#scottish-metal — Public Fediverse posts

It’s easy to take the Internet for granted, given how ubiquitous it is these days. A couple of decades ago, it would have been unthinkable for someone like me who lives in the United States to stumble upon music made by a group from Eigg. Hailing from this small Scottish island—with a population of only about 100—Joe Cormack and Pete Colquhoun formed Electric Sun Defence following the early dissolution of their former group, The Massacre Cave, after just one album that was released in 2020. Estuary represents the next step along this trail of spirited progressive/post-metal that these two bandmates began blazing years ago.

It turns out that Estuary is an apt metaphor for Electric Sun Defence’s music. Estuaries, formed when freshwater rivers mix with the salty ocean, account for some of the world’s most productive wildlife ecosystems. Similarly, Estuary inhabits the sweet spot between the melodicism of prog and the coarse textures of post-metal. Much like The Ocean and Void of Light, Electric Sun Defence is prone to change from tranquil to tempestuous at a moment’s notice. The flurries of activity are glued together with delicious, delicate post-rock segments in the vein of pg.lost or Red Sparowes. The balance between these competing interests can feel fragile at times, but they manage to coexist and enrich their musical environment together.

Estuary’s standout strength is the masterful buildup and discharge of tension. This is immediately clear as the title track begins, layering bass and horns atop cymbal taps and serene guitars, then eventually erupting into a furious post-metal wave. “Fountain of Blood” takes things further with harsh guitar riffs that also contain the perfect amount of groove. “The Master’s Garden” deftly winds between glassy post-rock and distorted chords, climaxing with an intricate guitar melody. Though the intensity waxes and wanes, there is a clear trend of increasing aggression as Estuary progresses, becoming more like a combination of Cult of Luna and Dvne for the final two tracks, “Phantom Limb Amputee” and “In Bestia.” During the latter, Pete Colquhoun really gets to let loose with forceful and frenetic rhythms behind the kit. Don’t let the monochromatic album art fool you; Electric Sun Defence paints with a wide array of aural hues.

The dynamic composition is good, but when paired with an intuitive flow, the experience borders on transcendent. Each track fluidly transitions to the next, and the fact that none of them exceeds 8 minutes helps to keep Estuary from becoming stale. This is a rare instance of the shorter interlude tracks serving a larger purpose, albeit in a subtle way. “Spiderweb” is pretty enough that I can look past its bothersome soundbites, and “Dysmorph” functions as a reprieve while setting the stage for the raging “Phantom Limb Amputee” that follows. The grouping of these tracks with the shoegaze elements in “Choke Leper” causes the momentum to sag a little, but not terribly so. Another minor weak point is that the vocals—especially the cleans—can sound muffled, but the strength of the instruments helps compensate.

Though I entered Estuary with no expectations, it turned out to be exactly what I was looking for at the time. It keeps the listener guessing from moment to moment with the continual assurance that they’ll love whatever comes next. Electric Sun Defence shows their versatility by wielding both emotive melody and crushing ferocity. Albums like this make me pause and appreciate the privilege we have to conveniently access great music from all over the world. Electric Sun Defence might be the best metal group in Eigg by default, but they can give others in larger regions a serious run for their money too.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Road To Masochist
Websites: electricsundefence.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/people/Electric-Sun-Defence
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

For years, Scottish outfit Cnoc An Tursa lurked along the periphery of my awareness. I liked the few songs I’d heard, and I frequently saw them referenced while exploring similar artists. Yet their lack of output kept me at a distance; as I expanded my taste for folk metal, I didn’t want to fall in love with a band that had little to no appetite to get in the studio.1 For Cnoc An Tursa, you can lay aside your concerns, because they’re back after a nine-year wait to unveil third full-length A Cry for the Slain. This new opus perpetuates what Cnoc An Tursa has been doing since the band formed twenty years ago—writing blackened folk bangers fraught with grace, passion, and depth. After a prolonged absence, though, it becomes more and more difficult to bounce back if expectations outpace reality’s limitations. So, given the intervening years, does A Cry for the Slain elicit tears of joy or sorrow?

On A Cry for the Slain, Cnoc An Tursa draws upon the soundscapes of both their prior albums to hatch an experience that exists somewhere between them. Debut The Giants of Auld introduced the world to Cnoc An Tursa‘s distinctive Highland hijinx, melding rousing orchestrations with meloblack might. Of their two previous albums, A Cry for the Slain shares more in common with The Giants of Auld, harkening to the debut’s more direct songwriting than The Forty Five’s melancholic, key-drenched atmospheres. The Forty Five’s solemnity persists on A Cry for the Slain, but its application rings bittersweet as triumphant melodies dance between wistful choirs and forlorn evocations. While all three albums sound unmistakably like them, their latest takes earlier victories and forges them together into Cnoc An Tursa’s best album to date.

