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  1. Sallow Moth – Hydrophilous Brood Review By Grin Reaper

    Less than a year after delivering one of my favorite albums of 2025,1 Sallow Moth flutters in to unload another monstrous helping of progressive death metal. Thematically, Hydrophilous Brood continues exploring the quantum entanglements of the Mossbane Lantern, a capriciously powerful artifact that can transport users across planes of existence—often with horrific consequences. I thoroughly enjoyed this backdrop on Mossbane Lantern, and learning that Sallow Moth’s new platter would once again fathom the inscrutable fickleness of the Lantern made me equal parts giddy and nervous. With expectations unfairly inflated, I slipped off my skivvies to bathe in the marvels of Hydrophilous Brood.

    Compared to Mossbane Lantern, Hydrophilous Brood luxuriates in murkier, more organic tones than its predecessor. Largely, the differences between them condense into two observations. First, Garry Brents’ addition of drummer Allen Gingerich pays off big time. Second, most of the electronic embellishments heard on Mossbane Lantern have dwindled significantly, even though their spirit periodically reemerges via guitar or bass reprisals. What stands out most against Mossbane Lantern is the new LP’s commitment to more traditional instrumentation, even if the compositions themselves remain wildly unpredictable. Rather than abrupt shifts between crushing death metal, trip hop shimmers, and electronica-infused breaks, Hydrophilous Brood suggests most of these moods without pulling the rug out from listeners, and the end result impresses with more streamlined, delightfully lawless musical hooliganism.

    Performance-wise, Sallow Moth doesn’t miss a beat as Brents and Gingerich glide through Hydrophilous Brood’s runtime. Most immediately, Gingerich’s drums supply an enormous boost to Sallow Moth’s compositions. The percussive elements on Mossbane Lantern never disappointed, yet Hydrophilous Brood quickly reinforces the magic that a skilled technician can add. Robotic rolls and precision snare abuse (“Driftmoth Vivisector”) may give the impression of programmed drums, but Gingerich also imparts slick sticksmanship and jazzy spasms (“Polymorphic Gnaw,” “Serene Aqueous Leech”) that leave me reeling with whiplashing wonder. In addition to the drums, Gingerich discharges a couple of guitar solos on “Arcane Benthic Umbilicus” and “Polymorphic Gnaw” that hew closer to more traditional fretwork, adding further depth to Sallow Moth’s arrangements. Brents, meanwhile, rekindles the aural anarchy from Mossbane Lantern, especially the crisply shred-infested riffing interspersed with brief passages of Cynical bass noodling and subtle synth atmospherics. Vocally, Brents strikes with a varied attack, assaulting listeners with brown-note toilet burps in line with this year’s Lureplasm (“Nebulous Appendages of Vacillant Seafoam,” “Polymorphic Gnaw”),2 aggrieved caveman roars (“Arcane Benthic Umbilicus”), and several brief guest cameos, including Corey Peterson (Thætas) and Evan Sadler (Labyrinthine Heirs).

    In all, Sallow Moth throws a dizzying spread of instrumentation at listeners, making Hydrophilous Brood so dense and tangled that it can be difficult to navigate at first. It’s a bit like a several-thousand-piece puzzle, where the first listen is just flipping all the pieces over the right way. With more time, though, the album takes shape and reveals the overarching vision beneath the madness. Melodic phrases regularly trade the spotlight with tumultuous chugs and squealing guitars, never allowing songs to lock in before lurching to the next. I understand how it can be jarring, but catching the quick-flitting melodies as they dance to the fore then fade into the background without dissipating altogether demands appreciation. Thematically, the whimsical nature of the Mossbane Lantern artifact persists on Hydrophilous Brood, exerting wicked fun throughout.

    After delivering one of my favorite death metal slabs of 2025, Sallow Moth follows up with another gloriously depraved contender. As I reflect on the music I’ve loved over the last couple of years, I find that what appeals to me mostly falls into one of two camps: flawless executions of proven recipes and novel explorations of metal. Sallow Moth lands squarely in the latter, and though novelty for its own sake often falls flat, the stories embedded within Hydrophilous Brood amplify the music, giving form to its chaos. Sure, there are things I miss from Mossbane Lantern, particularly the electronica-infused injections, and there are things I wish had been utilized more, like Ola’s noir-coded trumpet on “Serene Aqueous Leech.” Yet in the end, my critical comments mostly boil down to what I wish they’d done more of rather than faulting what they did. It takes patience to unravel and appreciate Sallow Moth’s latest, but after marinating in its waters for spins on end, I’m unashamedly glued to the Brood.

