#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

Since opining on thrash metal’s 2026 resurgence in Nukem’s The Grave Remains review, a steady stream of thrash clans have continued to trickle into the promo sump. Next up is Vancouver power trio W.M.D.,1 short for When Minds Develop. Formed in 2015, W.M.D. unleashed debut Lethal Revenge in 2018 before losing all but one of their founding members—guitarist and vocalist Skyler Mills. After recruiting bassist Jon Power and drummer Ryan Idris in 2023, this wrecking crew set to write and record their sophomore opus Against All Warnings. Eight years is a long time between albums, and turning over nearly the entire band can radically shift its dynamics. Has W.M.D. cleared these hurdles and incubated weapons of thrash destruction, or do they deliver a new album Against All Warnings?

W.M.D. plays thrash the way the old school intended—breakneck and direct. Against All Warnings mostly reminds me of East Coast acts, specifically Overkill and Anthrax, due to the in-your-face attitude, low-frills precision, and spirited bass spunk. Although these benchmarks are most immediate, subtler influences surface by way of Megadethian technicality and razor-sharp riffing à la classic Exodus. I’d also be remiss not to mention Hyperia, which currently features Mills and Power while hosting Idris as their live drummer. Regardless, W.M.D. absorbs the thrash that came before and forges it into a sound all their own—and it rips.

Taking crossover’s blistering speeds and supercharging them with riveting performances, Against All Warnings rams oodles of riffs, grooves, and rolls into forty engrossing minutes. I’m a sucker for bass presence, and W.M.D. packs enough beef to induce a weeklong case of the meat sweats. Jon Power discharges his burly low-end throughout Against All Warnings, bouncing and clanging with the vim and vigor of Verni or DiGiorgio (“Kleptomania,” “The Thin Red Line”). Idris rounds out the rhythm section, nimbly whipsawing across the kit as he maneuvers through full-throttle barrages (“Against All Warnings,” “Painful Vengeance”), half-time chugs (“The Thin Red Line,” “Already Dead”), and herky-jerky stutter stops (“Post Human Predator”). Mills takes on the rest, laying down barbed hooks (“The Black Expanse”) and snotty vocals that recall Lich King and Havok. As the cherry on top, guests Casey Trask (“Post Human Predator,” “Painful Vengeance”) and Kai Sakaguchi (“Against All Warnings”) contribute scorching solos, ensuring there’s never a dearth of pyrotechnics. In all, there’s no weak link in the chain, and Against All Warnings bristles with thrashy vitality.

Nearly as impressive as W.M.D.’s onslaught is their elusion of critical flaws. Against All Warnings sidesteps major pitfalls as W.M.D. navigates the treacherous channels of thrash, dancing along the knife’s edge between the genre’s primary criticisms: unoriginal and retreaded compositions and unserious stylings. Rather, the trio plays infectiously vibrant metal with utter conviction, and I’m here for every second of it. This doesn’t mean the album is perfect, however, and some fine-tuning would elevate Against All Warnings even higher. First, penultimate track “Already Dead” lingers at the end, which would be more palatable if it were the finale. Instead, after a slightly prolonged fade of thunder, we’re given “Painful Vengeance.” Switching the order of these tracks or pushing “Painful Vengeance” even earlier would work better. Also, while the production is warm and organic, the album plays a little too quietly. It’s not an issue if I’m only listening to Against All Warnings, but its songs are noticeably muted when thrown into a playlist with other material. Still, these complaints prove minor quibbles compared to the indisputable boom W.M.D. unleashes.

