#selfreleases — Public Fediverse posts

Cemented upon rebellious ideals that consistently buck the currents of popularity, the very nature of metal demands change. Yet some bedrocks of metal weather the winds of time and endure: thrash’s inevitable association with denim and cheap beer, OSDM’s obdurate immutability, and power metal’s lactose dependence persist. Yet perhaps none are as eternal as the legacy of traditional heavy metal bearing the banner of trve, and it’s under this standard that Fairfield, Connecticut’s Unknown marches. These Nutmeggers harbor loyalty for the olde school, and although they spice up sophomore full-length Graveyard of Empires with flavors of power and thrash, the overwhelming core of their concoction is one of classic heft. In the end, is it a draught worth quaffing, or a brew better left Unknown?

Though bits of other genres creep into Graveyard of Empires, Unknown’s comparators remain solidly rooted in classic heavy metal. Fans of Iron Maiden will uncover plenty of familiar qualities, especially from their aughts-era output, while Manilla Road and Jag Panzer offer further reference points. Mainly, Unknown operates in soaring mid-tempos that conjure sweeping vistas and epic atmospheres (“Ardennes Offensive,” “Guns of August”). A fair amount of Saxon reveals itself as well, particularly with how Unknown’s guitar work seamlessly oscillates between valiant, lofty leads and straightforward power chords that drive momentum and musical tension. Even amongst these towering touchstones, though, Unknown crafts an identity outside their influences.

Unknown’s music ferries listeners to vibrant landscapes on Graveyard of Empires. Whiffs of Ancient Egypt (“Graveyard of Empires”), galloping western melodrama (“Warrior Ascension”), and tribal paradise (“Land of the Pure”) enrich the record with a wealth of backdrops that feel fleshed out and distinct. The opening triad of “Ardennes Offensive,” “Graveyard of Empires,” and “Guns of August” brim with fiery twin guitars that flit between beautifully built sustains gleaming with majesty and burly riffs that crunch and punch. “Reverie Code” and “Warrior Ascension” likewise crackle with evocative six-string action, and credit to Aamir Syed and Michael Dale for their savvy guitar work on Graveyard. Meanwhile, bassist Andic Salcedo and session drummer Nick Bellmore supply a rock-solid rhythm section, rarely calling attention to themselves but ably girding Unknown’s melodic nucleus while unleashing subtle performances that are easy to miss unless attuned to them.

Despite the many things Unknown does well on Graveyard of Empires, I often find the vocal decisions and deliveries too distracting to enjoy. Given vocalist Matt Fisher’s compelling performance on Unknown’s debut Vanishing Point, the shift in direction is puzzling. Where Fisher’s range mostly dwelt in a comfortable mid-register on Vanishing Point, Graveyard of Empires sees him deploy many more falsettos across the album (“Guns of August,” “I Am Death,” “On the Edge of Peace”). Fisher clearly has talent, but his upper reaches undercut performances when he pushes his deliveries past the brink of his ability to control them, which is a real shame because when he drops into a lower range or growls, things work much better (“Ardennes Offensive,” “Graveyard of Empires”). On Vanishing Point, Fisher did a swell job with the top rungs of his vocal range, particularly on tracks “Where Men Find Glory” and “Mission No. 84”, so the miss here is especially perplexing. More positively the bright mix sparkles, enabling guitars and drums to strut their stuff. Additionally, the runtime packs an avalanche of riffs and aural panoramas into just forty minutes.

Broadly speaking, there tend to be two types of Mixed albums in my mind. The first can be characterized by records that are generally fine and do most things right without kindling enough interest for higher engagement. The second involves LPs that boast a higher ceiling but accommodate a flaw too glaring to look past. Graveyard of Empires falls squarely into this latter camp with a baffling foible that eluded Unknown’s debut. Still, the band does so much right on every other front that I have faith they’ll smooth out the kinks next time around. Until then, I’ll revisit some of these tracks on occasion and leave the rest in the Graveyard.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 4th, 2026

Cemented upon rebellious ideals that consistently buck the currents of popularity, the very nature of metal demands change. Yet some bedrocks of metal weather the winds of time and endure: thrash’s inevitable association with denim and cheap beer, OSDM’s obdurate immutability, and power metal’s lactose dependence persist. Yet perhaps none are as eternal as the legacy of traditional heavy metal bearing the banner of trve, and it’s under this standard that Fairfield, Connecticut’s Unknown marches. These Nutmeggers harbor loyalty for the olde school, and although they spice up sophomore full-length Graveyard of Empires with flavors of power and thrash, the overwhelming core of their concoction is one of classic heft. In the end, is it a draught worth quaffing, or a brew better left Unknown?

Though bits of other genres creep into Graveyard of Empires, Unknown’s comparators remain solidly rooted in classic heavy metal. Fans of Iron Maiden will uncover plenty of familiar qualities, especially from their aughts-era output, while Manilla Road and Jag Panzer offer further reference points. Mainly, Unknown operates in soaring mid-tempos that conjure sweeping vistas and epic atmospheres (“Ardennes Offensive,” “Guns of August”). A fair amount of Saxon reveals itself as well, particularly with how Unknown’s guitar work seamlessly oscillates between valiant, lofty leads and straightforward power chords that drive momentum and musical tension. Even amongst these towering touchstones, though, Unknown crafts an identity outside their influences.

Unknown’s music ferries listeners to vibrant landscapes on Graveyard of Empires. Whiffs of Ancient Egypt (“Graveyard of Empires”), galloping western melodrama (“Warrior Ascension”), and tribal paradise (“Land of the Pure”) enrich the record with a wealth of backdrops that feel fleshed out and distinct. The opening triad of “Ardennes Offensive,” “Graveyard of Empires,” and “Guns of August” brim with fiery twin guitars that flit between beautifully built sustains gleaming with majesty and burly riffs that crunch and punch. “Reverie Code” and “Warrior Ascension” likewise crackle with evocative six-string action, and credit to Aamir Syed and Michael Dale for their savvy guitar work on Graveyard. Meanwhile, bassist Andic Salcedo and session drummer Nick Bellmore supply a rock-solid rhythm section, rarely calling attention to themselves but ably girding Unknown’s melodic nucleus while unleashing subtle performances that are easy to miss unless attuned to them.

Despite the many things Unknown does well on Graveyard of Empires, I often find the vocal decisions and deliveries too distracting to enjoy. Given vocalist Matt Fisher’s compelling performance on Unknown’s debut Vanishing Point, the shift in direction is puzzling. Where Fisher’s range mostly dwelt in a comfortable mid-register on Vanishing Point, Graveyard of Empires sees him deploy many more falsettos across the album (“Guns of August,” “I Am Death,” “On the Edge of Peace”). Fisher clearly has talent, but his upper reaches undercut performances when he pushes his deliveries past the brink of his ability to control them, which is a real shame because when he drops into a lower range or growls, things work much better (“Ardennes Offensive,” “Graveyard of Empires”). On Vanishing Point, Fisher did a swell job with the top rungs of his vocal range, particularly on tracks “Where Men Find Glory” and “Mission No. 84”, so the miss here is especially perplexing. More positively the bright mix sparkles, enabling guitars and drums to strut their stuff. Additionally, the runtime packs an avalanche of riffs and aural panoramas into just forty minutes.

