#septicflesh — Public Fediverse posts

Rain has started to leak into the ducts as Spring gets wetter and wetter. While I’m away, vacationing in a nice, dry, cloudy place, my minions are drenched and miserable. As it should be! But I’m still keeping tabs on their progress. Just because I’m having a great time somewhere else doesn’t mean these louts don’t have a quota to meet!

And meet their quota they shall, if only barely… BEHOLD!

ClarkKent’s Sci-Fi Soundbites

Epigram // Obsolescent [March 6th, 2026 – Self Released]

Combining the melodic black metal of Thulcandra and Dissection with the symphonics of Fleshgod Apocalypse and SepticFlesh, Epigram dropped a tasty little morsel with their debut, Obsolescent. The trio from Los Angeles puts on a spirited performance that borders on thrash. Tim Cauley’s display on the kit is a dominant force as he furiously blast beats his way from one song to the next. He turns “Wrath of Betrayed” into a piece of blackened thrash and proves tireless across Obsolescent’s 27-minute runtime. The lively vocal performance of Luis Echevarria adds further to Epigram’s charm. His low growls may seem underpowered, but his delivery is energetic and fun. He’s also the source of the symphonic instrumentation, via synths, though this aspect is secondary. Sure, there’s some choral chants (“Myrmidon,” “The Usurper’s Throne”), strings (“Hour of Gods”), and other vaguely symphonic sounds, but Epigram is most focused on the blackened melodic stuff. Shadi Absi throws together some great riffs, particularly on “Empires,” a work of pure black ‘n roll. The showstopper is “Hour of Gods,” with some sweet riffs and terrific energy. This song alone makes Obsolescent a worthy spin. Rounding out the musicians is Sanjay Kumar (Inferi, Wormhole), who plays solos on “Wrath of Betrayed” and “No Sin.” This is a promising debut for an eager new band.

Kal-El // Astral Voyager Vol. 2 [March 20th, 2026 – Blues Funeral Recordings]

Sporting the greatest band name of all time, Kal-El have been blasting listeners with stoner doom since 2012. Astral Voyager Vol. 2 is the follow-up to last year’s Vol. 1, and these pyschedelians’s seventh album overall. It’s been seven years since Witches of Mars was unfairly pummeled by a Kryptonian frog, and now I’d like to do the band justice by rescuing them from our filter. On this astral voyage, you get the pleasure of listening to six songs and 42 minutes of laid-back stoner tunes with plenty of fuzzy riffs—perfect for cruising around the cosmos. Their riff-centric approach puts them in the Black Sabbath camp, and the riffs on the likes of “Juno” and “The Prophecy,” which has a “Children of the Grave” vibe, are tons of fun. Further cementing the Sabbath comp is the vocal performance of Ståle Rodvelt, who carries a resemblance to Ozzy in his delivery. Longer cuts take more exploratory routes, akin to Sleep, yet still feature plenty to get your head bobbin’. “Asteroid” opens up with some sweet riffs that sustain its near eight-minute frame, while “The Nine” will still have you singing along in the final of its ten minutes. 1 So if you are in the mood for something chill that won’t put you to sleep, something that has the riffs without the risk of elevating your blood pressure, you should spend some time with Kal-El.

Thus Spoke’s Tectonic Treat

Bong-Ra // Esoterik [March 20th, 2026 – Debemur Morti Productions]

Not having received promo, it was only upon visiting DM’s Bandcamp page while writing up Aversio Humanitatis that I realised Bong-Ra had released another album. Asked whether Esoterik would be leaning more into enigmatic doom or spiky industrial electronica, the shapeshifting Bong-Ra said “yes”. The music is built on layers of dense, gritty atmosphere undulating with bass, breakbeats, and distorted riffs. Vocals are maintained from Black Noise—half-spoken snarls blurred by noise, shifting between blunt tunefulness (“Serpentine Helix”) and gargling venom (“Machine Halo”)—but at least half of the space is devoted to the purely instrumental psychosis. The saxophone is back, adding bizarre elegance and chilling eeriness in equal measure. Sometimes, Esoterik seems to be pitting its sultry and acerbic natures against one another; that chamber jazz side can take one by surprise (“Pleasures of the Flesh,” “Duality of One”), sandwiched as it is between a more punishing industrialism, but Bong-Ra just about gets away with it. This could be down to Esoterik’s efficiency in establishing (new) grooves—rhythmic and stylistic. Opener “Harmony Cloak” dispels misgivings on its skittering electronic oddity with a chorus that strikes a stylish balance between melody and dissonance; “Machine Halo” later follows in its stride. It’s an album that earns its moniker, right down to the particular spelling, and is worth the dark diversion it requires.