    Rating: Great
    DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
    Label: Willowtip Records
    Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
    Releases Worldwide: July 24th, 2026

    #2026 #40 #AmericanMetal #Cynic #DeathMetal #HydrophilousBrood #Jul26 #LabyrinthineHeirs #Lureplasm #ProgressiveDeathMetal #Review #Reviews #SallowMoth #Thaetas #WillowtipRecords
  2. Sallow Moth – Hydrophilous Brood Review By Grin Reaper

    Less than a year after delivering one of my favorite albums of 2025,1 Sallow Moth flutters in to unload another monstrous helping of progressive death metal. Thematically, Hydrophilous Brood continues exploring the quantum entanglements of the Mossbane Lantern, a capriciously powerful artifact that can transport users across planes of existence—often with horrific consequences. I thoroughly enjoyed this backdrop on Mossbane Lantern, and learning that Sallow Moth’s new platter would once again fathom the inscrutable fickleness of the Lantern made me equal parts giddy and nervous. With expectations unfairly inflated, I slipped off my skivvies to bathe in the marvels of Hydrophilous Brood.

    Compared to Mossbane Lantern, Hydrophilous Brood luxuriates in murkier, more organic tones than its predecessor. Largely, the differences between them condense into two observations. First, Garry Brents’ addition of drummer Allen Gingerich pays off big time. Second, most of the electronic embellishments heard on Mossbane Lantern have dwindled significantly, even though their spirit periodically reemerges via guitar or bass reprisals. What stands out most against Mossbane Lantern is the new LP’s commitment to more traditional instrumentation, even if the compositions themselves remain wildly unpredictable. Rather than abrupt shifts between crushing death metal, trip hop shimmers, and electronica-infused breaks, Hydrophilous Brood suggests most of these moods without pulling the rug out from listeners, and the end result impresses with more streamlined, delightfully lawless musical hooliganism.

    Performance-wise, Sallow Moth doesn’t miss a beat as Brents and Gingerich glide through Hydrophilous Brood’s runtime. Most immediately, Gingerich’s drums supply an enormous boost to Sallow Moth’s compositions. The percussive elements on Mossbane Lantern never disappointed, yet Hydrophilous Brood quickly reinforces the magic that a skilled technician can add. Robotic rolls and precision snare abuse (“Driftmoth Vivisector”) may give the impression of programmed drums, but Gingerich also imparts slick sticksmanship and jazzy spasms (“Polymorphic Gnaw,” “Serene Aqueous Leech”) that leave me reeling with whiplashing wonder. In addition to the drums, Gingerich discharges a couple of guitar solos on “Arcane Benthic Umbilicus” and “Polymorphic Gnaw” that hew closer to more traditional fretwork, adding further depth to Sallow Moth’s arrangements. Brents, meanwhile, rekindles the aural anarchy from Mossbane Lantern, especially the crisply shred-infested riffing interspersed with brief passages of Cynical bass noodling and subtle synth atmospherics. Vocally, Brents strikes with a varied attack, assaulting listeners with brown-note toilet burps in line with this year’s Lureplasm (“Nebulous Appendages of Vacillant Seafoam,” “Polymorphic Gnaw”),2 aggrieved caveman roars (“Arcane Benthic Umbilicus”), and several brief guest cameos, including Corey Peterson (Thætas) and Evan Sadler (Labyrinthine Heirs).

    In all, Sallow Moth throws a dizzying spread of instrumentation at listeners, making Hydrophilous Brood so dense and tangled that it can be difficult to navigate at first. It’s a bit like a several-thousand-piece puzzle, where the first listen is just flipping all the pieces over the right way. With more time, though, the album takes shape and reveals the overarching vision beneath the madness. Melodic phrases regularly trade the spotlight with tumultuous chugs and squealing guitars, never allowing songs to lock in before lurching to the next. I understand how it can be jarring, but catching the quick-flitting melodies as they dance to the fore then fade into the background without dissipating altogether demands appreciation. Thematically, the whimsical nature of the Mossbane Lantern artifact persists on Hydrophilous Brood, exerting wicked fun throughout.