Thrash detractors may not be convinced by Against All Warnings, but they should be. It’s impossible to deny the energy and conviction coursing through W.M.D.’s balls-out blitz, where relentless speeds, head-banging hooks, and rousing choruses embody W.M.D.’s full-tilt bonanza. Against All Warnings ensconces itself as the best thrash album I’ve heard so far in 2026,2 and sets a high bar for the rest of the year. Somebody ought to sign these Canucks, because they’re peddling a potent brew that’s guaranteed to please, Warnings be damned.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

Since opining on thrash metal’s 2026 resurgence in Nukem’s The Grave Remains review, a steady stream of thrash clans have continued to trickle into the promo sump. Next up is Vancouver power trio W.M.D.,1 short for When Minds Develop. Formed in 2015, W.M.D. unleashed debut Lethal Revenge in 2018 before losing all but one of their founding members—guitarist and vocalist Skyler Mills. After recruiting bassist Jon Power and drummer Ryan Idris in 2023, this wrecking crew set to write and record their sophomore opus Against All Warnings. Eight years is a long time between albums, and turning over nearly the entire band can radically shift its dynamics. Has W.M.D. cleared these hurdles and incubated weapons of thrash destruction, or do they deliver a new album Against All Warnings?

W.M.D. plays thrash the way the old school intended—breakneck and direct. Against All Warnings mostly reminds me of East Coast acts, specifically Overkill and Anthrax, due to the in-your-face attitude, low-frills precision, and spirited bass spunk. Although these benchmarks are most immediate, subtler influences surface by way of Megadethian technicality and razor-sharp riffing à la classic Exodus. I’d also be remiss not to mention Hyperia, which currently features Mills and Power while hosting Idris as their live drummer. Regardless, W.M.D. absorbs the thrash that came before and forges it into a sound all their own—and it rips.

Taking crossover’s blistering speeds and supercharging them with riveting performances, Against All Warnings rams oodles of riffs, grooves, and rolls into forty engrossing minutes. I’m a sucker for bass presence, and W.M.D. packs enough beef to induce a weeklong case of the meat sweats. Jon Power discharges his burly low-end throughout Against All Warnings, bouncing and clanging with the vim and vigor of Verni or DiGiorgio (“Kleptomania,” “The Thin Red Line”). Idris rounds out the rhythm section, nimbly whipsawing across the kit as he maneuvers through full-throttle barrages (“Against All Warnings,” “Painful Vengeance”), half-time chugs (“The Thin Red Line,” “Already Dead”), and herky-jerky stutter stops (“Post Human Predator”). Mills takes on the rest, laying down barbed hooks (“The Black Expanse”) and snotty vocals that recall Lich King and Havok. As the cherry on top, guests Casey Trask (“Post Human Predator,” “Painful Vengeance”) and Kai Sakaguchi (“Against All Warnings”) contribute scorching solos, ensuring there’s never a dearth of pyrotechnics. In all, there’s no weak link in the chain, and Against All Warnings bristles with thrashy vitality.

Nearly as impressive as W.M.D.’s onslaught is their elusion of critical flaws. Against All Warnings sidesteps major pitfalls as W.M.D. navigates the treacherous channels of thrash, dancing along the knife’s edge between the genre’s primary criticisms: unoriginal and retreaded compositions and unserious stylings. Rather, the trio plays infectiously vibrant metal with utter conviction, and I’m here for every second of it. This doesn’t mean the album is perfect, however, and some fine-tuning would elevate Against All Warnings even higher. First, penultimate track “Already Dead” lingers at the end, which would be more palatable if it were the finale. Instead, after a slightly prolonged fade of thunder, we’re given “Painful Vengeance.” Switching the order of these tracks or pushing “Painful Vengeance” even earlier would work better. Also, while the production is warm and organic, the album plays a little too quietly. It’s not an issue if I’m only listening to Against All Warnings, but its songs are noticeably muted when thrown into a playlist with other material. Still, these complaints prove minor quibbles compared to the indisputable boom W.M.D. unleashes.

