchants with hook-studded earworms and invokes the likes of Running Wild, Iron Maiden and Warlock. In total, Leatherwitch’s debut punches with the force of a semi at cruising speed, and throughout First Spell Gabriel casts beguiling heavy metal moxie.

Crystal Viper ended on a tremendous burst of heavy power, and given how many responsibilities Marta Gabriel shouldered on their swan song,1 Leatherwitch feels like a natural progression. First and foremost, Gabriel is the consummate frontwoman, flaunting charismatic vocals that spellbind with might and conviction. Songs “Heroes and the Dice,” “Living in the Fast Lane,” and “The New Beginning” showcase her vocal range and grit, establishing her magnetic presence. Unsatisfied to limit her performance to vocals, Gabriel lays down memorable leads (“Living in the Fast Lane”), classic heavy metal riffcraft (“Two Tons of Steel”) and brawny low-end heft (“Silver Stallions,” where the bass tone immediately evokes Seventh Son) across First Spell’s runtime. The only aspect where Leatherwitch falls short is the drumming. It’s perfectly serviceable, but compared to other performances, the kit-work remains conspicuously tucked in the shadows.

Evaluated as a whole, Leatherwitch delivers a catchy album that never errs, yet takes few risks. The strengths of First Spell stem from Gabriel’s vocals and winsome songwriting, a consistent thread carried over from Crystal Viper. While I’m unsure why she made the decision to pursue a solo venture, Marta proves that she more than meets the challenge with Leatherwitch. Across forty-three minutes of unpretentious heavy metal, songs entice me to repeat them immediately (particularly “Heroes and the Dice” and “Living in the Fast Lane”), their melodies firmly lodged in my gray matter. The production aids Leatherwitch’s uncomplicated approach, granting plenty of room for the instrumentation and vocals to stake their claim in the mix without stepping on toes. The only interruption to First Spell’s summoning comes from “The New Beginning,” which offers a reprieve from the album’s otherwise aggressive pacing. While slower songs can mitigate otherwise homogenous tempos, just because a song is slow doesn’t mean it has to be long. At over seven-and-a-half minutes, “The New Beginning” could be trimmed and be more effective for it. Otherwise, Leatherwitch crafts chest-thumping, fist-pumping anthems for metalheads of any stripe.2

First Spell doesn’t change the course of metal, but with it Leatherwitch bestows a worthy entry into the annals of classic heavy metal thunder. First Spell supplies a welcome respite from life’s burdens—music you can get lost in, especially with the windows down and an open stretch of road ahead. Though I was initially disheartened by Crystal Viper’s demise, Leatherwitch renews my hope and convinces me that Gabriel’s vision hasn’t dulled for the change. Whatever hex comes next for Leatherwitch, I’ll be ready for Marta’s magic.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Listenable Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

When Crystal Viper disbanded last August, the Polish power metallers left behind a consistent catalogue of (mostly) good-to-great albums. Shuttering the project left me with pangs of sorrow for what might have been and closed the chapter on a band I’ve followed since Queen of the Witches. In his review of that album, Grier loosed one of his most lucid and succinct observations to date: ‘Marta Gabriel kicks ass.’ That was true throughout Crystal Viper’s discography, and I’m happy to report it remains true on First Spell—Gabriel’s solo debut under the Leatherwitch banner. Yet it takes more than kicking ass to deliver great tunes. Shed of her former band, we must judge whether this Leatherwitch ensorcels with her First Spell, or if the incantation leaves us thinking, ‘Witch, please.’

Fans of Crystal Viper will find the transition to Leatherwitch as smooth as changing lanes on the open freeway, and just as inviting. First Spell boasts a slew of tracks that ache to be played at volumes unsafe for car stereos and eardrums, and that’s repeatedly how I engaged with it. Compared to Gabriel’s former band, Leatherwitch conjures a more stripped-down heavy metal mostly divested of power trappings. Just don’t mistake streamlined for simplistic—First Spell enchants with hook-studded earworms and invokes the likes of Running Wild, Iron Maiden and Warlock. In total, Leatherwitch’s debut punches with the force of a semi at cruising speed, and throughout First Spell Gabriel casts beguiling heavy metal moxie.

Crystal Viper ended on a tremendous burst of heavy power, and given how many responsibilities Marta Gabriel shouldered on their swan song,1 Leatherwitch feels like a natural progression. First and foremost, Gabriel is the consummate frontwoman, flaunting charismatic vocals that spellbind with might and conviction. Songs “Heroes and the Dice,” “Living in the Fast Lane,” and “The New Beginning” showcase her vocal range and grit, establishing her magnetic presence. Unsatisfied to limit her performance to vocals, Gabriel lays down memorable leads (“Living in the Fast Lane”), classic heavy metal riffcraft (“Two Tons of Steel”) and brawny low-end heft (“Silver Stallions,” where the bass tone immediately evokes Seventh Son) across First Spell’s runtime. The only aspect where Leatherwitch falls short is the drumming. It’s perfectly serviceable, but compared to other performances, the kit-work remains conspicuously tucked in the shadows.

Evaluated as a whole, Leatherwitch delivers a catchy album that never errs, yet takes few risks. The strengths of First Spell stem from Gabriel’s vocals and winsome songwriting, a consistent thread carried over from Crystal Viper. While I’m unsure why she made the decision to pursue a solo venture, Marta proves that she more than meets the challenge with Leatherwitch. Across forty-three minutes of unpretentious heavy metal, songs entice me to repeat them immediately (particularly “Heroes and the Dice” and “Living in the Fast Lane”), their melodies firmly lodged in my gray matter. The production aids Leatherwitch’s uncomplicated approach, granting plenty of room for the instrumentation and vocals to stake their claim in the mix without stepping on toes. The only interruption to First Spell’s summoning comes from “The New Beginning,” which offers a reprieve from the album’s otherwise aggressive pacing. While slower songs can mitigate otherwise homogenous tempos, just because a song is slow doesn’t mean it has to be long. At over seven-and-a-half minutes, “The New Beginning” could be trimmed and be more effective for it. Otherwise, Leatherwitch crafts chest-thumping, fist-pumping anthems for metalheads of any stripe.2

First Spell doesn’t change the course of metal, but with it Leatherwitch bestows a worthy entry into the annals of classic heavy metal thunder. First Spell supplies a welcome respite from life’s burdens—music you can get lost in, especially with the windows down and an open stretch of road ahead. Though I was initially disheartened by Crystal Viper’s demise, Leatherwitch renews my hope and convinces me that Gabriel’s vision hasn’t dulled for the change. Whatever hex comes next for Leatherwitch, I’ll be ready for Marta’s magic.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Listenable Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

When Crystal Viper disbanded last August, the Polish power metallers left behind a consistent catalogue of (mostly) good-to-great albums. Shuttering the project left me with pangs of sorrow for what might have been and closed the chapter on a band I’ve followed since Queen of the Witches. In his review of that album, Grier loosed one of his most lucid and succinct observations to date: ‘Marta Gabriel kicks ass.’ That was true throughout Crystal Viper’s discography, and I’m happy to report it remains true on First Spell—Gabriel’s solo debut under the Leatherwitch banner. Yet it takes more than kicking ass to deliver great tunes. Shed of her former band, we must judge whether this Leatherwitch ensorcels with her First Spell, or if the incantation leaves us thinking, ‘Witch, please.’

Fans of Crystal Viper will find the transition to Leatherwitch as smooth as changing lanes on the open freeway, and just as inviting. First Spell boasts a slew of tracks that ache to be played at volumes unsafe for car stereos and eardrums, and that’s repeatedly how I engaged with it. Compared to Gabriel’s former band, Leatherwitch conjures a more stripped-down heavy metal mostly divested of power trappings. Just don’t mistake streamlined for simplistic—First Spell enchants with hook-studded earworms and invokes the likes of Running Wild, Iron Maiden and Warlock. In total, Leatherwitch’s debut punches with the force of a semi at cruising speed, and throughout First Spell Gabriel casts beguiling heavy metal moxie.

Crystal Viper ended on a tremendous burst of heavy power, and given how many responsibilities Marta Gabriel shouldered on their swan song,1 Leatherwitch feels like a natural progression. First and foremost, Gabriel is the consummate frontwoman, flaunting charismatic vocals that spellbind with might and conviction. Songs “Heroes and the Dice,” “Living in the Fast Lane,” and “The New Beginning” showcase her vocal range and grit, establishing her magnetic presence. Unsatisfied to limit her performance to vocals, Gabriel lays down memorable leads (“Living in the Fast Lane”), classic heavy metal riffcraft (“Two Tons of Steel”) and brawny low-end heft (“Silver Stallions,” where the bass tone immediately evokes Seventh Son) across First Spell’s runtime. The only aspect where Leatherwitch falls short is the drumming. It’s perfectly serviceable, but compared to other performances, the kit-work remains conspicuously tucked in the shadows.

Evaluated as a whole, Leatherwitch delivers a catchy album that never errs, yet takes few risks. The strengths of First Spell stem from Gabriel’s vocals and winsome songwriting, a consistent thread carried over from Crystal Viper. While I’m unsure why she made the decision to pursue a solo venture, Marta proves that she more than meets the challenge with Leatherwitch. Across forty-three minutes of unpretentious heavy metal, songs entice me to repeat them immediately (particularly “Heroes and the Dice” and “Living in the Fast Lane”), their melodies firmly lodged in my gray matter. The production aids Leatherwitch’s uncomplicated approach, granting plenty of room for the instrumentation and vocals to stake their claim in the mix without stepping on toes. The only interruption to First Spell’s summoning comes from “The New Beginning,” which offers a reprieve from the album’s otherwise aggressive pacing. While slower songs can mitigate otherwise homogenous tempos, just because a song is slow doesn’t mean it has to be long. At over seven-and-a-half minutes, “The New Beginning” could be trimmed and be more effective for it. Otherwise, Leatherwitch crafts chest-thumping, fist-pumping anthems for metalheads of any stripe.2

First Spell doesn’t change the course of metal, but with it Leatherwitch bestows a worthy entry into the annals of classic heavy metal thunder. First Spell supplies a welcome respite from life’s burdens—music you can get lost in, especially with the windows down and an open stretch of road ahead. Though I was initially disheartened by Crystal Viper’s demise, Leatherwitch renews my hope and convinces me that Gabriel’s vision hasn’t dulled for the change. Whatever hex comes next for Leatherwitch, I’ll be ready for Marta’s magic.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Listenable Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

When Crystal Viper disbanded last August, the Polish power metallers left behind a consistent catalogue of (mostly) good-to-great albums. Shuttering the project left me with pangs of sorrow for what might have been and closed the chapter on a band I’ve followed since Queen of the Witches. In his review of that album, Grier loosed one of his most lucid and succinct observations to date: ‘Marta Gabriel kicks ass.’ That was true throughout Crystal Viper’s discography, and I’m happy to report it remains true on First Spell—Gabriel’s solo debut under the Leatherwitch banner. Yet it takes more than kicking ass to deliver great tunes. Shed of her former band, we must judge whether this Leatherwitch ensorcels with her First Spell, or if the incantation leaves us thinking, ‘Witch, please.’

Fans of Crystal Viper will find the transition to Leatherwitch as smooth as changing lanes on the open freeway, and just as inviting. First Spell boasts a slew of tracks that ache to be played at volumes unsafe for car stereos and eardrums, and that’s repeatedly how I engaged with it. Compared to Gabriel’s former band, Leatherwitch conjures a more stripped-down heavy metal mostly divested of power trappings. Just don’t mistake streamlined for simplistic—First Spell enchants with hook-studded earworms and invokes the likes of Running Wild, Iron Maiden and Warlock. In total, Leatherwitch’s debut punches with the force of a semi at cruising speed, and throughout First Spell Gabriel casts beguiling heavy metal moxie.

Crystal Viper ended on a tremendous burst of heavy power, and given how many responsibilities Marta Gabriel shouldered on their swan song,1 Leatherwitch feels like a natural progression. First and foremost, Gabriel is the consummate frontwoman, flaunting charismatic vocals that spellbind with might and conviction. Songs “Heroes and the Dice,” “Living in the Fast Lane,” and “The New Beginning” showcase her vocal range and grit, establishing her magnetic presence. Unsatisfied to limit her performance to vocals, Gabriel lays down memorable leads (“Living in the Fast Lane”), classic heavy metal riffcraft (“Two Tons of Steel”) and brawny low-end heft (“Silver Stallions,” where the bass tone immediately evokes Seventh Son) across First Spell’s runtime. The only aspect where Leatherwitch falls short is the drumming. It’s perfectly serviceable, but compared to other performances, the kit-work remains conspicuously tucked in the shadows.

Evaluated as a whole, Leatherwitch delivers a catchy album that never errs, yet takes few risks. The strengths of First Spell stem from Gabriel’s vocals and winsome songwriting, a consistent thread carried over from Crystal Viper. While I’m unsure why she made the decision to pursue a solo venture, Marta proves that she more than meets the challenge with Leatherwitch. Across forty-three minutes of unpretentious heavy metal, songs entice me to repeat them immediately (particularly “Heroes and the Dice” and “Living in the Fast Lane”), their melodies firmly lodged in my gray matter. The production aids Leatherwitch’s uncomplicated approach, granting plenty of room for the instrumentation and vocals to stake their claim in the mix without stepping on toes. The only interruption to First Spell’s summoning comes from “The New Beginning,” which offers a reprieve from the album’s otherwise aggressive pacing. While slower songs can mitigate otherwise homogenous tempos, just because a song is slow doesn’t mean it has to be long. At over seven-and-a-half minutes, “The New Beginning” could be trimmed and be more effective for it. Otherwise, Leatherwitch crafts chest-thumping, fist-pumping anthems for metalheads of any stripe.2

First Spell doesn’t change the course of metal, but with it Leatherwitch bestows a worthy entry into the annals of classic heavy metal thunder. First Spell supplies a welcome respite from life’s burdens—music you can get lost in, especially with the windows down and an open stretch of road ahead. Though I was initially disheartened by Crystal Viper’s demise, Leatherwitch renews my hope and convinces me that Gabriel’s vision hasn’t dulled for the change. Whatever hex comes next for Leatherwitch, I’ll be ready for Marta’s magic.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Listenable Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

When Crystal Viper disbanded last August, the Polish power metallers left behind a consistent catalogue of (mostly) good-to-great albums. Shuttering the project left me with pangs of sorrow for what might have been and closed the chapter on a band I’ve followed since Queen of the Witches. In his review of that album, Grier loosed one of his most lucid and succinct observations to date: ‘Marta Gabriel kicks ass.’ That was true throughout Crystal Viper’s discography, and I’m happy to report it remains true on First Spell—Gabriel’s solo debut under the Leatherwitch banner. Yet it takes more than kicking ass to deliver great tunes. Shed of her former band, we must judge whether this Leatherwitch ensorcels with her First Spell, or if the incantation leaves us thinking, ‘Witch, please.’

Fans of Crystal Viper will find the transition to Leatherwitch as smooth as changing lanes on the open freeway, and just as inviting. First Spell boasts a slew of tracks that ache to be played at volumes unsafe for car stereos and eardrums, and that’s repeatedly how I engaged with it. Compared to Gabriel’s former band, Leatherwitch conjures a more stripped-down heavy metal mostly divested of power trappings. Just don’t mistake streamlined for simplistic—First Spell enchants with hook-studded earworms and invokes the likes of Running Wild, Iron Maiden and Warlock. In total, Leatherwitch’s debut punches with the force of a semi at cruising speed, and throughout First Spell Gabriel casts beguiling heavy metal moxie.

Crystal Viper ended on a tremendous burst of heavy power, and given how many responsibilities Marta Gabriel shouldered on their swan song,1 Leatherwitch feels like a natural progression. First and foremost, Gabriel is the consummate frontwoman, flaunting charismatic vocals that spellbind with might and conviction. Songs “Heroes and the Dice,” “Living in the Fast Lane,” and “The New Beginning” showcase her vocal range and grit, establishing her magnetic presence. Unsatisfied to limit her performance to vocals, Gabriel lays down memorable leads (“Living in the Fast Lane”), classic heavy metal riffcraft (“Two Tons of Steel”) and brawny low-end heft (“Silver Stallions,” where the bass tone immediately evokes Seventh Son) across First Spell’s runtime. The only aspect where Leatherwitch falls short is the drumming. It’s perfectly serviceable, but compared to other performances, the kit-work remains conspicuously tucked in the shadows.

Evaluated as a whole, Leatherwitch delivers a catchy album that never errs, yet takes few risks. The strengths of First Spell stem from Gabriel’s vocals and winsome songwriting, a consistent thread carried over from Crystal Viper. While I’m unsure why she made the decision to pursue a solo venture, Marta proves that she more than meets the challenge with Leatherwitch. Across forty-three minutes of unpretentious heavy metal, songs entice me to repeat them immediately (particularly “Heroes and the Dice” and “Living in the Fast Lane”), their melodies firmly lodged in my gray matter. The production aids Leatherwitch’s uncomplicated approach, granting plenty of room for the instrumentation and vocals to stake their claim in the mix without stepping on toes. The only interruption to First Spell’s summoning comes from “The New Beginning,” which offers a reprieve from the album’s otherwise aggressive pacing. While slower songs can mitigate otherwise homogenous tempos, just because a song is slow doesn’t mean it has to be long. At over seven-and-a-half minutes, “The New Beginning” could be trimmed and be more effective for it. Otherwise, Leatherwitch crafts chest-thumping, fist-pumping anthems for metalheads of any stripe.2

First Spell doesn’t change the course of metal, but with it Leatherwitch bestows a worthy entry into the annals of classic heavy metal thunder. First Spell supplies a welcome respite from life’s burdens—music you can get lost in, especially with the windows down and an open stretch of road ahead. Though I was initially disheartened by Crystal Viper’s demise, Leatherwitch renews my hope and convinces me that Gabriel’s vision hasn’t dulled for the change. Whatever hex comes next for Leatherwitch, I’ll be ready for Marta’s magic.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 11 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Listenable Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 29th, 2026

https://www.europesays.com/ie/500676/ Blindead 23 – Deuterium Review #2026 #30 #AmiaVeneraLandscape #Apr26 #Behemoth #BlackSheepWall #Blindead #Blindead23 #DeathMetal #Decapitated #Deuterium #Dirge #Éire #Entertainment #Hardcore #IE #Ireland #Katatonia #Knut #MouthOfTheArchitect #Music #Neurosis #PeacevilleRecords #PolishMetal #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #Rosetta #SludgeMetal #Vader #Vltimas

Blindead’s third album Affliction XXIX II MXMVI is one of the most underrated classics of the 2010s. The Polish band’s sound was bigger than its fanbase, tragically, but that didn’t stop them from releasing an ambitious concept album whose stars aligned in both sound and lyrical themes. Rooted in the enigmatic and mammoth style of post-metal, the grey world it painted with broad sludge brushstrokes portrayed the experiences and perceptions of a child with ASD: “The shape of a city stood in the grayness, like a charcoal drawing sketched across the waste” (“Dark and Gray”). Alongside titles like Amia Venera Landscape’s The Long Procession and Dirge’s Elysian Magnetic Fields, Blindead was included on a long list of post-metal deep cuts that lay below the decade’s surface.

In spite of the laziest band name, Blindead 23 is the reincarnation of the act, this time armed with a star-studded lineup. The core of long-time guitarist Mateusz Śmierzchalski (aka Havoc, former Behemoth guitarist from 2000-03) and vocalist Patryk Zwoliński, Blindead 23 is rounded out by drummer Pawel “Pavulon” Jaroszewicz (known for his time in Vltimas, Vader, and Decapitated) and guitarist Roger Öjersson (known for his time in Katatonia). After the relative fizzle of Blindead’s final post-metal/alt rock albums Absence and Ascension, and the outta left field punk swansong Niewiosna, Blindead 23 returns to its roots with a tried-and-true blend of post-metal hugeness and hardcore intensity, sounding right at home with the likes of Rosetta, Neurosis, and Mouth of the Architect. First LP Deuterium is a love song to post-metal, a welcome return that won’t turn too many heads – but it’s the riffiest and the dirgiest post-metal that is both overlong and extremely promising.

Blessedly, the Blindead 23’s riffs are truly a force of nature, amplified by Öjersson’s soulful trademark melodies. The opening “Immersion” suite offers you a front-and-center attack that showcases the intensity and range – chuggy riffs and ominous melodies collide in formidable intensity. The more intense portions take on a nearly mechanical, death metal-bordering heaviness thanks to choppy staccato chugs and cold atmospheric tricks (“Immersion II,” title track), while solos and cleans inject the necessary humanity to keep them from wallowing in industrial aloofness (“Immersion I” and “II,” “Wither,” title track). Other tracks happen upon a more hardcore-inspired approach, chaotic movements, and shifty rhythms recalling the likes of Black Sheep Wall and Knut (“Worst Laid Plans”), Jaroszewicz’s drums laying a foundation of shifting sands.

The fifty-four-minute runtime is both a blessing and a curse for Blindead 23: while it allows them the breath to explore all their facets, it drags on the slower moments to a snail’s crawl. While the more hypnotic and dirgelike pieces can be bolstered by an eerie atmosphere (“Immersion II”), they have the potential to drag on for way too long and rob the band of the intensity they have effectively established (“Wither”), and even good tracks can feel a few minutes too long (“Worst Laid Plans”). While range is the name of the game, a few tricks feel too out-of-left-field, such as the bluesy and twangy plucking or jazzy melodies (“Toward the Dark”) or a surprising optimism that clashes with the overall darkness of the debut (“You Are the Universe”). However, this is not Blindead – it’s Blindead 23 – and it’s better that a band explore all avenues instead of just playing it safe.

Deuterium is the sound of a band hungry for the return, but not to the way things were. Already, a revolving door of contributors make Deuterium a distinct sound compared to 2024 debut EP Vanishing, and it shows in a solid output that sounds like the veterans they are. While the inconsistency is jarring and the sprawl leads to the excessive runtime, individual star power with an immensity greater than the sum of its parts graces the Polish juggernaut in an exploration of all avenues. An embarrassment of riches awaits them. Deuterium may not be their magnum opus, but it’s the prelude for Blindead 23.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Peaceville Records
Website: facebook.com/blindead23
Releases Worldwide: April 22nd, 2026

Blindead’s third album Affliction XXIX II MXMVI is one of the most underrated classics of the 2010s. The Polish band’s sound was bigger than its fanbase, tragically, but that didn’t stop them from releasing an ambitious concept album whose stars aligned in both sound and lyrical themes. Rooted in the enigmatic and mammoth style of post-metal, the grey world it painted with broad sludge brushstrokes portrayed the experiences and perceptions of a child with ASD: “The shape of a city stood in the grayness, like a charcoal drawing sketched across the waste” (“Dark and Gray”). Alongside titles like Amia Venera Landscape’s The Long Procession and Dirge’s Elysian Magnetic Fields, Blindead was included on a long list of post-metal deep cuts that lay below the decade’s surface.

