#sabbathassembly — Public Fediverse posts

I’m a tad slow out of the blocks to kick off the new year. Though in reviewing terms, it seems par for the course for yours truly. Time spent enjoying a break from the everyday job grind, catching up on the bounty of overlooked 2025 releases, and, as per tradition, enjoying the comfort of personal favorites and metal classics has occupied my time. As we plunge on through a wild, erratic, and intermittently sweltering Aussie summer, some hard-rocking doomy fun seems like a suitable seasonal pastime. Thus, while wading through the promo sump, I stumbled across the self-titled debut of fresh project, Ritual Arcana. Soon discovering this seasoned power trio features none other than the legendary Scott ‘Wino’ Weinrich (Saint Vitus, The Obsessed, Spirit Caravan), wielding his scuzzed-up axe alongside Sharlee LuckyFree (ex-Moth) on bass and vocals, and drummer Oakley Munsen (The Black Lips).

Rather than a stoned cruise through the desert, Ritual Arcana play a raucous, bewitching blend of hard slugging doom and occult-tinged rock, fit to appeal to fans of nostalgiacore retro rock, Wino’s various projects, and other smoky doom persuasions such as Sabbath Assembly, Jess and the Ancient Ones, Castle Rat, and Witch Mountain. Imbued with dark, alluring vibes and a riff rumbling bluesy edge, Ritual Arcana features the requisite doom-laden heft and freewheeling grooves to accompany songs that rock and rumble with a sprightly bounce. The jammy, psych-drenched swagger leans as much into heavy rock and stoner realms as it does dour doom. LuckyFree’s beguiling pipes boast an undeniable appeal and hooky charm. And while perhaps not the most unique female vocalist in the biz, she holds her own and supplies plenty of earwormy hooks atop a solid foundation of hefty rhythms and fat, swaggering riffs.

Right off the bat, the opening title track lays a groovy path, riding a thick, simplistic central groove and catchy vocal flow, enlivened by Wino’s easy-on-the-ear lead work. Similarly, bluesy, hard-rocking fare and juicy hooks feature prominently (“Free Like a Pirate,” “Summon the Wheel,” “Road Burnt,” and “Judgment XX”) to fun effect, nestled between doomy, heavier fare. These are solid examples of Ritual Arcana’s formula; however, the most interesting material leans deeper into their doomy roots. “Mistress of Change” possesses an ominous atmosphere and lurching, drunken gait, highlighted by LuckyFree’s slightly unhinged vocal performance. Similarly impactful bursts of rugged doom, molten riffage, and rawer vocal turns feature on the highlight-worthy “Subtle Fruits.” There are no blatant weak points, just certain tunes that hit harder and stick for longer. Ritual Arcana do the bluesy hard rock stuff well, yet it’s the brooding doomier forays that sustain greater interest.

What they perhaps lack in innovation, Ritual Arcana compensate through lean and tightly wound songwriting, solid musicianship, and familiar yet delightfully catchy songs. Wino is an iconic metal legend, and even minus the gruff, well-lived presence of his vocals, he makes a punchy impact through his accomplished guitar work. The well-worn riffs carry a fresh, catchy edge; however, it’s the flashier leads and psych-drenched embellishments that complement the no-frills riffs. And as cool and effective as LuckyFree’s vocals are, it is a tad disappointing that Wino’s grizzled voice doesn’t pop up in cameo or dueting form. Meanwhile, the production may be a little clean for some tastes; however, it’s easy to appreciate the clarity and chunky tones.

Ritual Arcana is a likable, gratifyingly catchy exercise in seasoned doom and psych-riddled occult rock from experienced hands. It plays things a little too safe at times, and as enjoyable and undeniably infectious as the songwriting on this debut platter proves to be, it rarely hits truly outstanding levels. Regardless, this style of doom/occult rock has an infectious charm, and when in the hands of veterans and a legend like Wino, it is difficult to fuck up. Ritual Arcana is a cool example of the saturated style and perhaps a precursor to greater things to come from this unit.



Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 304 kbps mp3
Label: Heavy Psych Sounds | Bandcamp
Websites: facebook.com/ritualarcana
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

Grayceon – Then the Darkness Review

By Dolphin Whisperer

Novelty in the metalsphere exists in many folds, whether it be the marrying of virtuosity and familiar structures or the exploration of foreign sounds and textures in a rock/metal context.1 Grayceon, for the better part of the past twenty years, has lingered in the latter path from 2007’s self-titled debut to this newest grand work, Then the Darkness, finding value in the riffy and amp-driven space between emotive, layered electric cello work. Trading a traditional, handheld four-stringed pulse for a classical, stand-up, sullen expression, Grayceon’s Jackie Perez Gratz (Giant Squid, ex-Ludicra) has led this San Francisco-based troupe through waxing journeys of post-inflected, prog-minded heavy metal grandeur with a bowed breath of fresh air time and time again. And now, with Then the Darkness, Grayceon looks to double down on their signature sound—a culmination of frustrations in fancy form.

