#selfreleases — Public Fediverse posts

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

The year of the snake strikes again, and this time the venom flows through Heart of the Serpent. This US-based duo delivers black metal that slithers between second-wave and DSBM, and on their third spawn Unraveling, Heart of the Serpent concocts tortuous bursts of blackened intensity and slinky grooves coiled around thrashy and ambient interstices. Five years have passed since sophomore album Loathing, and in the intervening time Heart of the Serpent shed vocalist Urion, reducing the ensemble to a two-piece. On Unraveling, guitarist, bassist, and keyboardist Ulg absorbs vocal duties while Hulder’s live drummer Vapula returns to clobber the skins. As we hoist Heart of the Serpent onto the scale for judgment, will we find Unraveling buoyed by its charms or over-encumbered with musical sins?

Compared to Heart of the Serpent’s previous albums, Unraveling reveals itself as their most maturely composed. Unwinding at its leisure, Unraveling is the longest of the outfit’s three albums, though it still packs proceedings into just thirty-eight minutes. An extra few minutes may not seem like much, yet it’s enough to allow songs to fully gestate. This cultivates dynamic highs and lows that were hinted at on Contempt and Loathing, but Unraveling feels more fully developed. It also exhibits Heart of the Serpent’s cleanest production to date. This gives a much-needed emphasis to the bass guitar, especially when it bubbles to the fore of the mix to provide low-end punch. Still, the bulk of what Heart of the Serpent did previously remains—the execution is just more sophisticated.

For a two-man project, Unraveling feels remarkably robust. Vapula’s drumming deserves special mention, as his riveting performances and canny fills and rolls command the momentum on most of Unraveling’s tracks. Ulg carries his own weight, too, and the instrumentation churns with slow-burn intensity. Specifically, Heart of the Serpent invests more time than ever in unhurried builds, allowing Ulg to craft intoxicating guitar and bass interplay that largely eschews technicality yet is no less captivating for it. “Rust” and “Unraveling” both exhibit this pattern, where the bass prowls beneath austere guitar sustains as tension mounts in calculated anticipation. Hooks and serpentine melodies wend throughout Unraveling, proving seductively engrossing from song to song. The only track that doesn’t work for me is “Mourning/Asphyxia,” a five-minute ambient instrumental that saps momentum with its awkward placement and wearisome length. Given the lack of motifs to tether “Mourning/Asphyxia” to the rest of Unraveling, the track flounders without any obvious context for its inclusion. Working its themes into other tracks or cutting it altogether would induce a more seamless listening experience.

Given everything Heart of the Serpent does right on Unraveling, it’s a shame that some missteps inhibit what is otherwise an enticing outing. The momentum lapse stemming from “Mourning/Asphyxia” is my biggest complaint, though others further cramp Heart of the Serpent’s muscle. Unraveling’s production provides plenty of contrast and largely deserves appreciation, the drum tones often sound muffled. Considering the arresting performance Vapula discharges, I wish it packed a bit more oomph. The guitars and bass sound warm and fierce, though, ensuring a cozy nesting spot amidst the cold-blooded blasts of black metal. Lastly, the concluding dyad of songs are two of Unraveling’s best tracks, both of which are mostly characterized by slower paces and gentler moments, leaving listeners with a low-energy conclusion. Retooling the album’s song order or replacing “Mourning/Asphyxia” with a lean, second-wave scorcher moved between these tracks could help revitalize the back half of the album.

Ultimately, Heart of the Serpent delivers a varied and engaging slab of black metal marred by a few odd choices. Unraveling creeps close to a much better score, and if not for a few damning flaws, I’d be insisting how Heart of the Serpent dropped a very good platter that makes the score-counter sweat. Instead, I’ll settle for spreading the word that the Heart of the Serpent beats with the potential for greatness.

