#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

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

There are a few phrases that I could theoretically read in a promo blurb that would get me to instantly pick it up.1 When my eyes landed on the line “Lord Carrion seeks to usher in 1000 years of ruin to fascists and authoritarians of all stripes,” I thought “say less,” and took Man Made Hell without any care for the fact that its black metal comes with a significant dose of southern hardcore—not my preferred subgenre. I’m glad I did. Their debut LP after two years honing their craft with an EP and a split, Man Made Hell is Lord Carrion’s first big chance to bring about the promised destruction to oppressors. The stark redness of the cover, the marrying of some of metal’s noisiest styles, and the band’s proud antifascism make for a loud statement that the music must live up to. And does it?

Man Made Hell certainly does not flinch away from the implicit violence of its influences. A crusty, second-wave black metal base meets with the boundless energy and acidity of rampaging hardcore for a sound that’s both aurally and spiritually raw as fuck. Jonross Maddog2 Maddox’s d-beats and the clattering pivots of snare rollovers and cymbal smashes drag you by the scruff of your neck behind a rampaging train of Matthew Price and Miguel Hallare’s riffs, as Jake Plissken screams in your face through a mouthful of barbed wire. Sometimes, it’s no more than this: sanguine yet standard noisy rampaging that doesn’t break any moulds (“Suicide Planet,” “Billions Dead”). At others, Lord Carrion pull back from showing their teeth just enough for some layers and gripping melodicism to show their heart.

Lord Carrion display their passion best when they stray outside of the lines. It’s tangible in the ballistic extremities—the snippets of solo drums (“Billions Dead,” “Yaldabaoth”) and the passages of particularly intense extended, repeated, throat-shredding screams (“Plutocrat Slaughter Ritual,” “The Walls are Closing In”). Most notably, the feeling on Man Made Hell is strongest in every place Lord Carrion make the sound entirely their own. Resonance that goes beyond its obvious atmo-black inspiration to transform a previously granite riff into a shadowy refrain (“Plutocrat…,” “Peace is a Bloody Sword”) when it isn’t blurring a tremolo melody for some randomly gorgeous meloblack (“What Remains”). Such buoyant, mournful melodies sprinkled around work together with punchy syncopation and aforementioned hellish vocals for compelling, satisfyingly sharp declarations (“Desperate Cruelty,” “What Remains”). Disso-death drips into arachnid arpeggios (“Billions Dead”) and drawling, sinister chords (“Peace…), injecting a cruel edge that just works. Rhythmic turns often take the best of both black metal and hardcore for fun (“Suicide Planet,” “The Walls are Closing In”) and darkly groovy (“Plutocrat…”) moments.

The greatest issue with Man Made Hell is that its brilliance is a little unevenly distributed. So fiery at its jawbreaking, moody, best, the (over-)use of more “standard” second-wave black/hardcore riffing risks the loss of any audience turned off by such mundanities.3 Similarly, the album would probably benefit from a smidge more time to fully integrate the many great ideas and segments it contains. As an example: the jumpscare of full-volume white noise that splits the doom-drone of “Peace…”‘s first act is visceral, and will probably split listeners into a love/hate dichotomy. The gentle beauty of “What Remains,” rising from carefully-placed strums and the hushed howling of wind to an emotional meloblack finale, though I love it, feels slightly out of place. I can hear the hints of atmosphere and nuance that Lord Carrion drop beforehand, and it seems like minor tweaks would integrate these aspects better.

Man Made Hell divides me, leaving me affected but uncommitted. It’s pretty fun in a satisfyingly gronky way, whilst also possessing a gravitas that portends—even though it doesn’t execute—greatness. What is certain is that Lord Carrion have got something; their ardour oozes out of most-every fuzz-choked note, and I think they make their point just fine for now.

Rating: Good
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: wav
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: August 24th, 2026

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

Old Machines – The Cycles of Extinction Review

By Thus Spoke

Picture the scene: it’s 3 am, and the bar is about to close. the last remaining customers—a table of four1 long-haired, denim and leather-clad men—are being shooed out. As they stagger, laughing, out the door, the bartender hears one of them (who he doesn’t know is guitarst Brian Rush of Ænigmatum, et al) saying, “Wait, wait, ok ok yeah so you’re on the keyboards doing the melody, and then I’m—what are we going for—black, death, thrash?…Yeah, awesome…” In this imagined world, the unsuspecting eavesdropper just witnessed the birth of Old Machines, who may well have begun work on their 2024 demo Backwards Through Space that very night. A year on, the crew—whose notable members also include Oxygen Destroyer percussionist Chris Craven—make their full-length debut with The Cycles of Extinction, which takes their craft and their concept from zero right to infinity, and beyond.