Broadly speaking, there tend to be two types of Mixed albums in my mind. The first can be characterized by records that are generally fine and do most things right without kindling enough interest for higher engagement. The second involves LPs that boast a higher ceiling but accommodate a flaw too glaring to look past. Graveyard of Empires falls squarely into this latter camp with a baffling foible that eluded Unknown’s debut. Still, the band does so much right on every other front that I have faith they’ll smooth out the kinks next time around. Until then, I’ll revisit some of these tracks on occasion and leave the rest in the Graveyard.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 4th, 2026

Cemented upon rebellious ideals that consistently buck the currents of popularity, the very nature of metal demands change. Yet some bedrocks of metal weather the winds of time and endure: thrash’s inevitable association with denim and cheap beer, OSDM’s obdurate immutability, and power metal’s lactose dependence persist. Yet perhaps none are as eternal as the legacy of traditional heavy metal bearing the banner of trve, and it’s under this standard that Fairfield, Connecticut’s Unknown marches. These Nutmeggers harbor loyalty for the olde school, and although they spice up sophomore full-length Graveyard of Empires with flavors of power and thrash, the overwhelming core of their concoction is one of classic heft. In the end, is it a draught worth quaffing, or a brew better left Unknown?

Though bits of other genres creep into Graveyard of Empires, Unknown’s comparators remain solidly rooted in classic heavy metal. Fans of Iron Maiden will uncover plenty of familiar qualities, especially from their aughts-era output, while Manilla Road and Jag Panzer offer further reference points. Mainly, Unknown operates in soaring mid-tempos that conjure sweeping vistas and epic atmospheres (“Ardennes Offensive,” “Guns of August”). A fair amount of Saxon reveals itself as well, particularly with how Unknown’s guitar work seamlessly oscillates between valiant, lofty leads and straightforward power chords that drive momentum and musical tension. Even amongst these towering touchstones, though, Unknown crafts an identity outside their influences.

Unknown’s music ferries listeners to vibrant landscapes on Graveyard of Empires. Whiffs of Ancient Egypt (“Graveyard of Empires”), galloping western melodrama (“Warrior Ascension”), and tribal paradise (“Land of the Pure”) enrich the record with a wealth of backdrops that feel fleshed out and distinct. The opening triad of “Ardennes Offensive,” “Graveyard of Empires,” and “Guns of August” brim with fiery twin guitars that flit between beautifully built sustains gleaming with majesty and burly riffs that crunch and punch. “Reverie Code” and “Warrior Ascension” likewise crackle with evocative six-string action, and credit to Aamir Syed and Michael Dale for their savvy guitar work on Graveyard. Meanwhile, bassist Andic Salcedo and session drummer Nick Bellmore supply a rock-solid rhythm section, rarely calling attention to themselves but ably girding Unknown’s melodic nucleus while unleashing subtle performances that are easy to miss unless attuned to them.

Despite the many things Unknown does well on Graveyard of Empires, I often find the vocal decisions and deliveries too distracting to enjoy. Given vocalist Matt Fisher’s compelling performance on Unknown’s debut Vanishing Point, the shift in direction is puzzling. Where Fisher’s range mostly dwelt in a comfortable mid-register on Vanishing Point, Graveyard of Empires sees him deploy many more falsettos across the album (“Guns of August,” “I Am Death,” “On the Edge of Peace”). Fisher clearly has talent, but his upper reaches undercut performances when he pushes his deliveries past the brink of his ability to control them, which is a real shame because when he drops into a lower range or growls, things work much better (“Ardennes Offensive,” “Graveyard of Empires”). On Vanishing Point, Fisher did a swell job with the top rungs of his vocal range, particularly on tracks “Where Men Find Glory” and “Mission No. 84”, so the miss here is especially perplexing. More positively the bright mix sparkles, enabling guitars and drums to strut their stuff. Additionally, the runtime packs an avalanche of riffs and aural panoramas into just forty minutes.

Broadly speaking, there tend to be two types of Mixed albums in my mind. The first can be characterized by records that are generally fine and do most things right without kindling enough interest for higher engagement. The second involves LPs that boast a higher ceiling but accommodate a flaw too glaring to look past. Graveyard of Empires falls squarely into this latter camp with a baffling foible that eluded Unknown’s debut. Still, the band does so much right on every other front that I have faith they’ll smooth out the kinks next time around. Until then, I’ll revisit some of these tracks on occasion and leave the rest in the Graveyard.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 4th, 2026

Cemented upon rebellious ideals that consistently buck the currents of popularity, the very nature of metal demands change. Yet some bedrocks of metal weather the winds of time and endure: thrash’s inevitable association with denim and cheap beer, OSDM’s obdurate immutability, and power metal’s lactose dependence persist. Yet perhaps none are as eternal as the legacy of traditional heavy metal bearing the banner of trve, and it’s under this standard that Fairfield, Connecticut’s Unknown marches. These Nutmeggers harbor loyalty for the olde school, and although they spice up sophomore full-length Graveyard of Empires with flavors of power and thrash, the overwhelming core of their concoction is one of classic heft. In the end, is it a draught worth quaffing, or a brew better left Unknown?

Though bits of other genres creep into Graveyard of Empires, Unknown’s comparators remain solidly rooted in classic heavy metal. Fans of Iron Maiden will uncover plenty of familiar qualities, especially from their aughts-era output, while Manilla Road and Jag Panzer offer further reference points. Mainly, Unknown operates in soaring mid-tempos that conjure sweeping vistas and epic atmospheres (“Ardennes Offensive,” “Guns of August”). A fair amount of Saxon reveals itself as well, particularly with how Unknown’s guitar work seamlessly oscillates between valiant, lofty leads and straightforward power chords that drive momentum and musical tension. Even amongst these towering touchstones, though, Unknown crafts an identity outside their influences.

Unknown’s music ferries listeners to vibrant landscapes on Graveyard of Empires. Whiffs of Ancient Egypt (“Graveyard of Empires”), galloping western melodrama (“Warrior Ascension”), and tribal paradise (“Land of the Pure”) enrich the record with a wealth of backdrops that feel fleshed out and distinct. The opening triad of “Ardennes Offensive,” “Graveyard of Empires,” and “Guns of August” brim with fiery twin guitars that flit between beautifully built sustains gleaming with majesty and burly riffs that crunch and punch. “Reverie Code” and “Warrior Ascension” likewise crackle with evocative six-string action, and credit to Aamir Syed and Michael Dale for their savvy guitar work on Graveyard. Meanwhile, bassist Andic Salcedo and session drummer Nick Bellmore supply a rock-solid rhythm section, rarely calling attention to themselves but ably girding Unknown’s melodic nucleus while unleashing subtle performances that are easy to miss unless attuned to them.

Despite the many things Unknown does well on Graveyard of Empires, I often find the vocal decisions and deliveries too distracting to enjoy. Given vocalist Matt Fisher’s compelling performance on Unknown’s debut Vanishing Point, the shift in direction is puzzling. Where Fisher’s range mostly dwelt in a comfortable mid-register on Vanishing Point, Graveyard of Empires sees him deploy many more falsettos across the album (“Guns of August,” “I Am Death,” “On the Edge of Peace”). Fisher clearly has talent, but his upper reaches undercut performances when he pushes his deliveries past the brink of his ability to control them, which is a real shame because when he drops into a lower range or growls, things work much better (“Ardennes Offensive,” “Graveyard of Empires”). On Vanishing Point, Fisher did a swell job with the top rungs of his vocal range, particularly on tracks “Where Men Find Glory” and “Mission No. 84”, so the miss here is especially perplexing. More positively the bright mix sparkles, enabling guitars and drums to strut their stuff. Additionally, the runtime packs an avalanche of riffs and aural panoramas into just forty minutes.

Broadly speaking, there tend to be two types of Mixed albums in my mind. The first can be characterized by records that are generally fine and do most things right without kindling enough interest for higher engagement. The second involves LPs that boast a higher ceiling but accommodate a flaw too glaring to look past. Graveyard of Empires falls squarely into this latter camp with a baffling foible that eluded Unknown’s debut. Still, the band does so much right on every other front that I have faith they’ll smooth out the kinks next time around. Until then, I’ll revisit some of these tracks on occasion and leave the rest in the Graveyard.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 4th, 2026

Cemented upon rebellious ideals that consistently buck the currents of popularity, the very nature of metal demands change. Yet some bedrocks of metal weather the winds of time and endure: thrash’s inevitable association with denim and cheap beer, OSDM’s obdurate immutability, and power metal’s lactose dependence persist. Yet perhaps none are as eternal as the legacy of traditional heavy metal bearing the banner of trve, and it’s under this standard that Fairfield, Connecticut’s Unknown marches. These Nutmeggers harbor loyalty for the olde school, and although they spice up sophomore full-length Graveyard of Empires with flavors of power and thrash, the overwhelming core of their concoction is one of classic heft. In the end, is it a draught worth quaffing, or a brew better left Unknown?