Rating: Mixed
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 19th, 2026

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leading up to the release of The Harvest, Ashen Horde finds themselves pushing against the boundaries of the identity they’ve honed since forming in 2013. Conceived by Los Angeles-based Trevor Portz, the sole contributor through the band’s first two albums,1 Ashen Horde stands as a studio-only project, blurring the lines between black and death metal with progressive tendencies while telling unified stories through each album’s runtime. On third album Fallen Cathedrals, Ashen Horde enlisted the talents of powerhouse vocalist Stevie Boiser (Inferi, Equipoise) to tremendous effect. Portz and Boiser delivered another gem on follow-up Antimony, joined by drummer Robin Stone (Chestcrush) and bassist Igor Panasewicz (NightWraith). On fifth album The Harvest: newcomer Karl Chamberlain (Putrefier) replaces Boiser and leans heavily into melodic cleans, Panasewicz exits the fold, the narrative element has been replaced with a looser theme,2 and Ashen Horde begins rehearsals for their first-ever live performances later this year. Do all these changes result in an effective crop rotation, keeping The Harvest’s yield fresh and rich, or do the white-hot flames of slash-and-burn songwriting blaze too brightly, leaving only a bumper crop of ash?

Where Boiser’s vocals amplified Ashen Horde’s ferocity within the confines of black and death metal, Chamberlain’s stylings push the band’s sound into a more melodic arena. Clean vocals sparsely populated Ashen Horde’s Boiser era, but The Harvest sees them co-headline, prominently featuring Chamberlain’s versatile melodic phrasing. Prior releases’ touchstones Opeth and Enslaved continue to be relevant, yet the emphasis on cleans skews heavily towards Trivium and, to a lesser extent, Killswitch Engage.3 The shift is broader than the vocals, though, as the instrumentation diversifies as well. Frantic trems and knotty compositions previously grounded Ashen Horde’s sound in progressive black metal akin to Ihsahn, but The Harvest evolves to bring a distinctly Voivoidian essence to the guitar work (the riffing after the solo on “Backward Momentum” is classic Piggy). Performance-wise, Ashen Horde delivers first-rate moments that ground returning listeners in a familiar setting, with Portz laying down his usual impressive stringed attack and Stone supplying nuanced exhibitions throughout. In total, these changes evince a band at a crossroads, uncontent to rest on its laurels while a new outlook is forged.

The maturation of Ashen Horde’s sound amounts to more than an inflated list of references, though. For starters, the underlying genres require reevaluation. Fallen Cathedrals and Antimony classify as black metal, death metal, and progressive metal, yet The Harvest adds a healthy dose of melodic death metal and a dash of thrash. Specifically, “Remnant” evokes a slightly proggier take on 90s In Flames while “Apparition” recalls a less rabid The Black Dahlia Murder. Besides Voivod, The Harvest taps into thrash via the jazzy grooves heard on Species’ latest (“Entropy and Ecstasy”) and the whirring, dissonant refrains endemic to Coroner (“Autumnal,” “A Place in the Rot”). With so many moving pieces, it’s a wonder that Ashen Horde retains as much of their core identity as they do.

Given the dramatic musical pivot, The Harvest feels like a snapshot of a band mid-flight rather than one reaching their final destination. With Ashen Horde stacking so many elements on top of one another, I’m not sure how well they gel into a unified album. The vocals in particular give me the biggest pause—not because of Chamberlain’s performance, which is potent across harsh and clean deliveries. I’m just not convinced how well they work in concert, given the even split between them. On previous albums, cleans were sparingly used as accents, but their expanded involvement on The Harvest conjures disparate moods that flit back and forth in a way that occasionally feels jarring (“Autumnal”). The end result is a compromise that lands between the familiar and the bold.

Despite Ashen Horde exploring a new identity on The Harvest, plenty of earwatering fruit awaits a good reaping. As the band calls out in their promo materials, even though the central theme is about endings, The Harvest is a new beginning. I expect opinions will be split on the new direction, but Ashen Horde is a project that teems with ideas and new frontiers, and I’ll take that every time over a band that’s content to remake the same album over and over. Now go check out this week’s Harvest and sample its tasty Ashen Hordeuvres.

Rating: Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 1st, 2026

Without question, Friday is my favorite day of the week. Even more tantalizing than the conclusion to an often grueling gauntlet of meetings, feedback, and GSD,1 I’m blessed with metal’s new releases. Trying to listen to everything that comes out is a fool’s errand—luckily, I’m a fool. During one of my customary Friday excursions, fortune smiled upon me when I stumbled onto Graufar’s sophomore opus, Via Necropolis. As I listened, the album’s grooves, riffs, and passions bathed me in blackened deathly glory. My luck persisted through the morning—Graufar’s promo still lurked unclaimed in the bin. Yoink! Though I discovered Via Necropolis late, I was powerless to resist the call of a review, especially given the band’s unsigned/independent status. Thus saddled with an unplanned bit of writing and a pocketful of tunes, let us sojourn down Necropolis way.