Throughout A Cry for the Slain, Cnoc An Tursa fuses ethereal majesty with blackened stylings and traditional melodies to create a gorgeous folk metal tapestry. The band’s allure lies with their finesse as they conjure captivating and earnest music, and the more I spin A Cry for the Slain, the more I appreciate its stark and stunning beauty. Crashing waves and reverb-laden guitars set the tone within the first track, “Na for Ghorma.” The mournful female vocals crescendo into an inevitable trudge that releases into furious trems and grating rasps on follow-up “The Caoineag.” Cnoc An Tursa consistently pits black metal acerbity against contemplative sorrow, deftly wending between complex atmospheres and emotions. This is perhaps best demonstrated on tracks “Baobhan Sith”2 and “Alba in My Heart,” where Cnoc An Tursa expertly controls song dynamics and tension with peaks and valleys in volume and pathos. Also, I’d be remiss not to mention my favorite track “Am Fear Liath Mòr,” which boasts an otherworldly quality and dextrous melodic leads that simultaneously remind me of “Love Will Tear Us Apart,” Iron Maiden, and Black Cross Hotel, yet still undeniably sounds like Cnoc An Tursa.

Despite succeeding on so many fronts, A Cry for the Slain flounders on penultimate track “Address to the Devil.” To be fair, it mostly falls victim to the heights of the preceding tracks, which all possess strong identities and exemplary writing. Comparatively, “Address to the Devil” stands out as missing the same soul. It starts promisingly enough, with frenzied tremolos lashing against scathing vocals, but from there the pace decelerates to a deliberate march. Soon enough, the song strips back to a twinkling synth and fabulous bass noodling, providing a solid core that ultimately lacks purpose or a melodic through-line to bring everything together.3 Besides “Address to the Devil,” I have no material complaints. The production and mix are smart and balanced, the forty-four-minute runtime is just right, and A Cry for the Slain’s replayability is relentless.

Cnoc An Tursa breaks their nine-year silence with a bang, and fans of their work should be pleased with A Cry for the Slain. As a newer convert, I’m disappointed I didn’t make the time to discover them earlier, but visiting their prior albums along with the new one has brought me immense, befolkened joy. I hope we don’t have to wait as long for their next outing, but until then, I’m content listening to A Cry for the Slain, knowing that time hasn’t dulled their ability to Cnoc one out of the park.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Apocalyptic Witchcraft Recordings
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

Tired? Irritable? Prone to bouts of melancholy that leave you feeling listless and unfocused, particularly as the weather changes? It could be seasonal affective disorder, but these symptoms can also typify a diet deficient in vitamin R(iff). If it’s the latter, Hellripper’s Coronach practically hemorrhages the cure for what ails you, parading pulse-pounding riffs, blistering solos, and enthralling grooves with palliative nonchalance. Unleashing Hellripper’s fourth album in under a decade, architect and sole member James McBain maintains a tried-and-true release schedule and, more importantly, a steady evolution of sophisticated songwriting that’s as compelling as it is emboldening. I won’t mince words—Coronach is an undeniable corker and succeeds as Hellripper’s greatest triumph to date. So run down to your local or digital dealer and grab some Coronach posthaste!

Expanding on the achievements of Hellripper’s previous albums, Coronach harnesses the charm of earlier releases and injects them with a lethal dose of vitality. Back in 2017, debut Coagulating Darkness bled its influences on its sleeve, from riffs dripping with warp-speed Venom to the guitar lead from “Bastard of Hades” pulled straight from Metallica’s “Hit the Lights.” The Affair of the Poisons shaped Hellripper’s identity with flurries of licks that, while still laced with influences, exuded a welcome dimension of originality. Three years ago, Warlocks Grim & Withered Hags’ introduced knotted, longer-form compositions that pushed out the runtime while augmenting Hellripper’s arsenal of aural ammunition. With Coronach, Hellripper strikes a balance between the lengthier arrangements of Warlocks and the breakneck blackened bangers of yore, amplified by stellar performances throughout.