    After delivering one of my favorite death metal slabs of 2025, Sallow Moth follows up with another gloriously depraved contender. As I reflect on the music I’ve loved over the last couple of years, I find that what appeals to me mostly falls into one of two camps: flawless executions of proven recipes and novel explorations of metal. Sallow Moth lands squarely in the latter, and though novelty for its own sake often falls flat, the stories embedded within Hydrophilous Brood amplify the music, giving form to its chaos. Sure, there are things I miss from Mossbane Lantern, particularly the electronica-infused injections, and there are things I wish had been utilized more, like Ola’s noir-coded trumpet on “Serene Aqueous Leech.” Yet in the end, my critical comments mostly boil down to what I wish they’d done more of rather than faulting what they did. It takes patience to unravel and appreciate Sallow Moth’s latest, but after marinating in its waters for spins on end, I’m unashamedly glued to the Brood.

    Rating: Great
    DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
    Label: Willowtip Records
    Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
    Releases Worldwide: July 24th, 2026

    #2026 #40 #AmericanMetal #Cynic #DeathMetal #HydrophilousBrood #Jul26 #LabyrinthineHeirs #Lureplasm #ProgressiveDeathMetal #Review #Reviews #SallowMoth #Thaetas #WillowtipRecords
  3. Fires in the Distance – Circadian Promise Review By Thus Spoke

    Not many bands can craft as characteristic an aura as Fires in the Distance. Their dreamy melodicism yet grounded weight lend their music an instantly recognizable and powerfully uplifting tone. Debut Echoes from Deep November already shimmered with the promise of something special, and 2023 sophomore Air Not Meant for Us more than made good on this promise, gliding effortlessly into my top 5 for that year. At this point in a band’s career, one might start to fear a slip in quality—a complacent settling into an easy and familiar groove—where the magic fades a little. One might, but in my case, this was somewhat eclipsed by the glittering stars that filled my eyes when Circadian Promise appeared on the horizon. Returning to the paradigm of mental health, rendered through the imagery of flight and freedom, Fires in the Distance console even the most timorous of hearts and deliver once again.

    Everything uniquely great about Fires in the Distance is back on full display in Circadian Promise, and more besides. The sparkling arias of keyboards gain strength on the backs of soaring lead guitars and the steadfast heft of bass and drum. Synths subtly decorate the soundscape with just a touch of drama. Dynamic, steady tempos propel you forward. But Fires in the Distance don’t rest in the surety of this admittedly winning formula. New vocalist Brendan Hayter1 uses his savage screams to inject a new intensity to the heaviness and amplifies already stirring passages with hearty cleans—first of their kind for the band. The keyboards also see a renaissance of sorts with extended moments in the spotlight (“Lightless Days of a Songless Bird,” “Once the Silence Takes Your Place”), and solos stretch further towards the epic (“By this Time Tomorrow”). This evolution remains entirely natural. Whatever fierceness seizes the percussion or harsh vocals, the music remains easily compelling and distinctively rousing. Similarly, the singing never pushes songs even close to the saccharine boundary; their emotionality is perfectly pitched.

    Fires in the Distance set a high bar with their previous work, but somehow Circadian Promise clears it. The music demonstrates a mature exploration of tension and contrast, shifting slightly away from doom and back towards melodeath, playing with the duality of clean and harsh vocals, folding the fragile and the fierce into potent progressions. Songs might use an ardently sung bridge to allow a melancholic theme to provide tangible closure (“Of Radiance and Levitation,” “To You, the Author of my Fade”), or show vulnerability beside a heavier counterpart to the rhythm and melody (“Once the Silence…”). Just as much emotion comes from the ardent screams that ring over turbulent drums (“Once the Silence…”) or rise in tandem with tremolo-picked or swiftly arpeggio-ing riffs (“Lightless Days…,” “Agonal Dreaming”). Every refrain is just as deceptively simple, memorable, and lovely as ever, but with the increased dynamism, they shine still brighter. Layered transitions through synths and piano (“Lightless Days…,” “By This Time Tomorrow,” “Once the Silence…”) seamlessly weave movements together. Fluid, energetic drumming shapes the soundscape with bolstering fills and assertive rolls into steady, sweeping ascents (“Of Radiance…,” ), rocky climbs (“Once the Silence…” “Agonal Dreaming”), and endless onward glides (“By this Time Tomorrow”), metaphorically embodying their themes. As a result, they hit harder and stick longer.