Too many blackened death metal bands present a mixed bag of half-measures.2 To me, the peak allure of the subgenre promises the brutality and technicality of death metal united with black metal’s icy atmospherics and raw aesthetics. The quintessentially boilerplate BDM band brews a tepid concoction featuring a death metal base with black metal spices; fortunately, Graufar averts getting mired in pedestrian trappings. Honing a sound established on debut Scordalus, Via Necropolis flaunts chilly trems, grating rasps, and a coat of corpse paint that betrays their blackened heart, and it beats with the blood of Dissection, Necrophobic, and Rimfrost. Death metal’s influence is more subtle, skulking in chugging grooves and vicious growls that blend in seamlessly.

Via Necropolis by Graufar

Though Graufar’s performances across Via Necropolis merit praise, vocalist Gernot Graf deserves special recognition. His scathing vocals loose misery and malevolence that arouse a primal reflex, making my throat twinge at the thought of snarling along. Tracks like “Blizzard and Blaze” and “Foltertrog” exhibit Graf’s penchant for wringing out every ounce of emotion, from vitriol to agony. Black metal rasps aren’t his only trick, though. Graf roars with an insatiable fire on “Charon” and “Buried in Flames,” devolving into bestial throes within “Heralds of Doom” and “Via Necropolis” and ensuring that his versatile performance never lacks conviction or fervor. Graf also plays guitar alongside Michael Herber, and together they fashion a glittering heap of licks, leads, and grooves. And it’s the latter that stands out the most, because while death metal regularly brandishes them, black metal rarely deigns to approve the groove. Meanwhile, “Buried in Flames” and “On Your Knees” demonstrate Graufar’s shrewd understanding of songwriting, and bolstered by Thomas Buchmeier’s slinky bass and René Hinum’s precision drumming, Via Necropolis positively thrums.

Throughout Via Necropolis, Graufar dazzles with their ability to conjure dynamic arrangements informed by influences. Kicking off with a Dissection-coded intro on “Blizzard and Blaze,” Graufar mingles with mellow cleans, slithers through second-wave savagery reminiscent of Mayhem,3 and even dabbles in throat-singing before ending back on the cleans. “Heralds of Doom” features a fiery solo that cedes to a pit-ready sway, “Via Necropolis” starts with a sleek Necrophobic-meets-Watain riff that builds to a doomy chorus played over rabid trems, and “On Your Knees” bashes you in the face with a potent Sepultura groove.4 Despite Graufar’s administration of reference points galore, they never linger overlong on any one. The songwriting is deceptively understated, and although this works in Graufar’s favor as a whole, over repeated listens I find my engagement more attuned to Via Necropolis’s back half. Reordering the tracks (“Buried in Flames” would make a fantastic opener) and slightly trimming the longer ones would add an immediacy that brings some of the back-end boom up front.

All told, Graufar delivers a vibrant outing that boasts a refreshing take on blackened death teeming with wonderfully wicked ideas. Via Necropolis sizzles throughout its forty-two minutes and distinguishes the band as an act to watch. Considering both Graufar’s albums have been released independently, the band displays remarkable song craft and self-editing, and Via Necropolis gleams with talented musicians who forge well-crafted metal bangers. Better late than never, I’m glad this gem didn’t slip by.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: NA | Format Reviewed: WAV
Label: Self-Release
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 20th, 2026

Clouds of smoke obscure your view of the stage, where amps are littered with empty glass bottles. The scents of sweat and spilled beer dance in your nostrils as five long-haired reprobates clad in denim and leather walk onto the stage, a swagger in their step and street tough bravado oozing from their pores. Looking to take in a show whilst sitting on your ass? Get fucked. Total Maniac expects you to be on your feet and moving, and if you’re not ready for that, why are you even here? These boys from Baltimore play a raucous brand of classic rock-meets-speed metal that lives somewhere between Motörhead, Mötley Crüe, and Ted Nugent, delivering no-frills cheap thrills on sophomore effort Love Overdrive. So slap on your battle vest and steel-toe boots—when adrenaline starts to flow, and you’re thrashing all around, you’ve gotta be prepared to act like a Total Maniac.