Possessing both the prowess to open Then the Darkness with a blistering cry (“Thousand Year Storm”) and approach its close with a near lullaby (“(Untitled)”), Gratz and Grayceon continue to find a necessary diversity in their growing body of work. And in the capable engineering hands of trusted partner Jack Shirley,2 Gratz’s lilting vocal lure against counterpoint chamber-influenced swings find an increasing warmth against thick, finger-picked guitar runs and long-drawn crescendos. Time has weathered Gratz’s voice into a full crackle and alto croon that reflects the kind of mystical incantation that you might hear in latter-day Sabbath Assembly, as well as providing room for growth in harsh screeching accompaniment reminiscent of the minstrel Jekyll and Hyde performances of early Ludicra. Yet Grayceon remains in their own element first, even weaving moments of self-referential melodies throughout the back half of Then the Darkness to root deeply the recurring nature of the traumas each of their works explore.

As an exercise in textural excellence, though, Then the Darkness would struggle to entertain through its mammoth eighty-minute sermon if not backed by its aching heart narrative. With themes revolving around the complex nature of evolving relationships—between parent and child, between friends, between partners, between society and its most downtrodden—Gratz navigates each sorrowful tune with a warbling pathos that reads full and earnest in its many cracks. And while this downcast reading flows through much of the journey, the long fadeout from “Mahsa” to instrumental segue “Then the Darkness” renders most of the C-side (“Then…” through “Song of the Snake”) far more placid and buried than the lively bounce that “Holding Lines” provides to the closing chapters. It’s hard to escape the “what if” in terms of what could happen in a more streamlined experience—despite the high quality of Grayceon’s strongest offerings, the slightest dip or departure feels like a missed opportunity where their other works to date have chosen a lighter load.

However, Grayceon’s mastery of studio play emboldens simple structures with deft attacks to fuel the craveability of Then the Darkness. With the ebb and flow of a jam session, quicker cuts fill the air with rockin’ riffs, tight rhythms, urgent melodies, and a classic, volume-driven tone (“One Third,” “3 Points of Light,” “Holding Lines”). And while it’s up front harmonic excess in plucked guitar ascensions that collide with sliding bow tension pepper these tracks with short-term pleasure, it’s the subtle double-punched lines and diverging, hard-panned cello-guitar fill flickers that stimulate an urge to devour all nooks of sound available. And as buttery-yet-jagged riffage finds a crooked home between layered cello stabs (“Thousand Year Storm”) and slithering, off-kilter refrains (“Song of the Snake”), each cut in careful construction escalates to crescendos coordinated in explosive and sullen moods. The longest track, “Mahsa,” cranks all of these techniques to keep each recursion along a gentle climb rather than a flat stroll.

If providing an audience with a plate too full to finish was the goal, Then the Darkness has more than fulfilled the task. From humble roots as a scrappy power trio to this newest incarnation as presence-demanding storytellers, Grayceon’s path of human travail has brought about a gargantuan work that demands attention and dedication. In its four-sided tale, Then the Darkness strikes with an undeniable, hook-laden melancholy when its fire burns brightest. In isolation, no track falters. And though a waning intensity keeps it from being a masterpiece, Grayceon offers enough top-shelf material to make a long service worthwhile.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Translation Loss Records | Bandcamp
Websites: grayceon.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/grayceon
Releases Worldwide: July 25th, 2025

#2025 #35 #AmericanMetal #GiantSquid #Grayceon #Jul25 #Ludicra #PostMetal #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #SabbathAssembly #ThenTheDarkness #TranslationLossRecords

Grayceon – Then the Darkness Review

By Dolphin Whisperer

Novelty in the metalsphere exists in many folds, whether it be the marrying of virtuosity and familiar structures or the exploration of foreign sounds and textures in a rock/metal context.1 Grayceon, for the better part of the past twenty years, has lingered in the latter path from 2007’s self-titled debut to this newest grand work, Then the Darkness, finding value in the riffy and amp-driven space between emotive, layered electric cello work. Trading a traditional, handheld four-stringed pulse for a classical, stand-up, sullen expression, Grayceon’s Jackie Perez Gratz (Giant Squid, ex-Ludicra) has led this San Francisco-based troupe through waxing journeys of post-inflected, prog-minded heavy metal grandeur with a bowed breath of fresh air time and time again. And now, with Then the Darkness, Grayceon looks to double down on their signature sound—a culmination of frustrations in fancy form.

Possessing both the prowess to open Then the Darkness with a blistering cry (“Thousand Year Storm”) and approach its close with a near lullaby (“(Untitled)”), Gratz and Grayceon continue to find a necessary diversity in their growing body of work. And in the capable engineering hands of trusted partner Jack Shirley,2 Gratz’s lilting vocal lure against counterpoint chamber-influenced swings find an increasing warmth against thick, finger-picked guitar runs and long-drawn crescendos. Time has weathered Gratz’s voice into a full crackle and alto croon that reflects the kind of mystical incantation that you might hear in latter-day Sabbath Assembly, as well as providing room for growth in harsh screeching accompaniment reminiscent of the minstrel Jekyll and Hyde performances of early Ludicra. Yet Grayceon remains in their own element first, even weaving moments of self-referential melodies throughout the back half of Then the Darkness to root deeply the recurring nature of the traumas each of their works explore.