In spite of the laziest band name, Blindead 23 is the reincarnation of the act, this time armed with a star-studded lineup. The core of long-time guitarist Mateusz Śmierzchalski (aka Havoc, former Behemoth guitarist from 2000-03) and vocalist Patryk Zwoliński, Blindead 23 is rounded out by drummer Pawel “Pavulon” Jaroszewicz (known for his time in Vltimas, Vader, and Decapitated) and guitarist Roger Öjersson (known for his time in Katatonia). After the relative fizzle of Blindead’s final post-metal/alt rock albums Absence and Ascension, and the outta left field punk swansong Niewiosna, Blindead 23 returns to its roots with a tried-and-true blend of post-metal hugeness and hardcore intensity, sounding right at home with the likes of Rosetta, Neurosis, and Mouth of the Architect. First LP Deuterium is a love song to post-metal, a welcome return that won’t turn too many heads – but it’s the riffiest and the dirgiest post-metal that is both overlong and extremely promising.

Blessedly, the Blindead 23’s riffs are truly a force of nature, amplified by Öjersson’s soulful trademark melodies. The opening “Immersion” suite offers you a front-and-center attack that showcases the intensity and range – chuggy riffs and ominous melodies collide in formidable intensity. The more intense portions take on a nearly mechanical, death metal-bordering heaviness thanks to choppy staccato chugs and cold atmospheric tricks (“Immersion II,” title track), while solos and cleans inject the necessary humanity to keep them from wallowing in industrial aloofness (“Immersion I” and “II,” “Wither,” title track). Other tracks happen upon a more hardcore-inspired approach, chaotic movements, and shifty rhythms recalling the likes of Black Sheep Wall and Knut (“Worst Laid Plans”), Jaroszewicz’s drums laying a foundation of shifting sands.

The fifty-four-minute runtime is both a blessing and a curse for Blindead 23: while it allows them the breath to explore all their facets, it drags on the slower moments to a snail’s crawl. While the more hypnotic and dirgelike pieces can be bolstered by an eerie atmosphere (“Immersion II”), they have the potential to drag on for way too long and rob the band of the intensity they have effectively established (“Wither”), and even good tracks can feel a few minutes too long (“Worst Laid Plans”). While range is the name of the game, a few tricks feel too out-of-left-field, such as the bluesy and twangy plucking or jazzy melodies (“Toward the Dark”) or a surprising optimism that clashes with the overall darkness of the debut (“You Are the Universe”). However, this is not Blindead – it’s Blindead 23 – and it’s better that a band explore all avenues instead of just playing it safe.

Deuterium is the sound of a band hungry for the return, but not to the way things were. Already, a revolving door of contributors make Deuterium a distinct sound compared to 2024 debut EP Vanishing, and it shows in a solid output that sounds like the veterans they are. While the inconsistency is jarring and the sprawl leads to the excessive runtime, individual star power with an immensity greater than the sum of its parts graces the Polish juggernaut in an exploration of all avenues. An embarrassment of riches awaits them. Deuterium may not be their magnum opus, but it’s the prelude for Blindead 23.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Peaceville Records
Website: facebook.com/blindead23
Releases Worldwide: April 22nd, 2026

Blindead’s third album Affliction XXIX II MXMVI is one of the most underrated classics of the 2010s. The Polish band’s sound was bigger than its fanbase, tragically, but that didn’t stop them from releasing an ambitious concept album whose stars aligned in both sound and lyrical themes. Rooted in the enigmatic and mammoth style of post-metal, the grey world it painted with broad sludge brushstrokes portrayed the experiences and perceptions of a child with ASD: “The shape of a city stood in the grayness, like a charcoal drawing sketched across the waste” (“Dark and Gray”). Alongside titles like Amia Venera Landscape’s The Long Procession and Dirge’s Elysian Magnetic Fields, Blindead was included on a long list of post-metal deep cuts that lay below the decade’s surface.

In spite of the laziest band name, Blindead 23 is the reincarnation of the act, this time armed with a star-studded lineup. The core of long-time guitarist Mateusz Śmierzchalski (aka Havoc, former Behemoth guitarist from 2000-03) and vocalist Patryk Zwoliński, Blindead 23 is rounded out by drummer Pawel “Pavulon” Jaroszewicz (known for his time in Vltimas, Vader, and Decapitated) and guitarist Roger Öjersson (known for his time in Katatonia). After the relative fizzle of Blindead’s final post-metal/alt rock albums Absence and Ascension, and the outta left field punk swansong Niewiosna, Blindead 23 returns to its roots with a tried-and-true blend of post-metal hugeness and hardcore intensity, sounding right at home with the likes of Rosetta, Neurosis, and Mouth of the Architect. First LP Deuterium is a love song to post-metal, a welcome return that won’t turn too many heads – but it’s the riffiest and the dirgiest post-metal that is both overlong and extremely promising.

Blessedly, the Blindead 23’s riffs are truly a force of nature, amplified by Öjersson’s soulful trademark melodies. The opening “Immersion” suite offers you a front-and-center attack that showcases the intensity and range – chuggy riffs and ominous melodies collide in formidable intensity. The more intense portions take on a nearly mechanical, death metal-bordering heaviness thanks to choppy staccato chugs and cold atmospheric tricks (“Immersion II,” title track), while solos and cleans inject the necessary humanity to keep them from wallowing in industrial aloofness (“Immersion I” and “II,” “Wither,” title track). Other tracks happen upon a more hardcore-inspired approach, chaotic movements, and shifty rhythms recalling the likes of Black Sheep Wall and Knut (“Worst Laid Plans”), Jaroszewicz’s drums laying a foundation of shifting sands.

The fifty-four-minute runtime is both a blessing and a curse for Blindead 23: while it allows them the breath to explore all their facets, it drags on the slower moments to a snail’s crawl. While the more hypnotic and dirgelike pieces can be bolstered by an eerie atmosphere (“Immersion II”), they have the potential to drag on for way too long and rob the band of the intensity they have effectively established (“Wither”), and even good tracks can feel a few minutes too long (“Worst Laid Plans”). While range is the name of the game, a few tricks feel too out-of-left-field, such as the bluesy and twangy plucking or jazzy melodies (“Toward the Dark”) or a surprising optimism that clashes with the overall darkness of the debut (“You Are the Universe”). However, this is not Blindead – it’s Blindead 23 – and it’s better that a band explore all avenues instead of just playing it safe.

Deuterium is the sound of a band hungry for the return, but not to the way things were. Already, a revolving door of contributors make Deuterium a distinct sound compared to 2024 debut EP Vanishing, and it shows in a solid output that sounds like the veterans they are. While the inconsistency is jarring and the sprawl leads to the excessive runtime, individual star power with an immensity greater than the sum of its parts graces the Polish juggernaut in an exploration of all avenues. An embarrassment of riches awaits them. Deuterium may not be their magnum opus, but it’s the prelude for Blindead 23.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Peaceville Records
Website: facebook.com/blindead23
Releases Worldwide: April 22nd, 2026

Blindead’s third album Affliction XXIX II MXMVI is one of the most underrated classics of the 2010s. The Polish band’s sound was bigger than its fanbase, tragically, but that didn’t stop them from releasing an ambitious concept album whose stars aligned in both sound and lyrical themes. Rooted in the enigmatic and mammoth style of post-metal, the grey world it painted with broad sludge brushstrokes portrayed the experiences and perceptions of a child with ASD: “The shape of a city stood in the grayness, like a charcoal drawing sketched across the waste” (“Dark and Gray”). Alongside titles like Amia Venera Landscape’s The Long Procession and Dirge’s Elysian Magnetic Fields, Blindead was included on a long list of post-metal deep cuts that lay below the decade’s surface.

In spite of the laziest band name, Blindead 23 is the reincarnation of the act, this time armed with a star-studded lineup. The core of long-time guitarist Mateusz Śmierzchalski (aka Havoc, former Behemoth guitarist from 2000-03) and vocalist Patryk Zwoliński, Blindead 23 is rounded out by drummer Pawel “Pavulon” Jaroszewicz (known for his time in Vltimas, Vader, and Decapitated) and guitarist Roger Öjersson (known for his time in Katatonia). After the relative fizzle of Blindead’s final post-metal/alt rock albums Absence and Ascension, and the outta left field punk swansong Niewiosna, Blindead 23 returns to its roots with a tried-and-true blend of post-metal hugeness and hardcore intensity, sounding right at home with the likes of Rosetta, Neurosis, and Mouth of the Architect. First LP Deuterium is a love song to post-metal, a welcome return that won’t turn too many heads – but it’s the riffiest and the dirgiest post-metal that is both overlong and extremely promising.

Blessedly, the Blindead 23’s riffs are truly a force of nature, amplified by Öjersson’s soulful trademark melodies. The opening “Immersion” suite offers you a front-and-center attack that showcases the intensity and range – chuggy riffs and ominous melodies collide in formidable intensity. The more intense portions take on a nearly mechanical, death metal-bordering heaviness thanks to choppy staccato chugs and cold atmospheric tricks (“Immersion II,” title track), while solos and cleans inject the necessary humanity to keep them from wallowing in industrial aloofness (“Immersion I” and “II,” “Wither,” title track). Other tracks happen upon a more hardcore-inspired approach, chaotic movements, and shifty rhythms recalling the likes of Black Sheep Wall and Knut (“Worst Laid Plans”), Jaroszewicz’s drums laying a foundation of shifting sands.

The fifty-four-minute runtime is both a blessing and a curse for Blindead 23: while it allows them the breath to explore all their facets, it drags on the slower moments to a snail’s crawl. While the more hypnotic and dirgelike pieces can be bolstered by an eerie atmosphere (“Immersion II”), they have the potential to drag on for way too long and rob the band of the intensity they have effectively established (“Wither”), and even good tracks can feel a few minutes too long (“Worst Laid Plans”). While range is the name of the game, a few tricks feel too out-of-left-field, such as the bluesy and twangy plucking or jazzy melodies (“Toward the Dark”) or a surprising optimism that clashes with the overall darkness of the debut (“You Are the Universe”). However, this is not Blindead – it’s Blindead 23 – and it’s better that a band explore all avenues instead of just playing it safe.

Deuterium is the sound of a band hungry for the return, but not to the way things were. Already, a revolving door of contributors make Deuterium a distinct sound compared to 2024 debut EP Vanishing, and it shows in a solid output that sounds like the veterans they are. While the inconsistency is jarring and the sprawl leads to the excessive runtime, individual star power with an immensity greater than the sum of its parts graces the Polish juggernaut in an exploration of all avenues. An embarrassment of riches awaits them. Deuterium may not be their magnum opus, but it’s the prelude for Blindead 23.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Peaceville Records
Website: facebook.com/blindead23
Releases Worldwide: April 22nd, 2026

Blindead’s third album Affliction XXIX II MXMVI is one of the most underrated classics of the 2010s. The Polish band’s sound was bigger than its fanbase, tragically, but that didn’t stop them from releasing an ambitious concept album whose stars aligned in both sound and lyrical themes. Rooted in the enigmatic and mammoth style of post-metal, the grey world it painted with broad sludge brushstrokes portrayed the experiences and perceptions of a child with ASD: “The shape of a city stood in the grayness, like a charcoal drawing sketched across the waste” (“Dark and Gray”). Alongside titles like Amia Venera Landscape’s The Long Procession and Dirge’s Elysian Magnetic Fields, Blindead was included on a long list of post-metal deep cuts that lay below the decade’s surface.

In spite of the laziest band name, Blindead 23 is the reincarnation of the act, this time armed with a star-studded lineup. The core of long-time guitarist Mateusz Śmierzchalski (aka Havoc, former Behemoth guitarist from 2000-03) and vocalist Patryk Zwoliński, Blindead 23 is rounded out by drummer Pawel “Pavulon” Jaroszewicz (known for his time in Vltimas, Vader, and Decapitated) and guitarist Roger Öjersson (known for his time in Katatonia). After the relative fizzle of Blindead’s final post-metal/alt rock albums Absence and Ascension, and the outta left field punk swansong Niewiosna, Blindead 23 returns to its roots with a tried-and-true blend of post-metal hugeness and hardcore intensity, sounding right at home with the likes of Rosetta, Neurosis, and Mouth of the Architect. First LP Deuterium is a love song to post-metal, a welcome return that won’t turn too many heads – but it’s the riffiest and the dirgiest post-metal that is both overlong and extremely promising.

Blessedly, the Blindead 23’s riffs are truly a force of nature, amplified by Öjersson’s soulful trademark melodies. The opening “Immersion” suite offers you a front-and-center attack that showcases the intensity and range – chuggy riffs and ominous melodies collide in formidable intensity. The more intense portions take on a nearly mechanical, death metal-bordering heaviness thanks to choppy staccato chugs and cold atmospheric tricks (“Immersion II,” title track), while solos and cleans inject the necessary humanity to keep them from wallowing in industrial aloofness (“Immersion I” and “II,” “Wither,” title track). Other tracks happen upon a more hardcore-inspired approach, chaotic movements, and shifty rhythms recalling the likes of Black Sheep Wall and Knut (“Worst Laid Plans”), Jaroszewicz’s drums laying a foundation of shifting sands.

The fifty-four-minute runtime is both a blessing and a curse for Blindead 23: while it allows them the breath to explore all their facets, it drags on the slower moments to a snail’s crawl. While the more hypnotic and dirgelike pieces can be bolstered by an eerie atmosphere (“Immersion II”), they have the potential to drag on for way too long and rob the band of the intensity they have effectively established (“Wither”), and even good tracks can feel a few minutes too long (“Worst Laid Plans”). While range is the name of the game, a few tricks feel too out-of-left-field, such as the bluesy and twangy plucking or jazzy melodies (“Toward the Dark”) or a surprising optimism that clashes with the overall darkness of the debut (“You Are the Universe”). However, this is not Blindead – it’s Blindead 23 – and it’s better that a band explore all avenues instead of just playing it safe.

Deuterium is the sound of a band hungry for the return, but not to the way things were. Already, a revolving door of contributors make Deuterium a distinct sound compared to 2024 debut EP Vanishing, and it shows in a solid output that sounds like the veterans they are. While the inconsistency is jarring and the sprawl leads to the excessive runtime, individual star power with an immensity greater than the sum of its parts graces the Polish juggernaut in an exploration of all avenues. An embarrassment of riches awaits them. Deuterium may not be their magnum opus, but it’s the prelude for Blindead 23.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Peaceville Records
Website: facebook.com/blindead23
Releases Worldwide: April 22nd, 2026

It’s impressive how some artists work in multiple bands at once, and more impressive how common this seems to be. Often, the fact that an act is a side-project of or also features a particular musician is the sole reason you check them out, conferring a degree of quality or prestige. Piołun is one of these bands, a duo comprised of Mānbryne and ex-Blaze of Perdition guitarist Łukasz Barański—who here also handles vocals—and relatively unknown drummer Vitor. Like those groups, Piołun is black metal in a style that has grown increasingly associated with the Polish scene in particular—melodic but understated, enriched with a pinch of atmosphere and a slightly gritty vibe. The band’s debut, Rzeki Goryczy, was met with general acclaim, and it should therefore delight fans that Exolvuntur follows closely in its footsteps, albeit aiming to be “more dynamic and melodic.” In fact, this sophomore is exemplary in many ways, but not all of them are complimentary.

Exolvuntur is simple on the surface, sticking to unflowery tremolos and uncomplicated tempos, occasionally employing group1 vocals for roaring emphasis. Particular turns of instrumental phrase echo those of Mānbryne (“Moribunda,” “Hiems”), while others carry a more Sethian tone (“Manifest-kresu,” “Czas”). But Piołun don’t ape anyone so much as draw from a common well of spiritedness. More overtly than on the debut, they hit upon the familiar hazily-layered riffing and minimalistic melodic scales of second-wave-cum-meloblack in general, and structure their compositions uniformly around the recurrence of a singular uplifting high guitar line. This allows them to centre their spirit, which vitriolic vocal delivery and the occasional nods to the epic in their key refrains demonstrate they have an abundance of. Spirit and familiarity only go so far, however.

Piołun know how to write a smart rhythmic hook and a melancholic lead. Repeated stop-starts (“Sierpniowy-brzask,” “Hiems”), an offbeat to the descent of a tremolo (“Manifest-kresu”), and emphatic push-pulls between vocal delivery and guitar line switching (“Moribunda”) make for a consistently spunky energy. It pairs well with Exolvuntur’s best refrains, which feel mournful in that vaguely medieval sense only the trvest black metal is capable of (“Manifest-kresu,” “Sierpniowy-brzask,” “Proba-Sznura”). Exolvuntur is rather more uplifting than harrowing, filled with layered, iterated melodies (“Sierpniowy-brzask”) and anthemic, emphatic roars (“Czas,” “Kolo-zycia”). This applies to forward-launching blazers (“Manifest-kresu,” “Kolo-zycia”), rhythmic fillers (“Czas), and mellow bridgers (“Sierpniowy-brzask,” “Moribunda”) alike. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before but like a favourite hoodie or comforting tv show you’ve watched so many times, you know every line, there’s something endearing and warming about this album—strange as that would seem given its overt heaviness and darkness.

Yet Exolvuntur’s charms mask a simplicity that approaches shallowness. These shimmering lead riffs that are good in isolation and already familiar in an abstract sense are recycled with barely a semitone of difference across the record (“Sierpniowy-brzask,” “Proba-Sznura,” “Hiems”); the remainder feel like filler. Operating between a handful of notes that could constitute a theoretical “average” for this style of meloblack, their cadence, execution, and frequency is not only predictable but so void of imagination that they make every movement feel trite and their emotionality manufactured. It forms a key part of the problematic repetitiousness that plagues Exolvuntur, where tempos suffer from a similar banality, mechanically moving between a tripping march and nondescript blastbeat of some form, killing the fire of a stinging lead and with nary a fill or rollover to be heard. “Heard” is key here, because the drums somehow sound jarringly clacky at one moment and anaemically muffled everywhere else—like a bongo in a phone booth—which makes potential drum gymnastics very difficult to distinguish. At the heights of speed and intensity, vocals and much of the guitars are swallowed by this mire such that everyone is jostling for position, and passionate snarls feel unintentionally strained rather than punchy.

Piołun did not need to fall back on triteness. Not only are there sweeping refrains (“Proba-Sznura”) and passionate arcs (“Manifest-kresu”) that demonstrate a flair for the dramatic and deep, their very debut Rzeki Goryczy does too. The duo exercised restraint in keeping Exolvuntur below 40 minutes, but that restraint seems to have bled into the songwriting, in a genre and proclaimed take on it that necessitates at least a little excess—in emotion, heaviness, speed, or complexity. Exolvuntur is a slice of nostalgia for some, a comforting wash of approximately vicious black metal, but it shows how great a distance there is in evoking a sound and using it to evoke anything else.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Malignant Voices
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Available Worldwide: May 22nd, 2026

It’s impressive how some artists work in multiple bands at once, and more impressive how common this seems to be. Often, the fact that an act is a side-project of or also features a particular musician is the sole reason you check them out, conferring a degree of quality or prestige. Piołun is one of these bands, a duo comprised of Mānbryne and ex-Blaze of Perdition guitarist Łukasz Barański—who here also handles vocals—and relatively unknown drummer Vitor. Like those groups, Piołun is black metal in a style that has grown increasingly associated with the Polish scene in particular—melodic but understated, enriched with a pinch of atmosphere and a slightly gritty vibe. The band’s debut, Rzeki Goryczy, was met with general acclaim, and it should therefore delight fans that Exolvuntur follows closely in its footsteps, albeit aiming to be “more dynamic and melodic.” In fact, this sophomore is exemplary in many ways, but not all of them are complimentary.

Exolvuntur is simple on the surface, sticking to unflowery tremolos and uncomplicated tempos, occasionally employing group1 vocals for roaring emphasis. Particular turns of instrumental phrase echo those of Mānbryne (“Moribunda,” “Hiems”), while others carry a more Sethian tone (“Manifest-kresu,” “Czas”). But Piołun don’t ape anyone so much as draw from a common well of spiritedness. More overtly than on the debut, they hit upon the familiar hazily-layered riffing and minimalistic melodic scales of second-wave-cum-meloblack in general, and structure their compositions uniformly around the recurrence of a singular uplifting high guitar line. This allows them to centre their spirit, which vitriolic vocal delivery and the occasional nods to the epic in their key refrains demonstrate they have an abundance of. Spirit and familiarity only go so far, however.

Piołun know how to write a smart rhythmic hook and a melancholic lead. Repeated stop-starts (“Sierpniowy-brzask,” “Hiems”), an offbeat to the descent of a tremolo (“Manifest-kresu”), and emphatic push-pulls between vocal delivery and guitar line switching (“Moribunda”) make for a consistently spunky energy. It pairs well with Exolvuntur’s best refrains, which feel mournful in that vaguely medieval sense only the trvest black metal is capable of (“Manifest-kresu,” “Sierpniowy-brzask,” “Proba-Sznura”). Exolvuntur is rather more uplifting than harrowing, filled with layered, iterated melodies (“Sierpniowy-brzask”) and anthemic, emphatic roars (“Czas,” “Kolo-zycia”). This applies to forward-launching blazers (“Manifest-kresu,” “Kolo-zycia”), rhythmic fillers (“Czas), and mellow bridgers (“Sierpniowy-brzask,” “Moribunda”) alike. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before but like a favourite hoodie or comforting tv show you’ve watched so many times, you know every line, there’s something endearing and warming about this album—strange as that would seem given its overt heaviness and darkness.

Yet Exolvuntur’s charms mask a simplicity that approaches shallowness. These shimmering lead riffs that are good in isolation and already familiar in an abstract sense are recycled with barely a semitone of difference across the record (“Sierpniowy-brzask,” “Proba-Sznura,” “Hiems”); the remainder feel like filler. Operating between a handful of notes that could constitute a theoretical “average” for this style of meloblack, their cadence, execution, and frequency is not only predictable but so void of imagination that they make every movement feel trite and their emotionality manufactured. It forms a key part of the problematic repetitiousness that plagues Exolvuntur, where tempos suffer from a similar banality, mechanically moving between a tripping march and nondescript blastbeat of some form, killing the fire of a stinging lead and with nary a fill or rollover to be heard. “Heard” is key here, because the drums somehow sound jarringly clacky at one moment and anaemically muffled everywhere else—like a bongo in a phone booth—which makes potential drum gymnastics very difficult to distinguish. At the heights of speed and intensity, vocals and much of the guitars are swallowed by this mire such that everyone is jostling for position, and passionate snarls feel unintentionally strained rather than punchy.