Though bits of other genres creep into Graveyard of Empires, Unknown’s comparators remain solidly rooted in classic heavy metal. Fans of Iron Maiden will uncover plenty of familiar qualities, especially from their aughts-era output, while Manilla Road and Jag Panzer offer further reference points. Mainly, Unknown operates in soaring mid-tempos that conjure sweeping vistas and epic atmospheres (“Ardennes Offensive,” “Guns of August”). A fair amount of Saxon reveals itself as well, particularly with how Unknown’s guitar work seamlessly oscillates between valiant, lofty leads and straightforward power chords that drive momentum and musical tension. Even amongst these towering touchstones, though, Unknown crafts an identity outside their influences.

Unknown’s music ferries listeners to vibrant landscapes on Graveyard of Empires. Whiffs of Ancient Egypt (“Graveyard of Empires”), galloping western melodrama (“Warrior Ascension”), and tribal paradise (“Land of the Pure”) enrich the record with a wealth of backdrops that feel fleshed out and distinct. The opening triad of “Ardennes Offensive,” “Graveyard of Empires,” and “Guns of August” brim with fiery twin guitars that flit between beautifully built sustains gleaming with majesty and burly riffs that crunch and punch. “Reverie Code” and “Warrior Ascension” likewise crackle with evocative six-string action, and credit to Aamir Syed and Michael Dale for their savvy guitar work on Graveyard. Meanwhile, bassist Andic Salcedo and session drummer Nick Bellmore supply a rock-solid rhythm section, rarely calling attention to themselves but ably girding Unknown’s melodic nucleus while unleashing subtle performances that are easy to miss unless attuned to them.

Despite the many things Unknown does well on Graveyard of Empires, I often find the vocal decisions and deliveries too distracting to enjoy. Given vocalist Matt Fisher’s compelling performance on Unknown’s debut Vanishing Point, the shift in direction is puzzling. Where Fisher’s range mostly dwelt in a comfortable mid-register on Vanishing Point, Graveyard of Empires sees him deploy many more falsettos across the album (“Guns of August,” “I Am Death,” “On the Edge of Peace”). Fisher clearly has talent, but his upper reaches undercut performances when he pushes his deliveries past the brink of his ability to control them, which is a real shame because when he drops into a lower range or growls, things work much better (“Ardennes Offensive,” “Graveyard of Empires”). On Vanishing Point, Fisher did a swell job with the top rungs of his vocal range, particularly on tracks “Where Men Find Glory” and “Mission No. 84”, so the miss here is especially perplexing. More positively the bright mix sparkles, enabling guitars and drums to strut their stuff. Additionally, the runtime packs an avalanche of riffs and aural panoramas into just forty minutes.

Broadly speaking, there tend to be two types of Mixed albums in my mind. The first can be characterized by records that are generally fine and do most things right without kindling enough interest for higher engagement. The second involves LPs that boast a higher ceiling but accommodate a flaw too glaring to look past. Graveyard of Empires falls squarely into this latter camp with a baffling foible that eluded Unknown’s debut. Still, the band does so much right on every other front that I have faith they’ll smooth out the kinks next time around. Until then, I’ll revisit some of these tracks on occasion and leave the rest in the Graveyard.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 10 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: September 4th, 2026

Trap a toddler, just any foundling who wanders into your snare, and he’ll tell you: maximum gross-out can never be induced by sight, smell, touch, or taste alone. No, it’s that combination of all or some of the above that we call texture–texture is the most reliable shortcut to the gag reflex. With that in mind, Ferox eyed the self-titled debut from Aussie sextet Slime Dimension. AMG Industries already has a Vomit Guy on staff. Could I carve out a similar niche for myself in all things slimy and mucous-y? Ya gotta specialize to survive the onslaught of n00bs coming for your spot. I want to be Snot Guy! Will these nine tracks of death metal, delivered in a fleeting, sneeze-like twenty-six minutes, get me there? Empty your sinuses on me, Slime Dimension, and let’s find out.

When you unwad the tissue that is Slime Dimension, you may be surprised by the nuggets inside. The band name and album art promise something burbling and viscous. Instead, Slime Dimension traffics in polished and even catchy melodeath. From the moment you click “play,” it’s apparent that this platter is more of a sweet treat than it is a pile o’slop. Opener “Carcass Gravy” snaps you to attention with big Skeletonwitch vibes, as thrash-y riffs and Chance Garnette-style vocals fly by in a blur. Track after track whips past, with Slime Dimension displaying an aptitude for infectious choruses (“Carcass Gravy,” “The Beyond”) and tastefully dispensed guitar solos (“Weightless, Unhinged,” “Necrotic Solace”) that evoke genre titans The Black Dahlia Murder. Sprinkle it all with an overlay of the Party Lovecraft ethos that distinguishes Xoth and Slugdge from their peers, and it’s apparent that Slime Dimension has coughed up an appealing loogie. Even if this long player never escapes the shadow of its influences, Slime Dimension is still mostly worthy of the sliver of time it asks of you.

This is all familiar territory, but Slime Dimension make small choices along the way that keep things from getting mired in formula. The guitars of Sloptimus Slime and Slimeon Phoenix (a duo that’s been replaced since recording by Arnold Sludgenator and John Slimebo) intersect with the songs in interesting ways. They don’t simply plop a solo down two-thirds of the way through every track. That restraint makes the classic rock-inflected bars that finally drop during album centerpiece “Weightless, Unhinged” land harder than they otherwise might. These well-conceived dollops of novelty pop up throughout the slab’s brief run to make twenty-six minutes disappear before anyone has time to say “Gesundheit.”

The time might fly by too fast. Slime Dimension is a fleet and entertaining listen, but few moments stand out or leave a lasting impact. “Weightless, Unhinged,” “Necrotic Solace,” and closer “The Beyond” sport dynamic songwriting, and all three will stick to the wall if you flick ’em yonder. There are no outright duds on the platter, but the remaining tracks can feel like they’ve been buffed and shined to the point of becoming slight. Slime Dimension’s debut is crafted with enormous good cheer, from the earworm riffs to the slime-based fake names that come off just a bit goofy. The album lacks substance, though; there’s never enough nutritious gristle to justify the insulin spike these nine offerings are sure to induce.

An inessential good time is still a good time. Slime Dimension spew forth with a strong handle on their sound and the ability to channel their influences with brio. I got through this album with ease each and every time I played it. I’d bet large sums that the band is a ton of fun in a live setting. If they’re going to make an impact in the studio, though, they might want to balance their exuberance with something stickier.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: FLAC
Label: Self-Release
Websites: slimedimension.bandcamp.com|slimedimension.com
Releases Worldwide: September 11th, 2026

Trap a toddler, just any foundling who wanders into your snare, and he’ll tell you: maximum gross-out can never be induced by sight, smell, touch, or taste alone. No, it’s that combination of all or some of the above that we call texture–texture is the most reliable shortcut to the gag reflex. With that in mind, Ferox eyed the self-titled debut from Aussie sextet Slime Dimension. AMG Industries already has a Vomit Guy on staff. Could I carve out a similar niche for myself in all things slimy and mucous-y? Ya gotta specialize to survive the onslaught of n00bs coming for your spot. I want to be Snot Guy! Will these nine tracks of death metal, delivered in a fleeting, sneeze-like twenty-six minutes, get me there? Empty your sinuses on me, Slime Dimension, and let’s find out.