Thrash detractors may not be convinced by Against All Warnings, but they should be. It’s impossible to deny the energy and conviction coursing through W.M.D.’s balls-out blitz, where relentless speeds, head-banging hooks, and rousing choruses embody W.M.D.’s full-tilt bonanza. Against All Warnings ensconces itself as the best thrash album I’ve heard so far in 2026,2 and sets a high bar for the rest of the year. Somebody ought to sign these Canucks, because they’re peddling a potent brew that’s guaranteed to please, Warnings be damned.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

Since opining on thrash metal’s 2026 resurgence in Nukem’s The Grave Remains review, a steady stream of thrash clans have continued to trickle into the promo sump. Next up is Vancouver power trio W.M.D.,1 short for When Minds Develop. Formed in 2015, W.M.D. unleashed debut Lethal Revenge in 2018 before losing all but one of their founding members—guitarist and vocalist Skyler Mills. After recruiting bassist Jon Power and drummer Ryan Idris in 2023, this wrecking crew set to write and record their sophomore opus Against All Warnings. Eight years is a long time between albums, and turning over nearly the entire band can radically shift its dynamics. Has W.M.D. cleared these hurdles and incubated weapons of thrash destruction, or do they deliver a new album Against All Warnings?

W.M.D. plays thrash the way the old school intended—breakneck and direct. Against All Warnings mostly reminds me of East Coast acts, specifically Overkill and Anthrax, due to the in-your-face attitude, low-frills precision, and spirited bass spunk. Although these benchmarks are most immediate, subtler influences surface by way of Megadethian technicality and razor-sharp riffing à la classic Exodus. I’d also be remiss not to mention Hyperia, which currently features Mills and Power while hosting Idris as their live drummer. Regardless, W.M.D. absorbs the thrash that came before and forges it into a sound all their own—and it rips.

Taking crossover’s blistering speeds and supercharging them with riveting performances, Against All Warnings rams oodles of riffs, grooves, and rolls into forty engrossing minutes. I’m a sucker for bass presence, and W.M.D. packs enough beef to induce a weeklong case of the meat sweats. Jon Power discharges his burly low-end throughout Against All Warnings, bouncing and clanging with the vim and vigor of Verni or DiGiorgio (“Kleptomania,” “The Thin Red Line”). Idris rounds out the rhythm section, nimbly whipsawing across the kit as he maneuvers through full-throttle barrages (“Against All Warnings,” “Painful Vengeance”), half-time chugs (“The Thin Red Line,” “Already Dead”), and herky-jerky stutter stops (“Post Human Predator”). Mills takes on the rest, laying down barbed hooks (“The Black Expanse”) and snotty vocals that recall Lich King and Havok. As the cherry on top, guests Casey Trask (“Post Human Predator,” “Painful Vengeance”) and Kai Sakaguchi (“Against All Warnings”) contribute scorching solos, ensuring there’s never a dearth of pyrotechnics. In all, there’s no weak link in the chain, and Against All Warnings bristles with thrashy vitality.

Nearly as impressive as W.M.D.’s onslaught is their elusion of critical flaws. Against All Warnings sidesteps major pitfalls as W.M.D. navigates the treacherous channels of thrash, dancing along the knife’s edge between the genre’s primary criticisms: unoriginal and retreaded compositions and unserious stylings. Rather, the trio plays infectiously vibrant metal with utter conviction, and I’m here for every second of it. This doesn’t mean the album is perfect, however, and some fine-tuning would elevate Against All Warnings even higher. First, penultimate track “Already Dead” lingers at the end, which would be more palatable if it were the finale. Instead, after a slightly prolonged fade of thunder, we’re given “Painful Vengeance.” Switching the order of these tracks or pushing “Painful Vengeance” even earlier would work better. Also, while the production is warm and organic, the album plays a little too quietly. It’s not an issue if I’m only listening to Against All Warnings, but its songs are noticeably muted when thrown into a playlist with other material. Still, these complaints prove minor quibbles compared to the indisputable boom W.M.D. unleashes.