As an exercise in textural excellence, though, Then the Darkness would struggle to entertain through its mammoth eighty-minute sermon if not backed by its aching heart narrative. With themes revolving around the complex nature of evolving relationships—between parent and child, between friends, between partners, between society and its most downtrodden—Gratz navigates each sorrowful tune with a warbling pathos that reads full and earnest in its many cracks. And while this downcast reading flows through much of the journey, the long fadeout from “Mahsa” to instrumental segue “Then the Darkness” renders most of the C-side (“Then…” through “Song of the Snake”) far more placid and buried than the lively bounce that “Holding Lines” provides to the closing chapters. It’s hard to escape the “what if” in terms of what could happen in a more streamlined experience—despite the high quality of Grayceon’s strongest offerings, the slightest dip or departure feels like a missed opportunity where their other works to date have chosen a lighter load.

However, Grayceon’s mastery of studio play emboldens simple structures with deft attacks to fuel the craveability of Then the Darkness. With the ebb and flow of a jam session, quicker cuts fill the air with rockin’ riffs, tight rhythms, urgent melodies, and a classic, volume-driven tone (“One Third,” “3 Points of Light,” “Holding Lines”). And while it’s up front harmonic excess in plucked guitar ascensions that collide with sliding bow tension pepper these tracks with short-term pleasure, it’s the subtle double-punched lines and diverging, hard-panned cello-guitar fill flickers that stimulate an urge to devour all nooks of sound available. And as buttery-yet-jagged riffage finds a crooked home between layered cello stabs (“Thousand Year Storm”) and slithering, off-kilter refrains (“Song of the Snake”), each cut in careful construction escalates to crescendos coordinated in explosive and sullen moods. The longest track, “Mahsa,” cranks all of these techniques to keep each recursion along a gentle climb rather than a flat stroll.

If providing an audience with a plate too full to finish was the goal, Then the Darkness has more than fulfilled the task. From humble roots as a scrappy power trio to this newest incarnation as presence-demanding storytellers, Grayceon’s path of human travail has brought about a gargantuan work that demands attention and dedication. In its four-sided tale, Then the Darkness strikes with an undeniable, hook-laden melancholy when its fire burns brightest. In isolation, no track falters. And though a waning intensity keeps it from being a masterpiece, Grayceon offers enough top-shelf material to make a long service worthwhile.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Translation Loss Records | Bandcamp
Websites: grayceon.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/grayceon
Releases Worldwide: July 25th, 2025

#2025 #35 #AmericanMetal #GiantSquid #Grayceon #Jul25 #Ludicra #PostMetal #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #SabbathAssembly #ThenTheDarkness #TranslationLossRecords

Grayceon – Then the Darkness Review

By Dolphin Whisperer

Novelty in the metalsphere exists in many folds, whether it be the marrying of virtuosity and familiar structures or the exploration of foreign sounds and textures in a rock/metal context.1 Grayceon, for the better part of the past twenty years, has lingered in the latter path from 2007’s self-titled debut to this newest grand work, Then the Darkness, finding value in the riffy and amp-driven space between emotive, layered electric cello work. Trading a traditional, handheld four-stringed pulse for a classical, stand-up, sullen expression, Grayceon’s Jackie Perez Gratz (Giant Squid, ex-Ludicra) has led this San Francisco-based troupe through waxing journeys of post-inflected, prog-minded heavy metal grandeur with a bowed breath of fresh air time and time again. And now, with Then the Darkness, Grayceon looks to double down on their signature sound—a culmination of frustrations in fancy form.

Possessing both the prowess to open Then the Darkness with a blistering cry (“Thousand Year Storm”) and approach its close with a near lullaby (“(Untitled)”), Gratz and Grayceon continue to find a necessary diversity in their growing body of work. And in the capable engineering hands of trusted partner Jack Shirley,2 Gratz’s lilting vocal lure against counterpoint chamber-influenced swings find an increasing warmth against thick, finger-picked guitar runs and long-drawn crescendos. Time has weathered Gratz’s voice into a full crackle and alto croon that reflects the kind of mystical incantation that you might hear in latter-day Sabbath Assembly, as well as providing room for growth in harsh screeching accompaniment reminiscent of the minstrel Jekyll and Hyde performances of early Ludicra. Yet Grayceon remains in their own element first, even weaving moments of self-referential melodies throughout the back half of Then the Darkness to root deeply the recurring nature of the traumas each of their works explore.