Compared to Total Maniac’s self-titled debut, Love Overdrive veers more into the trad metal/rock ‘n’ roll lane than Total Maniac’s thrash ‘n’ roll stylings. While both albums showcase Total Maniac’s snotty disregard for authority and decorum, Total Maniac dedicated more attention to thrashy chugs and barked vocals. On Love Overdrive, the focus centers on sticky leads and hooky riffs over palm-muted riffing and abrasive grit. Love Overdrive also tones down what passed for technicality on their debut. Not that Total Maniac doesn’t host capable musicians, but there are moments across the album where guitars and vocals sound like they’re pushing just past their ability. Despite that, Love Overdrive features an enthusiastic embrace of freewheeling sin-dealing that’s easy to appreciate.

What Total Maniac lacks in virtuosic prowess, they make up in impish pluck. With only twenty-seven minutes on tap, Love Overdrive never feels phoned in. Each moment sounds crafted to maximize fist-pumping carnage, from the “Panama”-meets-“Wild Side” riffing in “Love Overdrive” to the Phil Campbell-inspired soloing toward the end of “Flatline.” It’s unclear which of Total Maniac’s guitarists takes the lead at any given point, but both Mike Brown and Nick Etson lay down earworm after earworm, frequently breaking away for a quick solo before snapping back to let vocalist Diamond Dustin regale you about hard living, hard loving, and hard rocking. Double-D doesn’t lack conviction, although his upper range sometimes gets away from him. It’s not a deal-breaker, as this sort of rowdy street metal lends itself to imperfect performances that enhance its DIY charm, but piercing falsettos occasionally hit like a sour King Diamond. As for the rhythm section, drummer Vaughn Volkman does a commendable job keeping Love Overdrive’s eight tracks on the rails, but it’s bassist Ben Martin who steals the show. His beefy grumbles and well-mixed countermelodies offset Total Maniac’s dual-guitar attack, creating a well-balanced stringed menace that defines my favorite aspect of Love Overdrive.

Though Total Maniac bleeds authenticity and fun, Love Overdrive does little to stake an identity that hasn’t already been claimed. Many of the riffs seem like variations on Mötley Crüe’s 80s heyday, with “Early Grave” echoing the main motif from “Kickstart My Heart” and the intro from “Set Fire to the Sun” hitting the same mid-paced groove and brief bass sustains as “Shout at the Devil.” The mid-song break in “Drinkin’ Our Way to Hell” even reminds me of Nugent’s crackpot rant towards the end of “Wango Tango.” In this way, Love Overdrive feels like a step back from Total Maniac, which was rougher around the edges, but better defined a unique voice for the band.

Total Maniac does a fantastic job of harnessing the spirit of the music I grew up listening to, but Love Overdrive rarely captures moments that achieve the promise of their inspirations. Fun abounds, and the music encourages beer-chugging shenanigans with a shit-eating grin, yet in the end Total Maniac leaves me wanting to revisit songs I already know rather than learn these new ones. Even so, it’s a quick listen worthy of a spin for anyone craving new material harkening to simpler times. I look forward to hearing where Total Maniac ventures next, and I hope they find a way to continue celebrating the glory of the past while sending their future into Overdrive.



Rating: Mixed
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

Cult Burial – Collapse of Pattern, Reverence of Dust Review

By Thus Spoke

It has always overwhelmed me just how much music is out there, ceaselessly being recorded in studios and basements and forests, ceaselessly being promoted and released, and often sent into the AMG promo pile. There is so much more below the surface than above it, even as regards just one small subgenre. How can one possibly listen to it all, and discern greatness from mediocrity? How can bands stand out when countless others are branding themselves so similarly, making music so apparently similar? Cult Burial are one such band that I would likely never have come across were it not for this gig, despite the generally positive reception both their debut and sophomore albums received (the latter also coming from me). In that review, I highlighted what I perceived to be a distinctiveness to the band’s sound, their particular mixture of death, black, and post-metal sounding just different enough to give them an edge, minor hiccoughs notwithstanding. Then, Cult Burial was in the perfect position to capitalize on these unique strengths and refine the formula, and it is after two years in the shadows that the fruit of their labors falls into my hands.