Cycles of Extinction is steeped in lore billions of years old, telling stories of peoples and times spanning aeons and light years—which may or may not be plotlines from many cherished video games—and sporting a runtime spanning an hour. Old Machine’s chosen format could perhaps best be described as being to symphonic death metal what Old Nick is to raw black metal.2 The bulk of the music is led by the keys, which do not attempt to disguise their jam-core sound that fluctuates between dungeon-synth camp and the kind of ambient sound-healing hum you’d get at the end of a yoga session in 2002. Guitars largely follow the rhythm and timbre of the synths—with many a hammer-on and pull-off ascending and descending alongside the identically clambering keys—if they don’t chug and gallop along to the next dramatically marching beat. There are some acrobatics, but they never usurp that keyboard’s position at centre-stage. Fast and mostly straightforward drumming keeps things at a vibrant up-tempo, with just a hint of thrashy energy, and croaking snarls share roughly equal space with booming spoken-word narration. It’s uncomplicated, but not without a certain charming passion and weirdness.

If nothing else, Cycles of Extinction sounds like Old Machines had a lot of fun making it. The tongue-in-cheek melodrama of the unadorned keyboard swooping through a movement, whilst the drums batter and riffs riff meanly, (“Glory to the Terrans of the First Contact War”) like something out of an N64 game fight scene (“The Sundering of the Irradiated Sons, and the Rebellion Sparked by the Gene-Plague”) is so silly it kind of works. There are moments where it’s almost genius: the deceleration and acceleration of “Cycles of Extinction,” complete with well-timed spoken word and manic screams; or the sudden vivacious grace of the guitars on “They Are Legion: The Tragic Exodus of the Veiled Creators ” that breaks the mould and outdoes the keys for just a moment, before the twain tumble back down a scale together. The first (“Cycles of Extinction”), and maybe even the second (“Extinguishing the Light of the Preludian Empire (Upon the Apex of Their Glory)”), time you hear that choir effect, played in an on-off jaunt that betrays their origin as having nothing at all to do with a human voice, it’s nigh impossible not to smile. But the question is: at what point are you no longer laughing with Old Machines, but laughing at them?

Unfortunately for Old Machines, the very synthetic-sounding synths with their repeated use of the same effects, chuggy, fast guitars, and prevalent spoken-word gets old. The pattern changes but little until the final two tracks “They Are Legion…” and “Glory to the Terrans…”—which in fairness do account for nearly a quarter of the runtime—when all of the best riffs, melodies, and moments are hastily stuffed in next to all the above. This is odd enough, and yet far more baffling is the decision to include two extended passages of ambience. The first one opens the album on a decidedly slow and tonally incongruent note as the first third of the 11-minute opener “Twilight of the Old Gods and the Dawning of the First Cycle.” The other slams the breaks on mid-album for a full eight minutes and 38 seconds of uneventful vagary (“Dark Space and Beyond – The Continuance of the Evolution of the Final Cycle”). If you were vibing with Old Machines’ weird keyboard blackened death metal before, then this ice cold shower kills the mood and exacerbates the irritation of following track “Crescendo of Carnage: Warsong of the Singing Swarm (Swarm Wars I)” and its especially jerky, stabby riff and key combos.

At the end of the day, Old Machines had an idea, and they ran with it. Maybe it’ll tickle some listeners enough in just the right way, because it is at times kinda fun. But even looking past the goofiness, the album’s structural issues—the monotone ambience and behemoth length—are sure to test the most saintly of patiences. If we can believe the band, The Cycles of Extinction is only the beginning; we’ll just have to wait and see whether Old Machines double down on the cheese, or evolve.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: August 22nd, 2025

#25 #2025 #Aug2025 #BlackMetal #DeathMetal #DungeonSynth #ElectronicMetal #OldMachines #OldNick #Review #Reviews #SelfReleases #SymphonicDeathMetal #TheCyclesOfExtinction #ThrashMetal