Coronach (24-bit HD audio) by Hellripper

Coronach overflows with electrifying instrumentation, and while McBain supplies most of Hellripper’s sonic ingredients, a few guests further enrich its proceedings. Searing leads and scorching solos set Coronach’s eight tracks aflame, boasting some of the hookiest guitar-playing I’ve heard this year. “Hunderprest” and “Blakk Satanik Fvkkstorm” crackle with flashy fretwork, buoyed by longtime six-string contributor Joseph Quinlan (Desert Heretic). Similarly, “Kinchyle (Goatkraft and Granite)” rumbles with snappy Motörheadstrong riffs before an acoustic guitar cuts in to transition the song into slinky grooves and heavy half-times. After some interplay, the pace ramps back up to close out on the intro riff. Hellripper has never lacked for earworms, yet Coronach unveils a mature understanding of dynamic songwriting that endows depth and complexity while never sounding forced or unnatural. Besides Quinlan, Jess Townsend contributes violin on “Baobhan Sith (Waltz of the Damned),” while singer Marianne returns to lend her vocals on a few tracks and Antonio Rodriguez reprises the bagpipes on closer “Coronach.” Vacuous’s Max Southall even bestows some percussive flair on “Mortercheyn.” Between himself and the talented musicians he’s assembled, it’s clear that while McBain is comfortable with his supporting cast, he’s determined not to put out the same album twice.

What impresses me most with Coronach is that McBain manages to broaden Hellripper’s auditory palette without ever losing the band’s core identity. “Hunderprest” and “Coronach” brim with the band’s trademark rippin’ riffs, yet the solos recall southern rock shredding à la Lynyrd Skynyrd or The Outlaws played at one-and-a-half speed. “Sculptor’s Cave,” meanwhile, channels what El Cuervo affectionately dubbed ‘Motörhead on cocaine’ energy during its “Rock ‘n’ Roll”-informed solo. A pervasive punk attitude also shimmers beneath the surface of Coronach, where the unadorned guitar refrains from “Kinchyle (Goatkraft and Granite),” “Sculptor’s Cave,” and “Mortercheyn” evoke more technical versions of Bad Religion and The Offspring. Tying it all together and allowing the myriad influences to coalesce, the mix ensures this is the best Hellripper has sounded, retaining their raw edge while dialing back the ‘everything louder than everything else’ approach that afflicted past albums—The Affair of the Poisons in particular.

Doubtlessly, Hellripper has dropped their finest release so far with Coronach, though a few small adjustments could have boosted it to undisputed excellence. “Baobhan Sith (Waltz of the Damned)” runs a tad too long, and although I like “Mortercheyn,” it doesn’t quite live up to the heights of the other tracks. Even so, I unapologetically return to Coronach again and again with no signs of slowing down. Just remember—Coronach must be taken while driving or operating heavy machinery. If lethargy creeps in or your mouth runs dry from a chronic deficit of Vitamin R, just take one to two doses of Coronach (by ear) and wait for Hellripper’s restorative fix to kick in.1

Rating: Great!!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

For this week's #MusicWomenWednesday, something fairly brutal and excellent- Glasgow's UNMAKING and their debut EP 'Absolute Immiseration'. This is like, blackened sludge -- some VERY intense shit. Heavy as hell. Vocalist Kay Logan's voice is roaring and screeching.. I keep coming back to this one.

https://unmaking.bandcamp.com/album/absolute-immiseration

#sludge #metal #Glasgow #Scotland #UK #GlasgowBands #GlasgowMetal #ScottishBands #ScottishMetal

Mrs. Frighthouse – Solitude Over Control Review

By Dear Hollow

How much noise is too much? I used to believe you could never have too much noise, with bands like Theatruum and La Torture des Ténèbres weaponizing it for respectively vicious and otherworldly approaches. Then bands like Ulveblod and the infamous Ordeal & Triumph collaboration happened – and I lost my naivety. Ultimately, as we will see with duo Mrs. Frighthouse, diving into the noise genre offers a low ceiling and an equally low floor. Some of the worst music I’ve reviewed has had the “noise” tag attached to it, while some of the most okayest music I’ve reviewed also has noise attached to it – previously mentioned acts being controversial exceptions. It’s either the worst thing you’ve heard or okay. Mrs. Frighthouse is a light, er, fright in a sea of noise – for better or worse.

Glasgow-based Mrs. Frighthouse consists of wife and wife duo Carys and Luna Frighthouse, known as Mrs. and Mrs. on stage. Featuring an unflinching lyrical attack on misogyny, homophobia, and transphobia, and a musical approach as venomous, it recalls the likes of early Lingua Ignota, Couch Slut, and Julie Christmas. What hooked me was its mastering by Khanate bassist James Plotkin – anything that reminds of the menacing crawl that the drone legends conjure was a perk. However, like any noise album that focuses on ugliness and discordance, the audience is limited, the replay value is near null, and its strengths are a novelty in many ways. Featuring manic vocals both harsh and operatic to contrast with the suffocating noise, Mrs. Frighthouse wins points for charisma, but Solitude Over Control is still very much a noise album.