LP 3, Collapse of Pattern, Reverence of Dust, is immediately and strikingly more imposing than its predecessor. More menacing in its melodies and more aggressive in its stronger leanings towards deathened territory, it also sounds literally sharper, with fewer instances of guitar being relegated to a background bit-part and more of them center-stage in the leading role. The music is atmospheric in a similarly echoing way, again recalling Praise the Plague, but now this atmosphere treads into the more unsettling territory accompanied by jarring chord progressions, akin to Akhlys (“Vincula,” “Vestige”), or even Blut Aus Nord (“Mire”), though decidedly less manic. This new sense of malice goes a long way toward giving Cult Burial a stronger hold on the listener, and helping them avoid the issue of image-sound incongruence that haunted Reverie of the Malignant.

What hasn’t changed about Cult Burial’s approach is their preferred compositional structure. Sticking with relatively brief song lengths, they rely on melodic and rhythmic hooks (“Aether,” “Vestige”) that keep the pace high between the atmospheric intros and interludes, rather than extended creeping builds. This risk didn’t entirely pay off in the last outing, but Collapse of Pattern sees a renewed vigor that makes songs, which pack in blackened doom and death in a signature smoky style with a more ‘conventional’ black or death metal solo or bridge, tonally fluid despite their fluctuations. The prevailing tone of meanness is a markedly more consistent and coherent than previously, and this now shines through most strongly where Cult Burial turn to the tangled zone of dissonance in their extreme metal leanings, which takes the humming chords and minor melodies—not to mention the pleasantly audible purr of the bass—into a realm of creepy that’s thoroughly, spine-tinglingly enjoyable (“Vincula,” “Enthrall,” “Beseech”).

The main problem is that, however cool or chilling various passages are—and they are—Collapse of Pattern never does enough to fully arrest its audience. A seeming impatience to get to the next bit compounds paradoxically with a reluctance to ever progress beyond the inevitable switch from slower intro to faster heaviness. It makes the music feel underdeveloped in two senses. On the one hand, by lack of builds and by not actually possessing the presence they tease with an overly mysterious and surface-level atmospheric aura—marked by heavy resonance. On the other hand, by the near absence of dynamism in the yet fickle and multifaceted compositions, which sway from an ominous death-doom into a distinctly tech-death acerbity. While Cult Burial made strides when it comes to improving their overall vibe—as in, there’s no longer a strange tonal separation between different songs as there was before—their music indicates that they still feel unsure of their identity. Simultaneously trying too hard to sound dark and huge and frightening, and not trying hard enough to craft a convincingly solid presence that would justify it.

Collapse of Pattern feels like one step forward, two steps back. On every listen, I am drawn in by opener “Vincula”‘s malevolently stomping, eerily moaning refrain. By the time I have reached its back half, however, it no longer grips me; songs bleed together and dissolve. Cult Burial may still have something great in them, but until they dive fully into the void or write some killer riffs, they are doomed to fade into obscurity.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: cultburial.com | cultburial.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/cultburial
Released Worldwide: September 5th, 2025

#25 #2025 #AKhlys #BlackMetal #BlackenedDeathMetal #BlackenedDoom #BlutAusNord #CollapseOfPatternReverenceOfDust #CultBurial #DeathMetal #PraiseThePlague #Review #Reviews #SelfReleases #Sep25 #UKMetal

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

Record(s) o’ the Month – May 2025

By Angry Metal Guy

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

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

Runner(s) Up:

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

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

#AndOceans #2025 #AMGSUnsignedBandRodeo #Amorphis #DarkTranquillity #Eluveitie #Emperor #Independent #Jade #Kalaveraztekah #May25 #MysteriesOfAFloweryDream #NikanAxkan #RecordSOTheMonth #RecordsOfTheMonth #SelfReleases #TheRegenerationItinerary

Acidsloth – Acidsloth Review

By Thus Spoke

Can you guess what genre Acidsloth plays? Yes, that’s right, it’s thrash! Ok, no, obviously not, it’s stoner doom—what else with a name that’s a portmanteau of a drug and a notoriously slow-moving animal? Kicking1 around since 2021, Kraków’s Acidsloth already have two LPs to their name, but it’s their third that they bestow the honor of being self-titled. The reason is that this time, they’re a “full band” (to use their own terminology), totaling eight(!) musicians, five of whom perform vocals. In this sense, Acidsloth is kind of their debut. With a charmingly against-type depiction of their token animal, and the promise of “Eyehategod-level aggression mixed with Conan’s heaviness and Electric Wizard’s psychedelic weight,” Acidsloth are out to show they mean business.