    Circadian Promise is also made more compelling by its structure. Almost the same length to the second as Air Not Meant for Us, it uses its time better, eschewing instrumental interludes and long intros and crafting long songs with assured builds (“Of Radiance…”, “Lightless Days…”), moving reprises (“To You,…” “Agonal Dreaming”), and thrillingly layered evolutions (“To You…,” “Once the Silence…”).2 “Lightless Days…” is possibly the only candidate for a trim, weakened slightly by its itineracy. Whilst being in many ways more dramatic and heavy than prior releases, it’s simultaneously more reflective thanks to a slight lilt in the tunes and openness in the cleans, and some fantastic keyboard-centred passages, integrated beautifully into the metal (“Of Radiance…,” “By this Time Tomorrow”). This heightened reflectiveness also shows up through Fires in the Distance’s substitution for pithy Christopher Hitchens with the rather more introspective Alan Watts (“By this Time Tomorrow”) in the role of sampled British intellectual.

    To those who previously felt Fires in the Distance’s brand of melodeath too airy to be impactful, Circadian Promise may be the album that shows you the light. Bolstered and tempered with a more striking heaviness and passionate cleans, the characteristically stirring beauty of the melodies sings louder and warmer than before. Circadian Promise fully becomes its concept as its powerful pieces coalesce into a fortifying tonic you surely can’t resist, lifting your spirits, and Fire in the Distance themselves, up into the stratosphere.

    Rating: Excellent
    DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
    Label: Prosthetic Records
    Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
    Releases Worldwide: June 12th, 2026

    #2026 #45 #AmericanMetal #CircadianPromise #DeathMetal #DoomMetal #FiresInTheDistance #Jun26 #MelodicDeathMetal #ProgressiveDeathMetal #ProstheticRecords #Review #Reviews

  4. Fires in the Distance – Circadian Promise Review By Thus Spoke

    Not many bands can craft as characteristic an aura as Fires in the Distance. Their dreamy melodicism yet grounded weight lend their music an instantly recognizable and powerfully uplifting tone. Debut Echoes from Deep November already shimmered with the promise of something special, and 2023 sophomore Air Not Meant for Us more than made good on this promise, gliding effortlessly into my top 5 for that year. At this point in a band’s career, one might start to fear a slip in quality—a complacent settling into an easy and familiar groove—where the magic fades a little. One might, but in my case, this was somewhat eclipsed by the glittering stars that filled my eyes when Circadian Promise appeared on the horizon. Returning to the paradigm of mental health, rendered through the imagery of flight and freedom, Fires in the Distance console even the most timorous of hearts and deliver once again.

    Everything uniquely great about Fires in the Distance is back on full display in Circadian Promise, and more besides. The sparkling arias of keyboards gain strength on the backs of soaring lead guitars and the steadfast heft of bass and drum. Synths subtly decorate the soundscape with just a touch of drama. Dynamic, steady tempos propel you forward. But Fires in the Distance don’t rest in the surety of this admittedly winning formula. New vocalist Brendan Hayter1 uses his savage screams to inject a new intensity to the heaviness and amplifies already stirring passages with hearty cleans—first of their kind for the band. The keyboards also see a renaissance of sorts with extended moments in the spotlight (“Lightless Days of a Songless Bird,” “Once the Silence Takes Your Place”), and solos stretch further towards the epic (“By this Time Tomorrow”). This evolution remains entirely natural. Whatever fierceness seizes the percussion or harsh vocals, the music remains easily compelling and distinctively rousing. Similarly, the singing never pushes songs even close to the saccharine boundary; their emotionality is perfectly pitched.