When you unwad the tissue that is Slime Dimension, you may be surprised by the nuggets inside. The band name and album art promise something burbling and viscous. Instead, Slime Dimension traffics in polished and even catchy melodeath. From the moment you click “play,” it’s apparent that this platter is more of a sweet treat than it is a pile o’slop. Opener “Carcass Gravy” snaps you to attention with big Skeletonwitch vibes, as thrash-y riffs and Chance Garnette-style vocals fly by in a blur. Track after track whips past, with Slime Dimension displaying an aptitude for infectious choruses (“Carcass Gravy,” “The Beyond”) and tastefully dispensed guitar solos (“Weightless, Unhinged,” “Necrotic Solace”) that evoke genre titans The Black Dahlia Murder. Sprinkle it all with an overlay of the Party Lovecraft ethos that distinguishes Xoth and Slugdge from their peers, and it’s apparent that Slime Dimension has coughed up an appealing loogie. Even if this long player never escapes the shadow of its influences, Slime Dimension is still mostly worthy of the sliver of time it asks of you.

This is all familiar territory, but Slime Dimension make small choices along the way that keep things from getting mired in formula. The guitars of Sloptimus Slime and Slimeon Phoenix (a duo that’s been replaced since recording by Arnold Sludgenator and John Slimebo) intersect with the songs in interesting ways. They don’t simply plop a solo down two-thirds of the way through every track. That restraint makes the classic rock-inflected bars that finally drop during album centerpiece “Weightless, Unhinged” land harder than they otherwise might. These well-conceived dollops of novelty pop up throughout the slab’s brief run to make twenty-six minutes disappear before anyone has time to say “Gesundheit.”

The time might fly by too fast. Slime Dimension is a fleet and entertaining listen, but few moments stand out or leave a lasting impact. “Weightless, Unhinged,” “Necrotic Solace,” and closer “The Beyond” sport dynamic songwriting, and all three will stick to the wall if you flick ’em yonder. There are no outright duds on the platter, but the remaining tracks can feel like they’ve been buffed and shined to the point of becoming slight. Slime Dimension’s debut is crafted with enormous good cheer, from the earworm riffs to the slime-based fake names that come off just a bit goofy. The album lacks substance, though; there’s never enough nutritious gristle to justify the insulin spike these nine offerings are sure to induce.

An inessential good time is still a good time. Slime Dimension spew forth with a strong handle on their sound and the ability to channel their influences with brio. I got through this album with ease each and every time I played it. I’d bet large sums that the band is a ton of fun in a live setting. If they’re going to make an impact in the studio, though, they might want to balance their exuberance with something stickier.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: FLAC
Label: Self-Release
Websites: slimedimension.bandcamp.com|slimedimension.com
Releases Worldwide: September 11th, 2026

Trap a toddler, just any foundling who wanders into your snare, and he’ll tell you: maximum gross-out can never be induced by sight, smell, touch, or taste alone. No, it’s that combination of all or some of the above that we call texture–texture is the most reliable shortcut to the gag reflex. With that in mind, Ferox eyed the self-titled debut from Aussie sextet Slime Dimension. AMG Industries already has a Vomit Guy on staff. Could I carve out a similar niche for myself in all things slimy and mucous-y? Ya gotta specialize to survive the onslaught of n00bs coming for your spot. I want to be Snot Guy! Will these nine tracks of death metal, delivered in a fleeting, sneeze-like twenty-six minutes, get me there? Empty your sinuses on me, Slime Dimension, and let’s find out.

When you unwad the tissue that is Slime Dimension, you may be surprised by the nuggets inside. The band name and album art promise something burbling and viscous. Instead, Slime Dimension traffics in polished and even catchy melodeath. From the moment you click “play,” it’s apparent that this platter is more of a sweet treat than it is a pile o’slop. Opener “Carcass Gravy” snaps you to attention with big Skeletonwitch vibes, as thrash-y riffs and Chance Garnette-style vocals fly by in a blur. Track after track whips past, with Slime Dimension displaying an aptitude for infectious choruses (“Carcass Gravy,” “The Beyond”) and tastefully dispensed guitar solos (“Weightless, Unhinged,” “Necrotic Solace”) that evoke genre titans The Black Dahlia Murder. Sprinkle it all with an overlay of the Party Lovecraft ethos that distinguishes Xoth and Slugdge from their peers, and it’s apparent that Slime Dimension has coughed up an appealing loogie. Even if this long player never escapes the shadow of its influences, Slime Dimension is still mostly worthy of the sliver of time it asks of you.

This is all familiar territory, but Slime Dimension make small choices along the way that keep things from getting mired in formula. The guitars of Sloptimus Slime and Slimeon Phoenix (a duo that’s been replaced since recording by Arnold Sludgenator and John Slimebo) intersect with the songs in interesting ways. They don’t simply plop a solo down two-thirds of the way through every track. That restraint makes the classic rock-inflected bars that finally drop during album centerpiece “Weightless, Unhinged” land harder than they otherwise might. These well-conceived dollops of novelty pop up throughout the slab’s brief run to make twenty-six minutes disappear before anyone has time to say “Gesundheit.”

The time might fly by too fast. Slime Dimension is a fleet and entertaining listen, but few moments stand out or leave a lasting impact. “Weightless, Unhinged,” “Necrotic Solace,” and closer “The Beyond” sport dynamic songwriting, and all three will stick to the wall if you flick ’em yonder. There are no outright duds on the platter, but the remaining tracks can feel like they’ve been buffed and shined to the point of becoming slight. Slime Dimension’s debut is crafted with enormous good cheer, from the earworm riffs to the slime-based fake names that come off just a bit goofy. The album lacks substance, though; there’s never enough nutritious gristle to justify the insulin spike these nine offerings are sure to induce.

An inessential good time is still a good time. Slime Dimension spew forth with a strong handle on their sound and the ability to channel their influences with brio. I got through this album with ease each and every time I played it. I’d bet large sums that the band is a ton of fun in a live setting. If they’re going to make an impact in the studio, though, they might want to balance their exuberance with something stickier.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: FLAC
Label: Self-Release
Websites: slimedimension.bandcamp.com|slimedimension.com
Releases Worldwide: September 11th, 2026

Trap a toddler, just any foundling who wanders into your snare, and he’ll tell you: maximum gross-out can never be induced by sight, smell, touch, or taste alone. No, it’s that combination of all or some of the above that we call texture–texture is the most reliable shortcut to the gag reflex. With that in mind, Ferox eyed the self-titled debut from Aussie sextet Slime Dimension. AMG Industries already has a Vomit Guy on staff. Could I carve out a similar niche for myself in all things slimy and mucous-y? Ya gotta specialize to survive the onslaught of n00bs coming for your spot. I want to be Snot Guy! Will these nine tracks of death metal, delivered in a fleeting, sneeze-like twenty-six minutes, get me there? Empty your sinuses on me, Slime Dimension, and let’s find out.

When you unwad the tissue that is Slime Dimension, you may be surprised by the nuggets inside. The band name and album art promise something burbling and viscous. Instead, Slime Dimension traffics in polished and even catchy melodeath. From the moment you click “play,” it’s apparent that this platter is more of a sweet treat than it is a pile o’slop. Opener “Carcass Gravy” snaps you to attention with big Skeletonwitch vibes, as thrash-y riffs and Chance Garnette-style vocals fly by in a blur. Track after track whips past, with Slime Dimension displaying an aptitude for infectious choruses (“Carcass Gravy,” “The Beyond”) and tastefully dispensed guitar solos (“Weightless, Unhinged,” “Necrotic Solace”) that evoke genre titans The Black Dahlia Murder. Sprinkle it all with an overlay of the Party Lovecraft ethos that distinguishes Xoth and Slugdge from their peers, and it’s apparent that Slime Dimension has coughed up an appealing loogie. Even if this long player never escapes the shadow of its influences, Slime Dimension is still mostly worthy of the sliver of time it asks of you.