Acidsloth’s more-is-more approach to vocalists sees them hand the mic to a new player on (almost) every track.2 This is a cool and unique way to inject a bit of flavor into what is an infamously monotonous subgenre, as we swap between the shriekier (Julia Markiewicz, Radosław Bury), hoarser (Jan Gajewski, Mateusz Zborowski) and the growlier (Patryk Kozera) interpretations of the sludge scream. Beyond this, their compositions follow a common trajectory, often beginning with atmospheric, slightly ominous plucking and spending most of their time brooding in distorted sludgy chugs to a sedated beat. It’s certainly solid (in literal density as well as aesthetic quality), and sometimes it’s even slick thanks to some beautifully-timed transitions and an elusive solo. But as a whole, it fails to have the weight it needs to support its posture.

The thing about having different vocalists on different songs is that it’s quite important to be able to hear them well enough to appreciate their individual skills. Unfortunately, Acidsloth’s vocal track is so low in the mix compared to the instrumentation that the shouts and screams are often lost in the fuzz and bang of guitar and bass drum (particularly on “Float” and “Sin”). Given this, you’d hope the riffs would make up for it, but here too, Acidsloth fumble the ball. Outside of two pretty sweet solos (“Hole,” “Puke”) the guitars only hint at interesting melodies with some hanging plucks (“Hole,” “Free,” “Puke,” “Satan”), and interspersed passages of up-or-down-tempo strumming (“Float,” “Satan”). There are little moments of brilliance where it seems Acidsloth finally finish coming up and deliver—brutal, sledgehammer sludge screams (“Float,” “Free”); that solo (“Hole”); groovily-tapping post metal tension (“Free,” “Satan”); moody liquid plucks (“Sin”). But it’s at these times when Acidsloth’s odd compositional habits truly hamstring what strength they gained. Frequently, songs switch gears midway, and then again, and yet manage to reprise the least-interesting elements of monotony; the cool parts not given time to command the space they deserve (“Hole,” “Free,” “Sin,” “Puke”). The worst case is “Free,” which could have Amenra-esque levels of bite and solemnity, if the mid-tier galloping sludge didn’t smother the harrowing howls, and the anticipatory build that interrupts it set the tone instead.

Doom of any kind, and sludge for that matter, is at heart designed to be uncomplicated, but its presence—whether through emotional depth or sheer magnitude—is what makes it powerful. Alternatively, maybe it can just make you feel good with some psychedelically lush soundscapes. Acidsloth has no presence beyond its literal noisiness, and there’s but a glimmer of color in the melodies. The near-inaudibility of the vocalists is made worse by the frequent use of reverb, and what is either multi-tracking or group shouts (their muddiness makes it hard to tell). The music isn’t “boring,” as such, it’s just draining to listen to, as all the best riffs, screams, and good use of rhythm and atmosphere are quite quickly ironed over with a return to the plod and a sheen of humming feedback. One thus ends up walking away with the unfair impression that there’s simply nothing going on in the entire record. Even in active listens, I struggled to cling to the positive vibes.

As a stoner doom album, maybe Acidsloth is standard fare, but I would like to think not. As a sludge album, it fares better, thanks to an emphasis on chunky—albeit mostly dull—riffing and the fact that at least some of the vocalists seem to have promise. Acidsloth are finding their feet as an ensemble, and if they can pool their assets, I think they could make something pretty juicy. Hopefully, they make the move faster than the animal they’re named for.

Rating: Disappointing
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Willowtip
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: June 20th, 2025

#20 #2025 #Acidsloth #Amenra #Conan #CultOfLuna #DoomMetal #ElectricWizard #Eyehategod #Jun25 #PolishMetal #PostMetal #Review #Reviews #SelfReleases #Sludge #StonerDoom