Piołun did not need to fall back on triteness. Not only are there sweeping refrains (“Proba-Sznura”) and passionate arcs (“Manifest-kresu”) that demonstrate a flair for the dramatic and deep, their very debut Rzeki Goryczy does too. The duo exercised restraint in keeping Exolvuntur below 40 minutes, but that restraint seems to have bled into the songwriting, in a genre and proclaimed take on it that necessitates at least a little excess—in emotion, heaviness, speed, or complexity. Exolvuntur is a slice of nostalgia for some, a comforting wash of approximately vicious black metal, but it shows how great a distance there is in evoking a sound and using it to evoke anything else.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Malignant Voices
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Available Worldwide: May 22nd, 2026

It’s impressive how some artists work in multiple bands at once, and more impressive how common this seems to be. Often, the fact that an act is a side-project of or also features a particular musician is the sole reason you check them out, conferring a degree of quality or prestige. Piołun is one of these bands, a duo comprised of Mānbryne and ex-Blaze of Perdition guitarist Łukasz Barański—who here also handles vocals—and relatively unknown drummer Vitor. Like those groups, Piołun is black metal in a style that has grown increasingly associated with the Polish scene in particular—melodic but understated, enriched with a pinch of atmosphere and a slightly gritty vibe. The band’s debut, Rzeki Goryczy, was met with general acclaim, and it should therefore delight fans that Exolvuntur follows closely in its footsteps, albeit aiming to be “more dynamic and melodic.” In fact, this sophomore is exemplary in many ways, but not all of them are complimentary.

Exolvuntur is simple on the surface, sticking to unflowery tremolos and uncomplicated tempos, occasionally employing group1 vocals for roaring emphasis. Particular turns of instrumental phrase echo those of Mānbryne (“Moribunda,” “Hiems”), while others carry a more Sethian tone (“Manifest-kresu,” “Czas”). But Piołun don’t ape anyone so much as draw from a common well of spiritedness. More overtly than on the debut, they hit upon the familiar hazily-layered riffing and minimalistic melodic scales of second-wave-cum-meloblack in general, and structure their compositions uniformly around the recurrence of a singular uplifting high guitar line. This allows them to centre their spirit, which vitriolic vocal delivery and the occasional nods to the epic in their key refrains demonstrate they have an abundance of. Spirit and familiarity only go so far, however.

Piołun know how to write a smart rhythmic hook and a melancholic lead. Repeated stop-starts (“Sierpniowy-brzask,” “Hiems”), an offbeat to the descent of a tremolo (“Manifest-kresu”), and emphatic push-pulls between vocal delivery and guitar line switching (“Moribunda”) make for a consistently spunky energy. It pairs well with Exolvuntur’s best refrains, which feel mournful in that vaguely medieval sense only the trvest black metal is capable of (“Manifest-kresu,” “Sierpniowy-brzask,” “Proba-Sznura”). Exolvuntur is rather more uplifting than harrowing, filled with layered, iterated melodies (“Sierpniowy-brzask”) and anthemic, emphatic roars (“Czas,” “Kolo-zycia”). This applies to forward-launching blazers (“Manifest-kresu,” “Kolo-zycia”), rhythmic fillers (“Czas), and mellow bridgers (“Sierpniowy-brzask,” “Moribunda”) alike. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before but like a favourite hoodie or comforting tv show you’ve watched so many times, you know every line, there’s something endearing and warming about this album—strange as that would seem given its overt heaviness and darkness.

Yet Exolvuntur’s charms mask a simplicity that approaches shallowness. These shimmering lead riffs that are good in isolation and already familiar in an abstract sense are recycled with barely a semitone of difference across the record (“Sierpniowy-brzask,” “Proba-Sznura,” “Hiems”); the remainder feel like filler. Operating between a handful of notes that could constitute a theoretical “average” for this style of meloblack, their cadence, execution, and frequency is not only predictable but so void of imagination that they make every movement feel trite and their emotionality manufactured. It forms a key part of the problematic repetitiousness that plagues Exolvuntur, where tempos suffer from a similar banality, mechanically moving between a tripping march and nondescript blastbeat of some form, killing the fire of a stinging lead and with nary a fill or rollover to be heard. “Heard” is key here, because the drums somehow sound jarringly clacky at one moment and anaemically muffled everywhere else—like a bongo in a phone booth—which makes potential drum gymnastics very difficult to distinguish. At the heights of speed and intensity, vocals and much of the guitars are swallowed by this mire such that everyone is jostling for position, and passionate snarls feel unintentionally strained rather than punchy.

Piołun did not need to fall back on triteness. Not only are there sweeping refrains (“Proba-Sznura”) and passionate arcs (“Manifest-kresu”) that demonstrate a flair for the dramatic and deep, their very debut Rzeki Goryczy does too. The duo exercised restraint in keeping Exolvuntur below 40 minutes, but that restraint seems to have bled into the songwriting, in a genre and proclaimed take on it that necessitates at least a little excess—in emotion, heaviness, speed, or complexity. Exolvuntur is a slice of nostalgia for some, a comforting wash of approximately vicious black metal, but it shows how great a distance there is in evoking a sound and using it to evoke anything else.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Malignant Voices
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Available Worldwide: May 22nd, 2026

It’s impressive how some artists work in multiple bands at once, and more impressive how common this seems to be. Often, the fact that an act is a side-project of or also features a particular musician is the sole reason you check them out, conferring a degree of quality or prestige. Piołun is one of these bands, a duo comprised of Mānbryne and ex-Blaze of Perdition guitarist Łukasz Barański—who here also handles vocals—and relatively unknown drummer Vitor. Like those groups, Piołun is black metal in a style that has grown increasingly associated with the Polish scene in particular—melodic but understated, enriched with a pinch of atmosphere and a slightly gritty vibe. The band’s debut, Rzeki Goryczy, was met with general acclaim, and it should therefore delight fans that Exolvuntur follows closely in its footsteps, albeit aiming to be “more dynamic and melodic.” In fact, this sophomore is exemplary in many ways, but not all of them are complimentary.

Exolvuntur is simple on the surface, sticking to unflowery tremolos and uncomplicated tempos, occasionally employing group1 vocals for roaring emphasis. Particular turns of instrumental phrase echo those of Mānbryne (“Moribunda,” “Hiems”), while others carry a more Sethian tone (“Manifest-kresu,” “Czas”). But Piołun don’t ape anyone so much as draw from a common well of spiritedness. More overtly than on the debut, they hit upon the familiar hazily-layered riffing and minimalistic melodic scales of second-wave-cum-meloblack in general, and structure their compositions uniformly around the recurrence of a singular uplifting high guitar line. This allows them to centre their spirit, which vitriolic vocal delivery and the occasional nods to the epic in their key refrains demonstrate they have an abundance of. Spirit and familiarity only go so far, however.

Piołun know how to write a smart rhythmic hook and a melancholic lead. Repeated stop-starts (“Sierpniowy-brzask,” “Hiems”), an offbeat to the descent of a tremolo (“Manifest-kresu”), and emphatic push-pulls between vocal delivery and guitar line switching (“Moribunda”) make for a consistently spunky energy. It pairs well with Exolvuntur’s best refrains, which feel mournful in that vaguely medieval sense only the trvest black metal is capable of (“Manifest-kresu,” “Sierpniowy-brzask,” “Proba-Sznura”). Exolvuntur is rather more uplifting than harrowing, filled with layered, iterated melodies (“Sierpniowy-brzask”) and anthemic, emphatic roars (“Czas,” “Kolo-zycia”). This applies to forward-launching blazers (“Manifest-kresu,” “Kolo-zycia”), rhythmic fillers (“Czas), and mellow bridgers (“Sierpniowy-brzask,” “Moribunda”) alike. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before but like a favourite hoodie or comforting tv show you’ve watched so many times, you know every line, there’s something endearing and warming about this album—strange as that would seem given its overt heaviness and darkness.

Yet Exolvuntur’s charms mask a simplicity that approaches shallowness. These shimmering lead riffs that are good in isolation and already familiar in an abstract sense are recycled with barely a semitone of difference across the record (“Sierpniowy-brzask,” “Proba-Sznura,” “Hiems”); the remainder feel like filler. Operating between a handful of notes that could constitute a theoretical “average” for this style of meloblack, their cadence, execution, and frequency is not only predictable but so void of imagination that they make every movement feel trite and their emotionality manufactured. It forms a key part of the problematic repetitiousness that plagues Exolvuntur, where tempos suffer from a similar banality, mechanically moving between a tripping march and nondescript blastbeat of some form, killing the fire of a stinging lead and with nary a fill or rollover to be heard. “Heard” is key here, because the drums somehow sound jarringly clacky at one moment and anaemically muffled everywhere else—like a bongo in a phone booth—which makes potential drum gymnastics very difficult to distinguish. At the heights of speed and intensity, vocals and much of the guitars are swallowed by this mire such that everyone is jostling for position, and passionate snarls feel unintentionally strained rather than punchy.

Piołun did not need to fall back on triteness. Not only are there sweeping refrains (“Proba-Sznura”) and passionate arcs (“Manifest-kresu”) that demonstrate a flair for the dramatic and deep, their very debut Rzeki Goryczy does too. The duo exercised restraint in keeping Exolvuntur below 40 minutes, but that restraint seems to have bled into the songwriting, in a genre and proclaimed take on it that necessitates at least a little excess—in emotion, heaviness, speed, or complexity. Exolvuntur is a slice of nostalgia for some, a comforting wash of approximately vicious black metal, but it shows how great a distance there is in evoking a sound and using it to evoke anything else.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Malignant Voices
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Available Worldwide: May 22nd, 2026

It’s impressive how some artists work in multiple bands at once, and more impressive how common this seems to be. Often, the fact that an act is a side-project of or also features a particular musician is the sole reason you check them out, conferring a degree of quality or prestige. Piołun is one of these bands, a duo comprised of Mānbryne and ex-Blaze of Perdition guitarist Łukasz Barański—who here also handles vocals—and relatively unknown drummer Vitor. Like those groups, Piołun is black metal in a style that has grown increasingly associated with the Polish scene in particular—melodic but understated, enriched with a pinch of atmosphere and a slightly gritty vibe. The band’s debut, Rzeki Goryczy, was met with general acclaim, and it should therefore delight fans that Exolvuntur follows closely in its footsteps, albeit aiming to be “more dynamic and melodic.” In fact, this sophomore is exemplary in many ways, but not all of them are complimentary.

Exolvuntur is simple on the surface, sticking to unflowery tremolos and uncomplicated tempos, occasionally employing group1 vocals for roaring emphasis. Particular turns of instrumental phrase echo those of Mānbryne (“Moribunda,” “Hiems”), while others carry a more Sethian tone (“Manifest-kresu,” “Czas”). But Piołun don’t ape anyone so much as draw from a common well of spiritedness. More overtly than on the debut, they hit upon the familiar hazily-layered riffing and minimalistic melodic scales of second-wave-cum-meloblack in general, and structure their compositions uniformly around the recurrence of a singular uplifting high guitar line. This allows them to centre their spirit, which vitriolic vocal delivery and the occasional nods to the epic in their key refrains demonstrate they have an abundance of. Spirit and familiarity only go so far, however.

Piołun know how to write a smart rhythmic hook and a melancholic lead. Repeated stop-starts (“Sierpniowy-brzask,” “Hiems”), an offbeat to the descent of a tremolo (“Manifest-kresu”), and emphatic push-pulls between vocal delivery and guitar line switching (“Moribunda”) make for a consistently spunky energy. It pairs well with Exolvuntur’s best refrains, which feel mournful in that vaguely medieval sense only the trvest black metal is capable of (“Manifest-kresu,” “Sierpniowy-brzask,” “Proba-Sznura”). Exolvuntur is rather more uplifting than harrowing, filled with layered, iterated melodies (“Sierpniowy-brzask”) and anthemic, emphatic roars (“Czas,” “Kolo-zycia”). This applies to forward-launching blazers (“Manifest-kresu,” “Kolo-zycia”), rhythmic fillers (“Czas), and mellow bridgers (“Sierpniowy-brzask,” “Moribunda”) alike. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before but like a favourite hoodie or comforting tv show you’ve watched so many times, you know every line, there’s something endearing and warming about this album—strange as that would seem given its overt heaviness and darkness.

Yet Exolvuntur’s charms mask a simplicity that approaches shallowness. These shimmering lead riffs that are good in isolation and already familiar in an abstract sense are recycled with barely a semitone of difference across the record (“Sierpniowy-brzask,” “Proba-Sznura,” “Hiems”); the remainder feel like filler. Operating between a handful of notes that could constitute a theoretical “average” for this style of meloblack, their cadence, execution, and frequency is not only predictable but so void of imagination that they make every movement feel trite and their emotionality manufactured. It forms a key part of the problematic repetitiousness that plagues Exolvuntur, where tempos suffer from a similar banality, mechanically moving between a tripping march and nondescript blastbeat of some form, killing the fire of a stinging lead and with nary a fill or rollover to be heard. “Heard” is key here, because the drums somehow sound jarringly clacky at one moment and anaemically muffled everywhere else—like a bongo in a phone booth—which makes potential drum gymnastics very difficult to distinguish. At the heights of speed and intensity, vocals and much of the guitars are swallowed by this mire such that everyone is jostling for position, and passionate snarls feel unintentionally strained rather than punchy.

Piołun did not need to fall back on triteness. Not only are there sweeping refrains (“Proba-Sznura”) and passionate arcs (“Manifest-kresu”) that demonstrate a flair for the dramatic and deep, their very debut Rzeki Goryczy does too. The duo exercised restraint in keeping Exolvuntur below 40 minutes, but that restraint seems to have bled into the songwriting, in a genre and proclaimed take on it that necessitates at least a little excess—in emotion, heaviness, speed, or complexity. Exolvuntur is a slice of nostalgia for some, a comforting wash of approximately vicious black metal, but it shows how great a distance there is in evoking a sound and using it to evoke anything else.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Malignant Voices
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Available Worldwide: May 22nd, 2026

Seems like the Filtration system is overburdened once again. Normally, my minions have to scavenge much longer to pick things up this early in the year, but 2026 is proving to be rich in moderately precious metallic ore. That just means I gotta push my team even harder to pull greater loads of filth from the ducts!

As I send them in for yet another round, please enjoy the spoils thus far exploited. BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Tattered Tome

Overtoun // Death Drive Anthropology [February 13th, 2026 – Time to Kill Records]

Chilean progressive death thrash outfit Overtoun is what you get when you mix old school Death and Atheist with the proggier side of Pestilence, then amp the thrash up by a half turn. At a lofty 50 minutes, you’d expect third release Death Drive Anthropology to drag on, but to make that assumption is to criminally underestimate Overtoun’s creativity and versatility. Opening up the throttle in fine form, the one-two punch of “What Unites All (ft. Max Phelps) and “The Final Beat” manages to encompass many of these Chileans’ songwriting and performance skills in a scant 10 minutes. More introspective, nuanced songwriting takes center stage throughout Anthropology’s midsection, balancing smart melodies and minimalist atmosphere with complex guitar layering, proggy structures, and shreddy wizardry (“Dur Khrod,” “Jade, Gold, Obsidian,” “Yurei,” “Weeping”). The three-part “The Waves Suite” suite adds a mystical character to the affair that blends remarkably well with Overtoun’s more overt political messaging and emotional textures, which helps carry the record through its lengthy runtime without causing fatigue. It’s a neat record that’s modestly blemished by a bass presence that begs for more weight and wildness, especially considering the raw talent on hand. Nonetheless, if you’re looking for a creative, thoughtful, and sophisticated entry into the death/thrash progosphere, Death Drive Anthropology makes a strong case.

Andy-War-Hall’s Primordial Pick-Up

The Grand Myth // Of Vultures and Dragons [February 26th, 2026 – Suncrusher Recordings]

I have a grossly limited capacity for seriousness. Yeah, I like my death metal progressive, technical, and thoughtful, much the way Brandon Bordman’s The Grand Myth deliver it on their latest record, Of Vultures and Dragons, but sometimes I just want fun, too. Of Vultures and Dragons, an adaptation of Ethan Pettus’ novel series Primitive War1 in which a rescue team searches a Vietnamese jungle for a missing platoon of Green Berets and fights for their lives against dinosaurs, has fun in spades. Utilizing a many-layered guitar attack (“Symbiotic Death”), shifting and propulsive rhythms (“Through the River Styx”), a wide cast of voice actors for brief narrative bits2 and surprisingly bright tones (“Agony”), The Grand Myth’s approach to progressive death metal isn’t revolutionary, but it’s deeply refreshing and engaging regardless. Though an absolute blast, The Grand Myth doesn’t spew embarrassingly stupid levels of campiness with their sci-fi dinosaur theming like Victorius. Rather, Of Vultures and Dragons can be fairly emotionally effective at times thanks to Bordman’s emotive clean/harsh vocals and elaborate soloing (“Pyre,” “Agony”). Nobody asks about your favorite dinosaur anymore,3 so feed your inner kid with The Grand Myth’s Of Vultures and Dragons now!

Saunders’ Sunken Shards

Puscifer// Normal Isn’t [February 6th, 2026 – Alchemy Recordings]

After losing track of recent offerings, I reacquainted myself with the latest LP from Puscifer, leaving me pleasantly surprised in the aftermath. The project featuring Tool/A Perfect Circle frontman Maynard James Keenan returned for their first hit out since 2020’s Existential Reckoning. Normal Isn’t finds the shape-shifting project embracing its quirky, gothy industrial rock and electronic elements through an angsty filter of guitar-driven arty rock, post-punk, and infectious songcraft. Age should not weary Maynard, as he still sounds angry, cynical, and on point vocally through a mostly engaging, catchy bag of tunes. The dueling vocal melodies with collaborator Carina Round’s ghostly singing work a treat amidst jittery beats, angular riffs and strong electronic overtones. Rhythmically, it is an interesting ride, drummer Gunnar Olsen putting in a top-notch performance, while there is a vaguely progressive edge underlying the hook-centric songwriting. Opener “Thrust” sets the album in motion with sticky hooks, a darkly humorous, unhinged Maynard performance, and a dose of spite. Other key highlights include “Bad Wolf,” “Self Evident,” “A Public Stoning,” and “ImpetuoUs.” Puscifer made a fine return with Normal Isn’t.

Jack Harlon & The Dead Crows // Inexorable Opposites [February 6th, 2026 – Magnetic Eye Records]

You’ve gotta love a sneaky name drop from our trusty commentariat. It has led to many great discoveries over the years. On this occasion, one of our dear commenters enlightened me to Melbourne psych-blues-doomers Jack Harlon & the Dead Crows with fourth LP, Inexorable Opposites. And it didn’t take long absorbing this latest slab of rustic Aussie coolness to be struck by the album’s slow-burning, addictive power, and gritty tones. Boasting an expansive, rugged sound built on layers of distortion and a weighty blend of psych-drenched blues and doom heaviness. Jack Harlon & the Dead Crows features old school, outlaw-driven lyrical content from mastermind and vocalist/guitarist Tim Coutts-Smith, meshing fictional tales of woe and adventure of character Jack Harlon, with relatable real-life struggles. Through the fuzz, thick jammy vibes, and Coutts-Smith distorted, menacing Aussie drawl, catchy songcraft shines through the muck and psych haze. From the tense, stoner-infected grit and catchy hooks of opener “Moss,” through to the stormy outback balladry of closer “To Die,” Inexorable Opposites is a hard-hitting, riffy delight, further evidenced through scorched earth, infectious cuts like “Venomous,” “Seer,” and the trippy, drug-addled “Mt. Macedon.”

Grin Reaper’s Reaped Recluse

Cold Communion // Monuments to Ruin [February 13th, 2026 – Self Released]

Melodic death/doom isn’t a genre I dabble in often, but every now and again, one of its bands thwarts my defenses and wraps their tendrils around my precious listening time. Durham, North Carolina’s Cold Communion is one such band, featuring Barre Gambling (Daylight Dies) on guitar and Tim Rowland (Alchemy of Flesh, Silent Vigil) on everything else. If that sounds like an unfair split, take a spin and reassess, because Gambling’s performance defines Cold Communion’s melancholic character as much as Rowland’s emotive growl. Forgoing any long-form doom epics, Monuments to Ruin’s longest song comes in at five-and-a-half minutes, with the entire album clocking just forty-five. It’s a tidy platter, and both in song composition and mood shares ample common ground with Finnish sadbois Insomnium. Besides Monuments’ superior production, songs like “A Stillness Survival” and “When the Light Breaks” wouldn’t feel out of place on Across the Dark or One for Sorrow. And despite the somber trappings one might expect from doom-adjacency, there’s plenty of lively riffing and solos to find across Monuments to Ruin, adding a touch of boom to the gloom. In the end, Cold Communion doesn’t reinvent the genre or break new ground, but Monuments to Ruin offers a comfy chair by the fireside on a freezing cold day, and I’m perfectly content with that.

Mossgiver // Renewer [February 6th, 2026 – Sij MusicArt]

Atmospheric black metal often contrasts the beautiful with the bestial, typically prioritizing moods over hooks. ‘Twas a delight, then, to unearth Mossgiver’s Renewal, which deftly combines the two. Weaving together hypnotic passages flooded with strings, piano, flute, synths, double bass rolls, and the requisite blackened tremolos,4 Mossgiver’s mastermind Tilen Šimon (Ueldes) delivers the band’s best record to date. Above all, Renewer sounds like a celebration of nature in the vein of Autrest and Cân Bardd, evoking a whispering wind whipping at leaves or sunlight dappling a brook shaded by oaks and maples. Beyond the well-crafted soundtrack for a walk through the woods, Mossgiver etches emotion into the nooks and crannies of Renewer’s five tracks. From rousing string orchestrations (“I Bring the Spring with Me”) to soft-and-heavy tradeoffs pitting clean guitar and pan pipes against distorted guitar and blast beats (“Renewer”), Mossgiver shimmers with a lush backdrop of instrumentation rife with playfulness and pensiveness. The trio of primary songs5 revolve around powerful melodies that evolve over each track’s duration, with assorted instruments coming in and out to push refrains along. Renewer’s brisk thirty-four minutes showcase Mossgiver’s sticky compositions and leave me whistling its melodies for days at a time. Now throw on your hiking boots and get lost in the Moss.