As an exercise in textural excellence, though, Then the Darkness would struggle to entertain through its mammoth eighty-minute sermon if not backed by its aching heart narrative. With themes revolving around the complex nature of evolving relationships—between parent and child, between friends, between partners, between society and its most downtrodden—Gratz navigates each sorrowful tune with a warbling pathos that reads full and earnest in its many cracks. And while this downcast reading flows through much of the journey, the long fadeout from “Mahsa” to instrumental segue “Then the Darkness” renders most of the C-side (“Then…” through “Song of the Snake”) far more placid and buried than the lively bounce that “Holding Lines” provides to the closing chapters. It’s hard to escape the “what if” in terms of what could happen in a more streamlined experience—despite the high quality of Grayceon’s strongest offerings, the slightest dip or departure feels like a missed opportunity where their other works to date have chosen a lighter load.

However, Grayceon’s mastery of studio play emboldens simple structures with deft attacks to fuel the craveability of Then the Darkness. With the ebb and flow of a jam session, quicker cuts fill the air with rockin’ riffs, tight rhythms, urgent melodies, and a classic, volume-driven tone (“One Third,” “3 Points of Light,” “Holding Lines”). And while it’s up front harmonic excess in plucked guitar ascensions that collide with sliding bow tension pepper these tracks with short-term pleasure, it’s the subtle double-punched lines and diverging, hard-panned cello-guitar fill flickers that stimulate an urge to devour all nooks of sound available. And as buttery-yet-jagged riffage finds a crooked home between layered cello stabs (“Thousand Year Storm”) and slithering, off-kilter refrains (“Song of the Snake”), each cut in careful construction escalates to crescendos coordinated in explosive and sullen moods. The longest track, “Mahsa,” cranks all of these techniques to keep each recursion along a gentle climb rather than a flat stroll.

If providing an audience with a plate too full to finish was the goal, Then the Darkness has more than fulfilled the task. From humble roots as a scrappy power trio to this newest incarnation as presence-demanding storytellers, Grayceon’s path of human travail has brought about a gargantuan work that demands attention and dedication. In its four-sided tale, Then the Darkness strikes with an undeniable, hook-laden melancholy when its fire burns brightest. In isolation, no track falters. And though a waning intensity keeps it from being a masterpiece, Grayceon offers enough top-shelf material to make a long service worthwhile.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Translation Loss Records | Bandcamp
Websites: grayceon.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/grayceon
Releases Worldwide: July 25th, 2025

#2025 #35 #AmericanMetal #GiantSquid #Grayceon #Jul25 #Ludicra #PostMetal #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #SabbathAssembly #ThenTheDarkness #TranslationLossRecords

Grayceon – Then the Darkness Review

By Dolphin Whisperer

Novelty in the metalsphere exists in many folds, whether it be the marrying of virtuosity and familiar structures or the exploration of foreign sounds and textures in a rock/metal context.1 Grayceon, for the better part of the past twenty years, has lingered in the latter path from 2007’s self-titled debut to this newest grand work, Then the Darkness, finding value in the riffy and amp-driven space between emotive, layered electric cello work. Trading a traditional, handheld four-stringed pulse for a classical, stand-up, sullen expression, Grayceon’s Jackie Perez Gratz (Giant Squid, ex-Ludicra) has led this San Francisco-based troupe through waxing journeys of post-inflected, prog-minded heavy metal grandeur with a bowed breath of fresh air time and time again. And now, with Then the Darkness, Grayceon looks to double down on their signature sound—a culmination of frustrations in fancy form.

Possessing both the prowess to open Then the Darkness with a blistering cry (“Thousand Year Storm”) and approach its close with a near lullaby (“(Untitled)”), Gratz and Grayceon continue to find a necessary diversity in their growing body of work. And in the capable engineering hands of trusted partner Jack Shirley,2 Gratz’s lilting vocal lure against counterpoint chamber-influenced swings find an increasing warmth against thick, finger-picked guitar runs and long-drawn crescendos. Time has weathered Gratz’s voice into a full crackle and alto croon that reflects the kind of mystical incantation that you might hear in latter-day Sabbath Assembly, as well as providing room for growth in harsh screeching accompaniment reminiscent of the minstrel Jekyll and Hyde performances of early Ludicra. Yet Grayceon remains in their own element first, even weaving moments of self-referential melodies throughout the back half of Then the Darkness to root deeply the recurring nature of the traumas each of their works explore.

As an exercise in textural excellence, though, Then the Darkness would struggle to entertain through its mammoth eighty-minute sermon if not backed by its aching heart narrative. With themes revolving around the complex nature of evolving relationships—between parent and child, between friends, between partners, between society and its most downtrodden—Gratz navigates each sorrowful tune with a warbling pathos that reads full and earnest in its many cracks. And while this downcast reading flows through much of the journey, the long fadeout from “Mahsa” to instrumental segue “Then the Darkness” renders most of the C-side (“Then…” through “Song of the Snake”) far more placid and buried than the lively bounce that “Holding Lines” provides to the closing chapters. It’s hard to escape the “what if” in terms of what could happen in a more streamlined experience—despite the high quality of Grayceon’s strongest offerings, the slightest dip or departure feels like a missed opportunity where their other works to date have chosen a lighter load.