Grin Reaper’s Kooky Curios

Surturian // II – Hessian Spears [March 13th, 2026 – Crawling Chaos]

A German thrash band named after the legendary fire giant and guardian of Muspelheim? And on their debut LP, they launch an unrelenting, venomous assault filled with sticky riffs and bopping bass grooves in under forty-five minutes? Sign me up! Surturian plays thrash that smacks of early Testament and Metallica fused with the epic melodies of latter-day Kreator—hell, vocalist Tim Krogull reeks of Mille’s rancorous vocals, even though his name hews closer to a Voivodian disposition. In addition to thrash influences, Surturian calls upon Maiden’s signature gallops (“Cimmerians Wrath”) and anthemic melodies (“⁠Night Stalker,” “Do What Thou Wilt”), inculcating a lofty grandeur throughout II – Hessian Spears. Further fanning Surturian’s flames, the outfit navigates a varied landscape that imbues each track with its own character while never straying too far from their core sound. Hard-hitting offensives (“Blood Witchery”), slinky licks (“Night Stalker”), and oddball songwriting (“Beneath a Dying Sky”2) unite into an album I’ve regularly returned to since discovering it. If you’re feeling unSurtain, take it from me—it’s always a good time for some Hessian aggression!

Barn // Crucibles [March 24th, 2026 – Self Released]

Thanks to a certain dude/guy in the comments section, Crucibles didn’t slip past me undetected. Despite their dubious band name, Barn dropped a humdinger slab of tech death back in March that oozes with references to Unquestionable Presence (Atheist), Focus (Cynic), and, to a lesser extent, Decrepit Birth.3 There are even moments that echo more subdued moments from recent Sallow Moth releases (“The Serpent’s Perpetual Shed”). Staccato bursts of guitar, pinch harmonics, and buttery, fretless bass glissandos epitomize what Barn offers, and they spread it thick and chunky all over Crucibles’ sixty-five-minute runtime. Rustic name notwithstanding, Barn’s latest sounds like a sci-fi adventure, supported by track names like “Black Hole Lens” and “Cymatics.” The fretless bass especially helps with the futuristic aesthetic, frictionlessly gliding through gusts of abrupt, otherworldly guitars that buffet tracks from all angles. Barn rarely offers reprieve during their unconventional onslaught, but tracks like “Forbidden Fruits,” “Cymatics,” and “The Defeater” achieve such heights that I don’t find myself needing one. In short, these Boise boys warp listeners to a different dimension on Crucibles, and though it runs a tad long, I haven’t been deterred yet from lighting up this Barnburner.

Dionysiaque // La Tourbe des Rêves [March 27th, 2026 – I, Voidhanger Records]

Dionysiaque dispenses a bizarre derivative of doom on La Tourbe des Rêves that’s sure to be equal parts captivating and divisive. Reaching into the bag of tricks defined by Cathedral, Black Sabbath, and Candlemass, Dionysiaque’s sophomore album lumbers and chugs with classic rock-inspired leads and firecracker songcraft that I find utterly enthralling. Songs like “Aaron,” “Hate Fruit,” and “The Two Headed Boy” spotlight Dionysiaque’s plaintive guitar wails, contributed by L.B. and Bruno Penserini, along with their savvy balance of somber atmospheres and rousing melodies. Buoying the guitar tandem, bassist Lethal lays down frolicking, fabulous thunder via absorbing countermelodies while drummer T.H. looses potent fills and rolls throughout. Soaring atop the instrumentation are N.C.’s unorthodox vocals, which will almost certainly be the sole determining factor in listeners’ ability to engage with La Tourbe des Rêves. His delivery recalls that of Mayhem’s Attila Csihar at his most operatically deranged, never lacking conviction yet occasionally overpowering and ostentatious. Still, I appreciate and enjoy the commitment to the unhinged performance, and although dialing it back a little would make Dionysiaque’s latest more accessible, I’ve come to love La Tourbe des Rêves without apology. So don’t be afraid to let a little love into your heart—go get debauched with Dionysiaque’s aphrodisiac.

Creeping Ivy’s Pandemonic Pleasure

Mammon’s Throne // My Body to the Worms [March 13th, 2026 – Hammerheart Records]

In advising his fellow fallen angels—recently expelled from Heaven—to turn Hell into a competing kingdom, Mammon projects that All Demons will ‘work ease out of pain / Through labor and endurance.’4 Satan doesn’t heed this advice, but the third LP from Mammon’s Throne arguably does. On My Body to the Worms, this Australian five-piece inflicts pleasurable pain upon metaldom via five filthy slabs of sludgy death-doom (plus two instrumental reprieves). Mammon’s Throne conjure Hooded Menace, Temple of Void, and (old) Worm in their proclivity for plodding tempos, swampy riffs, and gravely howls (“Elixir”). The album is also a labor of love for classic (death-) doom à la Paradise Lost and My Dying Bride, mixing gothy croons, ascendant melodicism, and haunting piano into the band’s sinister stew (“Every Day More Sickened,” “At the Threshold of Eternity”). Though the listener does need some endurance, as three of the five non-instrumentals hover in the 8–9 minute range, the record flows fluidly across an easy 42 minutes. If you ever wondered what metal in league with Mammon might sound like, give My Body to the Worms a spin.