Thrash detractors may not be convinced by Against All Warnings, but they should be. It’s impossible to deny the energy and conviction coursing through W.M.D.’s balls-out blitz, where relentless speeds, head-banging hooks, and rousing choruses embody W.M.D.’s full-tilt bonanza. Against All Warnings ensconces itself as the best thrash album I’ve heard so far in 2026,2 and sets a high bar for the rest of the year. Somebody ought to sign these Canucks, because they’re peddling a potent brew that’s guaranteed to please, Warnings be damned.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

Since opining on thrash metal’s 2026 resurgence in Nukem’s The Grave Remains review, a steady stream of thrash clans have continued to trickle into the promo sump. Next up is Vancouver power trio W.M.D.,1 short for When Minds Develop. Formed in 2015, W.M.D. unleashed debut Lethal Revenge in 2018 before losing all but one of their founding members—guitarist and vocalist Skyler Mills. After recruiting bassist Jon Power and drummer Ryan Idris in 2023, this wrecking crew set to write and record their sophomore opus Against All Warnings. Eight years is a long time between albums, and turning over nearly the entire band can radically shift its dynamics. Has W.M.D. cleared these hurdles and incubated weapons of thrash destruction, or do they deliver a new album Against All Warnings?

W.M.D. plays thrash the way the old school intended—breakneck and direct. Against All Warnings mostly reminds me of East Coast acts, specifically Overkill and Anthrax, due to the in-your-face attitude, low-frills precision, and spirited bass spunk. Although these benchmarks are most immediate, subtler influences surface by way of Megadethian technicality and razor-sharp riffing à la classic Exodus. I’d also be remiss not to mention Hyperia, which currently features Mills and Power while hosting Idris as their live drummer. Regardless, W.M.D. absorbs the thrash that came before and forges it into a sound all their own—and it rips.

Taking crossover’s blistering speeds and supercharging them with riveting performances, Against All Warnings rams oodles of riffs, grooves, and rolls into forty engrossing minutes. I’m a sucker for bass presence, and W.M.D. packs enough beef to induce a weeklong case of the meat sweats. Jon Power discharges his burly low-end throughout Against All Warnings, bouncing and clanging with the vim and vigor of Verni or DiGiorgio (“Kleptomania,” “The Thin Red Line”). Idris rounds out the rhythm section, nimbly whipsawing across the kit as he maneuvers through full-throttle barrages (“Against All Warnings,” “Painful Vengeance”), half-time chugs (“The Thin Red Line,” “Already Dead”), and herky-jerky stutter stops (“Post Human Predator”). Mills takes on the rest, laying down barbed hooks (“The Black Expanse”) and snotty vocals that recall Lich King and Havok. As the cherry on top, guests Casey Trask (“Post Human Predator,” “Painful Vengeance”) and Kai Sakaguchi (“Against All Warnings”) contribute scorching solos, ensuring there’s never a dearth of pyrotechnics. In all, there’s no weak link in the chain, and Against All Warnings bristles with thrashy vitality.

Nearly as impressive as W.M.D.’s onslaught is their elusion of critical flaws. Against All Warnings sidesteps major pitfalls as W.M.D. navigates the treacherous channels of thrash, dancing along the knife’s edge between the genre’s primary criticisms: unoriginal and retreaded compositions and unserious stylings. Rather, the trio plays infectiously vibrant metal with utter conviction, and I’m here for every second of it. This doesn’t mean the album is perfect, however, and some fine-tuning would elevate Against All Warnings even higher. First, penultimate track “Already Dead” lingers at the end, which would be more palatable if it were the finale. Instead, after a slightly prolonged fade of thunder, we’re given “Painful Vengeance.” Switching the order of these tracks or pushing “Painful Vengeance” even earlier would work better. Also, while the production is warm and organic, the album plays a little too quietly. It’s not an issue if I’m only listening to Against All Warnings, but its songs are noticeably muted when thrown into a playlist with other material. Still, these complaints prove minor quibbles compared to the indisputable boom W.M.D. unleashes.