However, Grayceon’s mastery of studio play emboldens simple structures with deft attacks to fuel the craveability of Then the Darkness. With the ebb and flow of a jam session, quicker cuts fill the air with rockin’ riffs, tight rhythms, urgent melodies, and a classic, volume-driven tone (“One Third,” “3 Points of Light,” “Holding Lines”). And while it’s up front harmonic excess in plucked guitar ascensions that collide with sliding bow tension pepper these tracks with short-term pleasure, it’s the subtle double-punched lines and diverging, hard-panned cello-guitar fill flickers that stimulate an urge to devour all nooks of sound available. And as buttery-yet-jagged riffage finds a crooked home between layered cello stabs (“Thousand Year Storm”) and slithering, off-kilter refrains (“Song of the Snake”), each cut in careful construction escalates to crescendos coordinated in explosive and sullen moods. The longest track, “Mahsa,” cranks all of these techniques to keep each recursion along a gentle climb rather than a flat stroll.

If providing an audience with a plate too full to finish was the goal, Then the Darkness has more than fulfilled the task. From humble roots as a scrappy power trio to this newest incarnation as presence-demanding storytellers, Grayceon’s path of human travail has brought about a gargantuan work that demands attention and dedication. In its four-sided tale, Then the Darkness strikes with an undeniable, hook-laden melancholy when its fire burns brightest. In isolation, no track falters. And though a waning intensity keeps it from being a masterpiece, Grayceon offers enough top-shelf material to make a long service worthwhile.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Translation Loss Records | Bandcamp
Websites: grayceon.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/grayceon
Releases Worldwide: July 25th, 2025

#2025 #35 #AmericanMetal #GiantSquid #Grayceon #Jul25 #Ludicra #PostMetal #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #SabbathAssembly #ThenTheDarkness #TranslationLossRecords

Grayceon – Then the Darkness Review

By Dolphin Whisperer

Novelty in the metalsphere exists in many folds, whether it be the marrying of virtuosity and familiar structures or the exploration of foreign sounds and textures in a rock/metal context.1 Grayceon, for the better part of the past twenty years, has lingered in the latter path from 2007’s self-titled debut to this newest grand work, Then the Darkness, finding value in the riffy and amp-driven space between emotive, layered electric cello work. Trading a traditional, handheld four-stringed pulse for a classical, stand-up, sullen expression, Grayceon’s Jackie Perez Gratz (Giant Squid, ex-Ludicra) has led this San Francisco-based troupe through waxing journeys of post-inflected, prog-minded heavy metal grandeur with a bowed breath of fresh air time and time again. And now, with Then the Darkness, Grayceon looks to double down on their signature sound—a culmination of frustrations in fancy form.

Possessing both the prowess to open Then the Darkness with a blistering cry (“Thousand Year Storm”) and approach its close with a near lullaby (“(Untitled)”), Gratz and Grayceon continue to find a necessary diversity in their growing body of work. And in the capable engineering hands of trusted partner Jack Shirley,2 Gratz’s lilting vocal lure against counterpoint chamber-influenced swings find an increasing warmth against thick, finger-picked guitar runs and long-drawn crescendos. Time has weathered Gratz’s voice into a full crackle and alto croon that reflects the kind of mystical incantation that you might hear in latter-day Sabbath Assembly, as well as providing room for growth in harsh screeching accompaniment reminiscent of the minstrel Jekyll and Hyde performances of early Ludicra. Yet Grayceon remains in their own element first, even weaving moments of self-referential melodies throughout the back half of Then the Darkness to root deeply the recurring nature of the traumas each of their works explore.

As an exercise in textural excellence, though, Then the Darkness would struggle to entertain through its mammoth eighty-minute sermon if not backed by its aching heart narrative. With themes revolving around the complex nature of evolving relationships—between parent and child, between friends, between partners, between society and its most downtrodden—Gratz navigates each sorrowful tune with a warbling pathos that reads full and earnest in its many cracks. And while this downcast reading flows through much of the journey, the long fadeout from “Mahsa” to instrumental segue “Then the Darkness” renders most of the C-side (“Then…” through “Song of the Snake”) far more placid and buried than the lively bounce that “Holding Lines” provides to the closing chapters. It’s hard to escape the “what if” in terms of what could happen in a more streamlined experience—despite the high quality of Grayceon’s strongest offerings, the slightest dip or departure feels like a missed opportunity where their other works to date have chosen a lighter load.