    Fires in the Distance set a high bar with their previous work, but somehow Circadian Promise clears it. The music demonstrates a mature exploration of tension and contrast, shifting slightly away from doom and back towards melodeath, playing with the duality of clean and harsh vocals, folding the fragile and the fierce into potent progressions. Songs might use an ardently sung bridge to allow a melancholic theme to provide tangible closure (“Of Radiance and Levitation,” “To You, the Author of my Fade”), or show vulnerability beside a heavier counterpart to the rhythm and melody (“Once the Silence…”). Just as much emotion comes from the ardent screams that ring over turbulent drums (“Once the Silence…”) or rise in tandem with tremolo-picked or swiftly arpeggio-ing riffs (“Lightless Days…,” “Agonal Dreaming”). Every refrain is just as deceptively simple, memorable, and lovely as ever, but with the increased dynamism, they shine still brighter. Layered transitions through synths and piano (“Lightless Days…,” “By This Time Tomorrow,” “Once the Silence…”) seamlessly weave movements together. Fluid, energetic drumming shapes the soundscape with bolstering fills and assertive rolls into steady, sweeping ascents (“Of Radiance…,” ), rocky climbs (“Once the Silence…” “Agonal Dreaming”), and endless onward glides (“By this Time Tomorrow”), metaphorically embodying their themes. As a result, they hit harder and stick longer.

    Circadian Promise is also made more compelling by its structure. Almost the same length to the second as Air Not Meant for Us, it uses its time better, eschewing instrumental interludes and long intros and crafting long songs with assured builds (“Of Radiance…”, “Lightless Days…”), moving reprises (“To You,…” “Agonal Dreaming”), and thrillingly layered evolutions (“To You…,” “Once the Silence…”).2 “Lightless Days…” is possibly the only candidate for a trim, weakened slightly by its itineracy. Whilst being in many ways more dramatic and heavy than prior releases, it’s simultaneously more reflective thanks to a slight lilt in the tunes and openness in the cleans, and some fantastic keyboard-centred passages, integrated beautifully into the metal (“Of Radiance…,” “By this Time Tomorrow”). This heightened reflectiveness also shows up through Fires in the Distance’s substitution for pithy Christopher Hitchens with the rather more introspective Alan Watts (“By this Time Tomorrow”) in the role of sampled British intellectual.

    To those who previously felt Fires in the Distance’s brand of melodeath too airy to be impactful, Circadian Promise may be the album that shows you the light. Bolstered and tempered with a more striking heaviness and passionate cleans, the characteristically stirring beauty of the melodies sings louder and warmer than before. Circadian Promise fully becomes its concept as its powerful pieces coalesce into a fortifying tonic you surely can’t resist, lifting your spirits, and Fire in the Distance themselves, up into the stratosphere.

    Rating: Excellent
    DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
    Label: Prosthetic Records
    Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
    Releases Worldwide: June 12th, 2026

    #2026 #45 #AmericanMetal #CircadianPromise #DeathMetal #DoomMetal #FiresInTheDistance #Jun26 #MelodicDeathMetal #ProgressiveDeathMetal #ProstheticRecords #Review #Reviews

  5. Cognizance – In Light, No Shape Review By Owlswald

    A “faster is better” philosophy has long defined technical death metal, with bands regularly operating at breakneck speeds. While that approach requires undeniable virtuosity, I’ve always gravitated toward the genre’s more restrained, focused, and groove-oriented side. Cognizance initially walked the well-trodden path of bands like The Faceless and The Zenith Passage on their debut, Malignant Dominion, displaying speed and technicality in equal measure, but doing little to distinguish themselves from a crowded field. However, to their credit, the international quintet-turned-quartet has spent the past three albums gradually cementing their identity, culminating with 2024’s Phantazein. Though it got Stuck in the Filter, the record was packed with punishing grooves, strong songwriting, and phenomenal performances, containing all the qualities that keep me returning to the genre regularly. Two short years later, Cognizance returns with In Light, No Shape.

    Much of Cognizance’s growth over the years stems from its stable lineup, though the recent departure of longtime vocalist Henry “Big Mac” Pryce disrupted that continuity. Guitarist Alex Baillie has since assumed vocal duties, marking a shift in the group’s sound. Baillie fills the role admirably, trading Pryce’s deathcore-leaning growls for a style closer to David Davidson (Revocation). In fact, In Light, No Shape—particularly tracks like “Vertical Illusion,” “Witness Marks,” “Chasm,” and “The Zone”—leans heavily into Revocation’s progressive stylings to its benefit. Drummers and longtime fans should already know the name David Diepold (ex-Obscura), but for anyone who doesn’t, consider this your required introduction. The dude absolutely cooks on this record. Whether through artful fills or splashy accents, he commands the material like a conductor leading an orchestra, sitting front and center in the record’s solid mix. Not to be outdone, guitarists Apostolis Karydis and Baillie, along with bassist Chris Binns, lock with Diepold effortlessly, never once sounding strained as they ebb between calibrated riffing, evocative solos, and ornate passages across the record’s 37 minutes.