Ossomancer // Banebdjed’s Path [February 28th, 2026 – Esoteric Evocations]

Six-and-a-half years removed from Ossomancer’s debut Artes Magickae, lone wolf and mastermind Kamose returns to tread Banebjed’s Path. Bursting with references to mythology and mysticism, Banebjed’s Path rumbles and shakes with arcane thunder. Although the backdrop and track names might recall the frenzied onslaught of Nile, Ossomancer instead conceives a realm recalling Aeternam, Iotunn, and Naglfar. Despite the scant thirty-four-minute runtime, Banebjed’s Path sprawls across diverse landscapes and textures. Opener “The Ogdoad Arrangement and the Osirian Creation” oscillates between In Flames melodies and a slinky crawl that could pass for a 90s Geddy Lee bass line played over synth injections from Rush’s 80s era. Follow-up track “Sobek – Cosmic Vibrations Devoured” features Kreator-bred riffing, while closing duo “A Sea of Sand, a Silver Star” and “Retraction into Kether” synthesize the ethereal atmospheres of Iotunn with the blackened assault of Naglfar. Through it all, Ossomancer sounds fabulous, as Banebjed’s Path flaunts an enviable DR 8 and a bodacious mix that spotlights its burly bass performance. Ossomancer’s sophomore outing is crammed with meloblack goodies, and though it’s not a long trek, the journey down Banebjed’s Path far transcends its distance.

Tyme’s Danish Dalliance

Ædel Fetich // Ædel Fetich [February 20th, 2026 – Deadbanger Productions]

That blinged-out pink dish-glove-clad hand is what first drew me to Denmark outfit Ædel Fetich’s self-titled debut. Then I clicked play and was taken on one of the more compelling “black” metal rides in recent memory. With roots primarily buried in the soil of the traditional second-wave, Ædel Fetich is rife with moments of rifferous tremolodic speed (“Ridderlig Lider,” “Madras”) and absolutely berserk guitar chaos (“Sort Magi”). There’s a Trhä-like sense of experimentation, and the rawness of the production enhances the oft-changing compositions, which, like weather in the Midwest, often shift on a dime without warning. Luckily, Ædel Fetich’s adept songwriting organically smooths these transitions, which could have easily come off stilted and jarring, but makes drawing direct comparisons to the Ædel Fetich sound difficult, as there’s a spectrum of other influences at play. There are tracks packed with punky punch (“Et Liv Fuld af Fejl,” “Ildtang”) or imbued with folky reverence (“Mit Billede af Dig”) and even some 80s pop—fans of the movie Flashdance shouldn’t have a problem finding the poppy easter egg hiding near the end of “Sort Magi.”6 Far and away the star of the show, however, is singer Skvat, whose performance is filled with as much black metal bravado as it is theatrical exuberance, his arsenal of shrieks, growls, hoots, howls, and operatic baritonations a refreshing treat, akin to if Mike Patton woke up one day deciding to record a Danish black metal album. Bottom line is, I really dig Ædel Fetich and think you will too.

Creeping Ivy’s Ashen Afterthought

Belzebong // The End is High [February 20th, 2026 – Heavy Psych Sounds]

In my humble opinion, lyrics are key to making stoner metal more than novelty music. If you’re referencing reefer in your album art, band name, and song titles, at least keep the reeferisms out of the songs themselves,7 or better yet, avoid vocals altogether. Taking this latter advice to heart is instrumental Polish four-piece Belzebong, who have been at it for almost 20 years now. On The End is High, their fourth full-length, Belzebong deal 35 minutes of fuzzed-out riffery described as “a new sermon for the final days.” While not as highbrow (huh huh) as the instrumental stoner metal of Bongripper, Belzebong are similarly ominous on opener (yes) “Bong & Chain,” which caps its ten-minute burn with creepy, haunting synths. From there, the band settle into material more akin to Bongzilla; sound clips adorn the chill grooves of “420 Horsemen,” “Hempnotized,” and “Reefer Mortis,” which closes things out with some solid Electric Wizard worship. If you instinctively (and understandably) recoil from music with marijuana aesthetics but dig the meditative repetition offered by stoner metal, consider sampling The End is High. It’s not exactly the caricature it advertises itself as.

Baguette’s Bygone Bounty

Sundecay // The Blood Lives Again [February 13th, 2026 – Self Released]

Toronto’s Sundecay has been around for a while. These Canadian doomers spawned sometime prior to 2014, quietly releasing EP material every once in a blue moon. The Blood Lives Again is their first full-length release—their first signs of life since 2018 in general—and the time and care they took to develop their sound and songwriting prowess pays off here in spades. The doom and proto-doom inspirations from Black Sabbath to Saint Vitus are obvious (“Here Comes the Wizard”), complemented by other influences from proto-metal, psychedelic, and progressive music (“Silence Spoken”). The hefty, layered guitars have a nice fuzz without fully landing in stoner territory. Ambitious long-form tracks like “Will Dusk Defy Dawn” flow like water while carrying significant emotional heft. Lastly, a moody, reverb-heavy vocal performance crowns the classic doom trance the band is aiming for. At five tracks and some 43 minutes, The Blood Lives Again is a total vibe and flies by before you’ve even noticed. Fans of the ’70s should take notes!

Temple Balls // Temple Balls [February 13th, 2026 – Frontiers Music]

One of the most authentic ways you can honor rock music tradition is via questionable naming conventions. On an unrelated note, Temple Balls is a Finnish hard rock/glam rock band, and they’re fun as hell! They’re not particularly new around the block, either: the group formed in 2009, and self-titled Temple Balls is already their fifth album since debut Traded Dreams in 2017. 2023’s Avalanche felt like a watershed moment, a welcome surprise that brought some new life and energy to a fairly dated genre of Europeisms and Hanoi Rocks rehashes. Temple Balls proves that Avalanche wasn’t a one-off, continuing their extremely authentic throwback approach. The heavy/power-metal-meets-AOR direction of songwriting (“Flashback Dynamite,” “Soul Survivor”) gives it that extra guitar oomph and energy that melodic music like this requires to be anywhere near competitive. With great all-out vocals from Arde Teronen and gigantic hooks to match, it’s just a damn good time front to back. Though it will sadly be the last time we’ll hear Niko Vuorela’s guitar work on record (R.I.P., and fuck cancer), the self-titled is certainly a worthy final milestone for him—and hopefully, another beginning for his comrades.

ClarkKent’s Enchanting Earworm

Hela // A Reign to Conquer [February 27, 2026 – Ardua Music]

Just as it put a pause on many plans and projects, the COVID pandemic slowed down the output of Spain’s Hela. A Reign to Conquer marks their first record since 2019’s Vegvìsir, which was their third release since 2013. This brief hiatus brought new blood in the form of vocalist Raquel Navarro, though, in truth, the only consistency in Hela’s lineup is the other three members—Tano Giménez on bass, Miguel Fernández (The Holeum) on drums, and Julián Velasco (The Holeum) on guitars. They have a deep bond, first forged in 2009 with The Sand Collector before forming Hela just three years later. Though they brand Hela as melodic doom, and the band does have a little in common with Katatonia, I think it’s more accurate to describe them as dreamy progressive rock. Navarro is a major reason for this, with dreamy croons that guide listeners through breezy soundscapes. She bears a passing resemblance to Maud the Moth, though the music Hela plays is decidedly more metal than our Dolphin friend’s favorite nocturnal insect. Guitarist Velasco plays a hypnotizing mix of atmospheric fuzz, crushing doom, and melodic riffs that add some heft and crunch to the ethereal sound. A Reign to Conquer has plenty of layers to probe, rewarding listeners who bear with it for repeat listens. While my initial spins left me wanting, I’ve since become spellbound. Add to that some gorgeous artwork, and this is a nice addition to anyone’s vinyl collection. Hela yeah!

Spicie Forrest’s Vicious Vittles

A Wilhelm Scream8 // Cheap Heat [February 27th, 2026 – Creator-Destructor Records]

A Wilhelm Scream9 returns after a four-year hiatus with their eighth long player, Cheap Heat. Sounding like the best combination of The Story So Far and Rise Against, A Wilhelm Scream delivers an impressive tour de force so late in their career. Vocalist Nuno Pereira10 is the highlight of Cheap Heat, driving the album with urgency and passion (“Somebody’s Gonna Die,” “Fell Off”), but no one here is a slouch. The rhythm section—bassist Brian J. Robinson, rhythm guitarist Trevor Reilly, and drummer Nicholas Pasquale Angelini—gleefully tosses gas on Pereira’s bonfire (“I Got Tunnel Vision”) and delivers solid grooves (“Poison II”) and searing ragers (“Unsolving the Mystery”) that keep the energy cranked to 11 all through Cheap Heat. Hooks are by far the most common lead duty, and Ben Murray puts on a fucking clinic. Each note that rings out from his axe sounds like it fucking owns the place (“Run,” “Visitor: Unimpressed”). Cheap Heat is a smidge front-loaded with “Midnight Ghost” and “I Got Tunnel Vision” being album highlights, but no song on here is anything short of a barn burner. At a super tight 28 minutes, Cheap Heat hits hard and fast and gets the fuck out of Dodge before you’re even sure what hit you. I didn’t expect a 26-year-old hardcore outfit to knock my teeth out when I queued it up on a whim one morning, but Cheap Heat is proving to be one of my favorite albums of the year.

Lead Injector // Witching Attack [February 20th, 2026 – High Roller Records]

Who doesn’t like the combination of thrash’s unchained aggression and black metal’s cold hate? There’s never been a better pair. Lead Injector hit the ground running on debut LP Witching Attack. From the opening moments of “Siege Upon Heaven” to the closing moments of “Nuclear Antichrist,” Lead Injector is here to do two things: feed high-speed buckshot to God, skeletons, and anything else that gets in their way, and have a Hellripping good time. “Angel Destructor” and “Siege Upon Heaven” barrel pell-mell through searing riffs and blast beats, while groovier tracks like “Evil Executioner” and “Nuclear Antichrist” let black metal’s punk ancestry shine through. Heavy metal influences a la Judas Priest can be found injected into tracks like “Sacrifice This Bitch” and “M.C.C.I.” While nothing about Lead Injector’s sound is particularly new, I’m not sure that’s a bad thing. This debut is a unique and retro spin on a tried-and-true formula that bodes well for a young band. Witching Attack is a killer time that Ash Williams would gladly spin while boomsticking Deadites alongside Lord Arthur’s army.

Seems like the Filtration system is overburdened once again. Normally, my minions have to scavenge much longer to pick things up this early in the year, but 2026 is proving to be rich in moderately precious metallic ore. That just means I gotta push my team even harder to pull greater loads of filth from the ducts!

As I send them in for yet another round, please enjoy the spoils thus far exploited. BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Tattered Tome

Overtoun // Death Drive Anthropology [February 13th, 2026 – Time to Kill Records]

Chilean progressive death thrash outfit Overtoun is what you get when you mix old school Death and Atheist with the proggier side of Pestilence, then amp the thrash up by a half turn. At a lofty 50 minutes, you’d expect third release Death Drive Anthropology to drag on, but to make that assumption is to criminally underestimate Overtoun’s creativity and versatility. Opening up the throttle in fine form, the one-two punch of “What Unites All (ft. Max Phelps) and “The Final Beat” manages to encompass many of these Chileans’ songwriting and performance skills in a scant 10 minutes. More introspective, nuanced songwriting takes center stage throughout Anthropology’s midsection, balancing smart melodies and minimalist atmosphere with complex guitar layering, proggy structures, and shreddy wizardry (“Dur Khrod,” “Jade, Gold, Obsidian,” “Yurei,” “Weeping”). The three-part “The Waves Suite” suite adds a mystical character to the affair that blends remarkably well with Overtoun’s more overt political messaging and emotional textures, which helps carry the record through its lengthy runtime without causing fatigue. It’s a neat record that’s modestly blemished by a bass presence that begs for more weight and wildness, especially considering the raw talent on hand. Nonetheless, if you’re looking for a creative, thoughtful, and sophisticated entry into the death/thrash progosphere, Death Drive Anthropology makes a strong case.

Andy-War-Hall’s Primordial Pick-Up

The Grand Myth // Of Vultures and Dragons [February 26th, 2026 – Suncrusher Recordings]

I have a grossly limited capacity for seriousness. Yeah, I like my death metal progressive, technical, and thoughtful, much the way Brandon Bordman’s The Grand Myth deliver it on their latest record, Of Vultures and Dragons, but sometimes I just want fun, too. Of Vultures and Dragons, an adaptation of Ethan Pettus’ novel series Primitive War1 in which a rescue team searches a Vietnamese jungle for a missing platoon of Green Berets and fights for their lives against dinosaurs, has fun in spades. Utilizing a many-layered guitar attack (“Symbiotic Death”), shifting and propulsive rhythms (“Through the River Styx”), a wide cast of voice actors for brief narrative bits2 and surprisingly bright tones (“Agony”), The Grand Myth’s approach to progressive death metal isn’t revolutionary, but it’s deeply refreshing and engaging regardless. Though an absolute blast, The Grand Myth doesn’t spew embarrassingly stupid levels of campiness with their sci-fi dinosaur theming like Victorius. Rather, Of Vultures and Dragons can be fairly emotionally effective at times thanks to Bordman’s emotive clean/harsh vocals and elaborate soloing (“Pyre,” “Agony”). Nobody asks about your favorite dinosaur anymore,3 so feed your inner kid with The Grand Myth’s Of Vultures and Dragons now!

Saunders’ Sunken Shards

Puscifer// Normal Isn’t [February 6th, 2026 – Alchemy Recordings]

After losing track of recent offerings, I reacquainted myself with the latest LP from Puscifer, leaving me pleasantly surprised in the aftermath. The project featuring Tool/A Perfect Circle frontman Maynard James Keenan returned for their first hit out since 2020’s Existential Reckoning. Normal Isn’t finds the shape-shifting project embracing its quirky, gothy industrial rock and electronic elements through an angsty filter of guitar-driven arty rock, post-punk, and infectious songcraft. Age should not weary Maynard, as he still sounds angry, cynical, and on point vocally through a mostly engaging, catchy bag of tunes. The dueling vocal melodies with collaborator Carina Round’s ghostly singing work a treat amidst jittery beats, angular riffs and strong electronic overtones. Rhythmically, it is an interesting ride, drummer Gunnar Olsen putting in a top-notch performance, while there is a vaguely progressive edge underlying the hook-centric songwriting. Opener “Thrust” sets the album in motion with sticky hooks, a darkly humorous, unhinged Maynard performance, and a dose of spite. Other key highlights include “Bad Wolf,” “Self Evident,” “A Public Stoning,” and “ImpetuoUs.” Puscifer made a fine return with Normal Isn’t.

Jack Harlon & The Dead Crows // Inexorable Opposites [February 6th, 2026 – Magnetic Eye Records]

You’ve gotta love a sneaky name drop from our trusty commentariat. It has led to many great discoveries over the years. On this occasion, one of our dear commenters enlightened me to Melbourne psych-blues-doomers Jack Harlon & the Dead Crows with fourth LP, Inexorable Opposites. And it didn’t take long absorbing this latest slab of rustic Aussie coolness to be struck by the album’s slow-burning, addictive power, and gritty tones. Boasting an expansive, rugged sound built on layers of distortion and a weighty blend of psych-drenched blues and doom heaviness. Jack Harlon & the Dead Crows features old school, outlaw-driven lyrical content from mastermind and vocalist/guitarist Tim Coutts-Smith, meshing fictional tales of woe and adventure of character Jack Harlon, with relatable real-life struggles. Through the fuzz, thick jammy vibes, and Coutts-Smith distorted, menacing Aussie drawl, catchy songcraft shines through the muck and psych haze. From the tense, stoner-infected grit and catchy hooks of opener “Moss,” through to the stormy outback balladry of closer “To Die,” Inexorable Opposites is a hard-hitting, riffy delight, further evidenced through scorched earth, infectious cuts like “Venomous,” “Seer,” and the trippy, drug-addled “Mt. Macedon.”

Grin Reaper’s Reaped Recluse

Cold Communion // Monuments to Ruin [February 13th, 2026 – Self Released]

Melodic death/doom isn’t a genre I dabble in often, but every now and again, one of its bands thwarts my defenses and wraps their tendrils around my precious listening time. Durham, North Carolina’s Cold Communion is one such band, featuring Barre Gambling (Daylight Dies) on guitar and Tim Rowland (Alchemy of Flesh, Silent Vigil) on everything else. If that sounds like an unfair split, take a spin and reassess, because Gambling’s performance defines Cold Communion’s melancholic character as much as Rowland’s emotive growl. Forgoing any long-form doom epics, Monuments to Ruin’s longest song comes in at five-and-a-half minutes, with the entire album clocking just forty-five. It’s a tidy platter, and both in song composition and mood shares ample common ground with Finnish sadbois Insomnium. Besides Monuments’ superior production, songs like “A Stillness Survival” and “When the Light Breaks” wouldn’t feel out of place on Across the Dark or One for Sorrow. And despite the somber trappings one might expect from doom-adjacency, there’s plenty of lively riffing and solos to find across Monuments to Ruin, adding a touch of boom to the gloom. In the end, Cold Communion doesn’t reinvent the genre or break new ground, but Monuments to Ruin offers a comfy chair by the fireside on a freezing cold day, and I’m perfectly content with that.

Mossgiver // Renewer [February 6th, 2026 – Sij MusicArt]

Atmospheric black metal often contrasts the beautiful with the bestial, typically prioritizing moods over hooks. ‘Twas a delight, then, to unearth Mossgiver’s Renewal, which deftly combines the two. Weaving together hypnotic passages flooded with strings, piano, flute, synths, double bass rolls, and the requisite blackened tremolos,4 Mossgiver’s mastermind Tilen Šimon (Ueldes) delivers the band’s best record to date. Above all, Renewer sounds like a celebration of nature in the vein of Autrest and Cân Bardd, evoking a whispering wind whipping at leaves or sunlight dappling a brook shaded by oaks and maples. Beyond the well-crafted soundtrack for a walk through the woods, Mossgiver etches emotion into the nooks and crannies of Renewer’s five tracks. From rousing string orchestrations (“I Bring the Spring with Me”) to soft-and-heavy tradeoffs pitting clean guitar and pan pipes against distorted guitar and blast beats (“Renewer”), Mossgiver shimmers with a lush backdrop of instrumentation rife with playfulness and pensiveness. The trio of primary songs5 revolve around powerful melodies that evolve over each track’s duration, with assorted instruments coming in and out to push refrains along. Renewer’s brisk thirty-four minutes showcase Mossgiver’s sticky compositions and leave me whistling its melodies for days at a time. Now throw on your hiking boots and get lost in the Moss.

Ossomancer // Banebdjed’s Path [February 28th, 2026 – Esoteric Evocations]

Six-and-a-half years removed from Ossomancer’s debut Artes Magickae, lone wolf and mastermind Kamose returns to tread Banebjed’s Path. Bursting with references to mythology and mysticism, Banebjed’s Path rumbles and shakes with arcane thunder. Although the backdrop and track names might recall the frenzied onslaught of Nile, Ossomancer instead conceives a realm recalling Aeternam, Iotunn, and Naglfar. Despite the scant thirty-four-minute runtime, Banebjed’s Path sprawls across diverse landscapes and textures. Opener “The Ogdoad Arrangement and the Osirian Creation” oscillates between In Flames melodies and a slinky crawl that could pass for a 90s Geddy Lee bass line played over synth injections from Rush’s 80s era. Follow-up track “Sobek – Cosmic Vibrations Devoured” features Kreator-bred riffing, while closing duo “A Sea of Sand, a Silver Star” and “Retraction into Kether” synthesize the ethereal atmospheres of Iotunn with the blackened assault of Naglfar. Through it all, Ossomancer sounds fabulous, as Banebjed’s Path flaunts an enviable DR 8 and a bodacious mix that spotlights its burly bass performance. Ossomancer’s sophomore outing is crammed with meloblack goodies, and though it’s not a long trek, the journey down Banebjed’s Path far transcends its distance.

Tyme’s Danish Dalliance

Ædel Fetich // Ædel Fetich [February 20th, 2026 – Deadbanger Productions]

That blinged-out pink dish-glove-clad hand is what first drew me to Denmark outfit Ædel Fetich’s self-titled debut. Then I clicked play and was taken on one of the more compelling “black” metal rides in recent memory. With roots primarily buried in the soil of the traditional second-wave, Ædel Fetich is rife with moments of rifferous tremolodic speed (“Ridderlig Lider,” “Madras”) and absolutely berserk guitar chaos (“Sort Magi”). There’s a Trhä-like sense of experimentation, and the rawness of the production enhances the oft-changing compositions, which, like weather in the Midwest, often shift on a dime without warning. Luckily, Ædel Fetich’s adept songwriting organically smooths these transitions, which could have easily come off stilted and jarring, but makes drawing direct comparisons to the Ædel Fetich sound difficult, as there’s a spectrum of other influences at play. There are tracks packed with punky punch (“Et Liv Fuld af Fejl,” “Ildtang”) or imbued with folky reverence (“Mit Billede af Dig”) and even some 80s pop—fans of the movie Flashdance shouldn’t have a problem finding the poppy easter egg hiding near the end of “Sort Magi.”6 Far and away the star of the show, however, is singer Skvat, whose performance is filled with as much black metal bravado as it is theatrical exuberance, his arsenal of shrieks, growls, hoots, howls, and operatic baritonations a refreshing treat, akin to if Mike Patton woke up one day deciding to record a Danish black metal album. Bottom line is, I really dig Ædel Fetich and think you will too.

Creeping Ivy’s Ashen Afterthought

Belzebong // The End is High [February 20th, 2026 – Heavy Psych Sounds]

In my humble opinion, lyrics are key to making stoner metal more than novelty music. If you’re referencing reefer in your album art, band name, and song titles, at least keep the reeferisms out of the songs themselves,7 or better yet, avoid vocals altogether. Taking this latter advice to heart is instrumental Polish four-piece Belzebong, who have been at it for almost 20 years now. On The End is High, their fourth full-length, Belzebong deal 35 minutes of fuzzed-out riffery described as “a new sermon for the final days.” While not as highbrow (huh huh) as the instrumental stoner metal of Bongripper, Belzebong are similarly ominous on opener (yes) “Bong & Chain,” which caps its ten-minute burn with creepy, haunting synths. From there, the band settle into material more akin to Bongzilla; sound clips adorn the chill grooves of “420 Horsemen,” “Hempnotized,” and “Reefer Mortis,” which closes things out with some solid Electric Wizard worship. If you instinctively (and understandably) recoil from music with marijuana aesthetics but dig the meditative repetition offered by stoner metal, consider sampling The End is High. It’s not exactly the caricature it advertises itself as.