Thrash detractors may not be convinced by Against All Warnings, but they should be. It’s impossible to deny the energy and conviction coursing through W.M.D.’s balls-out blitz, where relentless speeds, head-banging hooks, and rousing choruses embody W.M.D.’s full-tilt bonanza. Against All Warnings ensconces itself as the best thrash album I’ve heard so far in 2026,2 and sets a high bar for the rest of the year. Somebody ought to sign these Canucks, because they’re peddling a potent brew that’s guaranteed to please, Warnings be damned.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 2026

Since opining on thrash metal’s 2026 resurgence in Nukem’s The Grave Remains review, a steady stream of thrash clans have continued to trickle into the promo sump. Next up is Vancouver power trio W.M.D.,1 short for When Minds Develop. Formed in 2015, W.M.D. unleashed debut Lethal Revenge in 2018 before losing all but one of their founding members—guitarist and vocalist Skyler Mills. After recruiting bassist Jon Power and drummer Ryan Idris in 2023, this wrecking crew set to write and record their sophomore opus Against All Warnings. Eight years is a long time between albums, and turning over nearly the entire band can radically shift its dynamics. Has W.M.D. cleared these hurdles and incubated weapons of thrash destruction, or do they deliver a new album Against All Warnings?

W.M.D. plays thrash the way the old school intended—breakneck and direct. Against All Warnings mostly reminds me of East Coast acts, specifically Overkill and Anthrax, due to the in-your-face attitude, low-frills precision, and spirited bass spunk. Although these benchmarks are most immediate, subtler influences surface by way of Megadethian technicality and razor-sharp riffing à la classic Exodus. I’d also be remiss not to mention Hyperia, which currently features Mills and Power while hosting Idris as their live drummer. Regardless, W.M.D. absorbs the thrash that came before and forges it into a sound all their own—and it rips.

Taking crossover’s blistering speeds and supercharging them with riveting performances, Against All Warnings rams oodles of riffs, grooves, and rolls into forty engrossing minutes. I’m a sucker for bass presence, and W.M.D. packs enough beef to induce a weeklong case of the meat sweats. Jon Power discharges his burly low-end throughout Against All Warnings, bouncing and clanging with the vim and vigor of Verni or DiGiorgio (“Kleptomania,” “The Thin Red Line”). Idris rounds out the rhythm section, nimbly whipsawing across the kit as he maneuvers through full-throttle barrages (“Against All Warnings,” “Painful Vengeance”), half-time chugs (“The Thin Red Line,” “Already Dead”), and herky-jerky stutter stops (“Post Human Predator”). Mills takes on the rest, laying down barbed hooks (“The Black Expanse”) and snotty vocals that recall Lich King and Havok. As the cherry on top, guests Casey Trask (“Post Human Predator,” “Painful Vengeance”) and Kai Sakaguchi (“Against All Warnings”) contribute scorching solos, ensuring there’s never a dearth of pyrotechnics. In all, there’s no weak link in the chain, and Against All Warnings bristles with thrashy vitality.

Nearly as impressive as W.M.D.’s onslaught is their elusion of critical flaws. Against All Warnings sidesteps major pitfalls as W.M.D. navigates the treacherous channels of thrash, dancing along the knife’s edge between the genre’s primary criticisms: unoriginal and retreaded compositions and unserious stylings. Rather, the trio plays infectiously vibrant metal with utter conviction, and I’m here for every second of it. This doesn’t mean the album is perfect, however, and some fine-tuning would elevate Against All Warnings even higher. First, penultimate track “Already Dead” lingers at the end, which would be more palatable if it were the finale. Instead, after a slightly prolonged fade of thunder, we’re given “Painful Vengeance.” Switching the order of these tracks or pushing “Painful Vengeance” even earlier would work better. Also, while the production is warm and organic, the album plays a little too quietly. It’s not an issue if I’m only listening to Against All Warnings, but its songs are noticeably muted when thrown into a playlist with other material. Still, these complaints prove minor quibbles compared to the indisputable boom W.M.D. unleashes.

Thrash detractors may not be convinced by Against All Warnings, but they should be. It’s impossible to deny the energy and conviction coursing through W.M.D.’s balls-out blitz, where relentless speeds, head-banging hooks, and rousing choruses embody W.M.D.’s full-tilt bonanza. Against All Warnings ensconces itself as the best thrash album I’ve heard so far in 2026,2 and sets a high bar for the rest of the year. Somebody ought to sign these Canucks, because they’re peddling a potent brew that’s guaranteed to please, Warnings be damned.

Rating: Great
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 5th, 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

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

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

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

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