This is all familiar territory, but Slime Dimension make small choices along the way that keep things from getting mired in formula. The guitars of Sloptimus Slime and Slimeon Phoenix (a duo that’s been replaced since recording by Arnold Sludgenator and John Slimebo) intersect with the songs in interesting ways. They don’t simply plop a solo down two-thirds of the way through every track. That restraint makes the classic rock-inflected bars that finally drop during album centerpiece “Weightless, Unhinged” land harder than they otherwise might. These well-conceived dollops of novelty pop up throughout the slab’s brief run to make twenty-six minutes disappear before anyone has time to say “Gesundheit.”

The time might fly by too fast. Slime Dimension is a fleet and entertaining listen, but few moments stand out or leave a lasting impact. “Weightless, Unhinged,” “Necrotic Solace,” and closer “The Beyond” sport dynamic songwriting, and all three will stick to the wall if you flick ’em yonder. There are no outright duds on the platter, but the remaining tracks can feel like they’ve been buffed and shined to the point of becoming slight. Slime Dimension’s debut is crafted with enormous good cheer, from the earworm riffs to the slime-based fake names that come off just a bit goofy. The album lacks substance, though; there’s never enough nutritious gristle to justify the insulin spike these nine offerings are sure to induce.

An inessential good time is still a good time. Slime Dimension spew forth with a strong handle on their sound and the ability to channel their influences with brio. I got through this album with ease each and every time I played it. I’d bet large sums that the band is a ton of fun in a live setting. If they’re going to make an impact in the studio, though, they might want to balance their exuberance with something stickier.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: FLAC
Label: Self-Release
Websites: slimedimension.bandcamp.com|slimedimension.com
Releases Worldwide: September 11th, 2026

Trap a toddler, just any foundling who wanders into your snare, and he’ll tell you: maximum gross-out can never be induced by sight, smell, touch, or taste alone. No, it’s that combination of all or some of the above that we call texture–texture is the most reliable shortcut to the gag reflex. With that in mind, Ferox eyed the self-titled debut from Aussie sextet Slime Dimension. AMG Industries already has a Vomit Guy on staff. Could I carve out a similar niche for myself in all things slimy and mucous-y? Ya gotta specialize to survive the onslaught of n00bs coming for your spot. I want to be Snot Guy! Will these nine tracks of death metal, delivered in a fleeting, sneeze-like twenty-six minutes, get me there? Empty your sinuses on me, Slime Dimension, and let’s find out.

When you unwad the tissue that is Slime Dimension, you may be surprised by the nuggets inside. The band name and album art promise something burbling and viscous. Instead, Slime Dimension traffics in polished and even catchy melodeath. From the moment you click “play,” it’s apparent that this platter is more of a sweet treat than it is a pile o’slop. Opener “Carcass Gravy” snaps you to attention with big Skeletonwitch vibes, as thrash-y riffs and Chance Garnette-style vocals fly by in a blur. Track after track whips past, with Slime Dimension displaying an aptitude for infectious choruses (“Carcass Gravy,” “The Beyond”) and tastefully dispensed guitar solos (“Weightless, Unhinged,” “Necrotic Solace”) that evoke genre titans The Black Dahlia Murder. Sprinkle it all with an overlay of the Party Lovecraft ethos that distinguishes Xoth and Slugdge from their peers, and it’s apparent that Slime Dimension has coughed up an appealing loogie. Even if this long player never escapes the shadow of its influences, Slime Dimension is still mostly worthy of the sliver of time it asks of you.

This is all familiar territory, but Slime Dimension make small choices along the way that keep things from getting mired in formula. The guitars of Sloptimus Slime and Slimeon Phoenix (a duo that’s been replaced since recording by Arnold Sludgenator and John Slimebo) intersect with the songs in interesting ways. They don’t simply plop a solo down two-thirds of the way through every track. That restraint makes the classic rock-inflected bars that finally drop during album centerpiece “Weightless, Unhinged” land harder than they otherwise might. These well-conceived dollops of novelty pop up throughout the slab’s brief run to make twenty-six minutes disappear before anyone has time to say “Gesundheit.”

The time might fly by too fast. Slime Dimension is a fleet and entertaining listen, but few moments stand out or leave a lasting impact. “Weightless, Unhinged,” “Necrotic Solace,” and closer “The Beyond” sport dynamic songwriting, and all three will stick to the wall if you flick ’em yonder. There are no outright duds on the platter, but the remaining tracks can feel like they’ve been buffed and shined to the point of becoming slight. Slime Dimension’s debut is crafted with enormous good cheer, from the earworm riffs to the slime-based fake names that come off just a bit goofy. The album lacks substance, though; there’s never enough nutritious gristle to justify the insulin spike these nine offerings are sure to induce.

An inessential good time is still a good time. Slime Dimension spew forth with a strong handle on their sound and the ability to channel their influences with brio. I got through this album with ease each and every time I played it. I’d bet large sums that the band is a ton of fun in a live setting. If they’re going to make an impact in the studio, though, they might want to balance their exuberance with something stickier.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: FLAC
Label: Self-Release
Websites: slimedimension.bandcamp.com|slimedimension.com
Releases Worldwide: September 11th, 2026

Melodic death metal had a banner year in 2025, brandishing outstanding releases from Aephanemer, Vittra, Buried Realm, Aversed, and others. Given that many of melodeth’s top tier releases came out in the back half of last year, there’s no cause for alarm yet, but with the exception of At the Gates’ opus The Ghost of a Future Dead, I can’t help feeling 2026 is off to a slow start.1 Throwing down the gauntlet with Old Gods Awaken, Vancouver collective Atavistia stakes their claim on this year’s melodeath throne. In his review of Cosmic Warfare, Doom_et_al noted that Atavistia made meaningful strides in songwriting since The Winter Way, but that plenty of room exists to further define an identity outside of Wintersun’s shadow. With the spotlight shining on folk metal influences throughout Old Gods Awaken, can Atavistia maintain their velocity after Cosmic Warfare, or would it have been better to let sleeping gods lie?

For anyone who’s read about Atavistia at AMG before, you know there’s one band whose temple even these Old Gods pray at.2 If you expected that to change, shame on you. With their most flagrant foray into folk metal to date, Atavistia doubles down on Wintersun worship with Old Gods Awaken while succumbing to a feverish case of Ensiferumania. On the surface, this may sound like Atavistia regressing back towards The Winter Way, but instead the band continues to refine the overwrought compositions that Doomy dinged in that review and delivers a succinct forty-three minutes of symphonic melodeath. And though Wintersun and Ensiferum cast the longest shadows, shades of Children of Bodom and Kalmah broaden Old Gods Awaken’s footprint and enrich its well of influences.

Despite Atavistia’s new musical folk-us and turning over half the band since Cosmic Warfare, they submit well-conceived orchestrations and tight performances throughout Old Gods Awaken. Specifically, Atavistia bade farewell to guitarist Dalton Meaden and bassist D’wayne Murray in 2024, welcoming Elia Baghbaniyan and Spencer Budworth in their stead. The quality of instrumentation remains consistent with previous albums, where guitars and synths steal the show as they trade earwormy melodic lines (“Mystic Tavern,” “I Skogens Djup”) that lead into heartfelt solos (“Goddess of My Dreams,” “Ride the White Storm”) and stirring, rustic breaks (“To a New World”). The haunting choirs on Cosmic Warfare have also been replaced by viking gang chants, which makes sense stylistically, but loses some of the flair that helped the former stand out. Longtime drummer Max Sepulveda lays down a commendable performance as well, spicing songs up with well-crafted fills that never overpower Old Gods Awaken’s dense compositions. Besides contributing guitar and supplying his best vocal performance to date, Atavistia ringleader Matt Sippola weaves together a rousing album that stands beside its inspirations.