Baguette’s Bygone Bounty

Sundecay // The Blood Lives Again [February 13th, 2026 – Self Released]

Toronto’s Sundecay has been around for a while. These Canadian doomers spawned sometime prior to 2014, quietly releasing EP material every once in a blue moon. The Blood Lives Again is their first full-length release—their first signs of life since 2018 in general—and the time and care they took to develop their sound and songwriting prowess pays off here in spades. The doom and proto-doom inspirations from Black Sabbath to Saint Vitus are obvious (“Here Comes the Wizard”), complemented by other influences from proto-metal, psychedelic, and progressive music (“Silence Spoken”). The hefty, layered guitars have a nice fuzz without fully landing in stoner territory. Ambitious long-form tracks like “Will Dusk Defy Dawn” flow like water while carrying significant emotional heft. Lastly, a moody, reverb-heavy vocal performance crowns the classic doom trance the band is aiming for. At five tracks and some 43 minutes, The Blood Lives Again is a total vibe and flies by before you’ve even noticed. Fans of the ’70s should take notes!

Temple Balls // Temple Balls [February 13th, 2026 – Frontiers Music]

One of the most authentic ways you can honor rock music tradition is via questionable naming conventions. On an unrelated note, Temple Balls is a Finnish hard rock/glam rock band, and they’re fun as hell! They’re not particularly new around the block, either: the group formed in 2009, and self-titled Temple Balls is already their fifth album since debut Traded Dreams in 2017. 2023’s Avalanche felt like a watershed moment, a welcome surprise that brought some new life and energy to a fairly dated genre of Europeisms and Hanoi Rocks rehashes. Temple Balls proves that Avalanche wasn’t a one-off, continuing their extremely authentic throwback approach. The heavy/power-metal-meets-AOR direction of songwriting (“Flashback Dynamite,” “Soul Survivor”) gives it that extra guitar oomph and energy that melodic music like this requires to be anywhere near competitive. With great all-out vocals from Arde Teronen and gigantic hooks to match, it’s just a damn good time front to back. Though it will sadly be the last time we’ll hear Niko Vuorela’s guitar work on record (R.I.P., and fuck cancer), the self-titled is certainly a worthy final milestone for him—and hopefully, another beginning for his comrades.

ClarkKent’s Enchanting Earworm

Hela // A Reign to Conquer [February 27, 2026 – Ardua Music]

Just as it put a pause on many plans and projects, the COVID pandemic slowed down the output of Spain’s Hela. A Reign to Conquer marks their first record since 2019’s Vegvìsir, which was their third release since 2013. This brief hiatus brought new blood in the form of vocalist Raquel Navarro, though, in truth, the only consistency in Hela’s lineup is the other three members—Tano Giménez on bass, Miguel Fernández (The Holeum) on drums, and Julián Velasco (The Holeum) on guitars. They have a deep bond, first forged in 2009 with The Sand Collector before forming Hela just three years later. Though they brand Hela as melodic doom, and the band does have a little in common with Katatonia, I think it’s more accurate to describe them as dreamy progressive rock. Navarro is a major reason for this, with dreamy croons that guide listeners through breezy soundscapes. She bears a passing resemblance to Maud the Moth, though the music Hela plays is decidedly more metal than our Dolphin friend’s favorite nocturnal insect. Guitarist Velasco plays a hypnotizing mix of atmospheric fuzz, crushing doom, and melodic riffs that add some heft and crunch to the ethereal sound. A Reign to Conquer has plenty of layers to probe, rewarding listeners who bear with it for repeat listens. While my initial spins left me wanting, I’ve since become spellbound. Add to that some gorgeous artwork, and this is a nice addition to anyone’s vinyl collection. Hela yeah!

Spicie Forrest’s Vicious Vittles

A Wilhelm Scream8 // Cheap Heat [February 27th, 2026 – Creator-Destructor Records]

A Wilhelm Scream9 returns after a four-year hiatus with their eighth long player, Cheap Heat. Sounding like the best combination of The Story So Far and Rise Against, A Wilhelm Scream delivers an impressive tour de force so late in their career. Vocalist Nuno Pereira10 is the highlight of Cheap Heat, driving the album with urgency and passion (“Somebody’s Gonna Die,” “Fell Off”), but no one here is a slouch. The rhythm section—bassist Brian J. Robinson, rhythm guitarist Trevor Reilly, and drummer Nicholas Pasquale Angelini—gleefully tosses gas on Pereira’s bonfire (“I Got Tunnel Vision”) and delivers solid grooves (“Poison II”) and searing ragers (“Unsolving the Mystery”) that keep the energy cranked to 11 all through Cheap Heat. Hooks are by far the most common lead duty, and Ben Murray puts on a fucking clinic. Each note that rings out from his axe sounds like it fucking owns the place (“Run,” “Visitor: Unimpressed”). Cheap Heat is a smidge front-loaded with “Midnight Ghost” and “I Got Tunnel Vision” being album highlights, but no song on here is anything short of a barn burner. At a super tight 28 minutes, Cheap Heat hits hard and fast and gets the fuck out of Dodge before you’re even sure what hit you. I didn’t expect a 26-year-old hardcore outfit to knock my teeth out when I queued it up on a whim one morning, but Cheap Heat is proving to be one of my favorite albums of the year.

Lead Injector // Witching Attack [February 20th, 2026 – High Roller Records]

Who doesn’t like the combination of thrash’s unchained aggression and black metal’s cold hate? There’s never been a better pair. Lead Injector hit the ground running on debut LP Witching Attack. From the opening moments of “Siege Upon Heaven” to the closing moments of “Nuclear Antichrist,” Lead Injector is here to do two things: feed high-speed buckshot to God, skeletons, and anything else that gets in their way, and have a Hellripping good time. “Angel Destructor” and “Siege Upon Heaven” barrel pell-mell through searing riffs and blast beats, while groovier tracks like “Evil Executioner” and “Nuclear Antichrist” let black metal’s punk ancestry shine through. Heavy metal influences a la Judas Priest can be found injected into tracks like “Sacrifice This Bitch” and “M.C.C.I.” While nothing about Lead Injector’s sound is particularly new, I’m not sure that’s a bad thing. This debut is a unique and retro spin on a tried-and-true formula that bodes well for a young band. Witching Attack is a killer time that Ash Williams would gladly spin while boomsticking Deadites alongside Lord Arthur’s army.

Seems like the Filtration system is overburdened once again. Normally, my minions have to scavenge much longer to pick things up this early in the year, but 2026 is proving to be rich in moderately precious metallic ore. That just means I gotta push my team even harder to pull greater loads of filth from the ducts!

As I send them in for yet another round, please enjoy the spoils thus far exploited. BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Tattered Tome

Overtoun // Death Drive Anthropology [February 13th, 2026 – Time to Kill Records]

Chilean progressive death thrash outfit Overtoun is what you get when you mix old school Death and Atheist with the proggier side of Pestilence, then amp the thrash up by a half turn. At a lofty 50 minutes, you’d expect third release Death Drive Anthropology to drag on, but to make that assumption is to criminally underestimate Overtoun’s creativity and versatility. Opening up the throttle in fine form, the one-two punch of “What Unites All (ft. Max Phelps) and “The Final Beat” manages to encompass many of these Chileans’ songwriting and performance skills in a scant 10 minutes. More introspective, nuanced songwriting takes center stage throughout Anthropology’s midsection, balancing smart melodies and minimalist atmosphere with complex guitar layering, proggy structures, and shreddy wizardry (“Dur Khrod,” “Jade, Gold, Obsidian,” “Yurei,” “Weeping”). The three-part “The Waves Suite” suite adds a mystical character to the affair that blends remarkably well with Overtoun’s more overt political messaging and emotional textures, which helps carry the record through its lengthy runtime without causing fatigue. It’s a neat record that’s modestly blemished by a bass presence that begs for more weight and wildness, especially considering the raw talent on hand. Nonetheless, if you’re looking for a creative, thoughtful, and sophisticated entry into the death/thrash progosphere, Death Drive Anthropology makes a strong case.

Andy-War-Hall’s Primordial Pick-Up

The Grand Myth // Of Vultures and Dragons [February 26th, 2026 – Suncrusher Recordings]

I have a grossly limited capacity for seriousness. Yeah, I like my death metal progressive, technical, and thoughtful, much the way Brandon Bordman’s The Grand Myth deliver it on their latest record, Of Vultures and Dragons, but sometimes I just want fun, too. Of Vultures and Dragons, an adaptation of Ethan Pettus’ novel series Primitive War1 in which a rescue team searches a Vietnamese jungle for a missing platoon of Green Berets and fights for their lives against dinosaurs, has fun in spades. Utilizing a many-layered guitar attack (“Symbiotic Death”), shifting and propulsive rhythms (“Through the River Styx”), a wide cast of voice actors for brief narrative bits2 and surprisingly bright tones (“Agony”), The Grand Myth’s approach to progressive death metal isn’t revolutionary, but it’s deeply refreshing and engaging regardless. Though an absolute blast, The Grand Myth doesn’t spew embarrassingly stupid levels of campiness with their sci-fi dinosaur theming like Victorius. Rather, Of Vultures and Dragons can be fairly emotionally effective at times thanks to Bordman’s emotive clean/harsh vocals and elaborate soloing (“Pyre,” “Agony”). Nobody asks about your favorite dinosaur anymore,3 so feed your inner kid with The Grand Myth’s Of Vultures and Dragons now!

Saunders’ Sunken Shards

Puscifer// Normal Isn’t [February 6th, 2026 – Alchemy Recordings]

After losing track of recent offerings, I reacquainted myself with the latest LP from Puscifer, leaving me pleasantly surprised in the aftermath. The project featuring Tool/A Perfect Circle frontman Maynard James Keenan returned for their first hit out since 2020’s Existential Reckoning. Normal Isn’t finds the shape-shifting project embracing its quirky, gothy industrial rock and electronic elements through an angsty filter of guitar-driven arty rock, post-punk, and infectious songcraft. Age should not weary Maynard, as he still sounds angry, cynical, and on point vocally through a mostly engaging, catchy bag of tunes. The dueling vocal melodies with collaborator Carina Round’s ghostly singing work a treat amidst jittery beats, angular riffs and strong electronic overtones. Rhythmically, it is an interesting ride, drummer Gunnar Olsen putting in a top-notch performance, while there is a vaguely progressive edge underlying the hook-centric songwriting. Opener “Thrust” sets the album in motion with sticky hooks, a darkly humorous, unhinged Maynard performance, and a dose of spite. Other key highlights include “Bad Wolf,” “Self Evident,” “A Public Stoning,” and “ImpetuoUs.” Puscifer made a fine return with Normal Isn’t.

Jack Harlon & The Dead Crows // Inexorable Opposites [February 6th, 2026 – Magnetic Eye Records]

You’ve gotta love a sneaky name drop from our trusty commentariat. It has led to many great discoveries over the years. On this occasion, one of our dear commenters enlightened me to Melbourne psych-blues-doomers Jack Harlon & the Dead Crows with fourth LP, Inexorable Opposites. And it didn’t take long absorbing this latest slab of rustic Aussie coolness to be struck by the album’s slow-burning, addictive power, and gritty tones. Boasting an expansive, rugged sound built on layers of distortion and a weighty blend of psych-drenched blues and doom heaviness. Jack Harlon & the Dead Crows features old school, outlaw-driven lyrical content from mastermind and vocalist/guitarist Tim Coutts-Smith, meshing fictional tales of woe and adventure of character Jack Harlon, with relatable real-life struggles. Through the fuzz, thick jammy vibes, and Coutts-Smith distorted, menacing Aussie drawl, catchy songcraft shines through the muck and psych haze. From the tense, stoner-infected grit and catchy hooks of opener “Moss,” through to the stormy outback balladry of closer “To Die,” Inexorable Opposites is a hard-hitting, riffy delight, further evidenced through scorched earth, infectious cuts like “Venomous,” “Seer,” and the trippy, drug-addled “Mt. Macedon.”

Grin Reaper’s Reaped Recluse

Cold Communion // Monuments to Ruin [February 13th, 2026 – Self Released]

Melodic death/doom isn’t a genre I dabble in often, but every now and again, one of its bands thwarts my defenses and wraps their tendrils around my precious listening time. Durham, North Carolina’s Cold Communion is one such band, featuring Barre Gambling (Daylight Dies) on guitar and Tim Rowland (Alchemy of Flesh, Silent Vigil) on everything else. If that sounds like an unfair split, take a spin and reassess, because Gambling’s performance defines Cold Communion’s melancholic character as much as Rowland’s emotive growl. Forgoing any long-form doom epics, Monuments to Ruin’s longest song comes in at five-and-a-half minutes, with the entire album clocking just forty-five. It’s a tidy platter, and both in song composition and mood shares ample common ground with Finnish sadbois Insomnium. Besides Monuments’ superior production, songs like “A Stillness Survival” and “When the Light Breaks” wouldn’t feel out of place on Across the Dark or One for Sorrow. And despite the somber trappings one might expect from doom-adjacency, there’s plenty of lively riffing and solos to find across Monuments to Ruin, adding a touch of boom to the gloom. In the end, Cold Communion doesn’t reinvent the genre or break new ground, but Monuments to Ruin offers a comfy chair by the fireside on a freezing cold day, and I’m perfectly content with that.

Mossgiver // Renewer [February 6th, 2026 – Sij MusicArt]

Atmospheric black metal often contrasts the beautiful with the bestial, typically prioritizing moods over hooks. ‘Twas a delight, then, to unearth Mossgiver’s Renewal, which deftly combines the two. Weaving together hypnotic passages flooded with strings, piano, flute, synths, double bass rolls, and the requisite blackened tremolos,4 Mossgiver’s mastermind Tilen Šimon (Ueldes) delivers the band’s best record to date. Above all, Renewer sounds like a celebration of nature in the vein of Autrest and Cân Bardd, evoking a whispering wind whipping at leaves or sunlight dappling a brook shaded by oaks and maples. Beyond the well-crafted soundtrack for a walk through the woods, Mossgiver etches emotion into the nooks and crannies of Renewer’s five tracks. From rousing string orchestrations (“I Bring the Spring with Me”) to soft-and-heavy tradeoffs pitting clean guitar and pan pipes against distorted guitar and blast beats (“Renewer”), Mossgiver shimmers with a lush backdrop of instrumentation rife with playfulness and pensiveness. The trio of primary songs5 revolve around powerful melodies that evolve over each track’s duration, with assorted instruments coming in and out to push refrains along. Renewer’s brisk thirty-four minutes showcase Mossgiver’s sticky compositions and leave me whistling its melodies for days at a time. Now throw on your hiking boots and get lost in the Moss.

Ossomancer // Banebdjed’s Path [February 28th, 2026 – Esoteric Evocations]

Six-and-a-half years removed from Ossomancer’s debut Artes Magickae, lone wolf and mastermind Kamose returns to tread Banebjed’s Path. Bursting with references to mythology and mysticism, Banebjed’s Path rumbles and shakes with arcane thunder. Although the backdrop and track names might recall the frenzied onslaught of Nile, Ossomancer instead conceives a realm recalling Aeternam, Iotunn, and Naglfar. Despite the scant thirty-four-minute runtime, Banebjed’s Path sprawls across diverse landscapes and textures. Opener “The Ogdoad Arrangement and the Osirian Creation” oscillates between In Flames melodies and a slinky crawl that could pass for a 90s Geddy Lee bass line played over synth injections from Rush’s 80s era. Follow-up track “Sobek – Cosmic Vibrations Devoured” features Kreator-bred riffing, while closing duo “A Sea of Sand, a Silver Star” and “Retraction into Kether” synthesize the ethereal atmospheres of Iotunn with the blackened assault of Naglfar. Through it all, Ossomancer sounds fabulous, as Banebjed’s Path flaunts an enviable DR 8 and a bodacious mix that spotlights its burly bass performance. Ossomancer’s sophomore outing is crammed with meloblack goodies, and though it’s not a long trek, the journey down Banebjed’s Path far transcends its distance.

Tyme’s Danish Dalliance

Ædel Fetich // Ædel Fetich [February 20th, 2026 – Deadbanger Productions]

That blinged-out pink dish-glove-clad hand is what first drew me to Denmark outfit Ædel Fetich’s self-titled debut. Then I clicked play and was taken on one of the more compelling “black” metal rides in recent memory. With roots primarily buried in the soil of the traditional second-wave, Ædel Fetich is rife with moments of rifferous tremolodic speed (“Ridderlig Lider,” “Madras”) and absolutely berserk guitar chaos (“Sort Magi”). There’s a Trhä-like sense of experimentation, and the rawness of the production enhances the oft-changing compositions, which, like weather in the Midwest, often shift on a dime without warning. Luckily, Ædel Fetich’s adept songwriting organically smooths these transitions, which could have easily come off stilted and jarring, but makes drawing direct comparisons to the Ædel Fetich sound difficult, as there’s a spectrum of other influences at play. There are tracks packed with punky punch (“Et Liv Fuld af Fejl,” “Ildtang”) or imbued with folky reverence (“Mit Billede af Dig”) and even some 80s pop—fans of the movie Flashdance shouldn’t have a problem finding the poppy easter egg hiding near the end of “Sort Magi.”6 Far and away the star of the show, however, is singer Skvat, whose performance is filled with as much black metal bravado as it is theatrical exuberance, his arsenal of shrieks, growls, hoots, howls, and operatic baritonations a refreshing treat, akin to if Mike Patton woke up one day deciding to record a Danish black metal album. Bottom line is, I really dig Ædel Fetich and think you will too.

Creeping Ivy’s Ashen Afterthought

Belzebong // The End is High [February 20th, 2026 – Heavy Psych Sounds]

In my humble opinion, lyrics are key to making stoner metal more than novelty music. If you’re referencing reefer in your album art, band name, and song titles, at least keep the reeferisms out of the songs themselves,7 or better yet, avoid vocals altogether. Taking this latter advice to heart is instrumental Polish four-piece Belzebong, who have been at it for almost 20 years now. On The End is High, their fourth full-length, Belzebong deal 35 minutes of fuzzed-out riffery described as “a new sermon for the final days.” While not as highbrow (huh huh) as the instrumental stoner metal of Bongripper, Belzebong are similarly ominous on opener (yes) “Bong & Chain,” which caps its ten-minute burn with creepy, haunting synths. From there, the band settle into material more akin to Bongzilla; sound clips adorn the chill grooves of “420 Horsemen,” “Hempnotized,” and “Reefer Mortis,” which closes things out with some solid Electric Wizard worship. If you instinctively (and understandably) recoil from music with marijuana aesthetics but dig the meditative repetition offered by stoner metal, consider sampling The End is High. It’s not exactly the caricature it advertises itself as.

Baguette’s Bygone Bounty

Sundecay // The Blood Lives Again [February 13th, 2026 – Self Released]

Toronto’s Sundecay has been around for a while. These Canadian doomers spawned sometime prior to 2014, quietly releasing EP material every once in a blue moon. The Blood Lives Again is their first full-length release—their first signs of life since 2018 in general—and the time and care they took to develop their sound and songwriting prowess pays off here in spades. The doom and proto-doom inspirations from Black Sabbath to Saint Vitus are obvious (“Here Comes the Wizard”), complemented by other influences from proto-metal, psychedelic, and progressive music (“Silence Spoken”). The hefty, layered guitars have a nice fuzz without fully landing in stoner territory. Ambitious long-form tracks like “Will Dusk Defy Dawn” flow like water while carrying significant emotional heft. Lastly, a moody, reverb-heavy vocal performance crowns the classic doom trance the band is aiming for. At five tracks and some 43 minutes, The Blood Lives Again is a total vibe and flies by before you’ve even noticed. Fans of the ’70s should take notes!

Temple Balls // Temple Balls [February 13th, 2026 – Frontiers Music]

One of the most authentic ways you can honor rock music tradition is via questionable naming conventions. On an unrelated note, Temple Balls is a Finnish hard rock/glam rock band, and they’re fun as hell! They’re not particularly new around the block, either: the group formed in 2009, and self-titled Temple Balls is already their fifth album since debut Traded Dreams in 2017. 2023’s Avalanche felt like a watershed moment, a welcome surprise that brought some new life and energy to a fairly dated genre of Europeisms and Hanoi Rocks rehashes. Temple Balls proves that Avalanche wasn’t a one-off, continuing their extremely authentic throwback approach. The heavy/power-metal-meets-AOR direction of songwriting (“Flashback Dynamite,” “Soul Survivor”) gives it that extra guitar oomph and energy that melodic music like this requires to be anywhere near competitive. With great all-out vocals from Arde Teronen and gigantic hooks to match, it’s just a damn good time front to back. Though it will sadly be the last time we’ll hear Niko Vuorela’s guitar work on record (R.I.P., and fuck cancer), the self-titled is certainly a worthy final milestone for him—and hopefully, another beginning for his comrades.

ClarkKent’s Enchanting Earworm

Hela // A Reign to Conquer [February 27, 2026 – Ardua Music]

Just as it put a pause on many plans and projects, the COVID pandemic slowed down the output of Spain’s Hela. A Reign to Conquer marks their first record since 2019’s Vegvìsir, which was their third release since 2013. This brief hiatus brought new blood in the form of vocalist Raquel Navarro, though, in truth, the only consistency in Hela’s lineup is the other three members—Tano Giménez on bass, Miguel Fernández (The Holeum) on drums, and Julián Velasco (The Holeum) on guitars. They have a deep bond, first forged in 2009 with The Sand Collector before forming Hela just three years later. Though they brand Hela as melodic doom, and the band does have a little in common with Katatonia, I think it’s more accurate to describe them as dreamy progressive rock. Navarro is a major reason for this, with dreamy croons that guide listeners through breezy soundscapes. She bears a passing resemblance to Maud the Moth, though the music Hela plays is decidedly more metal than our Dolphin friend’s favorite nocturnal insect. Guitarist Velasco plays a hypnotizing mix of atmospheric fuzz, crushing doom, and melodic riffs that add some heft and crunch to the ethereal sound. A Reign to Conquer has plenty of layers to probe, rewarding listeners who bear with it for repeat listens. While my initial spins left me wanting, I’ve since become spellbound. Add to that some gorgeous artwork, and this is a nice addition to anyone’s vinyl collection. Hela yeah!