However, Grayceon’s mastery of studio play emboldens simple structures with deft attacks to fuel the craveability of Then the Darkness. With the ebb and flow of a jam session, quicker cuts fill the air with rockin’ riffs, tight rhythms, urgent melodies, and a classic, volume-driven tone (“One Third,” “3 Points of Light,” “Holding Lines”). And while it’s up front harmonic excess in plucked guitar ascensions that collide with sliding bow tension pepper these tracks with short-term pleasure, it’s the subtle double-punched lines and diverging, hard-panned cello-guitar fill flickers that stimulate an urge to devour all nooks of sound available. And as buttery-yet-jagged riffage finds a crooked home between layered cello stabs (“Thousand Year Storm”) and slithering, off-kilter refrains (“Song of the Snake”), each cut in careful construction escalates to crescendos coordinated in explosive and sullen moods. The longest track, “Mahsa,” cranks all of these techniques to keep each recursion along a gentle climb rather than a flat stroll.

If providing an audience with a plate too full to finish was the goal, Then the Darkness has more than fulfilled the task. From humble roots as a scrappy power trio to this newest incarnation as presence-demanding storytellers, Grayceon’s path of human travail has brought about a gargantuan work that demands attention and dedication. In its four-sided tale, Then the Darkness strikes with an undeniable, hook-laden melancholy when its fire burns brightest. In isolation, no track falters. And though a waning intensity keeps it from being a masterpiece, Grayceon offers enough top-shelf material to make a long service worthwhile.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Translation Loss Records | Bandcamp
Websites: grayceon.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/grayceon
Releases Worldwide: July 25th, 2025

#2025 #35 #AmericanMetal #GiantSquid #Grayceon #Jul25 #Ludicra #PostMetal #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #SabbathAssembly #ThenTheDarkness #TranslationLossRecords

Kólga – Black Tides Review

By Iceberg

Texas-based Kólga bill themselves as a “blackened surf rock collective.” With a descriptor like that, and an album cover like THAT, there’s no way I could pass up on seeing what lurked beneath the Lizard People pool. Boasting members from a boatload of bands from across the spectrum (Dead to a Dying World, Cleric, Tyrannosorceress, Sabbath Assembly, to name a few) this is Kólga’s first stab at a full-length: and barely at that, running at a lithe 27 minutes. But if the band calls it an LP, then an LP it is, and a review it receives. Unsure if I’ll get Dick Dale in corpsepaint or Euronymous in board shorts, I let the churning waves of the opening seconds of Black Tides wash over my frozen skin.

Blackened surf-rock is certainly a facet of Black Tides, but it doesn’t paint the whole picture. The idiosyncrasies of surf-rock do indeed form the floor of the album: lightly distorted tremolo melodies, and that classic double-tap snare drum pattern. The blackened portion of the album is confined mainly to lo-fi cavernous vocals (“Space Beach Massacre,” “Squall of Cthulu”) and some heavier, more distorted passages that feel a little more Black Sabbath than black metal (“Tethis,” “The Kraken”). Much of this album would be better described as bad-trip surf rock, with shades of the psych-revivalist The Black Angels or even the theatrics of Alice Cooper. It’s also important to point out that this is predominately an instrumental album, though the band has a formidable treasure chest of timbres and textures on hand to keep the sound from stagnating (plenty of synth pads, auxiliary percussion like guiro and tambourine, a theremin, and even a waterphone, an instrument I’ve certainly heard before but never seen in action).

It’s this diverse palette of sound, along with a slavish adherence to their tongue-in-cheek concept, that gives Black Tides it’s je ne sais quois. Black metal and surf rock share more DNA than you may think, thanks to the prevalence of tremolo melodic guitar lines and fast single-stroke fills down the drumkit. Guitarists Jason Mullins and James Magruder do an admirable job of making me believe I’m in Surfin’-USA-gone-wrong with creepy laid-back numbers (“Squall of Cthulu,” “Endless Bummer”) and more maniacally driven ones reminiscent of a Quentin Tarantino soundtrack (“Riptide,” “The Kraken”). The vocals—by Mullins as well—revel in their role as a caricature of second-wave black metal (“Space Beach Massacre,” “The Kraken”), or a de-tuned acid trip narrative (“Squall of Cthulu,” “Tethis”). The band feels at ease in their performance, playing it a bit fast and loose with the timing, but not so much that it sounds like a jam session. And with the aforementioned lean run time, Black Tides manages to leave an impression without wearing out that inherent weirdness.

While Kólga aim to revel in their monster mash-up of a style, not everything on Black Tides has me buying what they’re selling. While bookends “Space Beach Massacre” and “The Kraken” make me believe the band is serious about Scandinavian Surf, the interior of the record strays from the thesis. Other tracks feel pulled from 70’s doom (“Tethis”) psychedelic rock (“Squall of Cthulu”) or straight surf rock (a sagging three-song run of “Riptide”-“Is This Real?”). These pieces are by no means poorly executed, but the divergence from the original genre pitch feels like the band threw everything at a wall to see what would stick, making for a listening that feels more unfocused than confident. The mix also feels a hair thrown together, with the drums—cymbals especially—feeling less crisp and seated than the rest of the instruments. I commend Mullins for committing to the bit with his vocal performance, and while I enjoy his Davy-Jones-on-LSD voiceover in “Squall of Cthulu,” the clean singing at the end of “Is This Real?” is strained and beginning to replace parody with cringe.