    Rather than following the Archspire school of extravagance, In Light, No Shape shows Karydis and Baillie easing off the accelerator, leaning more into atmosphere than velocity, with Diepold shouldering most of the speed. The duo utilizes more spacey arpeggiated passages (“A Reconfiguration,” “Witness Marks,” “A Game of Proliferation”) than on Phantazein, giving In Light, No Shape a feeling of dynamism and expansiveness. Accordingly, the songwriting strikes a keen balance between technical, immersive, and hooky, while leaving room for each element to breathe. Opener “Transient Fixations” wastes no time launching into hyperdrive, blasting and chugging through its sub‑three‑minute runtime, essentially functioning as an intro track that reaffirms that this is still the Cognizance fans will know. And while it feels a bit short, it flows seamlessly into “Inflection Chants'” groovy opening, making it work. Later, the surges of melodic tremolos and blasts that fuel “Chasm” give way to a haunting, aura-rich soundscape, where cymbal accents melt into jaunty tom fills before everything cascades back into overdrive. Similar structures drive tracks like “The Zone” and Song o’ the Year candidate “A Game of Proliferation,” while others (“Induced Contortions,” “Subterranean Incantation”) stick closer to standard tech death.

    To state the obvious, tech death production usually sucks. Thankfully, In Light, No Shape isn’t totally brickwalled to hell, clocking in at a DR of 6. While that number looks average on paper,1 the mix retains a surprisingly natural edge while still delivering the punch and low-end presence needed to let the intricacies of the performances shine. Yes, it’s still compressed, but it never totally collapses on itself either. The guitars carry plenty of bite, avoiding the trap of sounding overly synthetic or overproduced, though the solos sit too far back in the mix for my liking. Likewise, the use of robotic spoken word interludes on tracks like “Inflection Chants” and “Transient Fixations” is conceptually fine, but they get lost behind the loud drums and end up feeling pointless. It’s a trade-off I can ultimately live with, though.

    After multiple spins, In Light, No Shape stands toe-to-toe with Phantazein. Overcoming a key member’s departure isn’t easy, and while the album’s stylistic changes may feel reactive or too familiar, most come across as deliberate, pointing to a group resettling their identity. Cognizance continues to emerge as one of tech death’s most compelling acts and In Light, No Shape highlights what the genre can achieve when done right.

    Rating: Very Good
    DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
    Label: Willowtip Records
    Websites: cognizance.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/cognizanceband
    Releases Worldwide: May 1st, 2026

    #2026 #35 #Archspire #BritishMetal #Cognizance #DeathMetal #InLight #May26 #NoShape #Obscura #ProgressiveDeathMetal #Review #Reviews #Revocation #TechnicalDeathMetal #TheFaceless #TheZenithPassage #WillowtipRecords
  6. #NowPlaying the Album "Where Owls know My name" by the band #RiversOfNihil from the #USA

    #MelodicDeathMetal #TechnicalDeathMetal #ProgressiveDeathMetal #AlbumsOf2018

    Personal Rating: 5 / 10
    🟡🟡🟡🟡🟡⚪⚪⚪⚪⚪

    Recommended Tracks: "The Silent Life", "Terrestria III - Withering", "Where Owls know My Name", "Capricorn / Agoratopia", "Death is real'

    riversofnihil.bandcamp.com/alb

  7. Papa Necrose – Anthropomorphy Execution Review By Owlswald

    Five-headed Brazilian death metal horde Papa Necrose emerged from the promo sump with two strikes against them before Anthropomorphy Execution even began. First, if we were somehow living in an alternate metalverse where Ghost didn’t exist, then the name Papa Necrose might be passable. But we don’t. Instead, the name only evokes the theatrical imagery tied to Tobias Forge’s famous alter-ego. Second, the Saw‑meets‑Easter‑Island cover art is não é bom,1 feeling flat out undercooked. Put those surface issues aside, and you’ll find a record that soaks itself in classic 90s progressive death. The outcome of years of arduous development, Papa Necrose’s third LP once again turns its attention to the Catholic Church as its central target. However, rather than chasing reinvention, Anthropomorphy Execution embraces familiarity, seeking to recapture the qualities that have allowed this well-known strain of death to endure.