To my relief, Mrs. Frighthouse utilizes opaqueness and density to its benefit, avoiding the painful awkwardness of Läjä Äijälä & Albert Witchfinder’s trainwreck of a collaboration. Plotkin’s services are put to good use, as the backbone of sound is suffocating and all-encompassing in a way that recalls drone’s colossal density, an expanse of ominous tones upon which Mrs. and Mrs. traverse with their vocal journeys. Throw in some haunting ritualistic drumming patterns and minor organ trills, Mrs. Frighthouse crafts horrific soundscapes using an expert blend of clarity, melody, and discordance to match their surprisingly dynamic foray into noise. This is no Oscillotron – Mrs. Frighthouse knows how to write songs. While at first glance the sea of noise is a constant hum, those willing to delve beneath the surface will find smart songwriting aplenty.

The contrast between clarity and density is a clear priority in Solitude Over Control – which ends up being its most controversial element. From the aggressive industrial pulse paired with thick waves of noise easy to get lost in (“DIY Exorcism,” “White Plaster Rooms”) to more subtle crawling pieces with screeching soprano trills that feel strangely confrontational (“Seagulls” part 1 and 2, “Let My Spit Be Poison”), while creeping melodic motifs are warped and bastardized by the static (“Our Culture Without Autonomy,” “My Body is a Crime Scene”), Mrs. Frighthouse is a tour-de-force of metallic aggression without a riff in sight. Solitude Over Control wears its themes on its sleeves in sometimes awkward forthrightness, as both Mrs.’s spew vitriol over the misogyny, homophobia, and transphobia witnessed and experienced, matching the aggression and viciousness of the music. The closing title track is worthy of mention, because its slow-burning crescendo is a maddening and horrifying end to a maddening and horrifying album – a nerve-frying culmination of Mrs. Frighthouse’s best and worst.

Almost everything about Solitude Over Control feels intentional, but holy shit, is it unflinching and uncomfortable. Mrs. Frighthouse’s two vocals are insanely charismatic in their blend of shrieks, growls, operatic belts, whispers, and shouts, propelling the movement of the noise as it emerges and disappears in the sea of noise. Plotkin’s mastering adds a suffocating and claustrophobic quality that adds to the menace and aggression. Some tracks you’ll find yourself getting lost in the swaths of noise and industrial harshness, others you’ll find yourself blushing in the awkward stark clarity of the vocals. Mrs. Frighthouse offers a better noise album than most and is closer to the ceiling, but due to the divisiveness of the style and the starkness of some of the minimalist pieces, the reception will be mixed. Noise fans rejoice, all others steer clear.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Self-Release
Websites: mrsfrighthouse.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/mrsfrighthouse
Releases Worldwide: September 26th, 2025

#25 #2025 #CouchSlut #Drone #Industrial #JulieChristmas #Khanate #LaTortureDesTénèbres #LäjäÄijäläAlbertWitchfinder #LinguaIgnota #MrsFrighthouse #Noise #Oscillotron #Review #Reviews #ScottishMetal #SelfRelease #Sep25 #SolitudeOverControl #Theatruum #Ulveblod

This week's #ThursDeath is Scotland's CAUSTIC PHLEGM-- a one man metal project I've been enjoying IMMENSELY these last couple weeks. It has tape hiss, synths, jankiness that I dig, and ODSM-inspired grossness. There's a Caustic Phlegm demo out this year too with other songs, but this is their (his) full length debut LP, 'Purulent Apocalypse'. And its sound really lives up to its name. Grody growling, slimy riffs, and pounding, crushing drums. HUGE contender for me this year.

https://caustic-phlegm.bandcamp.com/album/purulent-apocalypse

#metal #DeathMetal #ScottishMetal #UKMetal #Scotland #CausticPhlegm #synth #synths #2025Albums #2025Records #2025Metal #OSDM @HailsandAles @wendigo @rtw @guffo @flockofnazguls @BergRo @EisenTukan

King Witch – III Review

By Owlswald

A great singer can be a game-changer, and Edinburgh doom outfit King Witch is lucky enough to have an exceptional one in Laura Donnelly. Combining the grit of Janis Joplin, the range of Chris Cornell, and the tonality of Ann Wilson (Heart), Donnelly is currently one of the best in the game thanks to her commanding delivery. But there’s no “I” in “band,” and every great singer needs instrumental prowess to back them up. Enter guitarist/producer Jamie Gilchrist and bassist Rory Lee,1 whose earthmoving riffs—rooted in doom, 70s rock and grunge—perfectly augment Donnelly’s gifts. Since hitting the scene in 2015, King Witch has evolved their artistic direction across two full-length albums and two EPs.2 Their 2018 debut, Under the Mountain, impressed one Ferrous Bueller, who underscored the group’s significant potential through strong songwriting and powerful performances. Their 2021 follow-up, Body of Light, then shifted focus, emphasizing dynamics via tempo and mood changes. With III, King Witch aims to combine the best aspects of their previous work and elevate their sound to the next level.