Gripes aside, Black Tides manages to provide a wacky, whimsical, yet under-baked detour from the more self-serious sides of metal. While I’d like to see the collective create a more cohesive and focused sound for future records, I can envision myself using a few of these tracks as background for Halloween or other mind-enhancing get-togethers. The band seems to have had fun making this record, and I hope they return to the project to make it bigger, bolder, and weirder. Now to find out the going rate for used waterphones on Ebay…

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Ottis Media Records | Bandcamp
Websites: facebook.com | Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 29, 2024

#25 #2024 #AliceCooper #AmericanMetal #BlackMetal #BlackSabbath #BlackTides #Cleric #DeadToADyingWorld #DickDaleAndTheDelTones #Kólga #Mar24 #OttisMediaRecords #PsychedlicRock #Review #Reviews #SabbathAssembly #SurfRock #TheBlackAngels #Tyrannosorceress

Kólga – Black Tides Review

By Iceberg

Texas-based Kólga bill themselves as a “blackened surf rock collective.” With a descriptor like that, and an album cover like THAT, there’s no way I could pass up on seeing what lurked beneath the Lizard People pool. Boasting members from a boatload of bands from across the spectrum (Dead to a Dying World, Cleric, Tyrannosorceress, Sabbath Assembly, to name a few) this is Kólga’s first stab at a full-length: and barely at that, running at a lithe 27 minutes. But if the band calls it an LP, then an LP it is, and a review it receives. Unsure if I’ll get Dick Dale in corpsepaint or Euronymous in board shorts, I let the churning waves of the opening seconds of Black Tides wash over my frozen skin.

Blackened surf-rock is certainly a facet of Black Tides, but it doesn’t paint the whole picture. The idiosyncrasies of surf-rock do indeed form the floor of the album: lightly distorted tremolo melodies, and that classic double-tap snare drum pattern. The blackened portion of the album is confined mainly to lo-fi cavernous vocals (“Space Beach Massacre,” “Squall of Cthulu”) and some heavier, more distorted passages that feel a little more Black Sabbath than black metal (“Tethis,” “The Kraken”). Much of this album would be better described as bad-trip surf rock, with shades of the psych-revivalist The Black Angels or even the theatrics of Alice Cooper. It’s also important to point out that this is predominately an instrumental album, though the band has a formidable treasure chest of timbres and textures on hand to keep the sound from stagnating (plenty of synth pads, auxiliary percussion like guiro and tambourine, a theremin, and even a waterphone, an instrument I’ve certainly heard before but never seen in action).

It’s this diverse palette of sound, along with a slavish adherence to their tongue-in-cheek concept, that gives Black Tides it’s je ne sais quois. Black metal and surf rock share more DNA than you may think, thanks to the prevalence of tremolo melodic guitar lines and fast single-stroke fills down the drumkit. Guitarists Jason Mullins and James Magruder do an admirable job of making me believe I’m in Surfin’-USA-gone-wrong with creepy laid-back numbers (“Squall of Cthulu,” “Endless Bummer”) and more maniacally driven ones reminiscent of a Quentin Tarantino soundtrack (“Riptide,” “The Kraken”). The vocals—by Mullins as well—revel in their role as a caricature of second-wave black metal (“Space Beach Massacre,” “The Kraken”), or a de-tuned acid trip narrative (“Squall of Cthulu,” “Tethis”). The band feels at ease in their performance, playing it a bit fast and loose with the timing, but not so much that it sounds like a jam session. And with the aforementioned lean run time, Black Tides manages to leave an impression without wearing out that inherent weirdness.

While Kólga aim to revel in their monster mash-up of a style, not everything on Black Tides has me buying what they’re selling. While bookends “Space Beach Massacre” and “The Kraken” make me believe the band is serious about Scandinavian Surf, the interior of the record strays from the thesis. Other tracks feel pulled from 70’s doom (“Tethis”) psychedelic rock (“Squall of Cthulu”) or straight surf rock (a sagging three-song run of “Riptide”-“Is This Real?”). These pieces are by no means poorly executed, but the divergence from the original genre pitch feels like the band threw everything at a wall to see what would stick, making for a listening that feels more unfocused than confident. The mix also feels a hair thrown together, with the drums—cymbals especially—feeling less crisp and seated than the rest of the instruments. I commend Mullins for committing to the bit with his vocal performance, and while I enjoy his Davy-Jones-on-LSD voiceover in “Squall of Cthulu,” the clean singing at the end of “Is This Real?” is strained and beginning to replace parody with cringe.