While Atavistia successfully plunges headlong into folk, the move erodes some of the identity they established previously. Tracks on Cosmic Warfare recalled Wintersun, but just as much reminded me of Brymir and the choral arrangements in The Phantom Menace. Old Gods Awaken forsakes these subtle nods, and though that isn’t bad on its own, the Ensiferum influence is a safer path that deteriorates some of Atavistia’s idiosyncrasies. Additionally, some of the melodies and song structures on Old Gods Awaken blur together. “Mystic Tavern,” “Seeker of Time,” and “Goddess of My Dreams”3 all have similar-sounding leads, and the first two also have somewhat predictable compositions that stand out since the songs are back-to-back, particularly in terms of pacing and the timing of more subdued moments. Ultimately, these are minor complaints on very well-executed material, but diversifying the song structures could unveil even greater heights.

Old Gods Awaken subverts my expectations of what I thought a new Atavistia record would sound like, and even though they lean into a well-defined arena, they do so capably. Monster hooks and intricate, engaging arrangements keep the replay value of Old Gods Awaken tantalizingly high, especially with tight songwriting across the album. I’m curious where Atavistia goes next, as there’s no clear indication of what direction they’ll take. Whatever it is, the persistent urge to evolve their songcraft proves Atavistia will make it interesting and fun, and that every once in a while, you can teach Old Gods new tricks.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 15th, 2026

There’s a lot of weird shit floating around the metalsphere, and that includes Voidthrone’s newest addition, Dreaming Rat. The Seattle quartet has been kicking around for a decade, and in that time have released three prior platters of escalating lunacy. Without question, Dreaming Rat is Voidthrone’s most unhinged concoction to date, and a quick look at their Bandcamp credits gives prospective listeners a window into the alchemical ingredients they cook with, including Otamatone, conch shell, jaw harp, vibraslap, digeridoo, spoons, and a fretless bass. Throw in vocalist Zhenya Frolov’s deranged vocal stylings, and you’ve got yourself a bona fide manic expression of dissonant blackened death metal. With so many disparate components in Dreaming Rat’s stew, does Voidthrone soothe the savage beast or unleash a waking nightmare?

Listening to Dreaming Rat is a bit like experiencing an auditory fever dream, where disconnected fragments congeal into lurid, atonal anarchy. Voidthrone didn’t arrive at this sound overnight, though. Debut Spiritual War Tactics whipped and frothed with the restrained vitality of Krallice, and follow-up Kur added jazz-informed touches in the vein of Imperial Triumphant. Physical Degradation evolved Voidthrone’s sound, integrating more unconventional instrumentation and pushing the band’s songwriting past its comfort zone. On Dreaming Rat, Voidthrone takes the blueprint laid out on Physical Degradation and indiscriminately expands the range for strange. The result sees Frolov stretching his vocal performance into frenzied tirades, covering the gamut from Replicant’s vomitous barks to Sigh’s oddball deliveries. The instrumentation also gets exponentially wackier, as it conjures the rabid wrath of Pyrrhon along with the chaotic instincts of Afterbirth, resulting in an unpredictable romp to the end of the world.

At Dreaming Rat’s core, Voidthrone details the life and death of a solar system through bleak eras, segmenting the album into present, past, and future. The arcs are presented in that order, with each one comprised of three songs. The present describes the apex of a civilization, harnessing the promises forged upon the hopes and chaos of the past. Meanwhile, Voidthrone paints a grim outlook for the future, specifically calling out ‘an extinguished, lonely death of the physical, spiritual, and cognitive.’1 The lyrics throughout Dreaming Rat read like the demented ravings of a madman’s manifesto,2 and while I don’t think I could have divined the album’s overarching concept from them alone, reading them amplifies the bedlam Voidthrone has crafted on Dreaming Rat.

Writing music this lawless may seem haphazard, but over repeated listens, I’ve begun to glimpse the method to Dreaming Rat’s madness. Without question, everyone in Voidthrone earns their stripes. Ronald Foodsack’s guitars drench Dreaming Rat with warbling dissonance, perpetually in flux so that there’s never a riff or refrain to inhibit the music’s incessant lurch. Whether moving at frantic paces (“III-I. Surfing the Abyss”) or decelerating to a plodding crawl (“II-II. Morbid Seagull”), Ron’s six-stringed blitz never stalls. Additionally, Gavin Brooks contributes acoustic guitar and solos while manning the glorious fretless bass.3 Technical death metal has hogged the fretless bass for too long, and I’m glad Voidthrone has the stones to add it to disso metal’s tool chest. Tracks like “I-I. Bergen” and “II-I. Homeless Animal” showcase the character the instrument offers, bolstering the ever-shifting nature of Dreaming Rat. Drummer Josh Keifer grounds the band ably, locked into a supporting role that allows the other instruments to take center stage while he keeps things on the rails. Frolov’s feral vocals and the host of unconventional instruments further enrich Voidthrone’s distinctive identity, establishing what sounds like it could be the death throes of the universe.

What Voidthrone accomplishes with Dreaming Rat is fascinating and unique, and merits everyone’s attention. Sure, some songs could be trimmed to make such a scathing album a bit shorter and more palatable, and the three arcs could use some musical cues to distinguish songs thematically from one another, but Dreaming Rat is a crowning achievement for the band. Voidthrone’s psychedelic psychosis makes bold promises on paper and completely delivers in fact, and when I’m in the mood to get really weird with it, this will be the album I reach for.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Back in 2004, an album called Fallout dropped from an unheralded little band called Slumber. It was a lush, gorgeous piece of melodic doom in the vein of early Katatonia, Rapture, and Insomnium, and there was something very special about the moods created within. It remains a beloved album of Yours Steely, and I often wonder why it isn’t better known. Slumber guitarist/songwriter Jari Lindholm would go on to start Enshine, and their Origin and Singulariuty albums took the Slumber aesthetic forward to new soundscapes. Singularity was my Album o’ the Year in 2015, and I still get dragged into its glorious depths at regular intervals. It’s been a long wait for a new Enshine opus as Jari puttered with his ExGenesis and self-titled projects, but word broke in December that a new Enshine was imminent. Elevation was dropped without much fanfare or advanced promo campaigns, so we had to get our greasy mitts on it the same way the filthy masses do. As with past Enshine efforts, Elevation finds Jari Lindholm teamed with Sébastien Pierre, and their classic sound is present, still sitting somewhere between melodoom and melancholic melodeath, and naturally, it’s beautifully rendered. But can it maintain the same high level as the earlier works?

Opener “Shimmering” suggests it can as you’re greeted by the expected cavalcade of opulent trilling leads with melancholic flourishes. Everything is highly polished and bright as the sun, with guitar and keyboards rising and swelling in melodic waves. The music reminds me of modern Insomnium and the mellower moments on Omnium Gatherum’s New World Shadows. Sébastien Pierre provides effective death metal roars that suit the music, and the pieces all fit together well. It’s not the best thing Enshine’s ever done, but it’s pretty damn good. It soon becomes apparent, however, that the opener is one of the most lively tracks on offer. “Heartbliss” has harsher vocals, but they’re wrapped up in a glossy pancake of airy, ethereal melodoom without much in the way of an actual “doom” component to ground things and provide real impact. Jari’s guitar work is ephemeral, stunning, and I could listen to it for days, but the song itself doesn’t stick in my memory. I enjoy it as it floats past, but cannot recall it thereafter. “Where the Sunrise is Felt” self-corrects, providing a beefier riffing foundation, and Sébastien sounds extra spicy here. You still get a deluge of ethereal noodling to float upon, but it’s balanced by some beef, and that makes a difference.