They’ve definitely succeeded. III features top-notch songwriting that highlights King Witch’s strengths. Donnelly dominates, fronting spirited rock anthems (“Digging in the Dirt,” “Suffer in Life”), acoustic ambiance (“Little Witch”), and introspective segments (“Behind the Veil,” “Last Great Wilderness”) with her impressive vibrato and vast range. Gilchrist’s versatility shines through a litany of memorable riffs, effortlessly shaping a Soundgarden of doom, grunge, and classic rock into a cohesive whole. From “Sea of Lies’” lumbering, grungy plods to “Deal with the Devil’s” blues-infused refrains, Gilchrist assembles a sophisticated and magnetic foundation of genre-bending material. Replacing Lyle Brown, session drummer Andrew Scott (Paul Gilbert, Slice the Cake) lays down Sabbathian-sized rhythms that unite with Lee’s driving bass, producing iron-clad tempos which bolster King Witch’s potent attack. Thanks to Gilchrist’s bright production, everything on III is brimming with energy and punch, elevating King Witch’s Candlemassive sound and reinforcing the album’s pervasive quality.

King Witch’s songwriting utilizes conventional structures with a newfound conciseness and maturity. The quartet’s knack for subtly varying tracks—even longer ones—to hold listener interest is a true testament to their skill in crafting memorable musical motifs. Repeat choruses that soar higher than the first (“Sea of Lies”), delicate and somber bridges that provide dynamic contrast to hard-hitting verses (“Last Great Wilderness”) and welcome variations in mood and energy that pull Scott’s and Lee’s performances into focus (“Behind the Veil,” “Swarming Flies”), add fresh dimensions within otherwise predictable verse-chorus frameworks. Simultaneously, these nuanced permutations grant the underlying performances the creative freedom and space to show their mettle while III’s succinct songwriting prevents stagnation. In this context, Gilchrist’s solos stand out and consistently impress, blending virtuosity with extraordinary feel without being too excessive. His blues-rooted phrasing and progressive technicality complement a lively wah tone that fuses III’s song structures together with a myriad of hammers, bends, sweeps, and taps.

Still, Laura Donnelly’s vocals remain the dominant force in King Witch’s music, and her incredibly emotional and powerful delivery makes III a genuine blast to experience. Serving as the band’s flagbearer, her voice is a masterclass in drama, power,r and dynamic control. Her range is off the charts, driving III’s catchy hooks and melodies with full-force belting (“Swarming Flies”), soulful croons (“Deal with the Devil,” “Last Great Wilderness”), and even falsetto (“Sea of Lies”) that glues me to every note. While I could wax poetic for hours about her superb performance on III, her Heartfelt singing atop the unplugged “Little Witch” is particularly noteworthy for its soothing yet chilling soulful presentation.

III is incredibly stout, and I’ve had it on repeat ever since it arrived. Pinpointing genuine flaws is a challenge, though if pressed, closer “Last Great Wilderness” occasionally meanders and “Behind the Veil” concludes rather abruptly. Moreover, the opening of motivational anthem “Diggin in the Dirt” doesn’t quite grip me as hard as its counterparts. These minor quibbles, however, do little to detract from III’s resounding success and the album masterfully fuses King Witch’s past strengths into one of the year’s best records. Great music often transcends labels, and III does exactly that. Buckle up—King Witch has officially arrived, and the future for these Edinburgh rockers is remarkably bright.

Rating: Great!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Listenable Records
Websites: kingwitchband.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/kingwitch | instagram.com/kingwitchband
Releases Worldwide: June 27, 2025

Show 2 footnotes

1. Lyle Brown, King Witch’s former drummer, departed the band in 2022. ↩
2. Their Worship the Riffs EP comprised two covers: Black Sabbath’s “Children of the Sea” and Metallica’s “The Thing That Should Not Be.” ↩

#2025 #40 #BlackSabbath #Candlemass #DoomMetal #Heart #HeavyMetal #III #JanisJoplin #Jun25 #KingWitch #ListenableRecords #Review #Reviews #ScottishMetal #Soundgarden