In the metalverse, there are plenty of unique personas, and now we can count Valira Pietrangelo among them. She has been very open in interviews about suffering from identity dysphoria. As a result, she dove into making music and eventually discovered herself as a demon.1 What better way to express your newfound demonhood than through black metal? Everything about Vesseles (pronounced veh-sel-is) revolves around Pietrangelo’s identity. The band’s name is a Latinized version of the word vessel, as in her body being a vessel containing an identity that doesn’t quite fit. In 2024, Vesseles released their debut EP, not-so-subtly titled I Am a Demon, about her inner struggles and coming out as a demon. Now with Home, Vesseles takes a more ambitious approach as Pietrangelo expands her songwriting repertoire.

This shouldn’t come as a surprise with a demon at the helm, but Home sounds sinister as hell. With a cinematic flair, Vesseles shares some similarities with the darker symphonic metal of Dimmu Borgir and SepticFlesh, yet they play with a dissonance and malevolence that draws closer comparisons to Hasard. Like with Hasard, guitars play second fiddle to the haunting strings and off-key piano notes. Joel Ferry’s demonic rasps, harsh and high, ooze hatred and venom, while the constant tempo shifts serve to keep listeners off-balance. Home is a concept album about a demon cast from one world she didn’t belong to and into another she’s not wanted. Pietrangelo entangles us in her character’s emotional state, making us feel her rage and malice through the challenging music. She may have succeeded in her approach a little too well—while I appreciate her vision, it can be difficult to enjoy at times.

Home by Vesseles

Home contains some impressive musical passages, and yet the overall style becomes taxing over time. As a result, the front half is much more effective than the back half. Opener “Flesh Throne” establishes a menacing atmosphere with its string compositions, but it’s the piano that steals the show. The dissonant piano and icy riffs on “The Beneath” create an appropriately malevolent atmosphere that’s sure to send shivers down your spine. “Home” opens with a classical-sounding, off-key piano segment that’s moving in its evil intent. “Home” is also where the record’s approach begins to falter and grate—the noisiness and constant tonal shifts take their toll over the span of a too-long six minutes. This comes to a head on the final two tracks, the weakest on Home. “Perpetual Chasm of Black Mirrors” in particular lacks the bits of brilliance of the rest of Home, and the finale, “This Is Not Home,” drags on for too long. The constant shifts—in tempo, volume, and noise levels—grow challenging to tolerate for long periods.

Ultimately, what holds Home back is the production. Vesseles suffers the same issue as Hasard’s debut—their record is just too loud. My poor ears could only take so much, and headphones only compounded the issue. There’s a moment on “Scriptures Etched Into the Mind’s Pillars” where the guitars and rasps become muted in favor of a nice string and drum segment, and I found myself breathing a sigh of relief as my ears were given a brief reprieve from the aural assault. The crushed compression also hurts the instrumentally busier passages; I found it difficult in these moments to appreciate individual performances or make out what’s going on. On one hand, this contributes to the chaotic, unsettling tone that Vesseles appears to be aiming for, but it ultimately mars some impressive songwriting.

Home is simultaneously a remarkable debut and an intolerable one. Pietrangelo successfully carries out her unsettling vision in crafting a sinister tone through complex compositions. Yet the bogeyman of poor mastering hampers her vision. Despite this, the first half of Home is quite strong and took me fondly back to my time reviewing Hasard’s Abgnose. One can only hope that she learns the same lessons Hasard did, as Abgnose’s production was a huge improvement over the debut. I have faith that this demon can wow us with her unique vision yet again, and I look forward to hearing it.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Self-Release
Websites: vesseles.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/vesseles
Releases Worldwide: January 16th, 2026

Mors Principium Est – Darkness Invisible Review

By Angry Metal Guy

Mors Principium Est should, for longtime fans of Angry Metal Guy, need no introduction. Since 2003, these Finns have released eight full-length albums of top-notch melodic death metal. However, they really took flight in 2012 with …and Death Said Live!, which coincidentally is a year after Andy Gillion joined the band. Between 2011 and 2021, Mors produced melodic death metal that drew heavily on a strong Gothenburg vibe; guitar-forward, slick as fuck, and fun to listen to. Gillion was fired, however, in 2021. That was followed by the band releasing an album of re-recorded songs called Liberate the Unborn Inhumanity, which fans largely considered a half-measure. Darkness Invisible, then, marks the first truly new material since Seven. And I’ve been dying to know how this revamped Mors Principium Est would navigate the changes on album number nine.