Spicie Forrest’s Vicious Vittles

A Wilhelm Scream8 // Cheap Heat [February 27th, 2026 – Creator-Destructor Records]

A Wilhelm Scream9 returns after a four-year hiatus with their eighth long player, Cheap Heat. Sounding like the best combination of The Story So Far and Rise Against, A Wilhelm Scream delivers an impressive tour de force so late in their career. Vocalist Nuno Pereira10 is the highlight of Cheap Heat, driving the album with urgency and passion (“Somebody’s Gonna Die,” “Fell Off”), but no one here is a slouch. The rhythm section—bassist Brian J. Robinson, rhythm guitarist Trevor Reilly, and drummer Nicholas Pasquale Angelini—gleefully tosses gas on Pereira’s bonfire (“I Got Tunnel Vision”) and delivers solid grooves (“Poison II”) and searing ragers (“Unsolving the Mystery”) that keep the energy cranked to 11 all through Cheap Heat. Hooks are by far the most common lead duty, and Ben Murray puts on a fucking clinic. Each note that rings out from his axe sounds like it fucking owns the place (“Run,” “Visitor: Unimpressed”). Cheap Heat is a smidge front-loaded with “Midnight Ghost” and “I Got Tunnel Vision” being album highlights, but no song on here is anything short of a barn burner. At a super tight 28 minutes, Cheap Heat hits hard and fast and gets the fuck out of Dodge before you’re even sure what hit you. I didn’t expect a 26-year-old hardcore outfit to knock my teeth out when I queued it up on a whim one morning, but Cheap Heat is proving to be one of my favorite albums of the year.

Lead Injector // Witching Attack [February 20th, 2026 – High Roller Records]

Who doesn’t like the combination of thrash’s unchained aggression and black metal’s cold hate? There’s never been a better pair. Lead Injector hit the ground running on debut LP Witching Attack. From the opening moments of “Siege Upon Heaven” to the closing moments of “Nuclear Antichrist,” Lead Injector is here to do two things: feed high-speed buckshot to God, skeletons, and anything else that gets in their way, and have a Hellripping good time. “Angel Destructor” and “Siege Upon Heaven” barrel pell-mell through searing riffs and blast beats, while groovier tracks like “Evil Executioner” and “Nuclear Antichrist” let black metal’s punk ancestry shine through. Heavy metal influences a la Judas Priest can be found injected into tracks like “Sacrifice This Bitch” and “M.C.C.I.” While nothing about Lead Injector’s sound is particularly new, I’m not sure that’s a bad thing. This debut is a unique and retro spin on a tried-and-true formula that bodes well for a young band. Witching Attack is a killer time that Ash Williams would gladly spin while boomsticking Deadites alongside Lord Arthur’s army.

Seems like the Filtration system is overburdened once again. Normally, my minions have to scavenge much longer to pick things up this early in the year, but 2026 is proving to be rich in moderately precious metallic ore. That just means I gotta push my team even harder to pull greater loads of filth from the ducts!

As I send them in for yet another round, please enjoy the spoils thus far exploited. BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Tattered Tome

Overtoun // Death Drive Anthropology [February 13th, 2026 – Time to Kill Records]

Chilean progressive death thrash outfit Overtoun is what you get when you mix old school Death and Atheist with the proggier side of Pestilence, then amp the thrash up by a half turn. At a lofty 50 minutes, you’d expect third release Death Drive Anthropology to drag on, but to make that assumption is to criminally underestimate Overtoun’s creativity and versatility. Opening up the throttle in fine form, the one-two punch of “What Unites All (ft. Max Phelps) and “The Final Beat” manages to encompass many of these Chileans’ songwriting and performance skills in a scant 10 minutes. More introspective, nuanced songwriting takes center stage throughout Anthropology’s midsection, balancing smart melodies and minimalist atmosphere with complex guitar layering, proggy structures, and shreddy wizardry (“Dur Khrod,” “Jade, Gold, Obsidian,” “Yurei,” “Weeping”). The three-part “The Waves Suite” suite adds a mystical character to the affair that blends remarkably well with Overtoun’s more overt political messaging and emotional textures, which helps carry the record through its lengthy runtime without causing fatigue. It’s a neat record that’s modestly blemished by a bass presence that begs for more weight and wildness, especially considering the raw talent on hand. Nonetheless, if you’re looking for a creative, thoughtful, and sophisticated entry into the death/thrash progosphere, Death Drive Anthropology makes a strong case.

Andy-War-Hall’s Primordial Pick-Up

The Grand Myth // Of Vultures and Dragons [February 26th, 2026 – Suncrusher Recordings]

I have a grossly limited capacity for seriousness. Yeah, I like my death metal progressive, technical, and thoughtful, much the way Brandon Bordman’s The Grand Myth deliver it on their latest record, Of Vultures and Dragons, but sometimes I just want fun, too. Of Vultures and Dragons, an adaptation of Ethan Pettus’ novel series Primitive War1 in which a rescue team searches a Vietnamese jungle for a missing platoon of Green Berets and fights for their lives against dinosaurs, has fun in spades. Utilizing a many-layered guitar attack (“Symbiotic Death”), shifting and propulsive rhythms (“Through the River Styx”), a wide cast of voice actors for brief narrative bits2 and surprisingly bright tones (“Agony”), The Grand Myth’s approach to progressive death metal isn’t revolutionary, but it’s deeply refreshing and engaging regardless. Though an absolute blast, The Grand Myth doesn’t spew embarrassingly stupid levels of campiness with their sci-fi dinosaur theming like Victorius. Rather, Of Vultures and Dragons can be fairly emotionally effective at times thanks to Bordman’s emotive clean/harsh vocals and elaborate soloing (“Pyre,” “Agony”). Nobody asks about your favorite dinosaur anymore,3 so feed your inner kid with The Grand Myth’s Of Vultures and Dragons now!

Saunders’ Sunken Shards

Puscifer// Normal Isn’t [February 6th, 2026 – Alchemy Recordings]

After losing track of recent offerings, I reacquainted myself with the latest LP from Puscifer, leaving me pleasantly surprised in the aftermath. The project featuring Tool/A Perfect Circle frontman Maynard James Keenan returned for their first hit out since 2020’s Existential Reckoning. Normal Isn’t finds the shape-shifting project embracing its quirky, gothy industrial rock and electronic elements through an angsty filter of guitar-driven arty rock, post-punk, and infectious songcraft. Age should not weary Maynard, as he still sounds angry, cynical, and on point vocally through a mostly engaging, catchy bag of tunes. The dueling vocal melodies with collaborator Carina Round’s ghostly singing work a treat amidst jittery beats, angular riffs and strong electronic overtones. Rhythmically, it is an interesting ride, drummer Gunnar Olsen putting in a top-notch performance, while there is a vaguely progressive edge underlying the hook-centric songwriting. Opener “Thrust” sets the album in motion with sticky hooks, a darkly humorous, unhinged Maynard performance, and a dose of spite. Other key highlights include “Bad Wolf,” “Self Evident,” “A Public Stoning,” and “ImpetuoUs.” Puscifer made a fine return with Normal Isn’t.

Jack Harlon & The Dead Crows // Inexorable Opposites [February 6th, 2026 – Magnetic Eye Records]

You’ve gotta love a sneaky name drop from our trusty commentariat. It has led to many great discoveries over the years. On this occasion, one of our dear commenters enlightened me to Melbourne psych-blues-doomers Jack Harlon & the Dead Crows with fourth LP, Inexorable Opposites. And it didn’t take long absorbing this latest slab of rustic Aussie coolness to be struck by the album’s slow-burning, addictive power, and gritty tones. Boasting an expansive, rugged sound built on layers of distortion and a weighty blend of psych-drenched blues and doom heaviness. Jack Harlon & the Dead Crows features old school, outlaw-driven lyrical content from mastermind and vocalist/guitarist Tim Coutts-Smith, meshing fictional tales of woe and adventure of character Jack Harlon, with relatable real-life struggles. Through the fuzz, thick jammy vibes, and Coutts-Smith distorted, menacing Aussie drawl, catchy songcraft shines through the muck and psych haze. From the tense, stoner-infected grit and catchy hooks of opener “Moss,” through to the stormy outback balladry of closer “To Die,” Inexorable Opposites is a hard-hitting, riffy delight, further evidenced through scorched earth, infectious cuts like “Venomous,” “Seer,” and the trippy, drug-addled “Mt. Macedon.”

Grin Reaper’s Reaped Recluse

Cold Communion // Monuments to Ruin [February 13th, 2026 – Self Released]

Melodic death/doom isn’t a genre I dabble in often, but every now and again, one of its bands thwarts my defenses and wraps their tendrils around my precious listening time. Durham, North Carolina’s Cold Communion is one such band, featuring Barre Gambling (Daylight Dies) on guitar and Tim Rowland (Alchemy of Flesh, Silent Vigil) on everything else. If that sounds like an unfair split, take a spin and reassess, because Gambling’s performance defines Cold Communion’s melancholic character as much as Rowland’s emotive growl. Forgoing any long-form doom epics, Monuments to Ruin’s longest song comes in at five-and-a-half minutes, with the entire album clocking just forty-five. It’s a tidy platter, and both in song composition and mood shares ample common ground with Finnish sadbois Insomnium. Besides Monuments’ superior production, songs like “A Stillness Survival” and “When the Light Breaks” wouldn’t feel out of place on Across the Dark or One for Sorrow. And despite the somber trappings one might expect from doom-adjacency, there’s plenty of lively riffing and solos to find across Monuments to Ruin, adding a touch of boom to the gloom. In the end, Cold Communion doesn’t reinvent the genre or break new ground, but Monuments to Ruin offers a comfy chair by the fireside on a freezing cold day, and I’m perfectly content with that.

Mossgiver // Renewer [February 6th, 2026 – Sij MusicArt]

Atmospheric black metal often contrasts the beautiful with the bestial, typically prioritizing moods over hooks. ‘Twas a delight, then, to unearth Mossgiver’s Renewal, which deftly combines the two. Weaving together hypnotic passages flooded with strings, piano, flute, synths, double bass rolls, and the requisite blackened tremolos,4 Mossgiver’s mastermind Tilen Šimon (Ueldes) delivers the band’s best record to date. Above all, Renewer sounds like a celebration of nature in the vein of Autrest and Cân Bardd, evoking a whispering wind whipping at leaves or sunlight dappling a brook shaded by oaks and maples. Beyond the well-crafted soundtrack for a walk through the woods, Mossgiver etches emotion into the nooks and crannies of Renewer’s five tracks. From rousing string orchestrations (“I Bring the Spring with Me”) to soft-and-heavy tradeoffs pitting clean guitar and pan pipes against distorted guitar and blast beats (“Renewer”), Mossgiver shimmers with a lush backdrop of instrumentation rife with playfulness and pensiveness. The trio of primary songs5 revolve around powerful melodies that evolve over each track’s duration, with assorted instruments coming in and out to push refrains along. Renewer’s brisk thirty-four minutes showcase Mossgiver’s sticky compositions and leave me whistling its melodies for days at a time. Now throw on your hiking boots and get lost in the Moss.

Ossomancer // Banebdjed’s Path [February 28th, 2026 – Esoteric Evocations]

Six-and-a-half years removed from Ossomancer’s debut Artes Magickae, lone wolf and mastermind Kamose returns to tread Banebjed’s Path. Bursting with references to mythology and mysticism, Banebjed’s Path rumbles and shakes with arcane thunder. Although the backdrop and track names might recall the frenzied onslaught of Nile, Ossomancer instead conceives a realm recalling Aeternam, Iotunn, and Naglfar. Despite the scant thirty-four-minute runtime, Banebjed’s Path sprawls across diverse landscapes and textures. Opener “The Ogdoad Arrangement and the Osirian Creation” oscillates between In Flames melodies and a slinky crawl that could pass for a 90s Geddy Lee bass line played over synth injections from Rush’s 80s era. Follow-up track “Sobek – Cosmic Vibrations Devoured” features Kreator-bred riffing, while closing duo “A Sea of Sand, a Silver Star” and “Retraction into Kether” synthesize the ethereal atmospheres of Iotunn with the blackened assault of Naglfar. Through it all, Ossomancer sounds fabulous, as Banebjed’s Path flaunts an enviable DR 8 and a bodacious mix that spotlights its burly bass performance. Ossomancer’s sophomore outing is crammed with meloblack goodies, and though it’s not a long trek, the journey down Banebjed’s Path far transcends its distance.

Tyme’s Danish Dalliance

Ædel Fetich // Ædel Fetich [February 20th, 2026 – Deadbanger Productions]

That blinged-out pink dish-glove-clad hand is what first drew me to Denmark outfit Ædel Fetich’s self-titled debut. Then I clicked play and was taken on one of the more compelling “black” metal rides in recent memory. With roots primarily buried in the soil of the traditional second-wave, Ædel Fetich is rife with moments of rifferous tremolodic speed (“Ridderlig Lider,” “Madras”) and absolutely berserk guitar chaos (“Sort Magi”). There’s a Trhä-like sense of experimentation, and the rawness of the production enhances the oft-changing compositions, which, like weather in the Midwest, often shift on a dime without warning. Luckily, Ædel Fetich’s adept songwriting organically smooths these transitions, which could have easily come off stilted and jarring, but makes drawing direct comparisons to the Ædel Fetich sound difficult, as there’s a spectrum of other influences at play. There are tracks packed with punky punch (“Et Liv Fuld af Fejl,” “Ildtang”) or imbued with folky reverence (“Mit Billede af Dig”) and even some 80s pop—fans of the movie Flashdance shouldn’t have a problem finding the poppy easter egg hiding near the end of “Sort Magi.”6 Far and away the star of the show, however, is singer Skvat, whose performance is filled with as much black metal bravado as it is theatrical exuberance, his arsenal of shrieks, growls, hoots, howls, and operatic baritonations a refreshing treat, akin to if Mike Patton woke up one day deciding to record a Danish black metal album. Bottom line is, I really dig Ædel Fetich and think you will too.

Creeping Ivy’s Ashen Afterthought

Belzebong // The End is High [February 20th, 2026 – Heavy Psych Sounds]

In my humble opinion, lyrics are key to making stoner metal more than novelty music. If you’re referencing reefer in your album art, band name, and song titles, at least keep the reeferisms out of the songs themselves,7 or better yet, avoid vocals altogether. Taking this latter advice to heart is instrumental Polish four-piece Belzebong, who have been at it for almost 20 years now. On The End is High, their fourth full-length, Belzebong deal 35 minutes of fuzzed-out riffery described as “a new sermon for the final days.” While not as highbrow (huh huh) as the instrumental stoner metal of Bongripper, Belzebong are similarly ominous on opener (yes) “Bong & Chain,” which caps its ten-minute burn with creepy, haunting synths. From there, the band settle into material more akin to Bongzilla; sound clips adorn the chill grooves of “420 Horsemen,” “Hempnotized,” and “Reefer Mortis,” which closes things out with some solid Electric Wizard worship. If you instinctively (and understandably) recoil from music with marijuana aesthetics but dig the meditative repetition offered by stoner metal, consider sampling The End is High. It’s not exactly the caricature it advertises itself as.

Baguette’s Bygone Bounty

Sundecay // The Blood Lives Again [February 13th, 2026 – Self Released]

Toronto’s Sundecay has been around for a while. These Canadian doomers spawned sometime prior to 2014, quietly releasing EP material every once in a blue moon. The Blood Lives Again is their first full-length release—their first signs of life since 2018 in general—and the time and care they took to develop their sound and songwriting prowess pays off here in spades. The doom and proto-doom inspirations from Black Sabbath to Saint Vitus are obvious (“Here Comes the Wizard”), complemented by other influences from proto-metal, psychedelic, and progressive music (“Silence Spoken”). The hefty, layered guitars have a nice fuzz without fully landing in stoner territory. Ambitious long-form tracks like “Will Dusk Defy Dawn” flow like water while carrying significant emotional heft. Lastly, a moody, reverb-heavy vocal performance crowns the classic doom trance the band is aiming for. At five tracks and some 43 minutes, The Blood Lives Again is a total vibe and flies by before you’ve even noticed. Fans of the ’70s should take notes!

Temple Balls // Temple Balls [February 13th, 2026 – Frontiers Music]

One of the most authentic ways you can honor rock music tradition is via questionable naming conventions. On an unrelated note, Temple Balls is a Finnish hard rock/glam rock band, and they’re fun as hell! They’re not particularly new around the block, either: the group formed in 2009, and self-titled Temple Balls is already their fifth album since debut Traded Dreams in 2017. 2023’s Avalanche felt like a watershed moment, a welcome surprise that brought some new life and energy to a fairly dated genre of Europeisms and Hanoi Rocks rehashes. Temple Balls proves that Avalanche wasn’t a one-off, continuing their extremely authentic throwback approach. The heavy/power-metal-meets-AOR direction of songwriting (“Flashback Dynamite,” “Soul Survivor”) gives it that extra guitar oomph and energy that melodic music like this requires to be anywhere near competitive. With great all-out vocals from Arde Teronen and gigantic hooks to match, it’s just a damn good time front to back. Though it will sadly be the last time we’ll hear Niko Vuorela’s guitar work on record (R.I.P., and fuck cancer), the self-titled is certainly a worthy final milestone for him—and hopefully, another beginning for his comrades.

ClarkKent’s Enchanting Earworm

Hela // A Reign to Conquer [February 27, 2026 – Ardua Music]

Just as it put a pause on many plans and projects, the COVID pandemic slowed down the output of Spain’s Hela. A Reign to Conquer marks their first record since 2019’s Vegvìsir, which was their third release since 2013. This brief hiatus brought new blood in the form of vocalist Raquel Navarro, though, in truth, the only consistency in Hela’s lineup is the other three members—Tano Giménez on bass, Miguel Fernández (The Holeum) on drums, and Julián Velasco (The Holeum) on guitars. They have a deep bond, first forged in 2009 with The Sand Collector before forming Hela just three years later. Though they brand Hela as melodic doom, and the band does have a little in common with Katatonia, I think it’s more accurate to describe them as dreamy progressive rock. Navarro is a major reason for this, with dreamy croons that guide listeners through breezy soundscapes. She bears a passing resemblance to Maud the Moth, though the music Hela plays is decidedly more metal than our Dolphin friend’s favorite nocturnal insect. Guitarist Velasco plays a hypnotizing mix of atmospheric fuzz, crushing doom, and melodic riffs that add some heft and crunch to the ethereal sound. A Reign to Conquer has plenty of layers to probe, rewarding listeners who bear with it for repeat listens. While my initial spins left me wanting, I’ve since become spellbound. Add to that some gorgeous artwork, and this is a nice addition to anyone’s vinyl collection. Hela yeah!

Spicie Forrest’s Vicious Vittles

A Wilhelm Scream8 // Cheap Heat [February 27th, 2026 – Creator-Destructor Records]

A Wilhelm Scream9 returns after a four-year hiatus with their eighth long player, Cheap Heat. Sounding like the best combination of The Story So Far and Rise Against, A Wilhelm Scream delivers an impressive tour de force so late in their career. Vocalist Nuno Pereira10 is the highlight of Cheap Heat, driving the album with urgency and passion (“Somebody’s Gonna Die,” “Fell Off”), but no one here is a slouch. The rhythm section—bassist Brian J. Robinson, rhythm guitarist Trevor Reilly, and drummer Nicholas Pasquale Angelini—gleefully tosses gas on Pereira’s bonfire (“I Got Tunnel Vision”) and delivers solid grooves (“Poison II”) and searing ragers (“Unsolving the Mystery”) that keep the energy cranked to 11 all through Cheap Heat. Hooks are by far the most common lead duty, and Ben Murray puts on a fucking clinic. Each note that rings out from his axe sounds like it fucking owns the place (“Run,” “Visitor: Unimpressed”). Cheap Heat is a smidge front-loaded with “Midnight Ghost” and “I Got Tunnel Vision” being album highlights, but no song on here is anything short of a barn burner. At a super tight 28 minutes, Cheap Heat hits hard and fast and gets the fuck out of Dodge before you’re even sure what hit you. I didn’t expect a 26-year-old hardcore outfit to knock my teeth out when I queued it up on a whim one morning, but Cheap Heat is proving to be one of my favorite albums of the year.

Lead Injector // Witching Attack [February 20th, 2026 – High Roller Records]

Who doesn’t like the combination of thrash’s unchained aggression and black metal’s cold hate? There’s never been a better pair. Lead Injector hit the ground running on debut LP Witching Attack. From the opening moments of “Siege Upon Heaven” to the closing moments of “Nuclear Antichrist,” Lead Injector is here to do two things: feed high-speed buckshot to God, skeletons, and anything else that gets in their way, and have a Hellripping good time. “Angel Destructor” and “Siege Upon Heaven” barrel pell-mell through searing riffs and blast beats, while groovier tracks like “Evil Executioner” and “Nuclear Antichrist” let black metal’s punk ancestry shine through. Heavy metal influences a la Judas Priest can be found injected into tracks like “Sacrifice This Bitch” and “M.C.C.I.” While nothing about Lead Injector’s sound is particularly new, I’m not sure that’s a bad thing. This debut is a unique and retro spin on a tried-and-true formula that bodes well for a young band. Witching Attack is a killer time that Ash Williams would gladly spin while boomsticking Deadites alongside Lord Arthur’s army.

Seems like the Filtration system is overburdened once again. Normally, my minions have to scavenge much longer to pick things up this early in the year, but 2026 is proving to be rich in moderately precious metallic ore. That just means I gotta push my team even harder to pull greater loads of filth from the ducts!

As I send them in for yet another round, please enjoy the spoils thus far exploited. BEHOLD!

Kenstrosity’s Tattered Tome

Overtoun // Death Drive Anthropology [February 13th, 2026 – Time to Kill Records]

Chilean progressive death thrash outfit Overtoun is what you get when you mix old school Death and Atheist with the proggier side of Pestilence, then amp the thrash up by a half turn. At a lofty 50 minutes, you’d expect third release Death Drive Anthropology to drag on, but to make that assumption is to criminally underestimate Overtoun’s creativity and versatility. Opening up the throttle in fine form, the one-two punch of “What Unites All (ft. Max Phelps) and “The Final Beat” manages to encompass many of these Chileans’ songwriting and performance skills in a scant 10 minutes. More introspective, nuanced songwriting takes center stage throughout Anthropology’s midsection, balancing smart melodies and minimalist atmosphere with complex guitar layering, proggy structures, and shreddy wizardry (“Dur Khrod,” “Jade, Gold, Obsidian,” “Yurei,” “Weeping”). The three-part “The Waves Suite” suite adds a mystical character to the affair that blends remarkably well with Overtoun’s more overt political messaging and emotional textures, which helps carry the record through its lengthy runtime without causing fatigue. It’s a neat record that’s modestly blemished by a bass presence that begs for more weight and wildness, especially considering the raw talent on hand. Nonetheless, if you’re looking for a creative, thoughtful, and sophisticated entry into the death/thrash progosphere, Death Drive Anthropology makes a strong case.