    Anthropomorphy Execution wears its influences squarely on its sleeve: post Human‑era Death and early Pestilence are the clearest touchstones, with vocals that blend Obituary‑style guttural heft and Schuldiner‑like phrasing. There’s nothing here you haven’t heard before, but the performances are surprisingly astute. And it’s clear Papa Necrose has more than enough musical chops to pull off their homage. Danilo Vagner and Carlo Silva’s down‑picked, grinding riffs, Luquian Silva’s dynamic tom fills, and Eric Gusmão’s exploratory bass runs are executed with precision, coalescing into highlights like “Hammered in the Mind,” “Cathedral of Death,” and “Eighteen Years Awake.” Gusmão’s Sound of Perseverance-flavored breaks, along with the interplay between Vagner and Silva’s riffs and Silva’s fancy kit work, give the tracks plenty of groove to latch onto. James Murphy (Death, Obituary, Cancer) even shows up for a guest spot (“The Thousand Yard Gaze”). Talent-rich, but too obvious in their devotion, Papa Necrose seems comfortable being nothing less than an off-the-shelf clone of their heroes.

    Anthropomorphy Execution by PAPA NECROSE

    Anthropomorphy Execution’s biggest problems lie in its songwriting and overall cohesion. While the individual performances are competent, the sum rarely matches the quality of its parts, leaving Anthropomorphy Execution feeling clunky as a whole. Alessandro Necrose is a capable vocalist and effectively channels a John Tardy (Obituary) level of disgust, but a vocal mix that sits too far forward and drowns everything in delay undermines his delivery. His tendency to end his growls with an exaggerated gurgle (“Anthropomorphy Execution,” “Cathedral of Death,” “Disenchant Them”) doesn’t help matters and comes off as cheesy rather than heavy. Structurally, tracks tend to sprawl, with vocals that occasionally lag behind the instrumentation (“Fall, Die, and Break”), or overactive solos that crowd otherwise promising passages (“Disenchant Them”). And with a runtime of over 46 minutes, the album overstays its welcome by at least two songs.

    While Papa Necrose lacks a distinct identity of their own, discerning musicality and a clear reverence for the classic progressive death sound produce some strong moments. “Fall, Die, and Break” is a straightforward track that leans on chunky, mid-paced riffs, fret-tapping fireworks, and dexterous drumming to establish a serviceable baseline for the record’s sound. It’s nothing special, but it demonstrates a functional grasp of structure and pacing. “Eighteen Years Awake,” “Hammered in the Mind,” and “Cathedral of Death” benefit from a sharper sense of momentum, finding Papa Necrose at their heaviest and most confident. Driven by syncopated bursts of technical shredding and frequent tempo shifts, the songs remain engaging throughout and largely sidestep the issues that drag down the rest of the record. “Anthropomorphy Execution” could have joined them as one of the record’s stronger cuts if not for its near‑lifted guitar harmony from Symbolic’s “Sacred Serenity.” To its credit, the song is one of the few moments where Papa Necrose attempts to break the mold, introducing added wrinkles like ceremonial-flavored motifs. Still, this occurrence isn’t enough to overcome the track’s mimicry, nor imbue the material with a sense of personality that gives it lasting appeal.

    Papa Necrose is no doubt fluent in classic progressive death, but Anthropomorphy Execution rarely speaks in its own voice. Competently played and steeped in the right influences, the record leans too heavily on familiar tropes to ultimately feel essential. Until Papa Necrose tempers its devotion with a stronger sense of self, their work will continue to land as another well-executed homage in a genre already defined by far stronger voices.

    Rating: Disappointing
    DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
    Label: Awakening Records
    Websites: awakeningrecordscn.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/papanecrosedm
    Releases Worldwide: March 20th, 2026

    #20 #2026 #AnthropomorphyExecution #AwakeningRecords #BrazilianMetal #Cancer #Death #DeathMetal #Ghost #Mar26 #Obituary #PapaNecrose #Pestilence #ProgressiveDeathMetal #Review #Reviews