Just as things seem to be moving in the right direction, “Distant Glow” hits with 4 minutes of bright, sugar-coated synthwave devoid of vocals or the slightest edge. It’s moody but dull, and it derails the energy Elevation was beginning to establish. Around this point, it dawned on me that the album is something they could play at a new age spa without disrupting the tranquility or displacing anyone’s chakra. I suppose there’s a place for “spa-metal,” but not on my goddamn property. The remainder of Elevation is loaded with languid, lustrous melodoom with the emphasis on the melo part. I’m reminded of Omnium Gatherum and later era Anathema, and the ravishing sounds are omnipresent, but it’s often sleepy and overly restrained. Here and there, Sébastien or Jari lapses into a whispered delivery, and that choice sums up Elevation as well as anything: it’s dialed-back music designed to avoid any emotion beyond a sullen glaze-over. It’s gorgeous but without real peaks and valleys or much in the way of dramatic impact. Without memorable individual moments, it becomes too easy to lose focus while listening, and the music very quickly slips into the background. Not only does the material tend to sit in the back row of your attention, but the songs tend to bleed together into an ornate, noodly mush. Lovely but unmemorable.

I’m a huge fan of Jari Lindholm’s guitar work, and his brilliance is on display all over Elevation. He has a unique ability to craft such gorgeous and moody guitar lines and layer them in a way that generates a fog of emotion. While his talents are in force here, the end result is less immediate and dynamic than on past works. There’s no shortage of sumptuous leads and delicate solos, but the overall effect is too often lethargy rather than emotional pangs and pulses. A lot of Elevation simply washes over and past me without activating my memory circuits. Jari and Sébastien share vocals, and though Sébastien’s death roars are good, they don’t add as much pop to the material as they could. Sébastien also handles keyboards, and at times his playing becomes a touch cloying and even cheesy. Ultimately, I spend too much time waiting for Jari and/or Sébastien to go harder and provide more oomph to the proceedings, but they rarely do.

Elevation is a gorgeous listen, but there aren’t many songs that I recall once the album ends. It’s a worthwhile listen, and I doubt Enshine could make a bad album, but this really makes me want to spin Singularity or Origin instead. That’s a big bummer for me, and I hope your melo mileage varies. Now go find that Slumber album and learn!

Rating: 3.0/5.01
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: enshine.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/enshine.band
Releases Worldwide: January 3rd, 2026

Maddog

I can’t overstate Enshine’s impact on my music taste. As a teen, I enjoyed melodic death metal, but struggled with the genre’s doomier acts. One day, I stumbled upon Enshine’s 2013 debut Origin. Having never heard of Jari Lindholm’s landmark band Slumber, I came in with few expectations. Eschewing the nondescript riffs that I had come to expect from doom, Origin captivated me with its creative melodies, gigantic climaxes, and synth-laced atmosphere. Most importantly, it brought tears to my eyes. Singularity followed suit in 2015, dragging slightly but hitting hard nonetheless. While Lindholm has released other albums via Exgenesis and his solo work in the interim, Elevation breaks a decade-long silence for Enshine. While it can’t match my first wide-eyed listen through Origin, Elevation is a worthy companion to a sorrowful night.

Enshine has always made every instrument count. Rather than fading into the background, Giannis Koskinas’ (Ocean of Grief) bass steals the show with lively lead melodies (“The Moment”). Conversely, on tracks like “Where the Sunrise Is Felt,” the rhythm section supplies a simple but hefty backbone to steer the song along. Sébastien Pierre’s keyboard is as active as ever, providing both center-stage melodies and a canvas for the other instruments. It’s remarkable how well this works; indeed, the key-heavy instrumental “Distant Glow” is one of Elevation’s most haunting cuts. Pierre and Lindholm’s vocals are unremarkable but get the job done, and the vocal lines are perfectly timed to accentuate the album’s peaks. Of course, while each of these pieces is compelling, Elevation’s guitars are a masterclass. Serving up huge Insomnium riffs, tear-jerking melodies, and minimalist interludes, Lindholm’s guitar work is varied but consistently impressive. Rounded out by a rich tone, Elevation is a full-blown sonic tapestry.

Elevation by Enshine

Enshine’s best work excels in both its climaxes and the journeys between them. Enshine’s riffs are more enormous than ever, with “The Purity of Emptiness” showcasing some pounding specimens. The rhythm section accentuates this riffwork like a thundering heartbeat. Elevation’s melodic peaks are just as lofty, and an explosive guitar solo makes the opener “Shimmering” an early contender for song of the year. As always, Enshine knows when and how to dial it back. For instance, the opening melody of “Heartbliss” serves as a serene counterpoint to the song’s beefier moments, while the closer “Reignite” relieves tension through its sparse midsection. While Elevation often flits masterfully between these extremes, it sometimes fizzles out. The aforementioned “Heartbliss” and “Reignite,” the two longest tracks, both spend their last few minutes in forgettable melodic ramblings. More generally, the album’s back half often settles into a neutral middle ground that neither excites nor calms. Elevation sometimes loses its footing, but most of its runtime is a dexterous volley between aggression and tranquility.

Accordingly, Elevation packs a powerful but inconsistent emotional punch. The most conventional source is the album’s soaring melodies, like those on “Shimmering.” But Enshine’s heart often hides in unlikely spots. “The Moment” hypnotizes the listener with a simple guitar riff, transmutes it into a tragic behemoth, and culminates in rhythmic repetition that evokes Cult of Luna. The key-driven “Distant Glow” remains the album’s most unlikely triumph. By rooting itself in one bittersweet melodic motif, “Distant Glow” evolves seamlessly from a chamomile-infused Infected Mushroom trance to punchy melodeath riffs. The result is a four-minute track that feels like a lifetime, in the best possible way. In contrast, parts of Elevation feel clinical. Songs like “The Purity of Emptiness” rely on interchangeable mid-paced riffs that fade from memory, and even stronger tracks fall into the same age-old trap (“Where the Sunrise Is Felt”). Enshine hasn’t lost their secret sauce, but they have diluted it.

But even more so than usual, I’m an unreliable narrator trapped in the tiniest of prisons. My twelve years with Enshine both paint and taint my perspective. So yes, “Reignite” is Enshine’s worst closer; but that’s because I remember the months I leaned on “Apex” and the friendship I strengthened with “Constellation.” And yes, Elevation sometimes gets lost in meandering riffs; but that sticks out because Origin is the pinnacle of concise melodeath-doom. Enshine’s former glory offers a convenient template for critiquing its follow-ups. In truth, Elevation is an enchanting release from a band that I’d feared would never return. Whether you’re an Enshine addict, a curious first-timer, or even a non-metalhead, Elevation demands and earns your attention.



Rating: 3.5/5.02

Nuclear Dudes – Truth Paste Review

By Thus Spoke

Nuclear Dudes is one step closer to living up to their moniker as they are now officially more than one person.1 Joined by Brandon Nakamura (Doomsday 1999, ex-Teen Cthulu) on vocals, Sandrider’s Jon Weisnewski bounces back from the synthwave moment of Compression Crimes 1 to resume the usual trajectory of insanity. 2023’s Boss Blades—my personal introduction to this madness—was a disarmingly likeable collection of silly and serious sounds heavy and light. It was also surprisingly good. Though I’d partly forgotten this due to its brevity and my sieve-like brain, the band has such character, in name, in vibe, and artwork theme—that a commenter very sensibly pointed out is likely courtesy of Weisnewski’s small child and not his brother as I hilariously assumed—that I was instantly back in the room with Nuclear Dudes, ready for the next trip.