Darkness Invisible presents a recognizable core sound that longtime fans will connect with, but its character reflects the shift in the lineup. With Ville Viljanen’s scathing roar still at the helm, the return of Jori Haukio and Jarkko Kokko on guitars reintroduces the early 2000s songwriting DNA, while bassist Teemu Heinola and (new guy) Marko Tommila give the rhythm section both drive and dynamic weight. Together, they summon a melodeath that is at once cinematic, technical, and blackened—evoking countrymen Children of Bodom or Kalmah. The themes that emerge are darker than before: a push toward massive symphonic density that occasionally brushes against Septic Flesh’s deathly grandeur, the arrival of deeper guttural vocals that tilt passages toward brutal death, and flashes of blackened riffing that lend a sharp edge. These elements intermingle across the album, creating a record that is both familiar and ambitious.

Much of Darkness Invisible’s character comes from its dark dynamics and cinematic presentation. The compositions weaponize contrast in vocals and atmosphere, making for a dynamic and entertaining record. Viljanen’s familiar bark remains the anchor of MPE’s sound, but the band now folds in cavernous gutturals that push closer to death metal extremity (“Summoning the Dark”), even contrasting these with operatic cleans and producing a clash of brutality and grandeur (“All Life Is Evil”). Additionally, there’s a frost that creeps into the riffs and drumming, with trem-picked riffs and blastbeats sharpening the band’s melodeath foundation toward something blackened and sinister (see: the chorus of “Venator,” or the end of “The Rivers of Avernus”). And even the more straightforward cuts employ these textures to broaden their weight, layering symphonic swells and bleak grandeur over increasingly technical riffing. The result is a record that sounds darker and denser than the glossy sheen of Seven. This expansion lends ambition and menace, though the density of choirs, gutturals, and orchestrations sometimes threatens to swamp the guitars that were the core of Mors’ sound.

For all its ambition, Darkness Invisible’s major drawback is that it’s undermined by an Industry Standard Production Job™ courtesy of Jens Bogren (mixing) and Tony Lindgren (mastering). Bogren has made dense orchestral metal soar before—think how cleanly he’s wrangled maximalist arrangements for acts like Fleshgod Apocalypse and Turisas—which makes this result unusual. The record is mastered loud and layered thick; climaxes hit hard,1 but the constant stacking of choirs, vocals, multiple guitar tracks, drums, and orchestration often clutters the field and can bury the guitars that most recently defined Mors Principium Est. On a proper stereo, the album sounds big and sinister—fully loaded with dynamics, pomp, and grandeur—but on earbuds and smaller setups, it can collapse into a busy blur. It’s been a long time since I popped in a new release and found it simply too crowded for casual listening—and it ends up being fatiguing to the ear at times. That busyness contributes to the album’s oppressive mood, but it also blunts individual performances. In reaching for monumental scale, the mix trades away clarity, leaving the listener torn between admiration for scope and frustration at execution.

Darkness Invisible has convinced me that this lineup can carry Mors Principium Est forward. The shift in sound works: the band leans harder into Children of Bodom and Dark Tranquillity on the melodic side, showing off fantastic guitar work while embracing a more cinematic and melodramatic identity. Without the bonus track, the album lands at a vinyl-friendly 46 minutes, and its structural pacing—variations in tempo, atmosphere, and density—make it a fun and dynamic listen despite the crowded mix. Darkness Invisible doesn’t bear much resemblance to the Gillion era, but that’s not necessarily a weakness.2 This darker and more melodramatic Mors Principium Est feels fresh, and tracks like “All Life Is Evil” and “The Rivers of Avernus” prove the style’s promise. So, I entered this review with concerns about what a Gillion-less Mors Principium Est would sound like, and I’m leaving it impressed and excited for what’s to come. I would call that a great success.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s CBR MP3
Label: Perception [Reigning Phoenix Music]
Websites: Facebook | Instagram
Out Worldwide: September 26th, 2025

#AndDeathSaidLive #2025 #35 #AndyGillion #ChildrenOfBodom #DarkTranquillity #DarknessInvisible #FinnishMetal #FleshgodApocalypse #JensBogren #Kalmah #MelodicDeathMetal #MorsPrincipiumEst #OrchestralMetal #Review #Reviews #Sep25 #SepticFlesh #Seven #TonyLindgren #Turisas

#Découverte

Septicflesh - Persepolis

https://septicflesh.bandcamp.com/track/persepolis

Issu de l’album Communion, sorti en 2008.
Je découvre… c’est chouette !

#Septicflesh #Communion
#DeathMetal #Sympho ? 🤔
#PouetRadio