Grace Hayhurst – The World Is Dying Review

By Angry Metal Guy

Written By: Nameless_n00b_601

Making good progressive metal is incredibly difficult. Where styles like black metal can still succeed without considered songwriting or astonishing musicianship, prog is a fickle mistress, demanding expert songcraft that balances dynamic peaks and valleys, as well as considerable instrumental prowess. Even prog’s biggest bands still routinely falter when armed with a fearsome squad of world-class musicians and major label backing.1 Still, this fails to deter new artists without such resources from aiming for the sheer highs the style can offer. Enter English multi-instrumentalist Grace Hayhurst and her debut record, The World Is Dying. Except for drums, Hayhurst accomplishes the impressive task of composing and performing an expansive prog album entirely by herself. Informed by both ’70s prog rock and modern prog metal, alongside orchestral music and sci-fi media, The World Is Dying aims to be music that Hayhurst “wants to listen to.” Can this one-woman independent release fulfill her ambitions and succeed in producing a quality prog album where her contemporaries have failed?

Grace Hayhurst demonstrates a clear familiarity with prog, which she uses to craft engaging and varied songs. Her brand of prog metal is very much in line with the approach to the subgenre crystallized by Dream Theater and modernized by Haken, complete with a dash of extra British flavor á la Steven Wilson and Gentle Giant. Vocal-led compositions feature keyboards front and center, alongside odd time signatures and syncopated guitar riffs across dynamic shifts between softer, atmospheric moments and heavier passages with distorted power chords. Hayhurst follows the “prog playbook” while managing to avoid the common pitfalls of unfocused songwriting and extended solo sections, which plague many of her contemporaries. Instead of mashing together unrelated parts around a vague pop song structure, she builds on a distinct rhythmic or melodic motif and follows it throughout a song. Hayhurst weaves in and out of verses, choruses, and solos while dialing the intensity up or down depending on the part. The World Is Dying’s strongest songs use such motifs as central throughlines, complicating and enhancing compositions through texture and instrument substitutions (“Us vs Them,” “Revolution”).

Stunning compositions are only part of a successful prog equation, though, and unfortunately, Grace Hayhurst is an unengaging vocalist. The vocal parts themselves are all competently written, but vocally, she lacks the power or personality necessary to lead songs consisting of big hooks and dramatic peaks. Her vocal delivery is breathy and devoid of emotion. This makes the more chorus-focused songs (“The World Is Dying,” “It’s Our Fault”) significantly weaker, as each song’s repeated centerpiece falls flat. This isn’t helped by uninspiring lyrics throughout, which are presented with crystal clear audibility due to the production style. The record is entirely about humankind’s destruction of the Earth and the lack of consequences for those in power who have caused this. Yet, there’s no use of metaphor or abstraction in dealing with this potentially rich topic, just relatively plain language doled out in obvious rhyme schemes. After repeated listens, I find myself constantly pulled away from the tension created by lush instrumentation when what should be a memorable vocal moment fails to land.

When the vocals aren’t centered, The World Is Dying is loaded with engaging compositions, replete with musical layers and countermelodies that elevate an already-strong instrumental core. The individual sections themselves can sometimes veer into predictable, generic prog territory, but there is no shortage of textural flavor or variety, which adds nuance and replayability to several tunes. Nature sound effects are used to strengthen the concept while deepening the sonic space (“Our Forest, the Earth”), slap bass is employed for some funktastic groove changeups (“Us Vs. Them”) and guitar/synth melodies are embellished with tasty, doubled harmonies or added strings and orchestral flare (“Take Off”). On the vocal end, there are efforts made with layered harmonies and vocoders to make things a bit more interesting by pulling the focus away from a single vocal performance. Even harsh vocals are deployed at a few key moments, such as the end of the 13-minute “Revolution,” to great effect. Although on the track list, this is followed by an interlude and then the album closer, “Absent Futures,” a vocal-led acoustic ballad that falls flat due to its form.

The World Is Dying displays plenty of promise, but its potential is hampered by one unfortunately lackluster element. As a lover of prog, Grace Hayhurst’s debut is almost filled with enough whimsy and clever songwriting to excite me, but is ultimately held back by its weak vocals. I could see Hayhurst functioning well as the primary composer for a prog metal band with a dedicated singer. She still has some growth before carrying a full band on her own. For now, this album finds itself in the same predicament as its cover art: a competent package whose thematic cohesion is displaced by one disappointing component.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 8 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Independent
Websites: gracehr.st| gracehrst.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: June 27th, 2025

#25 #2025 #DreamTheater #GentleGiant #GraceHayhurst #Haken #Jun25 #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #SelfReleases #StevenWilson #TheWorldIsDying