Andy-War-Hall’s Primordial Pick-Up

The Grand Myth // Of Vultures and Dragons [February 26th, 2026 – Suncrusher Recordings]

I have a grossly limited capacity for seriousness. Yeah, I like my death metal progressive, technical, and thoughtful, much the way Brandon Bordman’s The Grand Myth deliver it on their latest record, Of Vultures and Dragons, but sometimes I just want fun, too. Of Vultures and Dragons, an adaptation of Ethan Pettus’ novel series Primitive War1 in which a rescue team searches a Vietnamese jungle for a missing platoon of Green Berets and fights for their lives against dinosaurs, has fun in spades. Utilizing a many-layered guitar attack (“Symbiotic Death”), shifting and propulsive rhythms (“Through the River Styx”), a wide cast of voice actors for brief narrative bits2 and surprisingly bright tones (“Agony”), The Grand Myth’s approach to progressive death metal isn’t revolutionary, but it’s deeply refreshing and engaging regardless. Though an absolute blast, The Grand Myth doesn’t spew embarrassingly stupid levels of campiness with their sci-fi dinosaur theming like Victorius. Rather, Of Vultures and Dragons can be fairly emotionally effective at times thanks to Bordman’s emotive clean/harsh vocals and elaborate soloing (“Pyre,” “Agony”). Nobody asks about your favorite dinosaur anymore,3 so feed your inner kid with The Grand Myth’s Of Vultures and Dragons now!

Saunders’ Sunken Shards

Puscifer// Normal Isn’t [February 6th, 2026 – Alchemy Recordings]

After losing track of recent offerings, I reacquainted myself with the latest LP from Puscifer, leaving me pleasantly surprised in the aftermath. The project featuring Tool/A Perfect Circle frontman Maynard James Keenan returned for their first hit out since 2020’s Existential Reckoning. Normal Isn’t finds the shape-shifting project embracing its quirky, gothy industrial rock and electronic elements through an angsty filter of guitar-driven arty rock, post-punk, and infectious songcraft. Age should not weary Maynard, as he still sounds angry, cynical, and on point vocally through a mostly engaging, catchy bag of tunes. The dueling vocal melodies with collaborator Carina Round’s ghostly singing work a treat amidst jittery beats, angular riffs and strong electronic overtones. Rhythmically, it is an interesting ride, drummer Gunnar Olsen putting in a top-notch performance, while there is a vaguely progressive edge underlying the hook-centric songwriting. Opener “Thrust” sets the album in motion with sticky hooks, a darkly humorous, unhinged Maynard performance, and a dose of spite. Other key highlights include “Bad Wolf,” “Self Evident,” “A Public Stoning,” and “ImpetuoUs.” Puscifer made a fine return with Normal Isn’t.

Jack Harlon & The Dead Crows // Inexorable Opposites [February 6th, 2026 – Magnetic Eye Records]

You’ve gotta love a sneaky name drop from our trusty commentariat. It has led to many great discoveries over the years. On this occasion, one of our dear commenters enlightened me to Melbourne psych-blues-doomers Jack Harlon & the Dead Crows with fourth LP, Inexorable Opposites. And it didn’t take long absorbing this latest slab of rustic Aussie coolness to be struck by the album’s slow-burning, addictive power, and gritty tones. Boasting an expansive, rugged sound built on layers of distortion and a weighty blend of psych-drenched blues and doom heaviness. Jack Harlon & the Dead Crows features old school, outlaw-driven lyrical content from mastermind and vocalist/guitarist Tim Coutts-Smith, meshing fictional tales of woe and adventure of character Jack Harlon, with relatable real-life struggles. Through the fuzz, thick jammy vibes, and Coutts-Smith distorted, menacing Aussie drawl, catchy songcraft shines through the muck and psych haze. From the tense, stoner-infected grit and catchy hooks of opener “Moss,” through to the stormy outback balladry of closer “To Die,” Inexorable Opposites is a hard-hitting, riffy delight, further evidenced through scorched earth, infectious cuts like “Venomous,” “Seer,” and the trippy, drug-addled “Mt. Macedon.”

Grin Reaper’s Reaped Recluse

Cold Communion // Monuments to Ruin [February 13th, 2026 – Self Released]

Melodic death/doom isn’t a genre I dabble in often, but every now and again, one of its bands thwarts my defenses and wraps their tendrils around my precious listening time. Durham, North Carolina’s Cold Communion is one such band, featuring Barre Gambling (Daylight Dies) on guitar and Tim Rowland (Alchemy of Flesh, Silent Vigil) on everything else. If that sounds like an unfair split, take a spin and reassess, because Gambling’s performance defines Cold Communion’s melancholic character as much as Rowland’s emotive growl. Forgoing any long-form doom epics, Monuments to Ruin’s longest song comes in at five-and-a-half minutes, with the entire album clocking just forty-five. It’s a tidy platter, and both in song composition and mood shares ample common ground with Finnish sadbois Insomnium. Besides Monuments’ superior production, songs like “A Stillness Survival” and “When the Light Breaks” wouldn’t feel out of place on Across the Dark or One for Sorrow. And despite the somber trappings one might expect from doom-adjacency, there’s plenty of lively riffing and solos to find across Monuments to Ruin, adding a touch of boom to the gloom. In the end, Cold Communion doesn’t reinvent the genre or break new ground, but Monuments to Ruin offers a comfy chair by the fireside on a freezing cold day, and I’m perfectly content with that.

Mossgiver // Renewer [February 6th, 2026 – Sij MusicArt]

Atmospheric black metal often contrasts the beautiful with the bestial, typically prioritizing moods over hooks. ‘Twas a delight, then, to unearth Mossgiver’s Renewal, which deftly combines the two. Weaving together hypnotic passages flooded with strings, piano, flute, synths, double bass rolls, and the requisite blackened tremolos,4 Mossgiver’s mastermind Tilen Šimon (Ueldes) delivers the band’s best record to date. Above all, Renewer sounds like a celebration of nature in the vein of Autrest and Cân Bardd, evoking a whispering wind whipping at leaves or sunlight dappling a brook shaded by oaks and maples. Beyond the well-crafted soundtrack for a walk through the woods, Mossgiver etches emotion into the nooks and crannies of Renewer’s five tracks. From rousing string orchestrations (“I Bring the Spring with Me”) to soft-and-heavy tradeoffs pitting clean guitar and pan pipes against distorted guitar and blast beats (“Renewer”), Mossgiver shimmers with a lush backdrop of instrumentation rife with playfulness and pensiveness. The trio of primary songs5 revolve around powerful melodies that evolve over each track’s duration, with assorted instruments coming in and out to push refrains along. Renewer’s brisk thirty-four minutes showcase Mossgiver’s sticky compositions and leave me whistling its melodies for days at a time. Now throw on your hiking boots and get lost in the Moss.

Ossomancer // Banebdjed’s Path [February 28th, 2026 – Esoteric Evocations]

Six-and-a-half years removed from Ossomancer’s debut Artes Magickae, lone wolf and mastermind Kamose returns to tread Banebjed’s Path. Bursting with references to mythology and mysticism, Banebjed’s Path rumbles and shakes with arcane thunder. Although the backdrop and track names might recall the frenzied onslaught of Nile, Ossomancer instead conceives a realm recalling Aeternam, Iotunn, and Naglfar. Despite the scant thirty-four-minute runtime, Banebjed’s Path sprawls across diverse landscapes and textures. Opener “The Ogdoad Arrangement and the Osirian Creation” oscillates between In Flames melodies and a slinky crawl that could pass for a 90s Geddy Lee bass line played over synth injections from Rush’s 80s era. Follow-up track “Sobek – Cosmic Vibrations Devoured” features Kreator-bred riffing, while closing duo “A Sea of Sand, a Silver Star” and “Retraction into Kether” synthesize the ethereal atmospheres of Iotunn with the blackened assault of Naglfar. Through it all, Ossomancer sounds fabulous, as Banebjed’s Path flaunts an enviable DR 8 and a bodacious mix that spotlights its burly bass performance. Ossomancer’s sophomore outing is crammed with meloblack goodies, and though it’s not a long trek, the journey down Banebjed’s Path far transcends its distance.

Tyme’s Danish Dalliance

Ædel Fetich // Ædel Fetich [February 20th, 2026 – Deadbanger Productions]

That blinged-out pink dish-glove-clad hand is what first drew me to Denmark outfit Ædel Fetich’s self-titled debut. Then I clicked play and was taken on one of the more compelling “black” metal rides in recent memory. With roots primarily buried in the soil of the traditional second-wave, Ædel Fetich is rife with moments of rifferous tremolodic speed (“Ridderlig Lider,” “Madras”) and absolutely berserk guitar chaos (“Sort Magi”). There’s a Trhä-like sense of experimentation, and the rawness of the production enhances the oft-changing compositions, which, like weather in the Midwest, often shift on a dime without warning. Luckily, Ædel Fetich’s adept songwriting organically smooths these transitions, which could have easily come off stilted and jarring, but makes drawing direct comparisons to the Ædel Fetich sound difficult, as there’s a spectrum of other influences at play. There are tracks packed with punky punch (“Et Liv Fuld af Fejl,” “Ildtang”) or imbued with folky reverence (“Mit Billede af Dig”) and even some 80s pop—fans of the movie Flashdance shouldn’t have a problem finding the poppy easter egg hiding near the end of “Sort Magi.”6 Far and away the star of the show, however, is singer Skvat, whose performance is filled with as much black metal bravado as it is theatrical exuberance, his arsenal of shrieks, growls, hoots, howls, and operatic baritonations a refreshing treat, akin to if Mike Patton woke up one day deciding to record a Danish black metal album. Bottom line is, I really dig Ædel Fetich and think you will too.

Creeping Ivy’s Ashen Afterthought

Belzebong // The End is High [February 20th, 2026 – Heavy Psych Sounds]

In my humble opinion, lyrics are key to making stoner metal more than novelty music. If you’re referencing reefer in your album art, band name, and song titles, at least keep the reeferisms out of the songs themselves,7 or better yet, avoid vocals altogether. Taking this latter advice to heart is instrumental Polish four-piece Belzebong, who have been at it for almost 20 years now. On The End is High, their fourth full-length, Belzebong deal 35 minutes of fuzzed-out riffery described as “a new sermon for the final days.” While not as highbrow (huh huh) as the instrumental stoner metal of Bongripper, Belzebong are similarly ominous on opener (yes) “Bong & Chain,” which caps its ten-minute burn with creepy, haunting synths. From there, the band settle into material more akin to Bongzilla; sound clips adorn the chill grooves of “420 Horsemen,” “Hempnotized,” and “Reefer Mortis,” which closes things out with some solid Electric Wizard worship. If you instinctively (and understandably) recoil from music with marijuana aesthetics but dig the meditative repetition offered by stoner metal, consider sampling The End is High. It’s not exactly the caricature it advertises itself as.

Baguette’s Bygone Bounty

Sundecay // The Blood Lives Again [February 13th, 2026 – Self Released]

Toronto’s Sundecay has been around for a while. These Canadian doomers spawned sometime prior to 2014, quietly releasing EP material every once in a blue moon. The Blood Lives Again is their first full-length release—their first signs of life since 2018 in general—and the time and care they took to develop their sound and songwriting prowess pays off here in spades. The doom and proto-doom inspirations from Black Sabbath to Saint Vitus are obvious (“Here Comes the Wizard”), complemented by other influences from proto-metal, psychedelic, and progressive music (“Silence Spoken”). The hefty, layered guitars have a nice fuzz without fully landing in stoner territory. Ambitious long-form tracks like “Will Dusk Defy Dawn” flow like water while carrying significant emotional heft. Lastly, a moody, reverb-heavy vocal performance crowns the classic doom trance the band is aiming for. At five tracks and some 43 minutes, The Blood Lives Again is a total vibe and flies by before you’ve even noticed. Fans of the ’70s should take notes!

Temple Balls // Temple Balls [February 13th, 2026 – Frontiers Music]

One of the most authentic ways you can honor rock music tradition is via questionable naming conventions. On an unrelated note, Temple Balls is a Finnish hard rock/glam rock band, and they’re fun as hell! They’re not particularly new around the block, either: the group formed in 2009, and self-titled Temple Balls is already their fifth album since debut Traded Dreams in 2017. 2023’s Avalanche felt like a watershed moment, a welcome surprise that brought some new life and energy to a fairly dated genre of Europeisms and Hanoi Rocks rehashes. Temple Balls proves that Avalanche wasn’t a one-off, continuing their extremely authentic throwback approach. The heavy/power-metal-meets-AOR direction of songwriting (“Flashback Dynamite,” “Soul Survivor”) gives it that extra guitar oomph and energy that melodic music like this requires to be anywhere near competitive. With great all-out vocals from Arde Teronen and gigantic hooks to match, it’s just a damn good time front to back. Though it will sadly be the last time we’ll hear Niko Vuorela’s guitar work on record (R.I.P., and fuck cancer), the self-titled is certainly a worthy final milestone for him—and hopefully, another beginning for his comrades.

ClarkKent’s Enchanting Earworm

Hela // A Reign to Conquer [February 27, 2026 – Ardua Music]

Just as it put a pause on many plans and projects, the COVID pandemic slowed down the output of Spain’s Hela. A Reign to Conquer marks their first record since 2019’s Vegvìsir, which was their third release since 2013. This brief hiatus brought new blood in the form of vocalist Raquel Navarro, though, in truth, the only consistency in Hela’s lineup is the other three members—Tano Giménez on bass, Miguel Fernández (The Holeum) on drums, and Julián Velasco (The Holeum) on guitars. They have a deep bond, first forged in 2009 with The Sand Collector before forming Hela just three years later. Though they brand Hela as melodic doom, and the band does have a little in common with Katatonia, I think it’s more accurate to describe them as dreamy progressive rock. Navarro is a major reason for this, with dreamy croons that guide listeners through breezy soundscapes. She bears a passing resemblance to Maud the Moth, though the music Hela plays is decidedly more metal than our Dolphin friend’s favorite nocturnal insect. Guitarist Velasco plays a hypnotizing mix of atmospheric fuzz, crushing doom, and melodic riffs that add some heft and crunch to the ethereal sound. A Reign to Conquer has plenty of layers to probe, rewarding listeners who bear with it for repeat listens. While my initial spins left me wanting, I’ve since become spellbound. Add to that some gorgeous artwork, and this is a nice addition to anyone’s vinyl collection. Hela yeah!

Spicie Forrest’s Vicious Vittles

A Wilhelm Scream8 // Cheap Heat [February 27th, 2026 – Creator-Destructor Records]

A Wilhelm Scream9 returns after a four-year hiatus with their eighth long player, Cheap Heat. Sounding like the best combination of The Story So Far and Rise Against, A Wilhelm Scream delivers an impressive tour de force so late in their career. Vocalist Nuno Pereira10 is the highlight of Cheap Heat, driving the album with urgency and passion (“Somebody’s Gonna Die,” “Fell Off”), but no one here is a slouch. The rhythm section—bassist Brian J. Robinson, rhythm guitarist Trevor Reilly, and drummer Nicholas Pasquale Angelini—gleefully tosses gas on Pereira’s bonfire (“I Got Tunnel Vision”) and delivers solid grooves (“Poison II”) and searing ragers (“Unsolving the Mystery”) that keep the energy cranked to 11 all through Cheap Heat. Hooks are by far the most common lead duty, and Ben Murray puts on a fucking clinic. Each note that rings out from his axe sounds like it fucking owns the place (“Run,” “Visitor: Unimpressed”). Cheap Heat is a smidge front-loaded with “Midnight Ghost” and “I Got Tunnel Vision” being album highlights, but no song on here is anything short of a barn burner. At a super tight 28 minutes, Cheap Heat hits hard and fast and gets the fuck out of Dodge before you’re even sure what hit you. I didn’t expect a 26-year-old hardcore outfit to knock my teeth out when I queued it up on a whim one morning, but Cheap Heat is proving to be one of my favorite albums of the year.

Lead Injector // Witching Attack [February 20th, 2026 – High Roller Records]

Who doesn’t like the combination of thrash’s unchained aggression and black metal’s cold hate? There’s never been a better pair. Lead Injector hit the ground running on debut LP Witching Attack. From the opening moments of “Siege Upon Heaven” to the closing moments of “Nuclear Antichrist,” Lead Injector is here to do two things: feed high-speed buckshot to God, skeletons, and anything else that gets in their way, and have a Hellripping good time. “Angel Destructor” and “Siege Upon Heaven” barrel pell-mell through searing riffs and blast beats, while groovier tracks like “Evil Executioner” and “Nuclear Antichrist” let black metal’s punk ancestry shine through. Heavy metal influences a la Judas Priest can be found injected into tracks like “Sacrifice This Bitch” and “M.C.C.I.” While nothing about Lead Injector’s sound is particularly new, I’m not sure that’s a bad thing. This debut is a unique and retro spin on a tried-and-true formula that bodes well for a young band. Witching Attack is a killer time that Ash Williams would gladly spin while boomsticking Deadites alongside Lord Arthur’s army.

"The Warden" live, 2026-11-04, Bydgoszcz, Poland.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WB3X9aaGG3w

#thrashmetal #thrash #heavymetal #polskimetal #polishmetal #polishmusic #metal #metalmusic #metalband

"The Warden" live, 2026-11-04, Bydgoszcz, Poland.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WB3X9aaGG3w

#thrashmetal #thrash #heavymetal #polskimetal #polishmetal #polishmusic #metal #metalmusic #metalband

"The Warden" live, 2026-11-04, Bydgoszcz, Poland.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WB3X9aaGG3w

#thrashmetal #thrash #heavymetal #polskimetal #polishmetal #polishmusic #metal #metalmusic #metalband

Meine kleine #nachtmusik
#music #musik #rockmusic
#polishmetal #poland #coloursofrock
#Luxtorpeda

http://www.colours-of-rock.com

https://youtu.be/-hqbkY1-iLQ?is=lgg-lqKt9laG6l2g

Meine kleine #nachtmusik
#music #musik #rockmusic
#polishmetal #poland #coloursofrock
#Luxtorpeda

http://www.colours-of-rock.com

https://youtu.be/-hqbkY1-iLQ?is=lgg-lqKt9laG6l2g

Meine kleine #nachtmusik
#music #rockmusic #musik
#polishmetal #poland #coloursofrock
#rootwater

https://youtu.be/p212848xPzM?is=7suo3e8cIQJfOB5W

Meine kleine #nachtmusik
#music #rockmusic #musik
#polishmetal #poland #coloursofrock
#rootwater

https://youtu.be/p212848xPzM?is=7suo3e8cIQJfOB5W

Incredible moment today when my colleague said, 'you might like my band.' only for me to discover they genuinely and completely rule: https://youtu.be/O4QBSWOwqh8?si=FRACqZaHimQTliEd

#StacjaB #Punk #MelodicHardcore #PolishMetal

Incredible moment today when my colleague said, 'you might like my band.' only for me to discover they genuinely and completely rule: https://youtu.be/O4QBSWOwqh8?si=FRACqZaHimQTliEd

#StacjaB #Punk #MelodicHardcore #PolishMetal

Incredible moment today when my colleague said, 'you might like my band.' only for me to discover they genuinely and completely rule: https://youtu.be/O4QBSWOwqh8?si=FRACqZaHimQTliEd

#StacjaB #Punk #MelodicHardcore #PolishMetal

Incredible moment today when my colleague said, 'you might like my band.' only for me to discover they genuinely and completely rule: https://youtu.be/O4QBSWOwqh8?si=FRACqZaHimQTliEd

#StacjaB #Punk #MelodicHardcore #PolishMetal

Incredible moment today when my colleague said, 'you might like my band.' only for me to discover they genuinely and completely rule: https://youtu.be/O4QBSWOwqh8?si=FRACqZaHimQTliEd

#StacjaB #Punk #MelodicHardcore #PolishMetal

Przedstawiamy Wam kolejny utwór z naszej nowej EP "Blood For God", która ukaże się niebawem. Oto "Behind The Mask"!

🤘 Keep thrashing! 🤘

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Plw2wTEd5oA

===

🇬🇧 Hi! 🤘

We are presenting another track from our new EP "Blood For God", which will be fully released soon. Here is "Behind The Mask"!

🤘 Keep thrashing! 🤘

#thrashmetal #deathmetal #polskimetal #polishmetal #thrash #heavymetal #metalband

Przedstawiamy Wam kolejny utwór z naszej nowej EP "Blood For God", która ukaże się niebawem. Oto "Behind The Mask"!

🤘 Keep thrashing! 🤘

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Plw2wTEd5oA

===

🇬🇧 Hi! 🤘

We are presenting another track from our new EP "Blood For God", which will be fully released soon. Here is "Behind The Mask"!

🤘 Keep thrashing! 🤘

#thrashmetal #deathmetal #polskimetal #polishmetal #thrash #heavymetal #metalband

Przedstawiamy Wam kolejny utwór z naszej nowej EP "Blood For God", która ukaże się niebawem. Oto "Behind The Mask"!

🤘 Keep thrashing! 🤘

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Plw2wTEd5oA

===

🇬🇧 Hi! 🤘

We are presenting another track from our new EP "Blood For God", which will be fully released soon. Here is "Behind The Mask"!

🤘 Keep thrashing! 🤘

#thrashmetal #deathmetal #polskimetal #polishmetal #thrash #heavymetal #metalband

Przedstawiamy Wam kolejny utwór z naszej nowej EP "Blood For God", która ukaże się niebawem. Oto "Behind The Mask"!

🤘 Keep thrashing! 🤘

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Plw2wTEd5oA

===

🇬🇧 Hi! 🤘

We are presenting another track from our new EP "Blood For God", which will be fully released soon. Here is "Behind The Mask"!

🤘 Keep thrashing! 🤘

#thrashmetal #deathmetal #polskimetal #polishmetal #thrash #heavymetal #metalband

Przedstawiamy Wam kolejny utwór z naszej nowej EP "Blood For God", która ukaże się niebawem. Oto "Behind The Mask"!

🤘 Keep thrashing! 🤘

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Plw2wTEd5oA

===

🇬🇧 Hi! 🤘

We are presenting another track from our new EP "Blood For God", which will be fully released soon. Here is "Behind The Mask"!