With a permanent2 vocalist alongside Weisnewski’s own contributions, Truth Paste is closer to powerviolence or grind than previous outings. But a vague resemblance to these genres is as close as it gets. The record is a breezy 23 minutes across 11 tracks (check one: very short runtimes), and there are more passages of outright beatdown, screaming, chaotic metallic insanity (check 2: silly heavy and intense). But it’s what’s going on within that runtime, and both during and between those especially heavy moments that matters. Nuclear Dudes don’t waste a second. Opening on a bizarre tribute to Guns ‘n Roses’ “Welcome to the Jungle”—which includes using that song’s literal intro as their own—the duo switch in a flash to an electro-grind(core), erratically accented by an array of eclectic sound effects, which is a recurrent style on the album. Approximately four and a half minutes in, it becomes clear that the preceding two tracks (“Napalm Life,” “Holiday Warfare”) functioned as a violent induction to themes that are to follow, as the title track ramps up to a pure hardcore breakdown to a woman crying “ohhhh myy gawwd it’s—”, and the ensuing chuggery forms the first ‘breather’ for the listener. That concludes the most normal segment on the record.

Truth Paste is weird, but it’s not incoherent. Despite the apparently revolving door of blooping, whirring keys and sound effects, and tempo changes that would give an F1 driver whiplash (“Napalm Life,” “Dirty 20,” “Death at Burning Man”), the whole thing flows remarkably well. Pretty much all songs transition seamlessly from the previous with overlapping samples, humming melodies, basslines, or keyboard something-or-other. Nuclear Dudes hit their peak at moments when the electronica-mixed-with-guitar transforms into synthwave by way of grind, making for ridiculously fun grooves (“Concussion Protocol,” “Space Juice,” “Pelvis Presley”) if not some very entertaining melodic excursions. Or perhaps the best parts are during those rapid-fire switches, where goofy meets brutal and jaw-smashing breakdowns are followed or preceded by floaty ethereality (“Truth Paste,” “Juggalos for Congress”).

As a novelty band that takes not taking itself seriously quite seriously, Nuclear Dudes are doing everything right. Track titles are dumb, the movie samples cheesy, and the harsh vox mix is a wry recollection of a bygone bedroom death/grind era. Nuclear Dudes own every last second of it, from the roboticised vocals (“Napalm Life,” “Concussion Protocol,” “Cyrus the Virus”) to the videogame battle sequence vibes of the keyboard gymnastics (“Dirty 20,” “Space Juice”). It’s almost annoying how un-annoying it is. And since you effectively experience it as one extended track, given those instant transitions, it becomes very easy to just vibe with it and not worry about which song you’re actually hearing at any moment, or whether what you just heard was genius or just silly. But in having superior flow to its predecessors, Truth Paste also possesses fewer true standout moments. There are no lows, it’s true, but there are also no epic peaks—no “Many Knifes,” for instance. Then again, this record is committing more strongly to the meth-head electro-grind genre than Boss Blades, and in that respect, kind of smashes it.

If you want to have a very entertaining 23 minutes and six seconds, Truth Paste should be your go-to. Nuclear Dudes has taken recruiting a vocalist, and evolving into their full hybrid mad-subgenre form in their stride, as they continue to half-sprint, half-dance ahead. This record is so tight, fun, and irritatingly self-aware that personal taste is practically irrelevant. I’m no longer going to express surprise that anything Nuclear Dudes creates will be fucking great.

Rating: Great
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Website: Bandcamp
Releases Worldwide: September 5th, 2025

#2025 #40 #DeathMetal #EDM #ElectronicMetal #ExperimentalMetal #Grind #Grindcore #NuclearDudes #Powerviolence #Review #Reviews #Sandrider #SelfReleases #Sep25 #Synthwave #TeenCthulhu #TruthPaste #USMetal

Record(s) o’ the Month – May 2025

By Angry Metal Guy

There are months when the Record(s) o’ the Month feels like a sacred duty. It is the noble, worthwhile culmination of rigorous listening and passionate discourse.1 And then there’s May. May, a month in which Dr. A.N. Grier tried to vote for a band called… SEXCAVE or some shit four or five different times using different pseudonyms (but the same IP address), and where Dolphin Whisperer almost made me rage quit by making a single comment about “sky-tearing tonalities,” which, like… what kind of pretentious fucking bullshit is that? Do you people even listen to music, or do you just sit around all day making up stupid poetic ways of saying absolutely nothing?2 But if we’re fair, he wasn’t entirely wrong. Sometimes a record arrives that doesn’t just demand attention, it seizes it like an Aztec death deity grabbing the sun.3 So for the first time in a while, the best album in May came from an unsigned band. And not just any unsigned band. It came from a band proficient in bull riding!

The beauty of the Unsigned Band Rodeö lies in its chaos. No expectations. No promo sheets. No preconceived narratives. Just music dropped into our laps like cursed artifacts.4 On Nikan Axkan, which was self-released on May 2nd, 2025 [Bandcamp], Kalaveraztekah weaponizes its vision of death metal through the lens of pre-Hispanic culture and indigenous cosmology. There’s no sense that these Hidrocálidos are some kind of novelty act. They aren’t a Mexican Eluveitie, just playing Dark Tranquillity riffs while putting a Ritual Death Flute over it for 40 seconds in every song.5 Rather, Nikan Axkan is a muscular, seething, and deeply rooted record that radiates conviction from every grinding riff. The percussion rumbles like a procession of drums echoing through stone temples, fusing to a brutal core of death metal that just fucks. There’s a Blood Incantation-like spaciness that offers a counterbalance to all this brutality and adds unexpected depth. After spending the better part of a week in what my physician has called a “ritualistic fugue state,” I managed to pull myself out of the netherworld to write that when Kalaveraztekah’s two pillars—the atmospheric otherworldly and the brutal death metal—meet, “they crash into each other like storm fronts, creating something beautiful and terrible to behold. Nikan Axkan is simultaneously brutal and thoughtful, grindy and melodic, atmospheric and immediate,” and it’s the Record o’ the Month.

Runner(s) Up:

…and Oceans // The Regeneration Itinerary [May 23rd, 2025 | Season of Mist | Bandcamp] — …and Oceans is having an Amorphisesque second act and I am here for it. They’ve always walked the line between symphonic grandiosity and black metal chaos, and with The Regeneration Itinerary, they’ve engineered their third very good platter in 5 years. The record combines sharp, Emperor-style riffing with theatrical synths, industrial flourishes, and ruthlessly precise pacing. “Demonstrating a degree of evolution in their craft” and with “exceptional [performances] across the board,” …and Oceans have once again hit that sweet balance—and ever-more unique sound in this current black metal soundscape—that makes their revitalization so welcome. But it’s not just that it’s a good continuation, I feel like they are continuing to refine and revitalize the launch with each new album they release. It’s always fun to watch bands defy Angry Metal Guy’s Law of Diminishing Recordings™, and while The Regeneration Itinerary isn’t their best record yet, 30 years after their debut, …and Oceans is still releasing vital music that’s impossible to overlook.

Jade // Mysteries of a Flowery Dream [May 9th, 2025 | Pulverised Records | Bandcamp] — Mysteries of a Flowery Dream is an atmospheric death metal record that unfolds like a guided hallucination. It’s melodic. It’s moody. It’s weirdly elegant. And it doesn’t care about my riffs-per-minute quota. It takes things slow and keeps them dreamy. Jade trades bludgeoning immediacy for textured dream-logic, and while it takes a few listens to understand what’s happening, once it clicks, it’s hard for listeners to shake. And yet, it balances out the problem that atmospheric records rarely feel heavy, because they’re too busy padding the sharp edges with “atmosphere.” But Mysteries of a Flowery Dream accomplishes its heaviness by feeling oppressive, dense, claustrophobic, and crushing—leaving the listener feeling like they’re in an experimental submarine on their way to see the Titanic.6 And while it’s not the easiest record to penetrate, Owlswald wants you to know that “those who actively immerse themselves in Jade’s expansive world will be handsomely rewarded. The excellent songwriting, replete with its cohesion, balance, and dynamism, is impressive, steadily shifting my initial apathetic impressions to genuine appreciation. So don your finest headphones, sit back, and let Jade immerse you in their dreamlike world.”

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