Gripes aside, Black Tides manages to provide a wacky, whimsical, yet under-baked detour from the more self-serious sides of metal. While I’d like to see the collective create a more cohesive and focused sound for future records, I can envision myself using a few of these tracks as background for Halloween or other mind-enhancing get-togethers. The band seems to have had fun making this record, and I hope they return to the project to make it bigger, bolder, and weirder. Now to find out the going rate for used waterphones on Ebay…

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Ottis Media Records | Bandcamp
Websites: facebook.com | Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 29, 2024

#25 #2024 #AliceCooper #AmericanMetal #BlackMetal #BlackSabbath #BlackTides #Cleric #DeadToADyingWorld #DickDaleAndTheDelTones #Kólga #Mar24 #OttisMediaRecords #PsychedlicRock #Review #Reviews #SabbathAssembly #SurfRock #TheBlackAngels #Tyrannosorceress

Kólga – Black Tides Review

By Iceberg

Texas-based Kólga bill themselves as a “blackened surf rock collective.” With a descriptor like that, and an album cover like THAT, there’s no way I could pass up on seeing what lurked beneath the Lizard People pool. Boasting members from a boatload of bands from across the spectrum (Dead to a Dying World, Cleric, Tyrannosorceress, Sabbath Assembly, to name a few) this is Kólga’s first stab at a full-length: and barely at that, running at a lithe 27 minutes. But if the band calls it an LP, then an LP it is, and a review it receives. Unsure if I’ll get Dick Dale in corpsepaint or Euronymous in board shorts, I let the churning waves of the opening seconds of Black Tides wash over my frozen skin.

Blackened surf-rock is certainly a facet of Black Tides, but it doesn’t paint the whole picture. The idiosyncrasies of surf-rock do indeed form the floor of the album: lightly distorted tremolo melodies, and that classic double-tap snare drum pattern. The blackened portion of the album is confined mainly to lo-fi cavernous vocals (“Space Beach Massacre,” “Squall of Cthulu”) and some heavier, more distorted passages that feel a little more Black Sabbath than black metal (“Tethis,” “The Kraken”). Much of this album would be better described as bad-trip surf rock, with shades of the psych-revivalist The Black Angels or even the theatrics of Alice Cooper. It’s also important to point out that this is predominately an instrumental album, though the band has a formidable treasure chest of timbres and textures on hand to keep the sound from stagnating (plenty of synth pads, auxiliary percussion like guiro and tambourine, a theremin, and even a waterphone, an instrument I’ve certainly heard before but never seen in action).

It’s this diverse palette of sound, along with a slavish adherence to their tongue-in-cheek concept, that gives Black Tides it’s je ne sais quois. Black metal and surf rock share more DNA than you may think, thanks to the prevalence of tremolo melodic guitar lines and fast single-stroke fills down the drumkit. Guitarists Jason Mullins and James Magruder do an admirable job of making me believe I’m in Surfin’-USA-gone-wrong with creepy laid-back numbers (“Squall of Cthulu,” “Endless Bummer”) and more maniacally driven ones reminiscent of a Quentin Tarantino soundtrack (“Riptide,” “The Kraken”). The vocals—by Mullins as well—revel in their role as a caricature of second-wave black metal (“Space Beach Massacre,” “The Kraken”), or a de-tuned acid trip narrative (“Squall of Cthulu,” “Tethis”). The band feels at ease in their performance, playing it a bit fast and loose with the timing, but not so much that it sounds like a jam session. And with the aforementioned lean run time, Black Tides manages to leave an impression without wearing out that inherent weirdness.

While Kólga aim to revel in their monster mash-up of a style, not everything on Black Tides has me buying what they’re selling. While bookends “Space Beach Massacre” and “The Kraken” make me believe the band is serious about Scandinavian Surf, the interior of the record strays from the thesis. Other tracks feel pulled from 70’s doom (“Tethis”) psychedelic rock (“Squall of Cthulu”) or straight surf rock (a sagging three-song run of “Riptide”-“Is This Real?”). These pieces are by no means poorly executed, but the divergence from the original genre pitch feels like the band threw everything at a wall to see what would stick, making for a listening that feels more unfocused than confident. The mix also feels a hair thrown together, with the drums—cymbals especially—feeling less crisp and seated than the rest of the instruments. I commend Mullins for committing to the bit with his vocal performance, and while I enjoy his Davy-Jones-on-LSD voiceover in “Squall of Cthulu,” the clean singing at the end of “Is This Real?” is strained and beginning to replace parody with cringe.

Gripes aside, Black Tides manages to provide a wacky, whimsical, yet under-baked detour from the more self-serious sides of metal. While I’d like to see the collective create a more cohesive and focused sound for future records, I can envision myself using a few of these tracks as background for Halloween or other mind-enhancing get-togethers. The band seems to have had fun making this record, and I hope they return to the project to make it bigger, bolder, and weirder. Now to find out the going rate for used waterphones on Ebay…

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Ottis Media Records | Bandcamp
Websites: facebook.com | Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: March 29, 2024

#25 #2024 #AliceCooper #AmericanMetal #BlackMetal #BlackSabbath #BlackTides #Cleric #DeadToADyingWorld #DickDaleAndTheDelTones #Kólga #Mar24 #OttisMediaRecords #PsychedlicRock #Review #Reviews #SabbathAssembly #SurfRock #TheBlackAngels #Tyrannosorceress