🤘 Keep thrashing! 🤘

#thrashmetal #deathmetal #polskimetal #polishmetal #thrash #heavymetal #metalband

Poland's BELZEBONG have a new LP that just came out, so my neighbors have been hearing it, too. Do you like insanely riffy, instrumental Sabbath-like doom metal? Of course you do.

https://belzebong.bandcamp.com/album/the-end-is-high

#metal #DoomMetal #Instrumental #InstrumentalMetal #2026Albums #2026Records #instrumental #riffs #stoner #riffage #Belzebong #Poland #PolishBands #PolishMetal #StonerMetal @skullvalanche @wendigo @HailsandAles @derthomas @pephorror @NoRestfortheWicked @guffo @swampgas @rtw @umrk

Poland's BELZEBONG have a new LP that just came out, so my neighbors have been hearing it, too. Do you like insanely riffy, instrumental Sabbath-like doom metal? Of course you do.

https://belzebong.bandcamp.com/album/the-end-is-high

#metal #DoomMetal #Instrumental #InstrumentalMetal #2026Albums #2026Records #instrumental #riffs #stoner #riffage #Belzebong #Poland #PolishBands #PolishMetal #StonerMetal @skullvalanche @wendigo @HailsandAles @derthomas @pephorror @NoRestfortheWicked @guffo @swampgas @rtw @umrk

Poland's BELZEBONG have a new LP that just came out, so my neighbors have been hearing it, too. Do you like insanely riffy, instrumental Sabbath-like doom metal? Of course you do.

https://belzebong.bandcamp.com/album/the-end-is-high

#metal #DoomMetal #Instrumental #InstrumentalMetal #2026Albums #2026Records #instrumental #riffs #stoner #riffage #Belzebong #Poland #PolishBands #PolishMetal #StonerMetal @skullvalanche @wendigo @HailsandAles @derthomas @pephorror @NoRestfortheWicked @guffo @swampgas @rtw @umrk

Poland's BELZEBONG have a new LP that just came out, so my neighbors have been hearing it, too. Do you like insanely riffy, instrumental Sabbath-like doom metal? Of course you do.

https://belzebong.bandcamp.com/album/the-end-is-high

#metal #DoomMetal #Instrumental #InstrumentalMetal #2026Albums #2026Records #instrumental #riffs #stoner #riffage #Belzebong #Poland #PolishBands #PolishMetal #StonerMetal @skullvalanche @wendigo @HailsandAles @derthomas @pephorror @NoRestfortheWicked @guffo @swampgas @rtw @umrk

Poland's BELZEBONG have a new LP that just came out, so my neighbors have been hearing it, too. Do you like insanely riffy, instrumental Sabbath-like doom metal? Of course you do.

https://belzebong.bandcamp.com/album/the-end-is-high

#metal #DoomMetal #Instrumental #InstrumentalMetal #2026Albums #2026Records #instrumental #riffs #stoner #riffage #Belzebong #Poland #PolishBands #PolishMetal #StonerMetal @skullvalanche @wendigo @HailsandAles @derthomas @pephorror @NoRestfortheWicked @guffo @swampgas @rtw @umrk

https://www.europesays.com/ie/342658/ Shine – Wrathcult Review | Angry Metal Guy #2026 #35 #AtTheGates #Behemoth #BlackMetal #BlackenedDeathMetal #DarkDescentRecords #DeathMetal #Decapitated #Éire #Entertainment #Hate #Hazael #IE #Ireland #Jan26 #Music #OldMan'sChild #PolishMetal #Review #Reviews #shine #Vader #Wrathcult

Something must be in the water over in Poland, because the country churns out quality death metal like few others. The phrase ‘Polish death metal’ always grabs my attention, whether it’s technical like early Decapitated, thrashy à la Vader, or as blackened as Behemoth. Such was the case when I espied Shine’s Wrathcult lying unclaimed in the promo bin. The invention of guitarist Tomasz Dobrzeniecki (ex-Hazael), Shine unleashes a Polished debut of blackened death, eliciting prompt comparisons to compatriots Hate and Behemoth. While both provide apt reference points, there’s an acerbic tunefulness that evokes At the Gates and Old Man’s Child, as well. Given the glamor of these benchmarks, does Wrathcult let a light Shine down on Poland’s latest blackened death metal opus?

If you give me a word to sum up Polish metal, I’ll say ‘conviction,’ which Wrathcult oozes with calculated rabidity. Whether brandishing steady chugs, rapid-fire trems, or slinky, groove-infested crawls, Shine feels focused and frothing with finely-tuned fire. Dobrzeniecki’s description of the music and lyrics pins the overarching inspiration of Wrathcult on pre-Christian beliefs and the arcane powers of primeval mysticism, specifically calling out the intersection of ‘Germanic, Norse, and Slavic mythology.’1 While it’s not a theme I would’ve divined on my own, this context adds helpful color once Shine shows me where to look. In particular, the clean singing (“The Lamb Against the Wolf”) and chanting (“The Horror of the Night”) sprinkled throughout Wrathcult often give proceedings a ritualistic zest, culminating in one of my favorite tracks, “The Necklace with Runes.” The clean drawl at the beginning is underscored by finely crafted, deeper vocal layers, and while I’m generally unmoved by rhythmic spoken word, singer Marek Krajcer’s performance reads as a ceremonial incantation, reinforcing Wrathcult’s primordial basis.2

Wrathcult by Shine

Musically, Shine exhibits a cunning understanding of the crossroads between death metal, black metal, and melody. Besides the cleans, Krajcer projects a deathly growl that’s at once confident, scathing, and commandingly effective throughout Wrathcult. Guitarists Tomasz Dobrzeniecki and Mateusz Waśkiewicz supply equal doses of second-wave fervor and dulcet leads that are as barbed as they are captivating. Mid-album song “Oddajcie co moje” sports not only the hookiest melody of the bunch, but also contains one of the best bass grooves. Though subtle, Wojciech Gąsiorowski’s ambling bass-lines burble and thump with delightful heft, solidifying a resonant dimension on tracks “The Lamb Against the Wolf” and “Wrath of the Hammer.” With the high caliber of musicianship featuring on strings, an anemic drum performance could dull the entire showing. Thankfully, Paweł Duda seizes the opportunity with gusto, lashing his kit with precision strikes. Overall, Shine lays me on the ground with meaty, well-executed performances that belie Wrathcult’s debut status.

While many moments on Wrathcult fly me in the sky, a few aspects creep in and dim the power of Shine’s light. The production bolsters strong performances across the album, allowing proper room for each instrument to gleam—especially the bass. The forty-six-minute runtime keeps Wrathcult digestible, although riff repetition presents an opportunity to trim thirty-to-sixty seconds from several tracks for a tighter experience. And while Shine serves up several great jams on Wrathcult, a few weaker cuts create dips between the peaks of its strongest material. To be clear, there are no bad or inessential songs that I skip,3 but I do find myself waiting out some moments to get to better ones. Still, there’s variety in the songwriting that keeps affairs engaging and blood pumping through Shine’s blackened heart.

Shine’s Wrathcult should garner its fair share of devotees, living up to the high expectations of Polish blackened death. It’s taken many spins to unlock Wrathcult’s otherworldly secrets, and I’m of a mind that there are even more treasures to unearth. Anyone looking for melodious fury and a band with possibilities on the horizon should be paying attention. When I snatched Shine’s debut, I asked myself, ‘What will I find? Will love be there?’ While I can’t guarantee the same results for you, my answer is a resounding, ‘Yeah.’

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Descent Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

Something must be in the water over in Poland, because the country churns out quality death metal like few others. The phrase ‘Polish death metal’ always grabs my attention, whether it’s technical like early Decapitated, thrashy à la Vader, or as blackened as Behemoth. Such was the case when I espied Shine’s Wrathcult lying unclaimed in the promo bin. The invention of guitarist Tomasz Dobrzeniecki (ex-Hazael), Shine unleashes a Polished debut of blackened death, eliciting prompt comparisons to compatriots Hate and Behemoth. While both provide apt reference points, there’s an acerbic tunefulness that evokes At the Gates and Old Man’s Child, as well. Given the glamor of these benchmarks, does Wrathcult let a light Shine down on Poland’s latest blackened death metal opus?

If you give me a word to sum up Polish metal, I’ll say ‘conviction,’ which Wrathcult oozes with calculated rabidity. Whether brandishing steady chugs, rapid-fire trems, or slinky, groove-infested crawls, Shine feels focused and frothing with finely-tuned fire. Dobrzeniecki’s description of the music and lyrics pins the overarching inspiration of Wrathcult on pre-Christian beliefs and the arcane powers of primeval mysticism, specifically calling out the intersection of ‘Germanic, Norse, and Slavic mythology.’1 While it’s not a theme I would’ve divined on my own, this context adds helpful color once Shine shows me where to look. In particular, the clean singing (“The Lamb Against the Wolf”) and chanting (“The Horror of the Night”) sprinkled throughout Wrathcult often give proceedings a ritualistic zest, culminating in one of my favorite tracks, “The Necklace with Runes.” The clean drawl at the beginning is underscored by finely crafted, deeper vocal layers, and while I’m generally unmoved by rhythmic spoken word, singer Marek Krajcer’s performance reads as a ceremonial incantation, reinforcing Wrathcult’s primordial basis.2

Wrathcult by Shine

Musically, Shine exhibits a cunning understanding of the crossroads between death metal, black metal, and melody. Besides the cleans, Krajcer projects a deathly growl that’s at once confident, scathing, and commandingly effective throughout Wrathcult. Guitarists Tomasz Dobrzeniecki and Mateusz Waśkiewicz supply equal doses of second-wave fervor and dulcet leads that are as barbed as they are captivating. Mid-album song “Oddajcie co moje” sports not only the hookiest melody of the bunch, but also contains one of the best bass grooves. Though subtle, Wojciech Gąsiorowski’s ambling bass-lines burble and thump with delightful heft, solidifying a resonant dimension on tracks “The Lamb Against the Wolf” and “Wrath of the Hammer.” With the high caliber of musicianship featuring on strings, an anemic drum performance could dull the entire showing. Thankfully, Paweł Duda seizes the opportunity with gusto, lashing his kit with precision strikes. Overall, Shine lays me on the ground with meaty, well-executed performances that belie Wrathcult’s debut status.

While many moments on Wrathcult fly me in the sky, a few aspects creep in and dim the power of Shine’s light. The production bolsters strong performances across the album, allowing proper room for each instrument to gleam—especially the bass. The forty-six-minute runtime keeps Wrathcult digestible, although riff repetition presents an opportunity to trim thirty-to-sixty seconds from several tracks for a tighter experience. And while Shine serves up several great jams on Wrathcult, a few weaker cuts create dips between the peaks of its strongest material. To be clear, there are no bad or inessential songs that I skip,3 but I do find myself waiting out some moments to get to better ones. Still, there’s variety in the songwriting that keeps affairs engaging and blood pumping through Shine’s blackened heart.

Shine’s Wrathcult should garner its fair share of devotees, living up to the high expectations of Polish blackened death. It’s taken many spins to unlock Wrathcult’s otherworldly secrets, and I’m of a mind that there are even more treasures to unearth. Anyone looking for melodious fury and a band with possibilities on the horizon should be paying attention. When I snatched Shine’s debut, I asked myself, ‘What will I find? Will love be there?’ While I can’t guarantee the same results for you, my answer is a resounding, ‘Yeah.’

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Descent Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

Something must be in the water over in Poland, because the country churns out quality death metal like few others. The phrase ‘Polish death metal’ always grabs my attention, whether it’s technical like early Decapitated, thrashy à la Vader, or as blackened as Behemoth. Such was the case when I espied Shine’s Wrathcult lying unclaimed in the promo bin. The invention of guitarist Tomasz Dobrzeniecki (ex-Hazael), Shine unleashes a Polished debut of blackened death, eliciting prompt comparisons to compatriots Hate and Behemoth. While both provide apt reference points, there’s an acerbic tunefulness that evokes At the Gates and Old Man’s Child, as well. Given the glamor of these benchmarks, does Wrathcult let a light Shine down on Poland’s latest blackened death metal opus?

If you give me a word to sum up Polish metal, I’ll say ‘conviction,’ which Wrathcult oozes with calculated rabidity. Whether brandishing steady chugs, rapid-fire trems, or slinky, groove-infested crawls, Shine feels focused and frothing with finely-tuned fire. Dobrzeniecki’s description of the music and lyrics pins the overarching inspiration of Wrathcult on pre-Christian beliefs and the arcane powers of primeval mysticism, specifically calling out the intersection of ‘Germanic, Norse, and Slavic mythology.’1 While it’s not a theme I would’ve divined on my own, this context adds helpful color once Shine shows me where to look. In particular, the clean singing (“The Lamb Against the Wolf”) and chanting (“The Horror of the Night”) sprinkled throughout Wrathcult often give proceedings a ritualistic zest, culminating in one of my favorite tracks, “The Necklace with Runes.” The clean drawl at the beginning is underscored by finely crafted, deeper vocal layers, and while I’m generally unmoved by rhythmic spoken word, singer Marek Krajcer’s performance reads as a ceremonial incantation, reinforcing Wrathcult’s primordial basis.2

Wrathcult by Shine

Musically, Shine exhibits a cunning understanding of the crossroads between death metal, black metal, and melody. Besides the cleans, Krajcer projects a deathly growl that’s at once confident, scathing, and commandingly effective throughout Wrathcult. Guitarists Tomasz Dobrzeniecki and Mateusz Waśkiewicz supply equal doses of second-wave fervor and dulcet leads that are as barbed as they are captivating. Mid-album song “Oddajcie co moje” sports not only the hookiest melody of the bunch, but also contains one of the best bass grooves. Though subtle, Wojciech Gąsiorowski’s ambling bass-lines burble and thump with delightful heft, solidifying a resonant dimension on tracks “The Lamb Against the Wolf” and “Wrath of the Hammer.” With the high caliber of musicianship featuring on strings, an anemic drum performance could dull the entire showing. Thankfully, Paweł Duda seizes the opportunity with gusto, lashing his kit with precision strikes. Overall, Shine lays me on the ground with meaty, well-executed performances that belie Wrathcult’s debut status.

While many moments on Wrathcult fly me in the sky, a few aspects creep in and dim the power of Shine’s light. The production bolsters strong performances across the album, allowing proper room for each instrument to gleam—especially the bass. The forty-six-minute runtime keeps Wrathcult digestible, although riff repetition presents an opportunity to trim thirty-to-sixty seconds from several tracks for a tighter experience. And while Shine serves up several great jams on Wrathcult, a few weaker cuts create dips between the peaks of its strongest material. To be clear, there are no bad or inessential songs that I skip,3 but I do find myself waiting out some moments to get to better ones. Still, there’s variety in the songwriting that keeps affairs engaging and blood pumping through Shine’s blackened heart.

Shine’s Wrathcult should garner its fair share of devotees, living up to the high expectations of Polish blackened death. It’s taken many spins to unlock Wrathcult’s otherworldly secrets, and I’m of a mind that there are even more treasures to unearth. Anyone looking for melodious fury and a band with possibilities on the horizon should be paying attention. When I snatched Shine’s debut, I asked myself, ‘What will I find? Will love be there?’ While I can’t guarantee the same results for you, my answer is a resounding, ‘Yeah.’

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Descent Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

Something must be in the water over in Poland, because the country churns out quality death metal like few others. The phrase ‘Polish death metal’ always grabs my attention, whether it’s technical like early Decapitated, thrashy à la Vader, or as blackened as Behemoth. Such was the case when I espied Shine’s Wrathcult lying unclaimed in the promo bin. The invention of guitarist Tomasz Dobrzeniecki (ex-Hazael), Shine unleashes a Polished debut of blackened death, eliciting prompt comparisons to compatriots Hate and Behemoth. While both provide apt reference points, there’s an acerbic tunefulness that evokes At the Gates and Old Man’s Child, as well. Given the glamor of these benchmarks, does Wrathcult let a light Shine down on Poland’s latest blackened death metal opus?

If you give me a word to sum up Polish metal, I’ll say ‘conviction,’ which Wrathcult oozes with calculated rabidity. Whether brandishing steady chugs, rapid-fire trems, or slinky, groove-infested crawls, Shine feels focused and frothing with finely-tuned fire. Dobrzeniecki’s description of the music and lyrics pins the overarching inspiration of Wrathcult on pre-Christian beliefs and the arcane powers of primeval mysticism, specifically calling out the intersection of ‘Germanic, Norse, and Slavic mythology.’1 While it’s not a theme I would’ve divined on my own, this context adds helpful color once Shine shows me where to look. In particular, the clean singing (“The Lamb Against the Wolf”) and chanting (“The Horror of the Night”) sprinkled throughout Wrathcult often give proceedings a ritualistic zest, culminating in one of my favorite tracks, “The Necklace with Runes.” The clean drawl at the beginning is underscored by finely crafted, deeper vocal layers, and while I’m generally unmoved by rhythmic spoken word, singer Marek Krajcer’s performance reads as a ceremonial incantation, reinforcing Wrathcult’s primordial basis.2

Wrathcult by Shine

Musically, Shine exhibits a cunning understanding of the crossroads between death metal, black metal, and melody. Besides the cleans, Krajcer projects a deathly growl that’s at once confident, scathing, and commandingly effective throughout Wrathcult. Guitarists Tomasz Dobrzeniecki and Mateusz Waśkiewicz supply equal doses of second-wave fervor and dulcet leads that are as barbed as they are captivating. Mid-album song “Oddajcie co moje” sports not only the hookiest melody of the bunch, but also contains one of the best bass grooves. Though subtle, Wojciech Gąsiorowski’s ambling bass-lines burble and thump with delightful heft, solidifying a resonant dimension on tracks “The Lamb Against the Wolf” and “Wrath of the Hammer.” With the high caliber of musicianship featuring on strings, an anemic drum performance could dull the entire showing. Thankfully, Paweł Duda seizes the opportunity with gusto, lashing his kit with precision strikes. Overall, Shine lays me on the ground with meaty, well-executed performances that belie Wrathcult’s debut status.

While many moments on Wrathcult fly me in the sky, a few aspects creep in and dim the power of Shine’s light. The production bolsters strong performances across the album, allowing proper room for each instrument to gleam—especially the bass. The forty-six-minute runtime keeps Wrathcult digestible, although riff repetition presents an opportunity to trim thirty-to-sixty seconds from several tracks for a tighter experience. And while Shine serves up several great jams on Wrathcult, a few weaker cuts create dips between the peaks of its strongest material. To be clear, there are no bad or inessential songs that I skip,3 but I do find myself waiting out some moments to get to better ones. Still, there’s variety in the songwriting that keeps affairs engaging and blood pumping through Shine’s blackened heart.

Shine’s Wrathcult should garner its fair share of devotees, living up to the high expectations of Polish blackened death. It’s taken many spins to unlock Wrathcult’s otherworldly secrets, and I’m of a mind that there are even more treasures to unearth. Anyone looking for melodious fury and a band with possibilities on the horizon should be paying attention. When I snatched Shine’s debut, I asked myself, ‘What will I find? Will love be there?’ While I can’t guarantee the same results for you, my answer is a resounding, ‘Yeah.’

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Descent Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

Something must be in the water over in Poland, because the country churns out quality death metal like few others. The phrase ‘Polish death metal’ always grabs my attention, whether it’s technical like early Decapitated, thrashy à la Vader, or as blackened as Behemoth. Such was the case when I espied Shine’s Wrathcult lying unclaimed in the promo bin. The invention of guitarist Tomasz Dobrzeniecki (ex-Hazael), Shine unleashes a Polished debut of blackened death, eliciting prompt comparisons to compatriots Hate and Behemoth. While both provide apt reference points, there’s an acerbic tunefulness that evokes At the Gates and Old Man’s Child, as well. Given the glamor of these benchmarks, does Wrathcult let a light Shine down on Poland’s latest blackened death metal opus?

If you give me a word to sum up Polish metal, I’ll say ‘conviction,’ which Wrathcult oozes with calculated rabidity. Whether brandishing steady chugs, rapid-fire trems, or slinky, groove-infested crawls, Shine feels focused and frothing with finely-tuned fire. Dobrzeniecki’s description of the music and lyrics pins the overarching inspiration of Wrathcult on pre-Christian beliefs and the arcane powers of primeval mysticism, specifically calling out the intersection of ‘Germanic, Norse, and Slavic mythology.’1 While it’s not a theme I would’ve divined on my own, this context adds helpful color once Shine shows me where to look. In particular, the clean singing (“The Lamb Against the Wolf”) and chanting (“The Horror of the Night”) sprinkled throughout Wrathcult often give proceedings a ritualistic zest, culminating in one of my favorite tracks, “The Necklace with Runes.” The clean drawl at the beginning is underscored by finely crafted, deeper vocal layers, and while I’m generally unmoved by rhythmic spoken word, singer Marek Krajcer’s performance reads as a ceremonial incantation, reinforcing Wrathcult’s primordial basis.2

Wrathcult by Shine

Musically, Shine exhibits a cunning understanding of the crossroads between death metal, black metal, and melody. Besides the cleans, Krajcer projects a deathly growl that’s at once confident, scathing, and commandingly effective throughout Wrathcult. Guitarists Tomasz Dobrzeniecki and Mateusz Waśkiewicz supply equal doses of second-wave fervor and dulcet leads that are as barbed as they are captivating. Mid-album song “Oddajcie co moje” sports not only the hookiest melody of the bunch, but also contains one of the best bass grooves. Though subtle, Wojciech Gąsiorowski’s ambling bass-lines burble and thump with delightful heft, solidifying a resonant dimension on tracks “The Lamb Against the Wolf” and “Wrath of the Hammer.” With the high caliber of musicianship featuring on strings, an anemic drum performance could dull the entire showing. Thankfully, Paweł Duda seizes the opportunity with gusto, lashing his kit with precision strikes. Overall, Shine lays me on the ground with meaty, well-executed performances that belie Wrathcult’s debut status.

While many moments on Wrathcult fly me in the sky, a few aspects creep in and dim the power of Shine’s light. The production bolsters strong performances across the album, allowing proper room for each instrument to gleam—especially the bass. The forty-six-minute runtime keeps Wrathcult digestible, although riff repetition presents an opportunity to trim thirty-to-sixty seconds from several tracks for a tighter experience. And while Shine serves up several great jams on Wrathcult, a few weaker cuts create dips between the peaks of its strongest material. To be clear, there are no bad or inessential songs that I skip,3 but I do find myself waiting out some moments to get to better ones. Still, there’s variety in the songwriting that keeps affairs engaging and blood pumping through Shine’s blackened heart.

Shine’s Wrathcult should garner its fair share of devotees, living up to the high expectations of Polish blackened death. It’s taken many spins to unlock Wrathcult’s otherworldly secrets, and I’m of a mind that there are even more treasures to unearth. Anyone looking for melodious fury and a band with possibilities on the horizon should be paying attention. When I snatched Shine’s debut, I asked myself, ‘What will I find? Will love be there?’ While I can’t guarantee the same results for you, my answer is a resounding, ‘Yeah.’

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Dark Descent Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 30th, 2026

Czołem!

Wreszcie nadeszła ta długo oczekiwana chwila - przedstawiamy Wam tytułowy utwór z naszej nowej EP "Blood For God", która ukaże się niebawem.
Fire... Blood... God! 🤘 Keep thrashing! 🤘

===

We proudly present title track from our new EP "Blood For God", which will be fully released soon. Fire... Blood... God! 🤘 Keep thrashing! 🤘

https://youtube.com/watch?v=-gnxA-Xo-1A

#thrashmetal #deathmetal #polskimetal #polishmetal #thrash #heavymetal #metalband